Devil's Consort (66 page)

A slide of a booted foot. The rasp and chink of mail. Someone was in my room. Slowly I sat up, my heart beginning to beat hard.

‘Agnes?’

The shadows moved.

With a sudden spurt of fear I grasped the handle of the knife I kept beneath my pillow—a misericord—the deadly, thin-bladed dagger that could be slipped between the joints of body armour that the crusading knight carried to deliver the coup de grâce if they were ever in danger of being taken prisoner by the Turks. I had taken to keeping one close after Mount Cadmos.

‘Who is it? What do you want?’

The blade suddenly gleamed along its length in the light from a partially shaded lantern. I tightened my fist, raised it with intent to strike.

‘Damn you!’ An oath quickly cut off. ‘Oh, no, you don’t …’

A flurry of movement and my wrist was seized in a hard grip, the blade plucked from my fingers by a mailed fist. Saracens come to murder me? Their attack on Antioch a terrible reality that had already begun? But why no melee of fighting? Why no outcry from Raymond’s guards or from the crusading forces?

‘Not a word, lady, if you know what’s good for you!’ the same harsh voice of command hissed in my ear.

I had no intention of obeying despite the fear that curled in my belly. ‘Let go!’

The mailed hand was clapped over my mouth to stop me crying out, then the folds of a heavy cloak dropped over my head and wrapped round me as if I were a parcel of cloth for delivery. I thought a rope was wound around the outside to pinion me securely, to bite into my flesh. I was helpless, immobile, a prisoner in a dark and airless prison, reeking of wool and sweat. The fear bloomed to fill my lungs, my throat. Surely I would suffocate. I had to concentrate on shallow breathing. I must not panic. I must not use the air needed to fill my lungs.

I was lifted, carried clumsily, roughly, clutched and shaken when I struggled.

‘Lie still, damn you.’ A snarl of a whisper. ‘Be still if you don’t want to suffer more.’ And because I was indeed helpless, I lay still as I was carried from my room. Since I understood the orders, it was not the Saracens. I felt no better for the revelation.

I knew when we had left the palace from the change
of footsteps from marble flooring to stone paving. Then I was dropped onto cushions covering a harder surface that moved beneath me. A litter or a palanquin, I thought, hearing the strike of shod hooves and feeling the distinctive sway. The cloak was loosened to allow me air but the ropes were left in place as the busy sound of military activity reached me, the rasp of voices, quietly but clearly giving orders.

Abducted!

I lay on my side, hot, sweaty and terrified, unable to move other than to roll—to no advantage unless I wished to fall blind from the litter—and considered.

I could imagine only one man who would undertake this assault, and I knew exactly where the advice had come from, even the hand that had guided the practicalities of my imprisonment. I might even have recognised the solid body that imprisoned me, the voice that threatened me, if I’d had my wits about me. And what could I do about it? Nothing. All I could do was lie in this stuffy shroud and endure it as the litter began to move. But now my heart began to settle to a steadier beat and my breathing ease. I no longer feared for my life. My death was not the object of this chain of events. And the perpetrator?

Louis, of course.

Since I would not go to Jerusalem of my own free will, Louis would ensure that I did so under duress. Without clothes or possessions, or my women. Doubtless we would be reunited at some point in the future.
Who would have believed him capable of such trickery? But it was entirely within Thierry Galeran’s odious planning.

As fear drained from me, fury raged to replace it and I lay and fumed, pulling ineffectually at the ropes. Galeran had dared to set hands on me, had dared to carry me off without my consent. Galeran, that paid minion, had forced me, Duchess of Aquitaine, against my will.

I had not even been given the opportunity to make my farewell to Raymond.

The hours passed, dark emerging into light. The litter lurched and swayed without compassion. I simply lay and endured.

When the sun rose and we were at a distance from Antioch, quite as I expected, Louis saw fit to release me. Lifted from the litter, I was carried into the pavilion erected temporarily as Louis waited for the rest of his forces and mine to catch up with us. God knew what he had told my commanders. At this point I did not care. My anger had reached vast proportions.

