The Courts of Love: The Story of Eleanor of Aquitaine (14 page)

There was not enough fodder for the horses; many of them died. We lived on their flesh. I hated the smell of roasting meat when we lighted our campfires. We baked bread in the ashes of those fires—and somehow we managed to survive.

If we could reach Pamphilia, we might find shelter and provisions and perhaps guides to take us to Antioch.

Antioch. I said it over and over again to myself. If only I could see my uncle Raymond, I was sure everything would be well.

So the days passed, never without a fear that the enemy would destroy us. We labored on until, exhausted beyond description, we saw in the distance the walls of Satalia, a little port in Pamphilia.

A shout of joy went up from every throat. Never could any traveler who had been almost without hope have felt such overpowering relief.

We spurred on our tired horses—those of us who had them still—and even the animals seemed to have acquired fresh vitality. The long march was over. We were there.

As we came into the city, we were surprised to see how few people there were. Many of the houses seemed deserted. We made our way to the governor’s palace.

He came out to greet us. He was welcoming but melancholy. He would have been delighted to treat us as we deserved, he said, but there had been so many raids on the town that many of the people had left. He could give us a little food but he was not sure whether it would be enough for our needs. We had come at a difficult time.

He took Louis and me with some of the commanders into the palace, where food was prepared for us. There was not enough shelter for all our soldiers. Some of them went to the deserted houses and stables, fending for themselves as best they could. At least we had roofs over our heads.

The governor was anxious to help—as well as he could. He advised us that our best plan was to get to Antioch as soon as we could.

“That is what we propose to do,” said Louis.

“How far is it?” I asked.

“My lady, it is forty days’ march and the country is infested with Turks. It would be a hazardous journey.”

I cried: “It will be similar to that which we have already suffered. Oh no. I do not think I could endure that.”

“You could go by sea,” said the governor.

“And how long would that take?”

“Three days.”

“Then by sea we must go,” I said.

“What of transport?” asked Thierry Galeran, who was as usual at Louis’s side.

“I will do my best to find boats to carry you there.”

I felt greatly comforted. In three days we should be in Antioch.

But it seemed that God was determined to try us. With the memory of the cries of the burning victims of Vitry in his ears, Louis could endure hardship. I could not. And when I saw the vessels which were to carry us on this journey, I knew that our troubles were by no means over.

In the first place there was not enough transport to carry us all; and those boats that would were only just seaworthy.

There were many conferences as to what must be done.

Clearly some of us would have to undertake the forty days’ march to Antioch. This caused great consternation. Louis was distraught. How could he sail away and leave his men behind? Yet how could he take them with him?

“There is only one thing to do,” he said. “We must take everyone with us.”

“The ships would sink before they were a mile from the shore,” he was told.

“How can I leave my men behind?”

Galeran said: “They will just have to continue with the march. They have come so far. They have endured great hardship but they knew that the crusade was not a pleasure trip. They are expiating their sins. They will have to march.”

“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.”