It seemed to her that they rode for several hours. The horse’s rapid jog trot slowed to a walk, then a plod. Eventually, she smelled smoke and heard the sound of voices and her captor drew rein. She felt him dismount, and then he pulled her down off the horse and threw her to the ground. Alienor could not prevent the whimper that rose from her throat. ‘Don’t go anywhere,’ he said. She sensed him walking away from her and she heard him greeting the men at the fire, followed by the slosh of liquid into a cup.
‘Perhaps it would be better if she did not live,’ she heard someone say. ‘Better dead than the scandal this will bring on us all.’
‘It is the King’s decision,’ another voice said sharply. ‘We should wait until he arrives.’
‘I do not see why. We can say it was an accident. He is better rid of her, and Christ alone knows what she was plotting with that uncle of hers – if plotting was all she was doing.’
Alienor’s teeth would have chattered with terror if she had been able to close her mouth around the gag. Would they dare murder her here and now without giving her the grace of confession and shriving? She forced herself to lie quiescent while she strained her ears. She would play dead, and if given the slightest opportunity, she would escape.
Eventually the discussion between the men ended as the decision was taken to leave her fate in the hands of the King. She felt footsteps approaching and her nostrils drew in the scent of some kind of hot stew with onions and garlic.
‘Here,’ said a gruff voice. ‘If I untie you, do you want something to eat?’
Alienor heaved up and lunged towards him and heard him curse as the hot stew splattered over his hands. He swore at her, and she heard the laughter of the other men from around their fire.
‘Leave her!’ one of them shouted. ‘What do you expect if you try kindness on a she-devil?’
Alienor slumped, tears wetting the blindfold.
Moments later she heard more hoofbeats and the sound of troops dismounting. Then Louis’s voice demanding to know what was happening.
‘The Queen is here, sire,’ Thierry said. ‘We had to bind her because she refused to come of her own accord. We also thought it best to disguise and conceal her.’
‘Let me see her,’ Louis demanded.
Aware of an approaching footfall, Alienor writhed and thrashed.
‘We would have fed her, sire, but she spilled the food all over Simon when he offered it to her.’
Alienor felt fingers on her face and struggled frantically.
‘See,’ said Thierry. ‘She is possessed, sire.’
‘Be silent,’ Louis snarled. ‘Did I order you to do this? I think not.’
The fingers worked at the knot on the blindfold and pulled it away. The gag came out next and Alienor coughed and drew in enormous breaths of unrestricted air.
‘Dear God,’ said Louis. ‘Dear God!’ He turned to Thierry. ‘I did not order this. Give me your knife.’
Stony-faced, Thierry drew his long dagger from its sheath and handed it to Louis.
With jerky movements, Louis cut the bindings around the cloak and set Alienor free. She fell forward into his arms and immediately recoiled.
‘I never meant them to do this to you.’ Louis’s expression filled with shock. ‘I wanted you to come with me, and we had to leave by stealth at night. I would never condone this – never!’ He looked over his shoulder at the now tense and worried knights who had kidnapped her. ‘You have overstepped your bounds.’ He glared at Thierry. ‘Is there no maid to assist the Queen? Where are her women?’
Thierry made a terse gesture and Gisela was brought forward from the other side of the campfire. Tears streaked the young woman’s face and she hung back. ‘I am so sorry!’ she sobbed.
‘Attend your mistress,’ Louis said.
Alienor raised her head. ‘I want Marchisa,’ she said with a last vestige of strength. ‘I will not have this one attend me ever again!’
Louis flicked his fingers and Gisela was led away, weeping bitterly. Marchisa stepped forward, her own face bruised, one eye swelling shut.
‘You beat her maids too?’ Louis was shocked.
Thierry touched the comb rakes on his cheek. ‘That one is as wild as her mistress,’ he said.
Marchisa shot him a glare. ‘I would have cut out your black heart if I could,’ she spat, and knelt over Alienor. ‘Madam, it is all right, I am here now. I am here.’
Alienor clung to Marchisa. Now that the immediate danger had passed, she was numb. Marchisa propped her against a pile of saddle blankets and clothing packs and brought her a cup of wine.
Alienor bowed her head. ‘He will pay for this, I swear,’ she said. ‘I shall still have my annulment.’ She closed her eyes. She was too tired and damaged to think. To feel only filled her with bleak despair. But come the morning she would set about planning her return to Antioch.
She was shaken out of the blackness of deep sleep to a sky that had the milky appearance of pre-dawn but was still scattered with stars. The men were mounting their horses. Her bruises had stiffened and the pain made her gasp as she tried to move. ‘I cannot ride,’ she whispered as the previous day’s horse was brought to her. ‘It is impossible.’
Louis came over to her and studied her with hard eyes. ‘You should not have resisted Thierry when he came to fetch you,’ he said. ‘It is your own fault that this has happened. Some might say you deserve it; nevertheless, I have chastised him for his conduct.’
‘I will not speak with you.’ She turned her head away. ‘It was my right to remain in Antioch.’
A look of revulsion crossed Louis’s face. ‘Antioch is a den of iniquity. Do you know what people are saying about you? Do you know how much you have sullied your name – and mine into the bargain? Do you care that you have made France a laughing stock?’
She closed her eyes, refusing to engage. It was all as nothing.
Louis exhaled hard. ‘I need us united. How can I lead an army if you are in Antioch encouraging rebellion against me and fomenting discord? You shall come to the Holy Sepulchre and you shall be washed clean. Make no mistake, you will never return to Antioch. Do you hear me? Never!’
The French army, reunited, made its way towards Jerusalem. They were travelling in the Christian states now and the way was easier, but the days were hot with encroaching summer and the spring campaigning season had been lost. Louis paused to worship at shrines along the way as they covered the two hundred miles between Antioch and Jerusalem. There was no word from Antioch, but the silence itself burned like the tips of the soldiers’ spears in the baking summer heat and Louis was constantly looking over his shoulder.
Alienor travelled in a litter, enclosed and unseen. It suited Louis because she was with him but out of sight and Alienor did not complain because it fell in with her own needs. She did not have to interact with anyone except when they made camp or she required the necessary screens for her ablutions. She could be alone with her thoughts while her body recuperated. Louis had not been near her since that night. She knew she was being closely watched lest she try and turn back for Antioch, but with each mile that passed, it became less and less possible.
Seven days into their journey, Alienor woke in the night certain that something was wrong. She had been dreaming of a baby, its downy golden head nuzzling at her breast, but when she looked down into its tiny face, it began to change, its rosy colour becoming ashen and its eyes turning as dull and dusty as wayside stones. It flopped in her arms, lifeless, and as she clutched it to her, it crumbled to dust. She sat up gasping, and pressed her hands to her belly. It felt heavy and solid under her touch, like a stone. There was no feeling, no flutter of soft limbs against the wall of her womb. She tried to go back to sleep, but eventually gave up, and went to sit by the embers of the fire until it was time to move on.