Plantagenet 1 - The Plantagenet Prelude

by Jean Plaidy

‘But fine soldiers. The fact that there is a French army on this soil has put heart into Christians throughout the territory and fear into the infidels. Louis was ambushed but he had before that won a great victory. If he had tried to take Constantinople he could have done so.’

  ‘And what can I do?’

  ‘Louis sets great store by you. Everyone talks of his devotion. If you could persuade him to join with me, to postpone his journey to the Holy City, to do the work which is at hand, he would be doing greater service to God than in any other way.’

  ‘And to us,’ said Eleonore, ‘for we should be together. I would ride with the army. I would be in camp with you.’

  Raymond was not sure of that but he remained silent.

  ‘Speak to Louis,’ he said. ‘Sound him. But do not let him know that I have confided in you.’

  She would do it, she promised. She was ready to do anything Raymond suggested; and since the project meant that they would not have to part, she could throw herself wholeheartedly into the project.

  She could scarcely endure to have Louis near her. She was constantly comparing him with Raymond. There could not have been two men more unlike. Why did Louis the Fat, King of France, have such a son? Any of his brothers would have been more worthy to be King. One of his brothers, Robert, Count of Dreux, had great ambitions, she had heard. Henry, the next in age to Louis, was the Archbishop of Rheims so he would no doubt be content with his lot. There was another Philip to replace the one who had been killed by the pig, and Peter. Any of those would have made a better king than Louis. A king whose heart was in the Church was no man to rule a country. Louis had nothing but his piety to recommend him and what a bore that was!

  She had held herself aloof from him and was glad that when he was occupied in State affairs he had little desire for physical contact. What a man to have married such a woman as she was! Although she had always known how unsuited they were, she had realised this more fully since her liaison with Raymond. There was a man who was indeed a man. Ruler, lover, everything that she could desire.

  She was going to work for him with all her power.

  Louis came to their apartment in the beautiful palace which Raymond had put at their disposal, his brow furrowed, clearly thoughtful.

  What was disturbing him, she wondered? Some ritual in one of the church processions? He could be enthusiastic enough about them. He was becoming obsessed by religion.

  ‘Louis,’ she said, ‘how beautiful it is here! How peaceful! Yet at any moment this lovely country could be overrun by infidels.’

  He was silent and she went on: ‘It is a pity that such a spot cannot be made safe for Christians.’

  ‘There is no safety on the road to Jerusalem. That is why a crusade such as ours is fraught with danger.’

  ‘Then we should make that road safe, Louis.’

  ‘No,’ said Louis, ‘we should go on to Jerusalem.’

  ‘But what if this coast were to fall into the hands of the infidel?’

  ‘The glory would be great for those who tried to wrest it from his hands.’

  ‘Should not a Christian do the work that is at hand?’

  ‘He should indeed and our duty is to march on to Jerusalem.’ Louis’s eyes were fanatical. ‘I see us driving the Saracen from the Holy City and making it a stronghold for Christianity for evermore.’

  ‘That would come later,’ said Eleonore. ‘First should you not make it possible for armies and pilgrims to come this way?’

  ‘We were brought here by the grace of God.’

  ‘And given refuge by the grace of the Prince of Antioch.’

  ‘Whatever has happened, whatever will happen in the future, our duty lies clear before us. We must march on to Jerusalem.’

  Having gleaned through Eleonore that Louis was disinclined to accept his schemes, Raymond had no alternative but to call together an assembly to which he invited Louis and his chief advisers.

  He laid his schemes before them and spoke passionately of the need to establish a firmer stronghold on the road to the Holy City. He pointed out the proximity of Aleppo, of the numerous infidels who lurked on the route. The way must be made safe and the Holy City must be restored to Christianity, and until that could be done war must be made on the Saracen. Christians must band together.

  The very thought of aggressive war roused a passionate revulsion in Louis. Never as long as he lived would he forget the screams of those dying in the burning church of Vitry.

  He would not, he declared, make war until war was made on him.

  In vain did Raymond put his case. He could see that he was swaying the priests and the nobles; but Louis remained adamant and the King’s consent was essential to the plan.

  In the summer house Raymond discussed the position with Eleonore. ‘Louis is no soldier,’ he said. ‘It is disastrous that he should command an army. He does not understand that it is far more important to make this land Christian, to strengthen our hold on it, than to make a futile pilgrimage to the Holy City.’

  ‘He is concerned only with obtaining forgiveness of his sins.’

  ‘What sins could such a man have committed?’

  Eleonore laughed. ‘He is a monk in his outlook. He should never have been taken from the Church. And to think that they gave me to such a man.’

  ‘I wonder he wished to marry.’

  ‘I think he did not, but when he saw me he was reconciled.’

  ‘I can understand how you charmed even him. But reconciled! What shame! And you … the Queen of love and song.’

  ‘As I say he should have been a monk. Reluctantly he went to war and there was this unfortunate incident at Vitry. As if such things do not occur in every war. I would I were free of him. Since you and I became lovers I have realised more and more how distasteful he is to me.’

  Raymond embraced her, but his mind was busy.

