Devil's Consort

by Anne O'Brien

  Or did they? Did they not light a tiny flame of hope? And in the leisure hours in the heat of the day in Antioch did I not breathe on that little flame until it glowed and the idea began to emerge as a bright phoenix stretching its wings from the flames? Sometimes I thought it impossible. In other moments—well, why not? It was entirely possible if I made it so.

  The fact that you are Eleanor, and a woman of some remarkable spirit, might have every relevance.

  So I worried at it, like loose threads on the worn cuff of a gown. I must think and plan.

  ‘Lady—you should be aware … Court gossip …’ Agnes hovered.

  ‘Of what?’ I hadn’t time for empty tales and false chatter.

  ‘They say that you and the Prince.’

  ‘Raymond’s court has nothing better to do with its time than to indulge in idle speculation. Lies and artifice—either a figment of Louis’s disordered imagination or Galeran’s poisoning tongue. I’ll not hear it.’

  ‘As you will, lady …’

  Once I would have asked her, ‘What do they say of me?’ Once I would have listened to her sage advice, but now my mind was too caught up in my Grand Scheme. So I thought and planned, until every argument was worked out in my mind, as clear as the reflection in the Venetian looking glass that Raymond had provided for my use.

  For a little time I was diverted when Raymond summoned his war council. I was not invited—in matters of government Raymond could be as intransigent as any man—and so was forced to glean information from the violent after-effects. It was not difficult. The palace was awash with opinion and conjecture, not least because within minutes of the council’s meeting Louis and Raymond were at each other’s throats.

  Raymond’s plan of campaign, which I well knew, was to show Louis the wisdom of diverting the crusading army from its progress to Jerusalem and launch instead an attack on the Turkish strongholds of Aleppo and Caesarea. With the Turks distracted and weakened, it would be an easy next step to recover Edessa and thus save Antioch from Turkish inundation. And Raymond’s strongest argument, to appeal to Louis’s principal objective, was that to drive the Turks back would in the long term strengthen Jerusalem.

  Louis had balked like a stubborn mule. Jerusalem was his goal and that was where he would go. My own vassals had sided with Raymond, but their inclination was ridden over roughshod. With terrible conviction and total blindness, Louis declaimed that he would not deliberately shed the blood of his enemy until he had completed his pilgrimage to Jerusalem, to lay his standard on the altar and be washed of his sins. Then he might consider Raymond’s vulnerability, but not before.

  Stunned, Raymond had retaliated, not choosing his words in an unusual show of anger.

  ‘God’s wounds! If you are not prepared to help a fellow Christian, you may as well leave tomorrow. What point in you staying when you would close your eyes to my plight? And that of every man and woman in this city.’

  ‘I am aware of your plight, but I don’t consider it to be immediate.’

  ‘Then God help you if you are ever forced to witness a city sacked by the Turks.’

  The council had ended in a tumult of bad blood. Regrettable, but in it I saw my way to achieve my heart’s desire. I would be mistress of my own destiny yet.

  After the council’s collapse, Raymond seethed. I had no idea what Louis did. Raymond was the one I went to.

  ‘It would have to be a holy miracle to get that damned husband of yours to see beyond his immortal soul!’ Raymond’s anger had cooled, but not greatly.

  ‘Not a miracle.’ I smiled disarmingly. ‘An ultimatum. I want you to recall your war council. And this time I will be there.’ I waved him to silence when I saw the objection of a man who still saw a woman’s place as the kitchen, the solar or the bedchamber spring to his lips. ‘You should have invited me to the first one. I should not have needed an invitation.’

  ‘It is not customary.’

  ‘Is it not? I will be there.’ I laid my hand on his sleeve and weighted my voice with authority. ‘Call the council, Raymond.’

  He studied my face—would he refuse?—then nodded once, a sly glint in his eye. Of course he would agree. Was Raymond not a military man, a skilled tactician, awake to every opportunity? ‘I don’t know what you’re planning but you are a clever woman,’ he observed with the calculating grin reminiscent of the boy I remembered. ‘And a beautiful one. I will do it, because you ask it. We’ll see if Louis can be forced to bend with the wind.’

  Yes, we would indeed see. I could barely wait.

  I delayed my arrival at the war council to enjoy the effect as I walked into the room, as Raymond rose to lead me to the chair that had been placed for me at his right hand. There was a rustle of interest around the table. Louis stiffened, fingers closing round the cross that lay on his breast, probably for strength to withstand me. Galeran’s narrow features were harsh with condemnation. Odo de Deuil looked contemplative, as if deciding whether to write about my uninvited presence or if it might be better to gloss over what might become a vituperative occasion. The rest of Louis’s knights were uneasy. Only my own vassals showed any pleasure in my appearance.

