To Be Queen (10 page)

I turned back to Louis, for I had neglected him long enough. I spoke to him in flawless Parisian French of the contest I would hold that night. I reached out to take his hand. Louis blinked, surprised at my boldness.

“You see, my lord king. Now they will use my new name and it will become a byword. Never again will you be misunderstood when you speak of your wife.”

Louis' face, cloudy with worry and doubt, cleared as the sky does when the sun rises in the morning. “You did this for me?”

I felt my heart twist inside me. This young king's childhood had shaped him so that he was forced to such diffidence now. I thought of my father; what a man Papa might have made of him.

I schooled my face to blankness, save for a soothing smile. “Of course, my lord king. All I do, I seek to serve you.”

Louis' hand closed hard over my own, and he raised it to his lips. His eyes filled with tears, and for a moment, I thought he might shed them.

I saw then that Louis was weak. He was not a man to shelter me, as the Baron Rancon would have been, but someone else I would have to protect.

I stared down at Louis' bent golden head, pushing away all comparisons with the baron and what might have been. I told myself that it was better this way. A weak king would lean more heavily on me, and on our son.

This thought did little to comfort me as I sat in my great hall that night, listening to the songs sung in my honor. My barons used my new name as seamlessly as if I had never had any other. Louis listened and applauded, though I could see he did not like to hear my name lifted in song at all.

I judged the contest, and gave the winner a golden cup from my father's treasury. Louis eyed it almost avariciously, and I wondered if he coveted it for himself. I saw his priest, Brother Francis, eyeing it as well, and the look that passed between them. Louis wanted that goblet not for himself but for the Church.

I felt a touch of ice slide down my spine, but I shook it off. I could train Louis out of such proclivities. Soon he would be drawn to me alone. Once I had Louis in my bed, the Church would be relegated to its place, in the service of the throne of France.

After two weeks of feasting and dancing, my wedding day came. The sun rose bright that morning, and there was not a cloud in the sky. As my women dressed me in emerald silk and cloth of gold, I stared out of the window and thought of my father.

For the last two weeks, I had been distracted from his death, both by Louis and by all my knights and barons gathering in one place. I had laughed and danced, schemed and heard the reports of my spies. For the weeks after our wedding, I had planned a progress through my lands so that all my people might see my husband, and, more important, his five hundred knights. I would show the people and my barons the might of the King of France, as well as the control I exerted over that might. I would leave for Paris soon after that progress, so I wanted to make a strong impression.

Politics seemed to fade with the dawn of my wedding day. My father and I had worked so hard to achieve this marriage. Today, that work would bear fruit, but my father would not see it.

Papa lay everywhere as I looked around his favorite palace. I had been mewed up in the keep at Bordeaux for so many months that it had grown tiresome to me. Now I was leaving, and I did not know when I might return. I must be about the business of birthing kings, and raising them to follow not just in their father's footsteps but in mine. But today, I thought not of my future but of my past. I thought of Papa, and of how I wished he stood beside me.

Petra seemed to know what I was thinking, as she often did, in spite of my care to keep my feelings hidden. She reached out, and took my hand. I kept her hand in mine, and smiled for her, though I knew the smile did not reach my eyes. She would have said something to me, but a knock came at my door.

Before my women could speak, I called, “Come.” And the door opened.

The Baron Rancon strode into my rooms, as if he were my betrothed, as if he had the right.

My women drew back, startled, then moved to stand in front of me. They were all thinking that he had come to abduct me. I knew better; he was loyal. Rancon would not have come to me unless the need was dire. He was no romantic fool, set on begging me to reconsider my marriage. He was there for some other reason altogether.

When Geoffrey of Rancon looked at me, standing there in my green silk and cloth of gold, he stopped dead, whatever he had first meant to say forgotten. I savored the feel of his eyes on my skin, and let him look.

I stepped out from behind my women. “My lord Rancon, what brings you to my rooms on my wedding day?”

“Treason, my lady.”

I raised one eyebrow. My ladies twittered like birds in a hedge. I let them murmur among themselves for a moment, before I raised one hand.

“What treachery, my lord?”

“There is a plot to kidnap you after the ceremony, on the way to your wedding feast.”

Our vows spoken and the mass after were two steps in the process of my marriage to Louis, but neither was the most important. If I was taken by another man before Louis bedded me, the duchy could be claimed by the first man who had me. A few hasty words with a priest and a quick coupling were all that was needed for any brigand to make himself Duke of Aquitaine. Vows taken before God and masses sung in the darkness of a church would mean little if another man laid siege to my body, and, by taking hold of me, took hold of my duchy.

Though my barons might rise up against such a usurper, they could be subdued, and bribed with gold after, once my new brigand husband had his hands on my treasury. And in spite of Louis' five hundred knights, there were some men who would not mind risking war with France if they could gain my duchy first.

“Is this common knowledge?” I asked.

“No, my lady. Only I know it, and now you.”

