Beloved Enemy (25 page)

Raymond nibbled on a fig. “When the grounds for annulment abound? To begin with there are no heirs, only a daughter, surely evidence of God’s displeasure. Secondly, Louis’s conscience is bound to trouble him when reminded he is living in sin with his own third cousin. Were you ever granted a papal dispensation?”

“Never. There simply wouldn’t have been time between my father’s death and my marriage to Louis,” Eleanor said slowly, as the possibilities became apparent. “I wonder—yes, I wonder if Louis realizes that. The subject has never come up. Not once.”

“Naturally. If, in their greedy haste to acquire Aquitaine, Fat Louis of France and Abbé Suger bent a few ecclesiastical rules, who would be witless enough to call attention to it? Undoubtedly the good abbé provided makeshift dispensations, but these are no substitute for the papal dispensation required by canon law. Let sleeping dogs lie was the watchword, I’ll warrant.”

Eleanor was dumbfounded. To think that the means of her release had been sitting there from the very beginning! Why had she never realized it before? The issue of consanguinity was really the only door that provided escape from the prison of her marriage. Now that she had experienced not only fulfillment of the flesh but also a camaraderie of spirit, it was inconceivable that she should stay with Louis. They disagreed about virtually everything and—her thoughts hung suspended as her eyes met the cynical sea blue gaze of her uncle.

He knew exactly what was going through her mind. Her skin prickled, and she stifled a gasp, suddenly recalling what her uncle had said about Louis’s insult to the House of Aquitaine, that he would regret his failure to help him. Eleanor remembered as well his enigmatic smile when she asked what he would do about it. Raymond of Antioch, seasoned voluptuary that he was, had surmised her weakness, and, with her more than willing agreement, taken advantage of this susceptibility. His carefully planned seduction had revealed to her the depths of her desperate need—the devil in her own flesh, Louis would probably call it. Anticipating that she would react exactly as she was doing, he had used her as an instrument of vengeance against her own husband.

It was a bitter blow to her pride and Eleanor felt a surge of outrage. How dare he use her, his own niece, in such a cavalier manner? And yet—how could she be angry with him? In truth, when all was said and done, Raymond had opened a locked gate which might ultimately lead her to freedom.

He rose from the bed. “Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa. I see that I have been discovered, judged, and—forgiven.” He walked over to her and, taking her hand, brought it gently to his lips. “You will never regret this afternoon’s events, sweet Nell. One day you will thank me. You are a vital and intelligent beauty with a unique and glorious capacity for sensation; I envy the man you will eventually love. Believe me, you deserve better than Louis of France.”

Eleanor blushed, but his words, carefully chosen she suspected, had soothed her vanity. “I agree with you about Louis. But exactly how am I to go about ridding myself of him? Abbé Suger will never allow France to lose Aquitaine.”

“The abbé is an old man; he will not live forever. Time is on your side. In any case, resourceful women always find a way. You have a powerful weapon in your hands. Use it.”

“You sound like my grandmother. She said a clever woman could always change what she did not like by taking matters into her own hands.”

Raymond laughed. “Dangereuse was a most discerning creature! A woman to emulate—despite the fact she displaced my own mother.”

Eleanor gave an impatient sigh, trying to ignore the pressure of his lips against her palm. “I swear that if I ever wriggle free of this coil I’ll never marry again, but rule Aquitaine alone.”

“With a lover to solace you discreetly from time to time?” Raymond released her hand, then reclined again on the bed, patting a place beside him. “That would never suit you. I am not saying you shouldn’t have a lover, heaven forfend. But you need a strong husband and a brood of sons—and a land of your own to rule as well.”

“I will not marry a man I don’t care for.” Eleanor sat down and idly picked up a slice of honied quince. “Not again.”

“There are more than just your wishes to consider. You cannot manage Aquitaine on your own, you know. Fatal to try.”

“Not you too! That was exactly the argument the archbishop of Bordeaux used when he persuaded me to marry Louis.”

“Naturally. His main concern was Aquitaine—and it should be yours as well. With such a disparate land as ours, filled with constant unrest, you must have a man to help you rule. Come, you know perfectly well I’m right.”

