The Courts of Love: The Story of Eleanor of Aquitaine (2 page)

Philippa was dead now but in the Courts of Love, which my grandfather had created, their story would be sung for years to come.

The Court changed of course. My father was a very different man. He was not the great lover; he was more of a fighter. At least he was constantly embroiled in some dispute with his vassals. He was quick-tempered and ready to go to war on the slightest pretext; and he was absent a good deal during the years which followed my grandfather’s death.

There were plenty of young people at the castle, for girls were sent to my mother to be brought up as the Court ladies they would eventually become. There were boys too, who must be taught the art of chivalry and horsemanship. We girls had to learn how to embroider and do delicate needlework, which was so much a part of a lady’s education; we had to sing and dance and make gracious conversation; but I was taught other things besides, such as reading and writing. I had shown such an aptitude for learning when it was thought I might be Duchess of Aquitaine that they decided I should continue. I was, therefore, apart from the other children, and I intended that none should forget it.

There was still a great deal of music in the evenings but my father, although he loved it, was no composer. He sang well, and this he liked to do; and he enjoyed the ballads and stories about his father. But he was so often away and the character of the Court had changed from what it had been in his father’s day.

When my father came home he would want to know how we had progressed. He was very interested in William Aigret’s performance, but I fancied he had a special fondness for me.

Then one day fever struck Poitou. Several people died and there were restrictions as to who should be allowed to come into the castle.

My mother became ill and she died within a few days. That was not all. William Aigret caught the fever from her and very soon afterward he was dead.

It was a time of great mourning. It was then that I realized how much I had cared for my mother and that William Aigret had been such a loving little boy.

It was a great loss. There were only two children now—Petronilla and myself; but I had become the heiress of Aquitaine.

My father called me to him. He held me close and said that I was his precious child. He was very sad. He told me how much he had loved my mother and their son, and to be deprived of them both was almost more than he could endure. He thanked God he had his daughters; and I knew that he was especially thankful for me.

I was eight years old now but more like a girl of ten, and ten was nearing maturity. Girls were married at thirteen—twelve even. So I did not seem like the child my years might suggest.

We wept together over our loss. My mother had not been a great beauty but perhaps there were qualities which some men found even more attractive. She had been gentle, tender and uncomplaining; and he had loved her as my grandfather had never loved the beautiful Ermengarde and Philippa. Of course Dangerosa had reigned supreme for several years but she had been a perfect match for my grandfather.

“This has made a difference to your position, daughter,” he said. I nodded. “You will inherit this duchy when I am gone.”

“That will be years and years away.”

“I pray God so. For we are both unready as yet         .         .         .         I to go, you to rule. You will have to learn a great deal.”

I nodded again, but I felt I already knew a great deal.

“These are troublesome times. There is always some vassal ready to make mischief. That is why I am so often from Court.”

“I know, Father.”

“We have to remember that we ourselves are vassals of the King of France. You and I must talk together. There will be times when I shall take you with me on my journeys. You will have to know the domain which one day         .         .         .         unless I remarry and get a male heir         .         .         .         will be yours.”

“Will you marry?” I asked with trepidation.

He shook his head and there were tears in his eyes. “No, no,” he said. “How could I think of replacing your mother?”

I rejoiced. I could not bear the thought of a boy replacing me.

Life had certainly changed with the death of my brother. Everyone was subtly different toward me. I had become important.

They were writing songs about me now. I loved to hear them sing of my beauty and my cleverness. I noticed that several of the young men—even those of quite mature years—glanced at me in a special way. It was exciting.

My father took me on a journey with him. It was wonderful to ride beside him over the hills and through the forests with the courtiers about us, and then to receive the lavish hospitality at the castles where we stayed.

I had thought of Poitiers as home because that was where I had spent most of my childhood, but we had other castles and palaces of which I could grow fond.

Best of all these was the Ombrire Palace at Bordeaux, where we stayed for a time. My father had to deal with disgruntled vassals, many of whom had made trouble. He wanted me to be with him so that I could see how justice was meted out. It was illuminating.

I loved Bordeaux. There was evidence of Roman occupation there and I liked to dream of those old days and wonder what life had been like then. The palace was built on the old Roman wall, and from its windows I could look down on the Garonne winding its way to the sea.

I think that in the year following the death of my mother and brother I grew up. I was like a plant in a greenhouse where the atmosphere tends to force growth. My father was beginning to treat me like an adult. I do not think I am being unduly conceited when I say that I did have a rather special aptitude for ruling. That was to develop and bring me trouble later, but at the time my father rejoiced in it.

He talked often of the King of France. I would see his eyes on me and there would be an uneasy expression in them. I asked him if anything worried him.

He said frankly: “In a duchy of this size there will always be trouble. It is too big for a ruler to be everywhere at once. It is necessary for that ruler to be loved by his people         .         .         .         loved and respected. It is the only way.”

“They do love you and respect you.”

He smiled ruefully. “We do have trouble, you know. There are some who think they can do as they will and because of the distance between us will never be found out. There could be uprisings.”

“You will stop that.”

“If I can.”

“Is it worse now than it used to be?”

“Your grandfather was respected. It is strange. He was a man who defied the Church and who even died excommunicated; but he was loved throughout the Duchy         .         .         .         partly for what the Church deplored. That is the strangeness of human nature.”

“Perhaps you should be like him?”

“My child, we can only be like ourselves.”

I knew that he was quick to anger and perhaps acted recklessly. I was learning that it was no easy matter to keep order over a vast territory. And there was more trouble than there had been in my grandfather’s day.

“One needs friends,” he said.

“And you have them?”