I nodded once, thoughtful, as if considering. It was no secret that men wanted to kidnap me, to take hold of my duchy. I had a strategy in place to thwart them if my enemies made it past my castle gates. I met Amaria's eyes, and she left us to spread the word among a few well-chosen men. My people would soon be at work, seeing that my will was done.

“Then we will give them a hunt,” I said.

“What, my lady?”

I smiled at him, and in spite of his worldliness and his courtesy, I saw that he loved me still.

“If my enemies hope to catch me like a rabbit in a snare, we will give them a chase.”

My women said nothing to this, and the baron stared at me, uncomprehending.

“My lord Rancon, your castle of Taillebourg lies hard by. Might I prevail on you to spend a night there when the wedding is done, myself and the king?”

Baron Rancon's face darkened, and he bowed to hide it. “My house is yours, Your Grace, whenever you have need of it.”

I closed the distance between us, and extended my hand. “Thank you, Geoffrey.”

The use of his given name was almost his undoing. I felt a pain next to my own heart, and I wished once more that he were the man I would bed that night.

I thought for a long moment that he would not accept the hand I offered. When he did take it, his palm was warm and dry. He kissed my fingertips, then backed away.

“Send word to your men,” I said. “I will get word to the king.”

Rancon did not speak again, but bowed to me. He turned and strode from the room, and my women sighed as he left. Had I been free to express myself, I would have sighed as well. As it was, I met Amaria's eyes. She would dispatch word to the king's guard. After the ceremony, we would ride for Taillebourg.

My wedding was almost anticlimactic after so much excitement.

I met my husband on the cathedral porch, and we pledged ourselves to each other in front of his people and mine. The archbishop of Bordeaux heard our vows and blessed our marriage there under a blue sky a shade darker than my father's eyes.

At the end of the ceremony, Louis hesitated one long moment, but finally, he gave me the kiss of peace. My women relaxed then, for they had feared he would avoid kissing me out of shyness; he was famous among my people for diffidence already. It had never occurred to me that he might turn from me in front of all our people, and I felt a wash of relief as his dry lips touched mine once, very gently. Louis turned from me to stare after the archbishop as he preceded us into the darkness of the church.

I laid my hand on Louis' arm and waited, but he did not move. In the end, as we stepped into the church, it was I who led him.

I did not listen to the mass, but knelt on my embroidered cushion and thought about the night to come. I was sorry to leave directly for Taillebourg from the church and miss the wedding feast I had planned so carefully. But I could not risk being kidnapped at the feast itself, or on my way from the church to my own great hall. I would have to flee as soon as the wedding mass was sung. I knew that Amaria and Petra would see to it that my lords and their ladies ate well, drank deep, and slept it off after. After all, it was my wedding my barons had come to see, and they had seen it.

I was the young queen now. I would not have my own coronation, as no French queen ever did. But my barons and Louis' men-at-arms had seen me bound in marriage to their lord and king. My marriage vows were all it took to make me queen. All my father had worked for had come to pass. I wondered in that moment why I did not feel the triumph of it.

Louis listened to the mass, and prayed fervently when directed by my archbishop. I watched my young husband and realized that he would be in my bed and in my life for many years to come. The whole day seemed like a dream suddenly, and fear rose in my throat. I swallowed hard, but could not dislodge it.

Though my will was strong, this boy beside me now held the power of life and death over me and mine. Though in truth I would continue to rule in Aquitaine, though I would continue to rule my own life or see myself damned, by the laws of France and the Church, this boy was now my lord and master.

The archbishop placed the coronet of Aquitaine first on my head and then on my husband's. I looked at Louis in my father's diadem. He was Duke of Aquitaine now. I was a lone duchess no longer.

The mass ended, and the congregation rose. Louis stood first, for I had been distracted by my dark thoughts, and had lost the thread of the ceremony, dropping my mask of calm serenity for the briefest moment. Louis must have seen my fear.

A lesser man would have preened, or planned how to use my moment of weakness against me, but Louis was a true gentleman. He did none of those things. In the darkest moment I had known since I first heard of my father's death, Louis reached out and took my hand.

“My lady. My queen. Fear not. I am here. No harm will ever come to you, so long as I draw breath.”

Louis' hand was warm, as warm as Rancon's had been. His blue eyes held mine. He took a new oath, standing there beside me. I leaned on him, and let him help me rise.

“My men-at-arms will protect you, Eleanor. Come with me now. Let us leave this place. Your women will follow with your baggage train.”

I smiled that he thought I worried for my bags, for my gowns and slippers. He looked down at me, standing between me and all the court. He seemed to want to block their view of me, until I was in control of myself again.

Louis took me by the hand and led me out into the sunshine of the cathedral steps. My people waited to see us, and cheered themselves hoarse. Louis stopped and took one step back, that they might admire me.

Still holding his hand, I drew him up beside me. The people called my name, but when they saw me smile, when they saw me turn to him, they called his name as well.

I saw him as they did, this bright young boy, full of promise, his golden hair gleaming in the sun, his strength a bulwark for us to hide behind in time of war. Standing with me on those stone steps, my husband's face bloomed with the kind of open smile I had never given anyone, the smile of someone who was truly young.