Her mother-in-law continued to strive for dominance under the guise of teaching Alienor the etiquette of the French court and preparing her for the official crowning ceremony in December at Bourges, but she was like a snappy dog, always chivvying Alienor and criticising her clothes, her manners, the way she walked, how much time she spent adorning her chamber and her frivolity when she should be at prayer. Alienor was always civil to Adelaide’s face, and demure in her presence, but she was deeply resentful of the older woman’s interference.
Louis sat up. ‘I should go,’ he said with reluctance. ‘Abbé Suger is expecting me, and I have already missed first prayers.’
‘There are always people lying in wait,’ Alienor replied with a toss of her head. She set her palm against his back, claiming him for a moment longer. ‘Perhaps after we are crowned, we should consider returning to Poitiers.’
He looked impatient. ‘We have officials there to keep us informed; there is too much to do here.’
‘Nevertheless, we should think about it,’ Alienor persisted. ‘We are Duke and Duchess as well as King and Queen, and our stay was curtailed because we had to return to Paris. We must not let my people think we have forgotten them.’
He avoided her eyes. ‘I will ask Suger and see what he says.’
‘Why should it be up to Suger? He has a duty to advise you, but he treats you as if you are still his pupil, not the King of France. You can do as you please.’
Louis said defensively, ‘I do take his advice, but I make my own decisions.’ He reached for his clothes and began putting them on.
‘You could decide to go to Poitou after the coronation. It would not be too difficult, surely?’ She tossed her head, making her hair shimmer over her naked body like cloth of gold.
Louis devoured her with a glance and his pale complexion flushed. ‘No,’ he conceded. ‘I suppose it would not be too difficult.’
‘Thank you, husband.’ She gave him a demure, sweet smile. ‘I so much want to see Poitiers again.’ The image of the good and doting wife, she knelt at his feet to fasten his shoes.
‘I do love you,’ Louis said, as if blurting out a shameful confession, before tearing himself away and hurrying from the room.
Alienor gazed after him and gnawed her lower lip. Obtaining what she wanted was a constant battle, and had become more of a routine irritation than an interesting challenge.
Her women arrived to dress her. She chose a new gown of russet and gold damask with deep hanging sleeves and coiled her abundant hair into a net of gold thread set with tiny gemstone beads. Floreta held up a delicate ivory mirror for Alienor to study her reflection. What she saw pleased her, for while her beauty did not rule her life, it gave her an advantage she was prepared to exploit. Her face needed no enhancement, but she had Floreta add a subtle touch of alkanet to redden her lips and cheeks in defiance of her mother-in-law’s scrubbed severity.
Her chamberlain announced that a set of painted coffers she had ordered had arrived, together with some new bed curtains, and a pair of enamelled candlesticks. Alienor’s mood brightened further. She was gradually making her chamber into a little part of Aquitaine in the heart of Paris. Northern France was not without its great riches, but it did not possess the sun-drenched ambience of her homeland. The French palace was heavy with the weight of centuries, but no more so than Poitiers or Bordeaux. However, Adelaide’s dull and sombre tastes permeated everything, so that even this great tower, built by Louis’s father, had the feel of a building much older and stultified with time.
Servants arrived with the new furnishings and Alienor began arranging them. She had one of the chests set at the foot of the bed and the other, depicting a group of dancers hand in hand, put against the wall. She had the existing bed hangings taken down and new ones of golden damask put up. The maids opened out a quilt of detailed whitework stitched with eagle motifs.
‘More purchases, daughter?’ Adelaide said from the doorway, her voice full of icy disapproval. ‘There is nothing wrong with what you had before.’
‘But they were not my choice, madam,’ Alienor replied. ‘I want to be reminded of Aquitaine.’
‘You are not in Aquitaine now, you are in Paris, and you are the wife of the King of France.’
Alienor replied with a hint of defiance, ‘I am still Duchess of Aquitaine, my mother.’
Adelaide narrowed her eyes and stalked further into the room. She cast a disparaging look over the new chests and hangings. Her glance fell on the rumpled bed that the chamber ladies had yet to make, and her nostrils flared at the smell of recent congress. ‘Where is my son?’
‘He has gone to see Abbé Suger,’ Alienor replied. ‘Would you care for some wine, my mother?’
‘No, I would not,’ Adelaide snapped. ‘There are more important things in the world than drinking wine and frittering money on gaudy furnishings. If you have time for this, then you have too much free rein.’
The air bristled with Adelaide’s hostility and Alienor’s resentment. ‘Then what would you have me do, madam?’ Alienor asked.
‘I would have you comport yourself with decorum. The sleeves on that dress are scandalous – almost touching the ground! And that veil and headdress do nothing to hide your hair!’ Adelaide warmed to her theme, flinging out her arm in an angry gesture. ‘I would have your servants learn to speak the French of the north and not persist in this outlandish dialect that none of us can understand. You and your sister chatter away like a couple of finches.’
‘Caged finches,’ said Alienor. ‘It is our native tongue, and we speak the French of the north in public company. How can I be Duchess of Aquitaine if I do not maintain the traditions of my homeland?’
‘And how can you be Queen of France and a fitting consort for my son when you behave like a silly, frivolous girl? What kind of example are you setting to others?’
Alienor set her jaw. It was pointless arguing with this cantankerous harridan. These days, Louis was far more likely to listen to the ‘silly, frivolous girl’ than his carping mother, but the constant criticism and sniping still wore her down and made her want to cry. ‘I am sorry you are vexed, Mother, but I am entitled to furnish my own chamber as I choose, and my people may talk as they desire, providing they are courteous to others.’
Adelaide’s abrupt departure left a brief but awkward silence. Alienor broke it by clapping her hands and calling brightly to her servants in the lenga romana of Bordeaux. If she was a finch, she intended to sing her heart out in defiance of everyone and everything.
Two days later, accompanied by her ladies, Alienor went to walk in the gardens. She loved this green and fragrant part of the castle complex with its abundance of plants, flowers and lush turf. Sweet-smelling roses were still in bloom at summer’s end, and everything stayed greener than in Aquitaine because the sun was less fierce. The gardeners were skilled and, even enclosed as it was, the pleasance was an escape into a different, fresher world that offered respite from the machinations and backbiting of the court.
Today, the September sun cast mellow, translucent light over the grass and the trees, the latter still clad in their summer green but beginning to crisp with gold at the edges. The dew sparkled on the grass and Alienor had a sudden desire to feel the crystal coldness under her bare feet. On an impulse, she slipped off her shoes and hose and stepped on to the cool, sparkling turf. Petronella was swift to follow her example, and the other ladies, after a hesitation, joined in, even Louis’s sister Constance, who usually hung back from any kind of daring or giddy behaviour.