  Louis had married her because even he had seen that union with Aquitaine was desirable for France. Eleonore must have been the richest heiress in Europe. And although Louis had been given the title of Duke of Aquitaine, Eleonore was still the ruler of that rich land.

  Suppose she were free of Louis? Suppose she remained in Antioch? What if he could arrange another marriage for her? Whom could she marry? It was impossible. But why not a divorce from Louis? Some excuse could be found. A close blood tie! That was the usual grounds and so easy to find because the families of most people in their position had been connected with each other at some time if one went back far enough.

  His mind was busy as he made love with Eleonore.

  It was essential for Raymond to fight this war. He must subdue the infidel; he must escape from the intolerable position of remaining a vassal of the Greek Emperor. Here was his great hope and Louis … ineffectual, monk-like Louis stood in his way. How delighted he was that Louis’s wife was unfaithful to him and with himself - her uncle. How easy it was to understand the simple fellow. A man who hated war and thought little of the profit it could bring his crown! A man who could reproach himself because his soldiers had killed a few women and children! A man who found little pleasure in the act of love and who had only been induced to indulge in it because he hoped to get children and because he had a voluptuous temptress of a wife!

  Raymond laughed and set about planning how he could get the better of this king whose refusal to fall in with his plans made it impossible for him to carry them out.

  They talked earnestly together … he and Eleonore. They must find a means of keeping her in Antioch.

  He understood her far better than she understood him. He knew that her passion for him was as superficial as his for her. She did not know this. Eleonore, the romantic Queen of the Troubadours, was enamoured of love itself and she saw it as supreme. He did not tell her that since he had been the means of freeing her from irksome convention, she would break away from an accepted mode of behaviour, and nothing would restrain her. But he knew this to be so.

  It would not be long before she took another l
over.

  They parted tenderly. They would not emerge from the arbour together. She should go first.

  As she did so she saw a figure detach itself from the bushes. She pretended not to notice but walked on. The man who had emerged from the shadow followed her.

  Before she reached the palace she turned and came face to face with him. She laughed derisively.

  ‘You!’ It was a man she had always despised, Thierry Galeran, a eunuch of immense stature. He was clever and had made his name at the court of Louis the Fat, who had singled him out and made use of his statecraft. It was this King who had recommended Thierry Galeran to his son and Louis had as deep a respect for him as his father had had.

  ‘For one moment,’ said Eleonore, ‘I had thought you might have planned to seize me for a certain purpose. What a joke! That would have been quite outside your range.’

  Galeran bowed. He said: ‘I saw you in the gardens and recognised you, my lady. I thought to offer my service should you need protection.’

  ‘I need nothing from you,’ she answered shortly.

  She hurried into the palace and briefly wondered whether he had seen her enter the arbour. If so would he guess what she had been doing there?

  She laughed to herself. ‘Something, my poor eunuch, which you could not understand,’ she murmured.

  Galeran retraced his steps to the arbour; it was thus that he came face to face with the Prince of Antioch and he knew at once that the Prince had been the companion of the Queen of France.

  Smarting under the Queen’s insult, he debated with himself whether he should inform the King of France of what he had seen. Perhaps it was a little premature. No, he would do nothing as yet, but he would keep a close watch on the Queen.

  Since she had broken her marriage vows with Raymond, Eleonore thought often of some of the handsome men who had made advances to her and whom she had rejected. There was Raoul, Count of Vermandois who had turned in desperation to Petronelle, and was now with the Abbe Suger helping to govern France. She had had a great fancy for him; there was Saldebreuil who was in the hands of the infidel. She thought of him a good deal.

  She mentioned to Raymond the fact that many of the best soldiers in Louis’s army had fallen captive to the enemy and how she often wondered what had befallen them.

  Obsessed by his great scheme Raymond constantly sought methods of bringing it to fruition. And an idea had occurred to him which on immediate consideration seemed hopeless but on closer consideration less so.

  ‘There is a Saracen named Saladin who is a prince of some power,’ he told her. ‘He is a man of good looks and a certain culture. I think he might even become a Christian one day.’

  ‘A Saracen become a Christian! It is unheard of.’

  ‘Not so, my love. Saracens have become Christians and Christians Saracens for certain considerations. It is not unheard of. But this Saladin is an interesting man. Do you know, I believe if you sent a message to him to the effect that you wished to make a request he would at least listen.’

  ‘This is what I wish more than anything. I could then make an offer of a ransom and see if I can bring about the return of my good Saldebreuil. Will you help me?’

  ‘With all my heart. Leave the matter to me.’

  The result was that in a very short time there was a message from Saladin. He had heard a great deal about the beauty and charm of the Queen of Troubadours. She wished to make a request to him. He would grant this and ask only one favour in return which she might feel it in her heart to grant him. Would she receive him that he might have the great pleasure of hearing her request from her own lips and of seeing for himself the lady who was so renowned for her grace and beauty.

  Such a reply delighted Eleonore. The incident was worthy of one of her own ballads.

  If he could come to her she would be delighted to receive him, was her reply.

  She told Raymond of the matter.

  ‘He will have to make his way through a hostile army. How can he do this?’ asked Raymond.

