‘He went away and left us! If you are talking of ancestors, then our grandparents did not stop to worry what anyone would think. They lived and made love as they chose!’
‘And others have paid for it ever since – including you for following their example.’
‘Better I should be like them than that my juices should dry up for want of use.’
Alienor’s hand cracking against Petronella’s cheek was a shocking punctuation to the exchange. The feel of the blow tingled through Alienor’s palm as the mark turned from white to red on Petronella’s face. Shaking, Petronella stared at her with eyes full of hatred, misery and furious bravado. In that moment, Alienor saw a wounded creature run to bay and doing its utmost to take its slaughterers down with it. ‘Have we come to this as sisters?’ Alienor whispered. ‘To be enemies? Surely we have enough of those already without ripping each other apart.’
The battle light died from Petronella’s eyes. She gave a wrenching sob, then another and another, as if small pieces were being torn from her body.
‘Petra …’ Alienor could not bear to see her sister in such pain. She drew her into her arms and held her tightly, tears running down her own face as Petronella sobbed. Her sister was so damaged, so vulnerable. Gelding was too merciful a punishment for Raoul de Vermandois.
Once the worst of the storm had passed, Alienor drew Petronella to the hearth, gave her a napkin to wipe her tears and poured them both wine. ‘What were you thinking?’ she asked. ‘It was bound to surface sooner or later. You could not keep something as great as this a secret.’
‘We were living in the moment,’ Petronella sniffed. ‘The future didn’t matter.’
‘The future always matters.’
Petronella raised her right hand and held it out to Alienor, palm open. ‘Why can’t you just let us be? Raoul and I can go away somewhere together. You can settle us somewhere in Aquitaine. There are people who will look after us. No one will know.’
Alienor felt heartsick and frustrated. ‘Of course people will know. You are living on dreams. Just because you forget the world does not mean that the world forgets you. You and Raoul de Vermandois cannot just disappear into the countryside like a pair of peasants.’
Petronella said mutinously, ‘You are Queen of France; you can arrange things. You have your life and your husband. Why should I not have mine?’
Alienor stared at Petronella in disbelief. ‘Raoul is not free to marry. He is wed to the niece of Theobald of Champagne. He has a child. What you have done is to commit fornication and adultery.’
‘He does not love his wife; he never goes home to her.’
‘Being with Raoul is not the way to happiness.’
‘How do you know the way to happiness?’ Petronella demanded. ‘Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you are happy with Louis?’
‘My situation is not yours, and what is between me and Louis is not the issue.’
‘Hah!’ Petronella rose from the bench and paced the room, rubbing her arms. ‘Do what you will, but I shall never change my mind.’
It was all such a mess, Alienor thought. She had believed at the outset that she was containing a minor scandal, a girl’s peccadillo, but this was enormous and beyond concealment. She supposed she could send Petronella to the nunnery at Saintes, but it would be like throwing a wildcat into a dovecote. If only she had seen what was going on under her nose, but it was too late now. The damage was done.
17
Paris, Autumn 1141
The court, much subdued, arrived in Paris after a week of steady travel on hard autumn roads. Raoul was kept under guard, permitted to ride his own horse but shunned by Louis. They had had strong words on that first night at Poitiers, or rather Louis had bellowed and Raoul had stayed silent in shame, and since then they had not spoken. Taking their lead from Louis, the rest of the court spurned Raoul, so that although he rode among them, he might as well have been invisible – and this a man who was the heart and soul of long journeys with his stories and humour. Petronella was kept under close guard, travelling in a litter well away from Raoul’s part of the progress.
On their arrival in Paris, Raoul was escorted to a chamber and put under house arrest while Petronella was brought to Alienor’s apartments under close supervision and given no opportunity to have any sort of contact with her lover. Her manner remained stubborn and unrepentant, but Alienor heard her weeping behind the closed bed curtains and, despite her vow to remain unmoved, her heart ached for her fragile sister.
‘Louis, may I have a word alone?’ Alienor said.
He raised his head from the document he was reading. ‘About what?’
‘The matter in hand.’
He hesitated, and then ordered everyone to leave the room.
Going to the window, Alienor gestured to the cushioned embrasure seats. ‘Will you sit with me?’ A flagon stood close by and she poured wine into two goblets.
He sighed and tossed the scroll on to the trestle. ‘What is it?’ He folded his arms and made no move to join her.
She sipped her wine. They had brought it back with them and it tasted of Bordeaux. ‘I have been thinking what to do about Petronella and Raoul. They cannot stay under lock and key for the rest of their lives.’
Louis shrugged. ‘Tell me why I should loosen the reins? They have sinned grievously against God and they have betrayed us both. If you have come to make excuses for them, then your journey is wasted.’
His priggish reply irritated her. ‘Whatever blame we apportion, it does not solve the problem. I agree that they should do penance, but I also think they should be allowed to return to some kind of life. You need Raoul in council, and Petronella cannot live out her days at the top of the Great Tower.’
Louis examined his fingernails. Eventually he heaved a sigh and, leaving his chair, joined her at the window. ‘If Raoul and your sister will shrive themselves and spend time in repentance and contemplation of their sin, I will see what can be done.’
‘Thank you.’ Alienor lowered her eyes, knowing it best to yield a little to sweeten his mood. She suspected Petronella would not be in the least repentant, but if she could pretend remorse, then perhaps there was a way through. After a moment she said thoughtfully, ‘It would be much simpler if we were ordinary folk not watched by all. Petronella and Raoul could be wed and no harm done.’
Louis frowned at her. ‘Raoul has a wife. He is not free to marry.’
‘He conveniently forgot that fact when he seduced my sister,’ she said acidly. ‘He may have a wife, but he has long lived apart from her.’
‘She is the niece of Theobald of Champagne.’
‘Yes, and Theobald has defied you twice and treated you as if you are of no consequence. If they married, Petronella would be safe with her chosen man and you would not have to send Raoul away. The criticism would have to be quelled, but eventually people would have no choice but to accept the match.’
Louis gnawed his thumb knuckle.
‘All you would have to do is arrange an annulment for Raoul so he and Petronella could wed,’ she said, her tone soft and persuasive. ‘It solves our dilemma.’
Louis’s frown deepened. ‘That may be so,’ he said slowly, ‘but we shall have to find bishops willing to annul the marriage.’
‘I have thought of that. The Bishop of Noyon is Raoul’s cousin, and Laon and Senlis will also be willing to assist.’ Bishops who could be bribed, in other words, or who had an interest. The knowledge hung between them like a bad odour, but she was determined to do everything in her power to make this right for Petronella. There would be opposition, but once Louis had decided, she could count on him to see this through. His motivation might have more to do with slighting Theobald of Champagne than securing Petronella’s future, but that did not matter.