  ‘I have allowed my niece to attend because she requested it,’ Raymond announced, suitably enigmatic.

  I smiled at him, at the council, inclined my head graciously and took my seat.

  ‘Well?’ Louis made no concession whatsoever to my appearance but, eyes sliding first toward Galeran, addressed Raymond. ‘There’s no need for this council. I’ve given my answer, and have put into place arrangements for us to leave for Jerusalem immediately. I’ve made my case perfectly clear—’

  I wasted neither time nor breath.

  ‘You have refused to help him, haven’t you?’

  Louis’s mouth thinned, predictably. ‘This has already been aired. What need to ride over the same ground again? I don’t even understand why you’re here, Eleanor.’

  ‘Hear me, Louis.’ I raised my hand. ‘I reject your decision!’

  ‘To what end? I leave for Jerusalem immediately.’

  ‘And I don’t agree.’

  I looked at Louis, at the unhealthily sallow skin, the tightness of it over his sharp cheekbones, the dart of his restless gaze. And I saw the infinitesimal twitch of a muscle beside his eye. He fears me, I thought. He fears what I might say, what I can do. And Galeran too was uneasy, his jaw set hard. My anxieties and strained emotions of the past weeks vanished. Latent power surged through my blood.

  I smiled at Louis as if I would put his mind at rest.

  Louis sighed, his voice gentled. ‘What do you want here, Eleanor? What can you add to this that hasn’t already been said? I will do what is necessary for both of us.’ I could feel the tension lessen in the room as he reached across the board to take my hand. Surely this show of generosity would silence me. ‘It is not seemly for you to put yourself forward and …’

  I looked at his hand, palm up on the table in open demand, Louis expecting me to place my hand in his in feminine compliance. And I did. I saw Louis exhale in utter relief. And then, when he smiled encouragingly at me, I launched my attack.

  ‘It is my right to be here—and I have made my decision, Louis. Here it is for you to consider. I say we give our remaining forces to the aid of beleaguered Antioch. The Prince has asked for our help and, before God, we should not refuse him. If you are determined to set your face against him—a disgracefully selfish action, to my mind—I can do nothing to alter that. But this is what I can do.’ I hesitated, just for a moment, to draw out the tension, enjoying Louis’s discomfort. ‘On my own authority I will give my own troops from Aquitaine and Poitou to Raymond’s cause.’

  ‘What?’ Louis snatched his hand back as if suddenly scratched to blood-flow by a soft and purring kitten. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘If you march for Jerusalem, I’ll not go with you. I’ll remain here and put my forces under Prince Raymond’s command.’

  ‘You will not.’

&nb
sp; ‘And how will you prevent me?’

  Louis’s voice sank to a whisper that hissed in the silent room. ‘You would destroy any final chance I have of getting to Jerusalem. You know that to remove your men would tear the heart out of what’s left of my army.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You would disobey me!’

  ‘Not necessarily. I think you should reconsider Antioch’s position. When Antioch is safe, you are free to go on to Jerusalem.’

  With a sweeping glance, I assessed the faces that looked back at me. Some aghast. Some intrigued at this battle of wills. My Aquitanians nodding in agreement. I had the whip hand and everyone knew it. Louis had no choice but to acquiesce. He would give in, Antioch would be safe. I felt the slide of Raymond’s gaze, felt the appreciation in the curve of his mouth.

  ‘God’s balls!’ Louis was on his feet, leaning over the table towards me. ‘You’ll not do it, Eleanor. You’ll not defy me.’

  I stood too, and Raymond. In the same moment my Aquitanian captains were on their feet. Suddenly the atmosphere in the chamber was intensely volatile.

  ‘It’s his influence, isn’t it?’ Louis’s stare at Raymond was vicious. ‘It’s the self-seeking ambition of a man who has lured you into his power by fair means or foul!’

  ‘Foul means …? Don’t be a fool, Louis!’ I felt Raymond stir as if to take issue, his hand automatically moving to the knife at his belt, and put out my hand to stop him. I’d misjudged Louis, thinking he would bow before a stronger force. I saw the anger begin to build, the violence that could sometimes race out of control, as the ill-fated de Lezay had once experienced. But I would not back down. ‘Surely any commander of insight would see the good sense of Prince Raymond’s plan of campaign—to attack the Turks in their own base, to drain their strength. But if you choose not to see it …’

  It was if I had struck him. Louis loped round the table, clumsy in his urgency, to lurch to a halt so close that his foot crushed the embroidered hem of my gown. ‘Insight be damned! You’ll not stay here. You’ll come with me when I leave, even if I have to tear you away by force!’

