The troubadour's song

by Patricia Werner

  King Louis had a dire illness and was not expected to live. His son was just a child. Blanche of Castille would be regent, should the king die and her young son be crowned.

  Count Raymond and his entourage were greeted with due respect and formality and shown to chambers where they would stay. French ladies and maids came to help Allesandra make herself presentable, and they seemed to understand her soft-accented French well enough. Perhaps it was her growing anxiety about meeting Gaucelm in such a formal surroundings. She was also very aware of her great responsibility to the people of Languedoc to help Raymond come to the wisest decision they could make.

  The ladies in waiting led her to an antechamber where Raymond waited with other advisors who had traveled with them, the count of Foix and the count of LaMarche. Also, there were two other minor barons, accompanied by Jean de Batute and Christian Bernet, who had been brought along to entertain with their songs once the treaty was agreed upon.

  Raymond was garbed in a rich green tunic with gold-threaded collar, girdle, and hem. A cloak of matching gold cloth was fastened with a ruby brooch at one shoulder and flung back to reveal one sleeve. His beard was freshly trimmed, his features noble.

  She felt gratified that he was every inch the well-loved leader his father had been.

  Her own raiments of deep burgundy silk with silver bands at cuffs and hems blended into the other rich colors that their assemblage wore. Her hair was coiled and held in place by the crespine of silk cords woven into a net and studded with jewels at the intersections of the mesh. The crespine was held in place by a fillet worn around her head over the stiffened band of silk that came beneath her chin. Buttressed by her fine dress, she was ready to face the royals. And Gaucelm.

  She'd had no word that he would be present, but as soon as the doors opened, and Raymond's party was admitted into the great hall, she saw him at the end of the long, regal room. Her party had to walk down a great length of hall, past great arched openings that gave onto a gallery above on one side. Two stone fireplaces were carved into the thick walls on either side, and the oaken beams that supported the ceiling were far above them, giving the feeling that those who approached the throne were very small in the great space.

  Upon a great chair placed on a platform with two steps leading up to it sat the regent, Blanche of Castille.

  Raymond approached and made reverences, and Allesandra dropped a curtsy. She was thankful that she was not expected to say anything, for as Raymond and Blanche of Castille exchanged formalities, Allesandra's thoughts were all for the man who stood proudly to one side, gazing at her. She stole a quick glance, but kept her expression veiled. His, on the other hand, lit fires in her veins. For he was staring directly at her, as if not caring who watched.

  After a moment he gave his attention to the conversation, and Allesandra heard her name as Raymond introduced her. She curtsied again, and tried to pay attention to what was being said but she knew that no real negotiations would take place yet. This was just the formal beginning of the conference.

  "I speak for the dying king," said Blanche, whose face looked harsh with little beauty. "It is my instruction to negotiate the

  peace in the manner Louis would have it. My son, who will inherit the throne, must be considered, but we will listen to what Count Raymond has to say."

  "I thank you, madam," Raymond replied.

  Blanche rose, and they all moved to two heavy, carved high-backed chairs arranged in front of the largest of the hearths. Blanche sat down and arranged that Raymond do so. A smaller, armless chair, little more than a stool with a shield-shaped back, was brought for Allesandra to sit behind and to the left of Raymond. The rest of the men stood as the conference began. One of the retainers handed Blanche a rolled parchment, which she held on her lap without opening it.

  "The king has read your missive and taken it under consideration."

  Raymond waited.

  "You hold Toulouse and lands north of Toulouse. The king acknowledges that you can be driven out only at the cost of bloody fighting."

  Finally, Raymond began to talk politely but proudly. But Allesandra still felt most keenly aware of Gaucelm, who stood back a little. When she glanced at him, she thought that he, too, was paying little heed to what Blanche was saying. Perhaps he had heard it all before. Allesandra's attention wandered between the negotiations and the warmth and tingling of her body under Gaucelm's stare. Her face warmed, and her back began to ache from straining to sit rigidly.

