‘What comfort am I supposed to take from that?’ Alienor asked, her throat tight with suppressed emotion.
‘I was not offering you comfort,’ Melisande replied coolly, ‘but if you are going to plan ahead, you should take these things into account so that you may deal with them should they arise.’
‘My heir is a daughter,’ Alienor said. My sons have died.
‘As I was to my father, and as you were to yours.’ Melisande leaned forward in emphasis. ‘You are still young enough to have a different life.’
Alienor took a drink of wine and steadied herself. ‘I intend to,’ she said.
Louis celebrated the Nativity in Bethlehem under a cold star-glittered sky, kneeling at the shrine covering the site of the stable where the Christ child had been born. Tears of exalted rapture streamed down his face. Alienor celebrated at his side, although it was almost more than she could bear, this joy for the birth of a holy infant, when her own son lay in an unmarked grave, never to be acknowledged except by her. She was tired of being a guest of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Much as she enjoyed Melisande’s company, she was ready to leave. All the commands, all the arrangement, all the government was by another’s will and it was not her home. Louis remained obsessed with his pilgrimages. Like a little child craving sweets, he was greedy for more even though he had had a surfeit.
The French army had broken up in September and the troops had begun wending their way home. Louis’s brother Robert had set out with most of the French contingent, leaving a nucleus of soldiers and servants – enough for an entourage, but not an army. Louis said he would follow shortly, but the intent went no further than words and was soon forgotten.
Alienor paced her chambers in Jerusalem like a prisoner, albeit that she had every comfort. She went to the souks and the bathhouses. She attended the local shrines; she prayed at the sepulchre. She read, embroidered, played chess, wrote numerous letters and marked time. Still Louis made no effort to return home. There were more shrines and holy places to see and others to revisit to fix them in his mind. While he was thus occupied he did not have to think about what was waiting for him: the hardships of governance and the decisions about the future. He hid himself amid the glories of God and made them his only reality.
Suger sent letters urgently requesting Louis’s return, and Louis cast them to one side after barely scanning the contents. Alienor had received letters too, from her nobles and clerics, and although Suger had not written to her, she knew full well what was happening.
‘Suger is losing control,’ she said, pinning Louis down to a conversation before he could disappear on yet another excursion. ‘There is no reason for us to stay here. You have seen every site of importance and numerous others more obscure. France will descend into chaos if you do not return, and Aquitaine too.’
‘You exaggerate,’ he growled with a dark look. ‘Suger is an old woman; he fusses too much, but he is still capable of holding all together.’
‘No,’ Alienor said. ‘Suger is an old man beginning to fail. It is your duty to rule France, not his. And I have a duty to my people in Aquitaine – how can I fulfil that duty while I am here? How much longer can we govern from a distance, Louis? Your brother Robert is threatening to seize the regency from Suger and your mother is egging him on. Raoul of Vermandois sits on the fence. Even if we set out today, by the time we arrive in Paris, we will have been gone for three years. And we won’t set out today, or tomorrow, or the next day, or even next week, and all the time your rule at home falls into chaos. How long since Suger wrote to you?’
‘Do not badger me,’ Louis snapped. ‘There is time enough, and Christ must come first.’
‘Then in all that time enough, tell me when shall we leave? At least I can begin to make preparations.’
‘Easter,’ he said. ‘I shall celebrate Easter in Jerusalem, and then I shall see about departing.’
‘That is more than two months away.’
‘Then it gives you time to prepare,’ he said coldly. ‘I refuse to go until then. I worshipped in Bethlehem at His Nativity. Now I shall celebrate His death and resurrection in the time and place where it happened.’
He had the stubborn glint in his eye that told her she would get nowhere by arguing. ‘When we reach Rome, I shall still have my annulment,’ she said.
Louis shrugged. ‘If the Pope agrees, then let it be done.’ His tone was indifferent, but there was tension in his jaw. She knew Suger kept advising him not to agree to an annulment. People would say that a man who could not keep his wife or beget heirs was a poor warrior and a weak excuse for a king; and when a king was not virile and in command, then the country suffered. To her advantage was the fact that Louis was ambivalent about Suger’s advice. An annulment would mean a fresh start, and to offset the loss of Aquitaine, Louis could find a new queen with a good dowry and whatever affinity she brought to the match.
When he had gone, Alienor called for parchment and quills, and wrote to Geoffrey de Rancon. It took several months for correspondence to reach Aquitaine and the same the other way, and she had to be certain there was nothing within her letters to give her away. It was the same with him. He wrote her reports that on the surface were no more than the words of a loyal vassal discussing business with his liege lady, but they were both adept at reading between the lines.
She had told him of the loss of the child and he had grieved. He was doing his best to hold Aquitaine steady during her absence, but was finding Suger and French meddling a trial. He thought of her often, and prayed for her return, and a positive outcome in Rome. He had accompanied his most recent letter with a brooch bearing the symbol of an eagle enamelled in jewel colours with its wings outspread. She wore it every day and she touched it now before dipping her quill in the ram’s horn of dark ink and writing that she would be home by the time the next harvest filled the barns, and that, God willing, she would be free.
33
The Mediterranean Sea, May 1149
Alienor gazed at the sun-sparkle on the sea as the Sicilian galley ploughed white furrows through the deep sapphire water. A stiff breeze filled the sails and they were making swift headway towards their intended destination of Calabria. The cook was frying freshly caught sardines on deck and preparing to serve them with hot flatbread flavoured with garlic and thyme.
By narrowing her eyes, Alienor could make out the other vessels in the French fleet. Louis’s ship was naturally the largest, and flew a blue and gold fleur-de-lis pennant from the top of the mast. Her own vessel, bearing both the fleur-de-lis and the eagle of Aquitaine, was smaller but she was glad not to be sailing with Louis. Being in his company was like having a stone in her shoe.
They had been at sea for four days and it would be another fortnight before they reached Calabria, ruled by their ally King Roger of Sicily. And then from Calabria to Rome and the blessed relief of annulment.
The cook slid the sardines on to a platter and added a sprinkle of herbs. A squire presented the dish to Alienor and she had just taken the first, delicious bite when they heard a shout from one of the other vessels and horns sounding across the water.
She hastily chewed and swallowed. ‘What is it?’
The crew began shouting to each other and hastened to trim the sails, seeking to gain more speed. The cook took a jug of water and doused his fire. ‘Greeks, madam,’ he said tersely.
Filled with alarm, Alienor set her food aside. The Greeks were at war with the Sicilians, and since Louis had declared himself Sicily’s ally and their ships belonged to King Roger, they were open targets. Emperor Manuel Komnenos had promised a reward should any captain take the King and Queen of France hostage and bring them to him in Constantinople.