Suger had come from contemplation in his cell to attend on Louis, who had arrived on a lathered horse in a state of agitation. ‘Why do you say you do not have God’s love, my son? Is it because of this meeting tomorrow? Is that what bothers you?’
Louis shook his head. ‘No,’ he said bleakly. ‘That will just be more talk of the kind I have heard many times over.’ He swallowed, struggling to say the words. ‘It is because … because I cannot procreate with the Queen. I am cursed and robbed of my purpose as a king and a man.’ He raised a tormented gaze to Suger. ‘I swore a public oath that de la Châtre would never cross the threshold of Bourges Cathedral as its archbishop. Do you think that oath is the reason for my failure? The Queen suggested I should rescind my vow, but how can I do that when I made it before God?’
Suger frowned at him. ‘What prevents you from procreating with the Queen?’
Louis flushed. ‘I cannot … cannot perform the deed,’ he muttered. ‘When I go to her, it is with every intention of begetting a child, but my body refuses to obey my will – sometimes in the final moment. It is God’s punishment.’
Suger laid a firm hand on Louis’s shoulder. ‘Then you must ask for God’s help and mercy, and so must the Queen. He will show you the way if only you ask Him with an open heart.’
‘I have asked.’ Louis’s voice grew querulous. ‘I have prayed and made offerings, but He has not answered.’ He leaned forward, clasping his hands. ‘Perhaps it is her fault,’ he said, his mouth twisting. ‘Perhaps she has done something to anger God. After all, she was the one who miscarried of our child.’
‘That is for her conscience, not yours,’ Suger said neutrally. ‘For yourself, I tell you to lay yourself open to God’s will with true humility and intent, and accept His chastisement if it be necessary. I will do what I can for you – as I always have.’ He transferred his hand to Louis’s dishevelled tonsure in a tender gesture. ‘However, perhaps the Queen is right. If you show your humility by agreeing to let Pierre de la Châtre take his place as Archbishop of Bourges, it will ease the pressures on you and on France, and that in turn will lead to greater harmony in your life. I will pray for you and ask God to look with favour upon you and the Queen.’ He added after a moment, ‘It will do no harm for you and the Queen to show humility and respect to Abbé Bernard. He is a terrible enemy but a powerful ally, and it is in your interests to wean him away from Theobald of Champagne.’
Louis began to feel a little better. ‘You are right,’ he said. ‘I will think on your advice.’ He raised his gaze to the glorious windows. Their shining clarity gave him tenuous hope and inspiration. Suger always knew what was for the best.
Alienor held the rock-crystal vase between her hands. Although she cupped it securely, she still imagined dropping it and watching it shatter on the tiled floor like ice smashed on a frozen pond.
Louis had suggested they should present it to Suger as a dedication gift to the new church of Saint-Denis. He was fired up with enthusiasm, and it was as if last night’s tearful rage had never happened.
‘It will be a fitting place to keep it,’ he said.
‘And Suger has long coveted it.’
‘It was not his notion, but mine.’ Louis sent her a sharp look. ‘I saw the light shining through the windows and I wondered what I could give that would be fitting for a dedication. I thought this might cause God to shine His light on us and give us a child.’
The overcast daylight painted the vase in varying shades of white and pale grey, revealing none of the subtle, heavenly fire. Alienor had the feeling that it would never do so again in her hands. Remembering that she was loved was difficult indeed. She had always known Suger would eventually claim it, but what did it matter? Whatever it took to render Louis capable of performing his duty, she would embrace. If the vase could accomplish such as miracle, it was worth the price. ‘As you wish,’ she said. ‘Whatever you deem necessary.’ She gave it to him, just as she had done in Bordeaux, with equal care, but the feeling was different now – flat rather than optimistic.
Louis took it carefully and for a moment their fingers overlapped. Then he withdrew. ‘I am going to break my oath, and allow Pierre de la Châtre to assume his position as Archbishop of Bourges,’ he said.
She looked at him.
His mouth turned down at the corners. ‘It is a great shame for a king to break his word, but I have no choice. I have done all I can, but it is like beating my fists against a solid castle wall until my hands are worn down to the bleeding bones.’
‘In exchange for that, at the very least, we should have the ban lifted on Raoul and Petronella’s marriage,’ she said quickly.
‘That will be open to negotiation,’ he replied in a way that told her not to expect a positive outcome. ‘I expect you to do your part in this too.’ Holding the vase as carefully as he might hold an infant, he left the chamber.
Alienor sighed, and then drew herself upright. She would not shirk what had to be done. And Louis might have finished beating his fists against walls, but there were other subtler means of taking castles down.
21
Paris, June 1144
The dedication of the refurbished and extended basilica church of Saint-Denis, burial place of the Kings of France, took place on 11 June and drew crowds of worshippers from all across France. The small town of Saint-Denis had grown fields of tents overnight. Every lodging house bulged at the seams, and every guest house within a twenty-mile radius was packed with visiting travellers. Everyone was eager to see the remodelled church, its glittering interior said to resemble a bejewelled reliquary built to house the presence of God. Even the mortar was flecked with gemstones.
Alienor had slept in the abbey lodging house, while Louis had spent his own night in vigil with Suger, the monks of the abbey and various ecclesiastics, including thirteen bishops and five archbishops.
Alienor had shared the guest room with her mother-in-law, who had travelled from her dower lands for the ceremony. The women had been civil but cold with each other. They had not shared company since the Christmas feast, and that at least made tolerance possible. Adelaide eyed Alienor’s ruby silk dress with a slight curl of her lip as if she found it garish and distasteful, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Nor did she mention Petronella and Raoul, although the very absence of the subject was like a dark hole in the middle of the conversations they did have. Petronella and Raoul were absent because they were excommunicate and not permitted to enter a church.
In the hazy morning, still cool and dusky blue, the women left the guest quarters and processed to the church with its new doors of gilded bronze, inscribed in lettering of copper-gilt. The noble work is bright, but, being nobly bright, the work should brighten the minds, allowing them to travel through the lights to the true light, where Christ is the true door. Alienor read the words and then raised her eyes to the lintel where was written: Receive, stern Judge, the prayers of your Suger. Let me be mercifully numbered among your sheep.
Suger’s stamp was everywhere, if not in actual name as it was on the doors, then in all the glittering gold and jewels and colour-stained light flooding through the lucent glass windows. The gold altar front was studded with a fortune in amethysts, rubies, sapphires and emeralds. Adorning the choir a magnificent cross stood twenty feet tall, ornamented with gold and gems, crafted by famed Mosan goldsmiths. The darkness shone. Alienor felt as if she were at the heart of a jewel, or indeed a reliquary, and was glad she had worn her gown of red silk with all its adornments, for it made her feel as if she were a part of this glowing, luminous tableau.