Silent and resentful, head throbbing, I stood as the ropes were loosed and the cloak unwound, and there was Louis standing in front of me, his face a mask of frozen disapproval. He looked at me, lips twisting in distaste at my dishevelment and dusty night robes, all too revealing. Without a word he took the cloak, dismissed the man who had unwrapped me and, deliberately at arm’s length, held out the heavy folds to me.

‘Put this on. You are not suitably dressed. Your garments will arrive soon and you can put your appearance to rights.’

So he did not wish to touch me. I took the mantle but let it drop to the floor, refusing to look away from Louis’s denunciation. I refused to cover myself as if in shame.

‘My appearance is the least of my worries, Louis. You can hardly blame me for it. It was your doing.’

‘Do you expect me to apologise, Eleanor?’

He did not look sorry. In fact, he looked amazingly satisfied. Here was a confident Louis I rarely saw and I reined in my own temper. Anger would not help, and I needed to know his intentions.

‘You have treated me like a chattel,’ I remarked as calmly as I could.

‘Do you deserve any better?’

‘It was my wish to remain in Antioch. You knew that.’

‘I could not allow it. I had to remove you for your own good. Once we are settled in Jerusalem the rumours will, hopefully, die a natural death.’

‘Remove me for my own good?’ Control was becoming more difficult and my breath caught on the enormity of it.

‘Do you not hear what they say of you? Or were you so steeped in sin that you closed your mind to them? Galeran made me aware—’

‘That toad!’ I spat. ‘It was all his idea to abduct
me, wasn’t it? You’d never have thought of that on your own.’

‘All I know is that it would be better for you if you did not remain in Antioch.’

‘How magnanimous of you! To have my well-being so much at heart!’ But I recognised that there was no arguing with him. ‘What happens when we reach Jerusalem?’

‘You will remain under my surveillance.’

‘A prisoner?’ A little flutter of alarm.

‘If you wish.’ How inflexible Louis had become. Between us, Galeran and I had driven him beyond his usual dithering. Here was firm conviction, determination that astonished me. ‘I shall keep you under armed guard if I have to, to preserve what reputation you have left. As for our marriage …’

‘Will you give me an annulment?’

‘This is not the time to discuss it. Neither are you in a position to ask favours of me.’

‘Favours? I ask no favours. Only my rights.’

‘You will stay with me in Jerusalem,’ he continued, as if I had not spoken. ‘We’ll not talk about what happened in Antioch—we’ll pretend this unfortunate little incident never occurred. You’ll see, Eleanor, when sense prevails, that my actions were for the best.’

How typical of him. How horribly typical. To close his eyes to what he did not like, to refuse even to speak of my sin with Raymond out loud. And with Galeran to bolster his self-righteousness I could not see my way
forward. All my plans had gone awry. Louis was refusing an annulment and I no longer had the weapon of the control of my forces to hold over him.

Damn him! Damn him to hell! But I knew I must be careful, very careful, now.

At last he moved towards me, stooping to retrieve the cloak, placing it around my shoulders as if I were an invalid in need of care. And, no, he did not flinch from touching me. His words were gentle, so gentle I felt an urge to strike out at him again. I did not want gentleness from him.

‘You have lost your way, Eleanor. I will look after you. You will stay here, in this pavilion, until your garments and your women arrive. They you will robe yourself suitably and bear yourself with dignity before your Aquitanian forces.’

How damnably condescending!

‘You will find that your captains are no longer willing to follow blindly where you order. Your behaviour has condemned you in their eyes.’

He could not have made my situation plainer. I shrugged and cast myself down on a divan to wait. I had no choice, had I? When, later, clad demurely in silks and fine linen as befitted my status, I left the pavilion to watch my troops approach, nothing could be clearer than that my captains could not meet my eye. Amongst my forces rumour at my expense had been well spread, thoroughly stirred to such a pitch as to put
me firmly in disgrace. It did not take much guessing as to the owner of the viperous tongue.

I was alone and powerless. Dependent on Louis.

Time for thought as I travelled in my solitary litter. Time to apportion blame. It was all my fault, of course. I had committed the sin, if that’s what it was. I had made the choice—and so I must accept the consequences. Taking Raymond as my lover had been. unwise, at best. I would admit to that, even if I would not accept Louis’s accusation of depravity. But now my foolishness had become a sword to be used against me, with Galeran’s hand on the hilt, to wound me and sully my reputation for ever.