“I could have been a real help to Louis if he had not been so opposed to my interfering, as he called it. Sometimes he listened to me but not in Aquitaine, where I understand the people so well.”

“It is precisely because you could have administered affairs in the duchy more effectively that you were prevented from doing so. It is a rare husband who is not threatened by a woman’s exercise of power. A stronger man than Louis might have had misgivings. Even my father, a most enlightened man where women were concerned, never believed them to be the equal of men—except in affairs of the heart.”

“And you?”

Raymond gave her one of his enigmatic smiles. “So many questions. A wise woman controls the world from—”

“—between her legs,” she finished the sentence for him. “Yes, I know.”

“Follow your grandmother’s example.” He reached over to touch her arm. “What you need is a man who not only can please you but who also possesses great strength of will—or you’re apt to devour him alive.” His fingers stroked her cheek. “So lovely, so contrary—Aphrodite and Artemis all in one.” His hand dropped to her breast. “So desirable. But what a dreamer we have here! You want to lose yourself in a great and all-consuming love.” At her look of astonishment he laughed. “You think I didn’t know that? But at the same time you are not willing to relinquish one inch of your power. I fear you cannot have it both ways.”

Eleanor burst out laughing. What an absurd conversation. She threw a date at Raymond, who promptly showered her with a handful of purple figs.

“Think about what I’ve said, Nell. Think about it seriously. Once you have an annulment your great love will show himself.”

“As God wills—
inshallah?
”

“Ah, you are learning.” He smiled. “And when you have found this great, transcendent passion you so desperately hunger for, remember: try not to do everything better than he does.”

The bells of all the churches in the city rang for Vespers in concert with the muezzins’ call to the Moslems to pray. Louis and the others should be back by now, attending the evensong service. It would be wise for her to meet them there. Eleanor stood up and walked to the chamber entrance. She opened the door, turning her head to throw Raymond a last kiss. He lay against the cushions with his eyes closed. She was neither surprised nor disconcerted to see the serving girl fall to her knees between Raymond’s legs. With a smile she softly closed the door.

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING WHEN
Eleanor joined Constance and her ladies to break the night’s fast, she learned that during the night Raymond had received an urgent dispatch informing him of trouble on his northern borders. He had left before sunrise for a three-day inspection of the area, taking half his army with him. She was disappointed, half-hoping that there might be a repeat of the joyous events of yesterday afternoon—although she knew that such a possibility was unlikely to occur. Unfortunately, Louis was very much in evidence, and acting strangely—his manner agitated, almost hostile. Did he suspect what had transpired between Raymond and her? It seemed impossible; on the other hand …

“Is anything amiss?” she asked him, after they had attended the noon mass at St. Peter’s and were walking back to her quarters.

“Should anything be amiss?” His face was set in grim lines and he did not address her directly.

“If I knew, I would not have asked.” Eleanor paused. “You’re behaving oddly.”

“Perhaps I have good cause.” The words were bitten off, as if he regretted having said them. Not once did his eyes meet hers.

Eleanor’s throat grew dry and her heart thumped. She decided to brazen it out. “If you have something to say to me, Louis, then out with it. Stop talking in riddles.”

“I think it time we left Antioch and visited Jerusalem. That is why we came.”

“We came to give aid to those Christian states in danger of attack from the infidel, yet you will not lift a finger to help Raymond.” She tossed her head. “I am not ready to leave Antioch. I have barely arrived.”

Louis glared at her. “But I am ready. I order you as your sovereign and husband to obey my wishes. We will leave this—this unholy place at once.”

“I absolutely refuse to go. However, you are free to leave without me.”

He lapsed into one of his sullen silences. For Eleanor the remainder of the day turned oppressive, as if a heavy black cloud enveloped the palace, even the city itself. Whenever she saw Louis and his entourage, their heads were always together, and they talked in whispers. The moment they saw Eleanor they immediately broke off their conversation.

“Whatever is the matter with your husband and his party? They are behaving most strangely,” Constance remarked, as they sat in the courtyard beside the white marble fountain.

So the feeling of conspiracy was not just her imagination. Something
was
afoot.

