He cleared his throat. ‘In Poitiers, I heard a priest say that our marriage would not be blessed by offspring because it was consanguineous.’
Alienor gave him a bitter look. ‘Priests say many things out of their own thoughts as men, and not directed by God. Did not the Church bind us in matrimony and advise we should be wed in the first place? Does that same Church now change its mind on a whim?’ She spoke forcefully, and the gyrfalcon arched her wings and flapped. Alienor soothed her again and controlled her own anger.
‘Yes.’ Louis looked relieved. ‘Of course you are right.’ He rubbed his forehead.
‘I will have a falconer put a perch in here for her,’ Alienor said.
Louis exhaled and his shoulders slumped. She saw the exhaustion smudged beneath his eyes and gestured him to lie down on her bed. ‘Come,’ she said. ‘Sleep a while and your mind will be clearer.’
He stumbled over to the bed, lay down, and fell asleep almost immediately. Alienor looked at his long limbs, his fair hair and handsome features, and then she looked at La Reina, and the brown stains on her white plumage, and shivered.
12
Paris, Spring 1140
Alienor had been busy all morning, attending mass with Louis, answering correspondence from Aquitaine, dealing with supplicants, before eventually finding a little time to spend with Petronella, who was being fitted for some new dresses.
Petronella’s most spectacular new gown was for the celebration of the feast day of Saint Petronella on the last day of May. It was of a rose-coloured silk that complemented her warm brown hair and turned her eyes the colour of woodland honey. There had been remarks about how much Petronella resembled her grandmother, Dangereuse de Châtellerault, a fiery beauty, notorious for abandoning her husband and running off with her lover, William the ninth Duke of Aquitaine. Not that anyone mentioned the scandal. The discussion centred on what a beauty Petronella was becoming.
The gown was sewn with hundreds of little pearls, echoed in the double belt on the dress and in the rings on Petronella’s fingers. More pearls wound through her braids and hemmed her veil. For Alienor this was more than just cladding her little sister in finery. It was a celebration of Petronella’s womanhood and sent out a strong message that she was protected by wealth and power and therefore untouchable. Clothes were every bit as much a weapon and protection as a knight’s sword and shield.
Petronella swished the full skirts of the gown back and forth, showing a glimpse of silk-clad ankles and dainty embroidered slippers.
‘Our father would be so proud to see you,’ Alienor said.
‘I wish he was here.’ The smile left Petronella’s lips, only to reappear as her gaze lit on Raoul de Vermandois who was standing in the chamber doorway.
‘Raoul, what do you think?’ She skipped over to him and pirouetted.
He stared at her as if poleaxed. ‘I think I must be dreaming,’ he said. ‘You are a beautiful vision.’
Petronella laughed and danced around him, light as thistledown. ‘I am flesh and blood. Feel!’ she said and held out her hand.
He took her fingers and bowed over them . . ‘Well then, a beautiful young lady,’ he amended with a bow. From behind his back, he produced a little dog collar woven with rose-coloured braid and set with rows of pearls. ‘I heard rumours about a certain new dress,’ he said, ‘and I thought Blanchette should match her mistress.’
Petronella clapped her hands and, with a cry of delight, flung her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. Then, whirling away from him, she stooped to the little dog and replaced her collar of braided leather with the new one.
‘Perfect,’ Raoul said. ‘Now you are perfect.’ With a courtly flourish to the women, he excused himself.
Alienor gazed in his wake, feeling warm in her heart for his consideration. Raoul was so much the surrogate father to Petronella, giving her the attention she sought and keeping the pestering young bloods at bay.
Leaving the women to their dressmaking, Alienor went to find Louis. He had been distant and difficult to reach lately and she had to work to maintain her influence. She had not conceived since her miscarriage, and on several occasions Louis had been unable to do his duty, a state of affairs that had sent him flying to church to beg forgiveness for whatever sin was inhibiting his virility. Even the times he did accomplish the deed, it bore no result, for her fluxes arrived regularly each month, and the predators circled, awaiting their moment.
Louis’s chamber door was partially open and she could hear the raised voice of her mother-in-law. Alienor grimaced. Adelaide had become more difficult and inflexible since Louis had agreed a marriage between his sister and the English King’s heir, Eustace. Constance had gone to England in February to join her new household. Adelaide, having lost another ally and companion at court and her only daughter to boot, had been morose and querulous ever since.
Currently she was directing a tirade at Louis, her tone unpleasant and cutting. ‘You must not be swayed by those who would try and take you away from your true duty to rule France. When I think of all the sacrifices your father made for you … Your predecessors fought to put you on the throne and you carry all their striving, their dreams and hopes on your shoulders. Do not hold it lightly, and do not allow others to hold it for you. Do you hear me?’ There was silence and Adelaide repeated the question in a strident voice. There was a solid bang as if she had struck something on a table.
‘Yes, Mother,’ Louis replied in a neutral tone.
‘I wonder if you do. I wonder if you understand that you rule this country for yourself, not at another’s behest.’
‘And whose behest were you thinking of?’ Louis demanded. ‘Are you going to name me names? I do not rule at your behest either, Mother. I see you watching me in the council chamber, and looking to meddle where you can, as you meddled in my father’s policies. I see you watching Alienor and her sister and finding fault with them at every turn.’
‘Is it any wonder when they behave like hoydens and flout our ways? You may believe that butter would not melt in their mouths, but I know differently. I see them scheming like a pair of young vixens, but you do not notice because you are wilfully blind! I am belittled. They never accord me proper respect, and money runs through their hands like water through a sieve. Have you seen the cost of the latest round of dresses for the younger one? The pearls alone would endow a convent! Do you know how much your wife spends on scented lamp oil?’
‘That is what I mean about finding fault. There are worse things in the world. Alienor loves me, which is more than you have ever done.’
‘She plays you for a fool!’
‘You take me for one,’ Louis retorted.
‘In this, you are one, and it pains me to see you thus. But so be it. I wash my hands. Do not come weeping to me when your world comes to ruin.’
Alienor took a backstep as Adelaide stormed out of the room. ‘Spying at keyholes?’ the older woman said with a curl of contempt. ‘That does not surprise me.’
Alienor curtseyed. ‘Madam,’ she said neutrally.
‘You think you have won,’ Adelaide spat, ‘but you know nothing. I have toiled all my life in the service of France. I have been wife to one king and mother to another, and see where it has brought me. You will face the same downfall, my girl, because it all comes to naught in the end. I bequeath you my handful of dust. Take it and sow your own barren harvest. I am finished here.’
Adelaide swept on past. Alienor drew a deep breath, gathered herself and went in to Louis. ‘I came to find you,’ she said. ‘I did not realise you were busy.’
His mouth twisted. ‘You heard what she said?’
Alienor nodded. ‘It must be difficult for her to relinquish power. I think it will indeed be better if she retires to her dower lands for a while.’ She came to place her hand on his shoulder. ‘I am sorry she feels that way about me and Petronella. In truth, we have never disrespected her. She has not been herself ever since your sister went to England.’