So, what about practicalities? What was my plan now for the future? To remain with Louis? It had been made spectacularly clear to me that any planning had been taken out of my hands. My belly lurched, and not with the sway of the palanquin.

I set my mind to feverish decision-making.

With so few options, on one point I was unshakeable. I would have to go to Jerusalem because Louis had decided I must, but I would not stay there at Louis’s pleasure with my name on the lips of every crusading knight in torrid speculation. I could not bear it. Once there I would hire a vessel and I would return to France, to Aquitaine, where I would remake my reputation. I would rid myself of Galeran and Louis.

In my own lands I would make my reputation shine again.

Yes, that’s what I would do. I was determined on it.

There would be no mending of my reputation for a while yet. My residence in Jerusalem proved far longer than I had either foreseen or hoped.

And why?

I could not believe I had been so thoughtless, so blind to consequences. But I had been: I had taken no Roman precautions. How should I, when that single sultry afternoon with Raymond had not been premeditated? How wilful is the body when one would wish most to subjugate its natural impulses. How ironic that my reluctant womb should fall prey to Raymond’s masculinity.

Foolishly, carelessly, impossibly, I had fallen for a child.

‘W
HAT?’
Louis jumped like a cat.

There was a silence, like that following a shattering thunderclap. A silence that could be felt on the skin, that could be tasted with the metallic bite of blood. Once again I took in the reactions of the men who sat at the table or stood at my side. Raymond as startled as the rest, but I caught what I thought was admiration in the brief inclination of his head. No admiration in Galeran—his features flattened with hatred. The Count of Maurienne was frankly astonished. Odo de Deuil gulped in sudden anxiety. Only my own vassals vibrated with a lively interest in this unforeseen development. And Louis. Poor Louis! By God, I prayed I wouldn’t have to think that ever again. Well, Louis was simply perplexed, with a burgeoning shadow of fear in his pale eyes.

‘An annulment?’ he croaked. ‘But you cannot …’

‘Oh, I can.’

‘Eleanor.’ As if he had pulled on velvet and ermine robes to cover the black wool, Louis struggled to regain his regal dignity. It was an impressive display of stiffened spine and rigid shoulders, but unfortunately entirely superfluous and too late, far too late. ‘You are my wife and Queen of France. On what possible grounds can you demand an annulment?’

‘On legal ones.’

‘Legal?’ Almost visibly cringing at this public discussion, Louis attempted to take my arm and draw me aside from the council. ‘We have a daughter together,’ he whispered. ‘How can we have an annulment?’

I would have none of it. ‘Our marriage is still illegal, Louis.’

Louis’s face was stamped with utter bewilderment. Or was it? He knew exactly the legal state of our marriage. Then I saw a tiny flicker of fear. And drove home my advantage.

‘We should never have been wed at the outset. Don’t pretend to me that you don’t know! Even Abbot Bernard warned you of this. I was there—I heard him. We are related in the fourth degree and there was no dispensation.’

Face as white and drawn as a corpse, Louis looked from me to Raymond, and back again. ‘Is this his advice?’ he demanded.

‘No. I don’t need advice. Here are the facts. By the
law of consanguinity our kinship makes it unlawful for us to be man and wife. Is that not so?’

Unable to find a rapid rebuttal, Louis swallowed hard. I launched into my argument. I was well prepared. This was my moment and I would make the most of it.

‘It is the truth. We both know it. You are my cousin through four generations. Consanguinity is not new to you. You supported Vermadois and my sister on those grounds. Henry of Anjou was refused as a husband for Marie for the same reason, so there’s no arguing against it. If you chose to close your mind against it all these years and deny its existence—well, that doesn’t change the fact of our illegal union.’ Energy infused my words as I watched Louis almost physically retreat from the force of my arguments. ‘You know it was wrong—and we have suffered for this sin committed by your father who sidestepped the dispensation in his greed. It’s my belief that my failure to bear a son is due to God’s displeasure. I have to presume I shall never carry a male child with you. You need a son for the future safety of France, Louis. If we gain an annulment, you can wed again and get an heir.’