The Courts of Love: The Story of Eleanor of Aquitaine

by Jean Plaidy

  “While I sail in one of the ships!” cried Louis. “Never! I shall place myself at the head of them.”

  Galeran reasoned with him. He was the King. He was the leader of the expedition. He must not expose himself to unnecessary danger. There was only one thing to do. Sail to Antioch with those who could be accommodated in the ships.

  “How can I do this?” wailed Louis. “How can I?”

  “It is clearly God’s will,” was the answer. “If He had intended all the men to go He would have provided the ships.”

  Louis was at length convinced that this was so, and he and I, with the ladies and principal knights and commanders, boarded one of the ships and set sail for Antioch, after Louis had left all provisions behind for the men who must march.

  He was greatly distressed by this and fretted continually as to the fate of those left behind for the long march.

  And so we left. We had lost three-quarters of the army.

  Three days, we had been told. It was more like three weeks . . . three weeks of abject misery. I wondered how I survived them. There were times when I should have been happier to die than go on. No sooner had we left the land than storms beset us. We were driven miles off our course. Antioch seemed farther away than it had when we were on the march. I longed to be back on land, riding along through the mud and slush, beset by the fear of Turkish arrows—anything but this fearsome pitching and tossing, fearing at any moment that this was my last, and hoping that it was.

  The winds tore at us, throwing our flimsy vessel hither and thither on that dark and angry sea. There were days and nights of despair when I thought we were never going to reach Antioch. But one morning I awoke to find the ship steady and the sun shining. We had sailed up the River Orontes to the harbor of St. Symeon.

  A great joy came to me when I heard the shout, “Antioch! Praise be to God! We are there!”

  My joy was soon replaced by horror. I should see my uncle soon and what did I look like? My hair was unkempt, my face pale, my gown tattered and dirty. Oh, this was cruel! To meet him again thus.

  He was waiting to greet us—Prince Raymond of Antioch. I thought I had never seen anyone so handsome as my uncle. He was tall and blond, a prince in every way. As we came ashore, his eyes were searching for me. I learned very soon that one of our ships had already arrived so he knew of our misfortunes and was prepared for us.

  And there he was standing before me. I felt ashamed. I was so accustomed to men’s eyes lighting up with admiration, and now I had to appear before the most charming of them all in my present state.

  He said: “It is Eleanor, my little niece.” He took me in his arms and kissed me. “I should have known you anywhere. You are as beautiful as you promised to be.”

  I touched my face and laughed uneasily.

  “You have suffered a great deal,” he said, his voice soft and tender, his eyes alight with compassion. “Well, you are here now. You are safe, praise be to God. You are going to rest and all will be well.”

  He turned to Louis to greet him, and soon we were on our way to the palace.

  When I think of the Court of Antioch now, I think of paradise. In the first place it bore a strong resemblance to the Courts of Aquitaine. Raymond and I were of a kind—products of Aquitaine. He loved luxury and soft living as I did. Yet he was ambitious. He had come far since my childhood when he had visited my father’s Courts as a penniless younger son who was going to England to make his fortune. Well, he had made that fortune. He was the ruler of Antioch, and he had made it like part of Aquitaine.

  During those idyllic days which followed I was to discover Antioch. It was here that I began to know myself and to see how I was wasting my life. I was to see that Raymond was all that Louis was not; happily could I have lived the rest of my life in Antioch.

  Raymond’s Court was the most civilized I had ever known. It had its origins in the distant past, having been developed by the Romans. It had passed through many hands since then and, it seemed to me, had preserved all that was good from them. Because its climate was so fertile, fruit and flowers grew in abundance; I was not surprised that in the East it was known as “Antioch the Beautiful” and “Crown of the East.”

  I learned later that Raymond’s was an uneasy possession. Antioch was too strategically placed to be safe; it had passed through too many hands—the Arabs, the Byzantines, the Turks and now the Christians held it. “For how long?” must be the question forever in the minds of those who lived the luxurious life within its walls.

  Raymond had beautiful apartments prepared for me. I was to bathe, for he had hot and cold baths as the Romans had; he had carpets on the mosaic floors; and there was that rarity, scented soap. How I loved the comforts he had prepared for me.

  I found laid out on my bed a robe of purple velvet, and no garment has ever given me so much delight. I took off my stained and filthy clothes; I lay in my scented bath; and when my hair was washed and I wrapped the velvet robe about me, I felt wondrously happy.

  Everything about the palace was perfection. There was glass in the windows and from them I could see the beautiful gardens surrounding the palace—the fountains, the lush green grass, the brilliantly colored flowers—beauty everywhere. I was constantly reminded of my beloved Aquitaine.

  A banquet was prepared for us. Raymond sat at the head of the table, Louis on one side of him, I on the other; and it was to me that he gave his attention.

  How gracious he was! How charming and sympathetic! He listened to our account of our sufferings; he applauded our piety in making this dangerous journey. Jerusalem must be made safe for pilgrims, he said. We must stay in Antioch until we were quite refreshed; he would do everything in his power to help us.