  Like the crack of a whip his hand closed on mine as if he would drag me from the room, but Raymond’s reaction was even swifter, gripping Louis’s wrist, fingers white so that Louis winced and cried out, letting me go.

  ‘Tear her away from here by force, man?’ Raymond snarled. ‘Have you gone mad?’

  I took a breath, stunned by this show of open violence, yet still with enough presence of mind to take a step between Louis and Raymond.

  ‘My lords …’

  ‘Take your hands off me,’ Louis demanded.

  ‘You’ll not force her without her consent,’ Raymond flung back. ‘Is she some common kitchen slut to be ordered by you?’

  ‘She’s my wife and will obey me.’

  ‘I will not leave Antioch.’ I added to the tension.

  There we stood, a three-cornered knot of savage hostility at odds with the sophisticated surroundings, our audience looking on open-mouthed.

  ‘Are we to have this debate in public?’ Louis, unbecomingly flushed, lashed at me. ‘It’s my right to demand your presence with me. I’ll not brook your refusal, Eleanor. You’ll not dictate terms to me. You are my wife and you will obey me.’

  What a day for ill-judged statements. For a long moment I appraised my husband. The furiously working mouth and staring eyes, the clenched fists and monkish attire. This was the man to whom I was tied. By God, it appalled me, but my control was superb.

  ‘Your wife? Yes, I am. I consider it my misfortune.’

  Was this the moment? Should I do it, should I act on the compulsion that had been building and growing within me? My mind flew back to that far distant day when I had visited the Bishop of Laon. It was as if I stood in his room overlooking the green-banked river rather than here in the arid heat of Outremer. What would it take to be separated from this man who demanded my obedience? This man who had destroyed any vestige of affection or respect or loyalty in our marriage. I knew the steps, but dare I take them?

  Everyone was looking at me. How long had I been standing in silence, listening to the Bishop of Laon in my mind, following his pointing finger on the manuscript under his hand? When Galeran shuffled up, and with a hand to Louis’s shoulder leaned to whisper in his ear, when I picked up the words’ … wife … humour her … later we can remove …’ my decision was made.

  Humour me, would he? My memory of the content of the clever Bishop of Laon’s document was prodigious. I raised my voice so that everyone in the room would hear and there would be no doubt of my sentiments.

  ‘Yes, I am your wife, and as such under your dominion, my lord. But the days of that dominion are numbered.’

  ‘What’s this?’ Louis was puzzled, turning a frowning look from me to Galeran as if the Templar might read my mind. ‘I don’t understand.’

  I felt my heart beat against my ribs with terrible anticipation. Dare I do it? Yes, I dared!

  ‘There’s no misunderstanding, Louis. You heard me. Here, in this council, I state my case. I want our marriage to end. I demand an annulment.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘WHAT?’ 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. ‘Y
ou 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.’

  Our audience was agog. So much washing of royal soiled linen in public. More than a few throats were cleared.

  ‘What’s more …’ here was my most lethal arrow ‘ … if you hold me to a marriage that is sinful, you are placing my immortal soul in jeopardy. As well as your own!’

  Louis’s clenched fingers opened and closed convulsively. His eyelids flickered with uncertainty. ‘No. I won’t do it.’

  I ignored this, pressing on with my case at my most accommodating. Could I not afford to be? ‘I will give up my rights as Queen of France, of course. And until it’s all settled between the two of us and the Holy Father in Rome, I will remain here, under my uncle’s protection in Antioch.’

  ‘You cannot agree to this, sire!’ Odo de Deuil could barely find the words, his voice perilously close to a squeak.

  ‘It’s not possible.’ Galeran’s portentious accents.

  ‘Why not?’ Raymond had cast himself back in his chair to watch the outplaying, but chose to intervene with a quiver in his voice. ‘It seems to me that your magnificent wife has it all worked out, Louis. If it’s a matter of the law, can you argue against it? Do you fear to lose her lands? I agree Aquitaine and Poitou will be a sad loss for France, but if your immortal soul is in the balance …’

  I cast Raymond an arch look and a smile, but turned to make my way towards the door. I had nothing more to say, had I? I had laid my case superbly.

  ‘I’ll not agree.’ Louis’s weak, querulous tones followed me.

  ‘I don’t think you have a choice, my lord,’ I replied over my shoulder.

  Louis was still standing as rigid as one of the stately palm trees of Antioch, his mouth a seamless line, as I left the room.