They had no right to it, I declared.
Louis was certainly not of that opinion, in view of the fact that my grandfather had handed it over in order that he might be able to pay for his visit to the Holy Land.
But I insisted that it belonged to me because my grandmother had brought it to Aquitaine.
Louis did not want to listen, but I accused him of cowardice, of turning his back on the matter, not for reasons of logic but because he was afraid to go into battle.
He was very anxious for my good opinion and after some months I wore down his resistance. Once I had done that he seemed quite eager to go ahead with the plan.
It was necessary to raise an army, and for that we needed to bring all our vassals together, so we sent messages throughout the country calling them to Paris. There was a response from most but there was one notable exception.
When Thibault of Champagne came to see Louis, I insisted on being present. I was rather attracted by Thibault. He was a very important man and had strong opinions. He never offered me that blatant flattery which I expected from most and I felt a little irritated because of this, but perhaps it helped to stimulate my interest in him.
He told Louis quite frankly that he had no desire to join in a campaign against Toulouse.
“And why not?” asked Louis.
“Because, sire, I consider it would be doomed to failure and even if you succeeded in winning Toulouse, it would soon be taken back. The people of Toulouse are content with the way things are.”
“But,” I said, “Toulouse belongs to me. It is part of my inheritance.”
Thibault bowed. “I crave my lady’s pardon. I thought it was sold to the present family by your grandfather when he went to the Holy Land.”
“It belongs to me,” I said stubbornly.
Thibault inclined his head once more and made no further comment.
Louis said: “I shall expect you with your company. We leave a week from today.”
Thibault replied: “My lord, I think I could not expect my men to follow me in such a cause.”
“I shall expect you,” said Louis.
Thibault then retired.
“A contentious fellow,” I said. “He forgets you are his liege lord.”
I could not believe that he would dare disobey Louis’s summons but he did, and on the day we left he simply did not arrive.
Louis said: “Perhaps one could not expect him to join in a fight for which he has no heart.”
“Vassals obey their liege lords,” I said. “If they do not, it should be the worse for them.”
“When this campaign is over, you will not expect me to wage war on Champagne, I hope,” said Louis, a little testily.
“We can do without the help of Thibault of Champagne,” I said.
It was thrilling to ride off with pennons flowing in the wind. There is something magnificent about an army on the march.
I did not intend to accompany Louis into battle. I was going to my beloved Poitiers, there to await the triumphant return of his army.
We said goodbye to Louis, and Petronilla and I with our little company rode on to Poitiers, which would always be home to me.
Such memories came back. It had changed little. The people would always be the same. They had no great interest in conquests; they did not care that we were now bound to France by marriage. It was only when their easy way of life was threatened that they could be roused to anger.
Petronilla indulged in memories of the past as we rode through the forest, hunting, hawking. Our evenings were spent in singing and reading poetry, and each day we watched for Louis’s victorious armies.
Alas it did not happen that way. Why had I ever thought that Louis could be a conqueror? He and his army arrived in Poitiers just as they had left Paris. They were an army in retreat.
Louis explained to me. “They were prepared for us ... waiting for us.”
“And you turned back.”
“There was nothing else to do. The army would have been cut into pieces. Alphonse-Jourdain had his men everywhere. They were on the castle battlements ... arrows ready. Our men would have been mown down if they had attempted to advance.”
“So you just turned and came away?”
“It was the only thing to do, unless I wanted to see my army destroyed.”
Why had I thought he would make a soldier! There was nothing to be done but disband the army.
Louis remained at Poitiers with a small company and, despairing of him, I said: “We could at least make a tour of my cities in Aquitaine.”
So, although the expedition was a failure in one way, in another it was a success. I loved Aquitaine. Never could any other country have the same place in my heart; and to be with my own pleasure-loving people was a great joy.
In the various castles we were lavishly entertained. I loved to sit in the great halls listening to the songsters, watching the dancers and remembering the past. I could almost see my grandfather seated there, putting out a hand now and then to caress his beloved Dangerosa. How different from the Court in the Cit Palace in Paris presided over by a puritan!
Louis was with us, aloof, uneasy, shuddering at the implications in some of the songs. I felt more frustrated than ever. I longed for a dashing lover who would carry me off and force me to obey him so that I could not be reproached for what happened.
The troubadours were handsome, their voices so soft and appealing, their eyes brilliant with desire.
Petronilla was languorously excited by it all. I thought: It is time she was married. We must find a worthy husband for her. I had watched her often. She was too much like myself for me not to understand her. I had seen her laughing and flirting with a score of men, and she had not my responsibilities to consider.
I was most attracted by Raoul of Vermandois. The fact that he was not young was an asset. I was sure he was a very experienced man. How different from my poor, inept, bumbling Louis. Raoul was married to the niece of Thibault of Champagne, a very virtuous lady, I believed. I wondered how she felt about being married to such an attractive man. I had heard rumors that he was by no means a faithful husband.
Raoul was always in the group nearest me. He would sing with his eyes on me. He was a reckless man, I knew, and there was no doubt what he was suggesting. Would he dare, I wondered, even if I would?
I could imagine Louis’s falling into one of his rages. Raoul must know that he was on dangerous ground. But still he continued in his unspoken courtship.
Louis was becoming aware that I despised him. I think he felt humiliated by what had happened at Toulouse. A soldier would have gone on and fought. Alphonse-Jourdain might not have been such a formidable foe as he appeared—who knew? Louis had simply lost his nerve; so he had turned away. Any man would be ashamed of such an action—and even Louis was no exception.
I did not refer directly to the subject, but I suppose I did taunt him in many ways, and I was sure that it was because of this that he acted as he did about the election of the Archbishop of Bourges.
When the archbishopric fell vacant, the man most capable of filling the post was a certain Pierre de la Chtre. Louis, however, had decided otherwise and had put in one of his ministers called Carduc. He consulted Suger who assured him that he had a right to elect his own Archbishop but there was no doubt that Pierre de la Chtre was the best man for the post. Louis was obstinate on this occasion. The Church stood against his candidate. It was always unwise to stand against the Church. I had learned that through my father and grandfather; yet often there was an irresistible urge to do so. Louis now felt such an urge. The Church was strong and in spite of the King, Pierre de la Chtre was made Archbishop and before Louis could protest Pope Innocent had accepted the decision and consecrated Pierre de la Chtre.