by Anne O'Brien
‘I am not unaware of the opinions of Abbot Bernard.’ He placed both documents neatly together, lining up their edges as if therein lay the answer to the problem.
This was not working! Why could the man not be swayed by the weight of legality? So if I must beg …
‘I feel my failure, Holiness. Every day, every hour. I cannot live with it. Can you imagine what I am made to suffer through no fault of my own? My lord needs a son to inherit his throne and feels our lack keenly. He puts the blame on me, because his counsellors tell him that the fault is mine. Do you realise the life I have been forced to lead?’ I stretched out my hands, beseeching his pity. ‘I cannot live like this longer, Holiness. I cannot believe it is God’s will that I suffer for a sin that is not mine.’
‘I agree, my daughter.’ He rose and walked to his prie-dieu where he knelt, lifting his eyes to the crucifix before him, leaving me to sit in terrible uncertainty. Then he pushed himself ponderously to his feet, and smiled across the room. ‘I see my way. I must restore God’s peace and contentment to your heart.’
My heart leapt with hope. ‘God’s peace can only be restored to both of us through a restoration of legality.
An annulment. I beg your consent, Holiness, to put this marriage aside. For both our sakes, and for France.’
Real tears were wet on my cheeks. So much hung on this one decision. So much. If it went against me, what would I do? To remain bound to Louis for the rest of my life was more than I could bear. My tears flowed more freely.
‘I beg of you, Holiness.’ Yes, I begged him for my separation as tears dripped to blot on my carefully prepared vellum that Eugenius had discarded. The lines of consanguinity that tied me to Louis through our ancestors blurred and ran until all but indecipherable.
Eugenius nodded. ‘It is certainly a matter to be considered. Come here, my child.’
Once more I knelt before him, determined to leave no stone unturned.
‘You should know, Holiness, that my lord refuses an intimate relationship with me.’
‘Indeed …’
‘Another child is impossible unless Louis can …’
‘There is no need to say more. You have suffered so much. God will have mercy on you and bless you.’ I felt the touch of his hands as I bowed my head. ‘I admire you, Eleanor. You have presented a powerful case to end this union.’ His voice was warm, he had used the intimacy of my name. He would do it! Thank God! Silence filled the room, broken only by the twittering of finches outside in the close-fitting branches of a towering cypress. The hands lifted from my head. I looked up in gratitude, the tears drying on my face. The Pope smiled at me. ‘I have seen your evidence and heard your passion, my child. You are not at fault, in any of this. There is no need for your conscience to trouble you or to fear God’s continuing punishment … but I think you have misunderstood. It is the duty of a wife to cleave to her husband.’
Cleave? I should cleave to Louis?
‘It is not in your interest or that of His Majesty for you to be set apart. There is no illegality in your marriage.’
Was he a fool or misguided? Did he not understand? How could he simply abandon the facts I had placed before him?
‘Your troubles can be healed, my daughter. Your marriage restored.’
Hope fled out of the window to join the mindless twittering of the birds. ‘He does not come to my bed. How can it be healed, restored?’
Eugenius shook his head in a smooth tolerance that promptly set light to my anger. ‘You have to be compassionate, daughter, to the strain of your husband’s leading the Crusade. His holy vows of celibacy should be commended, not held up for criticism.’
Commended? Irritation was swamped in fury. ‘I’ll not commend him for his neglect of me! He rarely touched me even before he grasped the Cross!’
‘You are a high blooded woman, Eleanor. You must pray for self-control.’ Now my blood ran from hot to cold. How could it be that he made me sound like an importuning whore rather than a neglected wife? ‘And perhaps now that the Crusade is over.’
‘It has been over for twelve months! Our marriage is not tenable!’
‘You are wrong, Eleanor. Abbot Suger thinks it is.’
Suger! The name sounded like a death knell to all my plans. What had Abott Suger to do with this?
‘And Thierry Galeran also advises me that, once returned to the calm atmosphere in Paris, you will regain your dignity as Queen of France and accept your marriage.’
And Galeran! Regain my dignity? How dared that low-born upstart comment on my dignity?