“I wish my uncle were here,” Eleanor said, then immediately regretted her impulsiveness.

After a moment’s silence, Constance glanced at her sideways. Was that a look of resentment in her eyes? Eleanor felt decidedly uncomfortable.

“Yes, life is always more amusing when Raymond is about. He should return within two days.” Constance smiled placidly.

Repressing a stab of guilt, Eleanor wondered if she was letting her conscience play tricks on her.

The rest of the day, that night, and the following day passed without incident. Still Eleanor grew increasingly anxious. Although she could not put a finger on what was wrong exactly, Louis’s hostile manner and her own intuitive sense gave her the impression she was surrounded by enemies. Only one more day, then Raymond would return.

That night Eleanor barely slept. Every few hours she awakened, filled with disquiet, only to fall back into an uneasy slumber. She woke again as the church bells tolled the midnight hour, then drifted off once more. Suddenly she heard a footfall. Opening her eyes she saw five figures looming out of the darkness surrounding her bed. She started to scream but a hand covered her mouth. Two of the figures, obviously female from the outline of their long skirts, pulled chemise, gown, and tunic over her head before she could entirely grasp what was happening. When she started to struggle, her eyes and lips were bound with cloths, her ankles and wrists tied tightly with rope. Her body was rolled up in a fur coverlet, slung over someone’s shoulder like a sack of grain, and carried out of the chamber.

No one spoke. Eleanor sensed she was being removed from the palace and placed in a litter. Rage and fear warred within her. Had the Turks gained entry into Antioch? Stolen into the palace like thieves in the night, and abducted her for ransom?

The litter swayed like a ship in a rolling sea. Behind her came the muffled sound of carts and many horses, then the creak of hinges slowly opening. They must be going through the St. Paul Gate. Sweet St. Radegonde, it sounded as if the entire French army were leaving Antioch. Could it be Louis himself who had abducted her? The last sound she heard, one she was never to forget, was the call of the muezzin summoning his flock to morning prayer.

After what seemed an endless time, the cloth was removed from Eleanor’s mouth, the blindfold from her eyes, and the ropes from her wrists and ankles. She found herself sitting next to Louis in the litter. When she pushed aside the curtain, the noon sun was blazing high overhead, causing her eyes to water.

“How are you, Wife?” Louis asked in a solicitous voice as he handed her a silver flask of wine. “I should tell you that we are well away from Antioch, on the road to Jerusalem.”

Eleanor was so choked with rage and pain and humiliation that only hoarse incoherent sounds issued from her throat. Louis, his face pale but triumphant, gazed at her in concern. With the last ounce of strength left in her, Eleanor hit him full force across the face with the flask. Blood spurted from his nostrils.

The look of triumph in his eyes changed to one of horror.

“Why, why have you done this? Take me back to Antioch,” she cried, beating at his face with her fists, tears draining from her eyes. “I will never, never, never forgive you.”

Despite her screams and protests, Louis would not budge.

“Raymond is an evil, corrupt influence. You would not come of your own accord, thus, for your own protection, I was forced to take these ignominious measures before he returned. He has more men than I do and would have prevented us from leaving, I doubt not.” He wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve. “Your spirits will be restored when we reach Jerusalem.”

Whatever Louis had discovered about that rapturous afternoon, and how he had discovered it, would remain a mystery. But he had acted too late, thank the Holy Mother. He could take her as far away as the moon and it would not matter.

Eleanor knew that the encounter with Raymond of Antioch had changed the course of her life forever.

Jerusalem turned out to be a fascinating city, but one which Eleanor felt certain she would always remember with bitterness.

The Persian carpets, pale blue damask hangings, inlaid marble walls, and carved ivory and wood furniture, which had been so exquisite in Antioch, were oppressive in their quarters in the Tower of David. Even the Chinese porcelain dishes, brought by caravan from the East, were no match for Raymond’s gold plate.

Louis, however, could hardly contain his joy. He insisted Eleanor join him on a tour of the city’s shrines, scattering alms everywhere. When he laid the oriflamme he had brought with him from France on the tomb of the Savior, he was in a state of sublime ecstasy.