  After some time, Allesandra again began to hear Blanche's words to Raymond.

  "You realize, of course, that if we reach a reconciliation, there will be a public act of penitence. We must act in accordance with the Church on this, but it will not be too harsh."

  "I agree," said Raymond.

  Allesandra looked at the side of Raymond's face that she could see, and saw the wince he must be trying to hide from Blanche. Although he was prepared to make these concessions, nevertheless, Allesandra knew it cost him something.

  "You will be recognized as count of Toulouse, but you will promise to hunt out and punish heretics. You will offer a reward to anyone who captures a heretic."

  "Very well."

  "The Church wishes to establish a center of orthodoxy in the heart of your lands. Therefore, the Church wishes you to pay the salaries of professors of theology, canon law, and the arts, who will come to Toulouse to form a university there."

  Raymond nodded. Allesandra began to feel the grip of the church descend, and her attention was diverted from Gaucelm. The price of the peace was not going to be pretty. But they had all agreed to go forward with it. She listened as the rest of the agreement was discussed. Raymond promised his sister to the king's brother, Alphonse.

  "Even if you should sire other offspring," Blanche said slowly and deliberately, "Jeanne of Toulouse will be your sole heir. On your death, the county of Toulouse will pass to Jeanne and Alphonse and their children."

  "To this, I agree," said Raymond with some strain.

  Blanche leaned forward slightly. "And if they are childless, Toulouse reverts to the Crown."

  Raymond said nothing. Allesandra watched as his face drained of color. He had not considered this. Even she was surprised. Jeanne was to be sole heir, that they knew. But they had not considered that Jeanne herself, who was still very young, might be childless after her marriage.

  Allesandra studied the woman who would soon be regent. She felt a bitter anger build within her as she contemplated the Capetian greed. They hoped Jeanne would not bear children. She suddenly wondered how far they would go to prevent her doing so. Allesandra stood up, trembling. The Capetians wished to see the extinction of the House of Toulouse.

  She held her words, but all those in the gathering turned their eyes to her. Her pulse pounded in her ears and she opened her eyes wide, certain that her expression was one of agitation. Ray-

  mond glanced up at her, but said nothing. Finally, Blanche lifted her chin.

  "Does Lady Valtin have something to say?" she said, but in such a way as to suggest that it would be ill considered to disagree with the demands put forth.

  Allesandra glanced down at Raymond, who sent her a look of caution. The fire in her eyes blazed forth and she held her chin just as high as that of Blanche.

  "I do wish to speak, but perhaps it would be better to speak to Count Raymond in private. He has asked me to come in the capacity as advisor, as my husband served as his father's advisor before his death."

  Blanche inhaled a long breath of air through her nostrils. "We are all thirsty. We shall break off our conference until tomorrow. You will want food and drink after your long journey. And we will hear the entertainments of the musicians who traveled with you." She stood up. "Tomorrow is soon enough for these agreements to be concluded."

  And she turned her back on them and swept off toward a doorway at the side of the room. No doubt the egress led to where King Louis lay in his bed, waiting for Blanche to tell him how things progres
sed.

  Servants appeared with goblets of wine. Perhaps Blanche thought fraternization would help Raymond accept her terms. Allesandra saw Gaucelm move into her line of vision, but she was too angry to speak to him. Instead, she seized Raymond's elbow.

  "Sole heir," she said between clenched teeth. "But don't you see what she is trying to do? What if Jeanne should have no heirs? Then we have lost everything we've fought for."

  Raymond glanced over his shoulder and then steered Allesandra away from the others. "You are right. I had not considered it. I might yet beget a son of my own."

  "Someone who could claim Toulouse as his inheritance after Jeanne. But if you don't conceive an heir and Jeanne doesn't either..."

  Raymond tried to calm her. "I cannot imagine that will happen. Allesandra, we have come this far. These terms are bitter to us all. But we already deliberated long and hard. It is the least of all the evils now."