And as if a page in a book had been opened before me, I saw what I had so disastrously overlooked. Louis had sent on a courier to arrange our audience here at Tusculum. He had sent Thierry Galeran. Who had used his time well to drop poison into Eugenius’s ear. Of course he had, and Eugenius had not been slow to listen and be swayed by his favourite Templar.
‘Galeran argues for the marriage to stand. Both he and Abbot Suger understand your situation very well. I have listened to them and I will lean in their favour in my decision. That’s not to say that you don’t have my compassion, my child. But I think you are wrong. I will not give you the annulment you ask for.’
I could barely breathe. It had been a lost cause from the very beginning. They had destroyed my arguments, Suger and Galeran between them, cutting the ground from beneath my feet by their oh-so-smooth and understanding compassion for my situation. Eugenius had never had any intention of listening to me. He had known from the beginning that he would refuse. If I’d had my dagger to hand and Galeran before me, I swear in that moment I would have gutted him. And no point in kneeling before this weak-willed, ineffectual Pope, who would be manipulated by such a creature as Galeran.
I stood, smoothing down my skirts, willing composure over my shaking limbs and features, and addressed him in frigid accents.
‘I assume that both of your esteemed advisers—when daring to discuss the personal matter of my marriage—mentioned the immense value of Aquitaine for the kingdom of France.’ I was pleased to see colour rise to His Holiness’s receding hairline. ‘I assume they informed you that my lands were far too valuable for Louis to lose for the mere whim of a woman.’
‘We discussed your need for Louis’s protection,’ Eugenius replied with terrible simplicity. ‘How else would you keep your lands intact? It is not practical for you to be unprotected and alone.’
The validity of my arguments counted for nothing. They never had. Tears pricked behind my eyelids again but this time from fury and I refused to let them fall.
‘You must accept that I know what is best for you,’ Eugenious simpered with ill-concealed victory. ‘If you will kneel again, we can pray together.’
I would not. ‘I don’t want your prayers. I want an annulment.’
‘But your husband does not. He loves you. Is that not a blessing, my daughter?’
‘A blessing? Louis’s childish infatuation is a chain around my neck!’
I managed a curtsey, ensured that it dripped with disdain, then strode from the room, striving not to slam the door. I left my evidence—what use was it to me now? The houses of Aquitaine and Capet were cast on the floor at Eugenius’s feet and I left them there. Anger shook me.
I consigned Suger and his interfering to the fires of hell. Along with Galeran and his vicious poisoning. And Eugenius. They were all in it together.
Nor was Louis without blame. I ran him to ground in one of Tusculum’s little antechambers with its view over garden and distant hills, where he stood in the window embrasure, poring, as he ever did, over a list of figures with Galeran.
‘What have you done?’
I gave neither recognition to Galeran nor moderated my voice. The papal guards at the door remained stolidly unmoving.
‘I suppose His Holiness refused.’ Louis looked mildly astonished at my passion.
‘Of course he did. He’d no intention of doing anything other. He played me for a fool, pretending to list
en, and then …’ I shut my teeth with a snap. ‘I’ll not speak of it with your creature picking over every word like a vulture over a carcass.’
‘I have your best interests at heart, lady.’ Galeran impossibly, unforgivably smug. He even smiled at me. ‘And the interests of France. We cannot afford to lose Aquitaine and Poitou. And you are too dangerous to be left free. Any one of our enemies could covet your lands …’
‘Dismiss him,’ I ordered Louis without a glance at the Templar.
‘But, Eleanor—’
‘You heard me.’
Louis did, hunching his shoulders against an imminent storm if he refused.
‘What did you say to that self-satisfied hypocrite?’ I demanded as Galeran retreated.
‘Only that I want another holy war to …’ I saw that his hand was clenched like a claw on the document and read his guilt there.
‘Damn the Crusade, Louis! What did you say to him about us?’
‘That I love you.’
‘What use is that, to either of us?’