  I was in a daze of happiness. It was not only due to the fact that we had emerged from our ordeal to this paradise; it was not only the prospect of a stay in such surroundings: it was Raymond. I was sure that there was no man on Earth who could combine his fine qualities with such handsome looks and overwhelming charm.

  And what was so gratifying was that he seemed to find the same joy in me as I in him. He understood me so well. His first act was to send bales of material for me to choose from, and with them came seamstresses who would carry out my instructions with all speed. Beautiful silks and velvets . . . all magnificently woven. He presented me with jewels.

  And there in his Court were the minstrels . . . the poets just as there had been in my grandfather’s. He had the charm of my grandfather, which was not surprising since he was his son.

  Raymond’s wife Constance, through whom he had inherited Antioch, was very gracious to me. I thought she was lucky to have such a husband and I wondered if she was a little jealous of the attention he paid me. She would tell herself, though, that I was his niece; I remembered it too; but for that fact, it would seem that he was wooing me, so tender was the attention he bestowed on me.

  What happy days! He arranged banquets and tournaments for us. He was determined to please us. Such things, of course, were little to Louis’s taste, and all the time he was yearning to continue the journey. It was only because of the persuasion of Galeran and his knights that he consented to stay. We must all recuperate, they told him. We were all in a poor state of health and in no condition as yet to face further hardships. All needed a stay in such a place; they needed good food; many of them had been wounded; they needed rest.

  I had apartments separate from Louis in the palace. Thierry Galeran slept outside his door. The man irritated me more than ever. I knew he regarded me with dislike, and I had no desire to have him near me. Louis was nothing loath. In fact, I think he was relieved not to have me in his bed, complaining about those long prayers and being a continual reproach to him and perhaps a temptation. All I knew was that I was glad to be away from him.

  I spent a good deal of time with Raymond. When we rode out with a party to hunt he contrived to be alone with me. (It might have been that those in attendance were aware of his desire and helped to further it.)
We had many interesting and illuminating conversations.

  He talked a good deal about his coming to Antioch and the days of our childhood in Aquitaine.

  “I have tried to make this place a little like it,” he said. “Does one ever forget one’s native land? And I have you here with me . . . Queen of France but still the Duchess of Aquitaine.”

  “That is what I like best of all,” I told him.

  “And Louis, of course, only shares it with you. If you two parted, he would lose Aquitaine and you would still be its Duchess.”

  It was the first time I had thought of leaving Louis. Often I had been exasperated and wished myself free of him, but Raymond spoke of it as though it were a possibility.

  “Why?” I cried. “Do you think I could leave Louis?”

  He gave me that dazzling smile of complete understanding. “You, my dear Eleanor, you, the Queen of the Courts of Love, married to such a man! How incongruous it must be! Oh, I understand how the marriage came about. Do not marriages of such as we are often happen in this way? They are affairs of state and should be treated as such.”

  “Before my father died he made this marriage for me.”

  “Indeed he did. He found you a crown. What a pity he did not find you a man to wear it.”

  “Louis exasperates me,” I said.

  “I can understand it. I marvel. There he is, with the most beautiful woman in the world, he who should have been a monk.”

  “He was brought up to go into the Church, as you know. But for a pig . . .”

  Raymond laughed. “What a sobering thought! Our destinies left to the judgment of pigs!”

  I laughed with him. “But for a pig I should have married Louis’s brother. Would he have been a better proposition, I wonder.”

  “He could hardly have been worse.”

  “And your marriage, Raymond?”

  “It is not unsatisfactory. It was necessary, as you know.”

  I nodded. “All those years ago I remember so well your coming to our Court. You had everything then . . . but lands and money.”

  “A very sad lack, I do assure you.”

  “But one which you were determined soon to remedy. You were going to England to the Court of King Henry.”

  “So I did and he was good to me. But I was just a landless youth . . . son of William of Aquitaine, it is true, but a younger son.”

  “Determined to make his way.”

  “And the opportunity came with the death of Bohemund I, who was slain by the Turks in ’30. Bohemund was a great fighter. He came out on a crusade as you and Louis have. Antioch was then in the hands of the Mohammedans, and it was necessary to take it from them to make the road to Jerusalem safe for Christians, so Bohemund fought to free it; and when he had done so, instead of continuing with the crusade, he settled in Antioch, made himself its Prince, and kept the city safe from marauding Turks. On his death his son, Bohemund II, became Prince of Antioch.”

  “And when he died?”

  “There is where I came in. He left only one daughter, Constance, his sole heiress, and an ambitious widow, Alice. She proposed to marry Constance to the son of the Byzantine Emperor, and there was great consternation throughout Christendom, Antioch being a place of great importance on the way to Jerusalem. There was I, at the Court of King Henry, looking for a way to fortune. Why should I not be sent to Antioch to marry the girl? I was unmarried. I was young and strong. They thought I had the qualities of a ruler. It was my great opportunity.”

  “And you took it.”

  “It was not so easy. There was Alice to be confronted. I guessed I should have trouble there. I came to Antioch. Alice received me. She was very gracious and seemed to have some affection for me.”

  “That does not surprise me.”

  “But she wanted the Byzantine for Constance.”

  “And you for herself?”