  "And let the inquisition loose among us. You yourself are being forced to offer a reward for heretics."

  "A few will suffer, yes. I will have to cooperate. I thought you understood that there is no choice."

  Her anger began to give way to hopeless resignation and she grasped his hand. "Oh, Raymond, it is so hard to deal with these French. We will never be able to like them."

  Raymond glanced behind her and she felt Gaucelm's presence. She turned, but the expression she gave him was not welcoming. Gaucelm bowed to them both, and Raymond acknowledged the other man.

  "My lady Valtin is unhappy with the terms," said Raymond since Gaucelm had witnessed the incident. "I value her advice, but after a night's rest, I am in hopes that we can proceed and reach agreement." He gave a vague gesture that included Gaucelm in the conversation.

  But Gaucelm was already ignoring Raymond. "Perhaps my lady would like some wine," he suggested, and hailed a servant who brought a goblet. He handed it to Allesandra, who took it this time. Raymond was called away.

  "How do you fare?" asked Gaucelm. In such a crowd, he behaved formally.

  Allesandra lifted her chin. "It is difficult to stand here and allow your rulers to plan the complete demise of the House of Toulouse."

  "Hmmm. Is that what you think? You do not know the future, madam. I believe we are trying to see it as a joining of the House of Toulouse and the Capetians."

  "I cannot see it that way."

  "Then I will not argue. Instead, why not look forward to the evening's entertainment." In a lower voice, he said, "There are things you can do nothing about, Allesandra. Cease trying. The

  winds of fate are blowing. Do you not think that the end to this war is best for all concerned?"

  She was able to look into his eyes, and she did not miss the fact that his statement held some personal meaning. But she was still too agitated and fearful of the results of this conference.

  "I am not ready to think such thoughts, my lord," she said a little more quietly.

  He offered her his arm. "You need be ready for nothing except to dine. That is the only thing demanded of you now."

  And he gave her a look that began to undo her. She accepted his arm and let him lead her through the passage that led to the chamber where tables were set for a feast.

  The French and the southerners were encouraged to mingle, but the atmosphere was stiff. Allesandra sat next to Gaucelm and listened to the music from the musicians' gallery and the low hum of conversation. From time to time, silence reigned except for the sound of fruit being sliced and wine being poured. Blanche spoke to fill the silences.

  "I do recommend that our guests take time to visit the cathedral being built on He de la Cite. I am most interested in your opinion of the sculpture."

  There were a few murmurs, but hardly the revelry of a normal gathering.

  After the meal, the guests broke off to wander in the gardens. Allesandra accompanied Gaucelm, but she still brooded over the negotiations. And in spite of her relief at seeing Gaucelm again, and the inner longing that even her anger could not completely quell, she felt more hopeless than hopeful and kept lips pressed together as he walked with her along the rows of herbs and flowers under a blue sky.

  "Tell me, madam," said Gaucelm in a tone formal enough to satisfy anyone who might hear their words on the clear air, "have you written any poetry in these last months?"

  "I have been too busy for poetry," she said in a sharp voice.

  She realized she was beginning to sound like a harpy. But perhaps it was fitting that Gaucelm see a side of her that was not

  submissive to his charms. If he cared for her, then he would understand her qualms. He did not misunderstand her mood.

  "That is too bad," he said. "The greatest unpleasantness is sometimes easier to bear if it is given expression in poetry and song."

  "Oh? And did you learn this from the time you spent among us?"

  "I learned that and many things."

  He stopped, seized her arm and turned her to face him so she could not avoid his gaze. "Allesandra, this treaty may be abhorrent to you, but there will be a day when it is past. You will return to your lands and pay tithes to the Mother Church and taxes to the king. It is the way of the future. I know you dislike it, as do your countrymen. But unifying France is not a bad thing. As one country, all our peoples can prosper. Squabbling between nobles will stop if they all serve the same king. Can you not see it that way?"