‘It’s true. His Holiness asked me …’
‘Are you so—so witless, Louis?’ I snatched the scroll from his hand and flung it to the floor between us. ‘Did you not tell him that we need an annulment? Did you not demand it from him? You are the King of France. His position is not so strong that he can fly in the face of your wrath.’
‘I told him I wanted a son. I asked for his blessing.’ By God! Hopeless! ‘His Holiness said that you too had expressed your grief that you could not carry my heir.’
Of course I had said it. It was the only argument I could use. That did not mean that I wanted it. I never wanted to share a bed with Louis again. I wanted to scrape the filth of Paris from my feet and wave Louis farewell. There he stood, old before his time, fingers trying to flatten the scroll he’d rescued from the floor. Even now, he was looking beyond me to see if Galeran was lurking within earshot, so that he could be summoned back to continue to tally the figures for a new Crusade.
There was nothing here for me to love or respect.
‘God’s bones, Louis! Have you no sense?’
My baggage was packed and we would leave at daybreak for Paris, but I could not sleep. Wrapped in a loose robe over my shift, my hair unbound on my shoulders, I could find no way past Eugenius’s obstinacy. Should I appeal to Abbot Bernard again? I glowered at the invisible gardens beyond my window.
A sound at the outer door took my attention. Low voices whispering.
Then Agnes. ‘A servant is here.’ Her disapproval was sharp. ‘His Holiness wishes to speak with you before you leave. What does he want at this time of night? Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow?’ She picked up my cloak, and stood waiting.
I was not of a mood to stir myself. One more piece of kindly advice to put myself in Louis’s care, subdue my own intemperate moods and set myself to a life of unparalleled boredom in the Ile de la Cité. After Outremer, with all its heights and depths, Paris beckoned with the promise of a dungeon cell.
‘The servant is waiting, lady,’ Agnes chivvied. ‘He says to go now. His Holiness does not stand on formality.’
‘At almost midnight!’
I allowed her to bundle me into the mantle, a veil around my hair.
‘I am to come with you,’ Agnes said as she wrapped herself in her own cloak, and the servant nodded.
I did not care greatly. The sooner I got there, the sooner I could accept whatever holy soft-voiced imprecations Eugenius would direct at me for a holy marriage and return to my bed.
We walked through antechamber after antechamber in what were clearly Eugenius’s private apartments until our guide opened a door, bowed discreetly and ushered me in. A study with table and books and exceptional hangings, so a room for audiences and business. It was softly lit with wall sconces and the fragrance of costly wax. And there was Eugenius, gleamingly silk-clad in papal robes despite the hour. And beside him, in the act of rising to his feet from his knees, Louis. Looking no more pleased than I at being summoned at this ungodly hour. Even he was in a chamber robe rather than his black habit, although I thought I saw the hint of hair shirt at the open neck.
I ignored him.
‘My daughter. So pleased …’
Eugenius bustled forward, hands raised in greeting, face alight with what might have been construed as innocent pleasure, except that my hackles rose. There was something not right here. Nevertheless, I knelt and kissed his ring. One must not treat God’s Chosen Representative on Earth in too cavalier a fashion. One never knew when one might have need of him.
‘Holiness,’ I murmured respectfully.
He raised me to my feet, keeping my hand in his, drawing me with him towards Louis, who shivered like a stag at bay.
‘I wish to bless you once more, before you depart.’ Eugenius seemed even more sprightly and cheerful than usual. ‘I have only one final piece of advice for you young people before you journey on to Paris. You were joined as one in holy matrimony in the eyes of God and I believe it is His purpose for you to remain so. It is good that your lands are united under one ruler, is it not? It seems to me that your problems can be solved by one simple step.’ He beamed. I felt apprehension walk its chilly path down my spine beneath my night-robe. ‘Give me your hand, sire.’ Now he was stern with implacability.
Louis obeyed, eyes wide and watchful, darting between my guarded face and Eugenius’s determination. For a moment we stood there in strange alliance, the Pope holding both our hands. The chill in my body became even colder. It seemed to me that we were puppets, manoeuvred and manipulated in whatever manner God’s Chosen One desired. Unless one of us refused and put a stop to it.