  “You have guessed.”

  “What a difficult position you were in!”

  “I had had a long and arduous journey to Antioch. There were many who knew my purpose and were bent on stopping me. I was in disguise most of the time . . . as a pedlar sometimes, at others a pilgrim. Having managed to overcome all those hazards, I was not going to miss that for which I had come—which was marriage to Constance . . . and Antioch.”

  “I am sure you were very resourceful.”

  “I had to be. My future was at stake. Alice insisted that I marry her, and there was nothing I could do but appear to submit, so preparations for our wedding went ahead. But before the wedding day I quietly married Constance, who was then nine years old. It was not difficult, for it was what the people of Antioch wanted and they helped me in this. They had chosen me as their leader, and the only way I could become that was through marriage with their heiress.”

  “And Alice?”

  “It was a fait accompli. What could she do? The people were for it. They wanted a Prince and they had chosen me.”

  “And how wise they were! I knew, when I was a child, that one day you would be one of the great rulers of the world. And you see I was right.”

  “You see me thus at this moment, my dear one, but I am most insecure. If the Turks came here to attack me in their hundreds of thousands, I should be lost. I should be unable to stand against them. The occasional raid . . . the general harassment . . . that can be dealt with. The people are loyal to me. They enjoy life here. They would fight with all they have to retain it. But the Turks are a ferocious people. They fight for their religion as we do and there is no greater cause than that.”

  “I am surprised to hear you talking thus, Uncle. You seem so content here.”

  “I live in the present. I fancy you are like me in this. Indeed, have you ever known anyone who understands you as I do? I share your thoughts, your emotions.”

  He had come close to me and was looking intently into my face.

  “No,” I said vehemently, “I never have. When I am with you I feel I am right back in my own beautiful country. I have missed it so much . . . ever since I left it.”

  He kissed me with passion.

  I was delighted and startled. I said: “That was scarcely an avuncular kiss.”

  “What are such relationships,” he said, “when people know they are as close as you and I? What matters anything . . . race, creed, blood ties?”

  My heart was beating very fast. I said slowly: “I suppose that is so.”

  He held me against him. “I have never known this feeling for any other,” he said.

  I replied: “Nor have I felt for any other what I feel for you. It is because you and I were brought up in the same country. There we spent those early and important years. Aquitaine will always be home to us. You have made another Aquitaine here. How wonderful it is to be here! After all I have suffered . . . you cannot understand the hardships.”

  “I can, my beloved. I have suffered something like them myself. That is why I want to stay here . . . make this my Heaven upon Earth. Could I have a more beautiful setting?”

  I agreed vehemently that he could not.

  “Out there . . .” He waved his arms to indicate the world outside Antioch. “. . . there is strife . . . everywhere, it seems. In England, where I was helped by King Henry when I was more or less a boy and starting out on my adventures, there has been trouble since his death. Stephen on the throne, Matilda claiming it. Stephen Matilda’s prisoner . . . Matilda reigning. What sort of a country is that to live in?”

  “Two claimants to the throne is certain to cause strife. Who is the better ruler?”

  “Neither is good, and coming after Henry it is even harder for the people to bear. Matilda wants the throne for her son. It’s natural. After all, she is the granddaughter of the Conqueror and Henry’s direct heir. Stephen only comes through the female line. If he were a strong man it might have worked for I do not think the people want Matilda.”

  “Well, all that is far away.”

  “And our concerns are here . . . in Antioch.”
r />   “It is so wonderful to be here. Everything is so cultured . . . so gracious. And to hear people speaking our language as we speak it—moves me deeply.”

  “I have brought many Poitevins into Antioch.”

  “The poets and the musicians . . .”

  “I wanted to make it as much like my father’s Court as possible.”

  “What an outstanding man he was.”

  “He lived his life fully, did he not? He obeyed no rules. Who else but my grandfather could have carried off Dangerosa and lived with her at his Court as he did?”

  “She came very willingly.”

  “One would expect that with such a man.” He turned to me. “Eleanor,” he went on, “since you have come here I have been so happy.”

  “And I . . . Uncle. It is still like a dream to me . . . after all that suffering to come to a place like this . . . and you. It was like dying and then finding oneself in Heaven.”

  “Pray do not talk of dying. You have much living to do yet and why should we not create a Heaven here on Earth?”

  “That is what you have already done.”

  “Now that I have you here, yes. I never want you to go. I want you to stay here . . . with me . . . for as long as we both shall live. You are silent. Does it seem so impossible to you?”

  “I fear so, though it enchants me.”

  “There has always been a special bond between us.”

  “I know.”

  “Then we must accept what Fate has given us.”

  “You mean . . .”

  He held me tighter.

  “There should be complete intimacy, complete understanding between us. I love you.”

  “But . . . you are my uncle.”

  “My dear, what of that? Why should an uncle not be in love with his niece? Who can decide where love shall come? I love you. I need you to make my contentment complete. I am planning now to keep you here. I live in fear that Louis is going to suggest moving on. I am going to do my utmost to prevent that . . . and you will help me.”

  “I never want to leave you.”

  “Then you feel for me as I do for you?”