  She tugged her arm free and looked to the side. "You ask that we stop fighting. Even Raymond wants to do so. But what good are empty displays of faith and loyalty where none exists in the heart?"

  "Be careful what you say," he said only for her ears. "What I am suggesting is that you accept the inevitable. You still have your own life to live. I had thought you might wish to live it in my presence."

  This forced her to look at him once more, but her expression was still questioning. "How so, my lord? Will you be awarded my lands again? Am I a piece of property to be sold along with my lands?"

  He gave an irritated scowl. "Your marriage is up to your overlord, the count. I planned to speak to him."

  "Before you spoke to me?" The words snapped out; in her present mood, Allesandra could not stop them.

  His lids lowered and he gave her a look that said he had already looked into her soul. "Words were not necessary, my lady We exchanged all the talk needed when we were at the fair in Aix, did we not?"

  Memories of that sensual interlude sent a flush through her, and she glanced down in sudden embarrassment. "Perhaps we did. But that was while we were still at war." Her chin came up. "My people had not yet surrendered."

  "But you had surrendered." His words were low, suggestive. There was no doubt of his meaning.

  She looked him in the eye for a long moment at last, and could not back away. The bond between them held her there, and in spite of their differences, she knew she was not free of it. But in the late-afternoon sunlight she saw that her love for him was clouded by the other horrors that had always been between them. Even so, she laid a hand upon his arm.

  "Gaucelm," she said more quietly, but with feeling. "So much lies between us. I'm not sure we could be happy."

  His grip moved up to her shoulders. He did not care who saw them. "You could learn to be happy."

  "If we marry," she said, "I will lose all the freedom I now have. I will bow my head to husband, Church, and king all at once."

  The muscles in his jaw twitched. "I can see that my love would not be enough. You have forgotten then what we shared at Aix."

  Their conversation was interrupted by Jean, who made so much noise, treading on the path and humming a tune as he approached, that Allesandra knew he was intentionally letting them know they were about to be interrupted. They broke apart. Jean gave a flourish and bowed.

  "Sir Gaucelm, my lady. The music is about to begin. Perhaps you will join us."

  "Of course, Jean," she said. "We will return to the hall in a moment."

  He lifted a knowing eyebrow and bowed again, then he turned to retrea
t. Gaucelm frowned. "You are surrounded by friends. I am surprised that Count Raymond does not marry you himself. Or is that what you've been trying to tell me?"

  "No, we . . ."

  But Gaucelm would not let her go on. "I can see that in spite of the passion you showed me, your loyalty to your kind is more

  important. I was the fool, then, to think that we could achieve happiness. Well, madam, perhaps you are right. I release you. You are free to give your hand to a powerful count who can while away the night writing poems to you."

  He took a step backward, and then he left her there.

  She made her way back to the hall alone, regretting the bitter words between them. A black mood settled over her, and she almost wished she'd not come to Paris at all. In the hall, she joined others of her entourage to listen to the music and watch entertainments.

  Later in the evening, a light supper was served. She noticed that Raymond was absent as well as Blanche of Castille. She surmised that they had withdrawn to private chambers to talk alone. Part of Allesandra resented it, but part of her saw why they might do so. The two already knew what they wished to achieve. They might reach agreement in private and then after presenting it to the king, tell the others on the morrow that it was done.

  Allesandra retired early to her chamber, prepared for bed and then sat by the window with an oil lamp and tried to read some poetry. But she found the French poets dry and didactic, and longed for Provencal poetry instead. There was a light knock on her door and she put the book aside.

  Even before she answered it, she knew it was Gaucelm. He slipped into her chamber and shut the door behind him. Without preamble, he unclasped his surcoat and tossed it aside. His belt followed it.

  She stood and watched, trembling at the surprise visit, sure of what he was about to do. When he had removed his shoes and thrown off his tunic, he finally spoke.