One of us. It would not be Louis. He would hop in whatever direction this priest desired. I tensed in Eugenius’s grip, which clearly he felt as his fingers tightened around mine.
‘May God bless and keep you safe from all sin and wickedness, my dear children.’
Then, lifting our hands, he placed Louis’s on top of mine within his own, enclosing them in greasy dampness, as if we were about to be wed all over again. Panic danced over my skin. Did he truly think that such a piece of mummery would heal the rift? It was in my mind to snatch my hand away but he held on, his plump fingers surprisingly strong.
‘You need a male heir.’ He inclined his head to Louis. Then to me: ‘And you, my daughter, believe it is God’s will that you have failed to bear a son, a holy punishment for a marriage you consider to be outside the law.’ He shook his head so his jowls wobbled. ‘Not so. I have prayed long and hard about this. I have the answer.’
Nerves rioted over my skin. I heard the soft scrape of Agnes’s feet behind me as she shuffled. Louis seemed to be thinking hard. Was he part of this? I thought not. He looked as uncomfortable as I. As for Eugenius, his expression was as keen as my misericord dagger, yet he laughed softly, entirely pleased with himself, as if he were about to shower us with priceless gifts that would grant us eternal happiness. Releasing us, he turned away towards a door in the far corner of the room, for a man of his girth moving swiftly.
‘Come, now. I will show you.’
He opened the door and preceded us into the room beyond. I followed as Louis stood aside to bow me through.
And I stopped so quickly that Louis trod on my hem, my heel. I did not feel the pain.
If the previous room was the essence of comfort, this one was sumptuous, a masterpiece in polished wood and mellow stone, the walls covered with priceless silk hangings, glowing as brightly as did the Pope in their midst. The windows were shuttered against the night and draughts, with illumination from two branches of fine perfumed wax candles. A magnificent arched ceiling above all enabled the angels carved on the hammer beams to look down on us with trumpets raised to their lips.
It was an awe-inspiring scene, set with care. Set with complete duplicity. I should have known God’s Chosen One for the cunning fox he was.
‘I hope you approve, my children. All the furnishings brought
here from my own chambers.’ He made a gloatingly self-satisfied gesture with his hand. ‘I thought you would enjoy this after the privations of your journeys.’
The room and the luxury it offered might have taken my attention. But it was not that. Oh, no, it was not that that gripped me by the throat.
It was the bed.
In the centre of the room was a vast bed. Silk hung in gold and purple, heavily embroidered in gold thread. A papal bed. A royal bed. As ornately carved and embellished a bed as any I had ever seen. And far larger.
A bed in which to conceive a child.
‘You need a child, a son for France. Here is the opportunity, under my aegis. God will not turn a deaf ear, I assure you.’
Eugenius beckoned us forward. Behind me, in the doorway, I heard Agnes gasp. Louis stood like a statue at my side. I was speechless, with anger at the duplicity but also with fear.
I had been tricked. I was trapped.
If His Holiness was disappointed at the lack of overt appreciation, he hid it well, continuing to reassure us as he smoothed down the already smooth coverlet with his hand.
‘Look on this as the first night of your marriage. You are full of hope and admiration for each other. Put aside your differences as you put aside your clothes. God will be magnanimous.’
I found my voice, but it was more reedy than I would have hoped.
‘I will not …’
‘But, lady, you begged my intervention,’ Eugenius murmured, sly as a stoat. ‘This is the very best I can give you. You will be reconciled and—as my prayers reach the Heavenly Throne—fruitful.’
My wits scattered and my feet seemed frozen to the floor. Louis proved to be no help at all. With a ragged murmur of abject thanks he fell at Eugenius’s feet with bowed head. Then, rising, stripped off his robe and the dire hair shirt, exposing his unimpressive assets. He slid between the silk covers, looking at me expectantly.
Leaving me standing adrift and alone in the centre of the room.
I won’t do it. I’ll not be used like this.
‘It would be my greatest achievement, lady, to reunite two such attractive people and restore them to God’s grace. I know you’ll not deny me.’