He lifted his shoulders. “The King of France is very powerful,” he said.

“We are his vassals.”

“Yes. I think he casts envious eyes on Aquitaine.”

“Do you mean he will try to take it from you?”

He shook his head. “He has sons and I have daughters.”

“You mean         .         .         .         marriage?”

“My child, I should like to see you married to the son of the King of France.”

“Marriage! Me!”

“One forgets how young you are. But the years pass quickly, daughter, and one day a husband will be found for you.”

“Perhaps I shall find my own.”

“That would not be easy for you. The Duchess of Aquitaine could not choose from those around her. It would have to be someone worthy. I should like to see you Queen of France.”

“But I am to be Duchess of Aquitaine.”

“Queen of France
and
Duchess of Aquitaine.”

“Queen of France!”

“Why not? The King of France has a son who will be King when his father dies.”

I was excited. It was impossible in the Courts of Love not to be aware of the relationships between men and women. Looks came my way even now. I had noticed the men’s eyes watching me, assessing me. It excited me to attempt to probe their thoughts.

I knew instinctively that marriage was not something I should shrink from. But Queen of France! I had not thought of that. Duchess of Aquitaine had seemed a glorious enough title. We were all vassals of France, and although we in Aquitaine might be richer, France was the master of us all.

“Tell me about the King of France and his son,” I said.

“Louis VI. Let me see. He must be in his late forties. He is the son of Philip I. Philip’s story is not unlike that of your own grandfather. He married Bertha of Holland and there was a son, Louis, the King’s heir. Philip fell in love with Bertrade de Montfort who was the wife of Fulk of Anjou, who as you know has connections with our own family. As your grandfather did with your grandmother, Dangerosa, he abducted Bertrade.”

“It is indeed the same story,” I cried.

“Love stories often resemble each other, and when you have two powerful men who act according to their whims and desires, similar results often come about. The Holy See rose in protest and Philip was obliged to promise to give up Bertrade, which he failed to do and consequently was excommunicated.”

“Just like my grandfather.”

He nodded. “The trouble is that when a leader is excommunicated, the edict can fall on the entire community. This is what happened. Churches were closed and people were in revolt against that, so Philip eventually had to make a show of giving up Bertrade, and when he died he was reconciled to the Church. Bertrade was an ambitious mother and wanted her son by the King to be heir to the throne. When Philip was alive she made an attempt to poison his son Louis—her stepson—but that attempt fortunately failed and on his father’s death Louis came to the throne.”

“And he is the father of the man I shall marry?”

“The man I should like you to marry. This is between ourselves at the moment. There will be many to seek alliance with France, my dear, but we have much to offer. We have the rich duchy of Aquitaine and with it one who must be the most beautiful girl in the whole of France.”

I smiled complacently. I had no doubt of my ability to capture the son of the King of France.

“Louis VI has two sons—Philip and Louis.”

“It will be Philip for me,” I said.

“The elder, no less.”

“Does he         .         .         .         know?”

My father shook his head. “Though Louis will be looking out for his son’s best interests.”

“Tell me about the Court of France. Is it like ours?”

“Oh, no, no. I doubt there is another Court in the world like ours. Your grandfather founded it, and although he is no longer with us, it does not change greatly. There will be differences. They call the King of France Louis the Fat         .         .         .         for obvious reasons. He is a great eater         .         .         .         a great drinker         .         .         .         and it is difficult for him to move about, so large is he. He is a very religious man which is why France is called ‘the Elder Daughter of the Church.’”

“It would not be very merry at his Court.”

“If you were Queen of France, you would see that your Court was how you wanted it to be.”

“That is true,” I said. “But the King of France has said nothing as yet regarding his son’s marriage.”

“Not as yet, but I am his most powerful vassal, and Aquitaine covers about a quarter of France. He would be hard put to it to find a more worthy bride for his son.”

“So you think it will come to pass.”

“I am as sure as a man can be of anything.”

After that I thought a good deal about France and tried to learn all I could from the travelers who came to our Court.

It was at Ombrire that I first saw Raymond.

I was in the gardens with a group of girls who were being brought up at Court with us, and Petronilla was beside me. Some of them were embroidering altar cloths, while others took it in turn to recite verses and sing to us.

It was a pleasant summer’s day—not too hot for the shade under the trees was pleasant.

I saw him walking through the gardens with my father, and I thought he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. He was very tall and upright, with blond hair, blue eyes and a merry expression. Since my talk with my father about marriage. I was paying more attention to young men. I had always been aware of them and liked to see what effect I had on them, and I was accustomed to receiving ardent looks which delighted me. I liked to think of myself as one of those sought-after maidens who kept themselves aloof because they were far too precious to fall into the hands of lesser men and must wait for the perfect knight.

I left the group of girls, Petronilla at my heels; she followed me everywhere.

My father saw us and smiled. “Oh, Raymond,” he said, “here are my daughters Eleanor and Petronilla. Daughters, your uncle Raymond.”

We curtsied. Uncle! I was thinking. There must be some mistake. He gazed at me and murmured my name.

“And Petronilla,” said my father.

Petronilla gave him a dazzling smile but I was delighted to notice that it was I who held his attention.

“I did not know that I had such enchanting nieces,” he said.

“You should have come before,” my father told him. “It is not good for there to be rifts in families.”

We went into the palace with him. I think he was rather surprised by the easy manners between us. We were doubtless expected to be in awe of our father instead of making light conversation with him         .         .         .         at least I did. Petronilla said little, but I could see that she was as enchanted by this new uncle as I was.

He proved to be about eight years older than I, and he was Philippa’s youngest son, born just after she had left the castle on the arrival of Dangerosa.