  ‘He says it is what he will do.’

  ‘He will risk his life for a glimpse of you and the pleasure of saying a few words to you!’

  Yes indeed. This was the kind of romance of which her troubadours sang. She was delighted to find that it existed in real life.

  ‘He will never reach here,’ said Raymond sadly.

  ‘He will. I know he will.’

  ‘I will do all I can to help him. I will send out an escort, and he shall be disguised in such a fashion that no one will recognise him.’

  Eleonore was delighted. ‘My dearest Raymond, how good you are to me!’

  ‘Why should I not be to the one I love ?’

  Life was exciting, thought Eleonore. This was how it should be lived. Alas, from one day to the next she did not know how long she would stay here. Louis was restive. Never had she seen him so determined as he was now to go on with his plan. He would not listen to reason. Every day she grew more incensed with him and passionately wished she could end their marriage.

  But she would not think of Louis. She would think of this romantic infidel who was going to risk his life to come and see her.

  How his dark eyes flashed as he contemplated her! How tall he was! What a warrior!

  He spoke a little French, not much, but enough to convey his admiration of her and the effect she had on him.

  She was no less impressed by him. He was different from any man she had ever known and the alien quality was irresistible.

  She wished to ask a favour of him, he believed. She told him that a man for whom she had some regard was a prisoner in his hands. His name was Saldebreuil de Sanzay. She was ready to offer a substantial ransom for his return. Saladin declared that he would accept no ransom. It was enough that she had made a request. His greatest pleasure would be to grant what she wished.

  A messenger should be disguised and sent to the castle where the Frenchman was incarcerated. He should be immediately released and given safe conduct.

  ‘What a charming gesture,’ cried the Queen. ‘How can I thank you enough.’

  She set out to please him. She sang songs of her own composition, songs of love. He listened entranced.

  Raymond joined them and seemed delighted that they found such pleasure in each other’s company. How very cultivated her uncle was, thought Eleonore. How different from poor gauche Louis! She and Raymond were lovers, but he saw at once that there could not fail to be a strong physical attraction between herself and the fascinating infidel.

  The very fact that he was an infidel added to his attraction. She could not help feeling completely excited in his presence.

  Raymond said that he must not attempt to leave the palace for a while. He had travelled far and risked much. He and Eleonore should have more delightful interviews before he returned to his armies. Raymond would make sure that he was well guarded and that his identity was kept secret. They could rely on Raymond.

  When he was alone with Eleonore - Prince Saladin having returned to the secret apartments Raymond had found for him - Raymond said to Eleonore: ‘I have a plan. You may think that it is impossible. If so, do not hesitate to say so. You know I think of nothing but your good.’

  ‘I know it,’ said Eleonore.

  ‘You are weary of Louis.’

  ‘Utterly so.’

  ‘You would be glad to be free of him.’

  ‘Nothing could please me more.’

  ‘Why should you not be free of him? There must be a blood connection between you two. It would not be difficult to trace it. A divorce - and you would be free from Louis.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Why you could marry someone else.’

  ’You are married, my dearest Raymond.’

  ‘Oh, I had not hoped for that ultimate bliss. What if you found another bridegroom?’

  ‘Are you suggesting one?’

  ‘You are greatly taken with our handsome Saladin.’

  ‘Raymond! You know a marriage b
etween us would be impossible.’

  ‘I see no reason why.’

  ‘Saladin … a Saracen!’

  ‘A remarkably handsome one. A man of power and great wealth. There is no reason why he should not become a Christian.’

  Eleonore stared at her uncle. She was thinking of the attractive Saladin and a wild excitement possessed her. He would be so different, so alien and therefore fascinating.

  ‘If it were possible …’ began Raymond. ‘Imagine if it were possible …’

  ‘Yes, Raymond.’

  ‘You would stay here … for a while. You would be ruler with him of great lands.’

  ‘An infidel!’

  ‘He would have to become a Christian.’

  ‘Would he?’

  ‘For you … I know he would. What great glory would come to you. With your incomparable charms you would achieve what armies cannot do. You can bring Christianity to these infidels. For if Saladin became a Christian so would his people.’

  ‘And Aquitaine?’

  ‘My dearest Eleonore, you and he could travel to your dominions now and then. You could spend your lives travelling from place to place which is always a more entertaining way than to stay in one place.’

  ‘It does not seem impossible.’

  ‘You do not find him repulsive?’

  ‘Not entirely so.’

  Raymond hid a smile. His voluptuous niece desired the man, and their own relationship had lost the first flush of novelty. He was visualising the outcome of this daring scheme. If she married Saladin who would look after her estates in Aquitaine? Who better than her uncle who after all might have inherited them if he had been the elder brother. Eleonore could enjoy her Saracen and he would go to Aquitaine, for his position in Antioch was very insecure. And in time Aquitaine would be his. It would suit him very well, for if he were not going to get French help to subdue the Greek Emperor he would need to make other plans.

  ‘Think about it,’ he said, ‘and you will see it is not as impossible as you at first believed.’

  She did think about it. Her mind was full of images. The Saracen was such a handsome man - so tall, dark-skinned with enormous expressive eyes.