‘Indeed, we should be vigilant,’ she said. ‘But that does not include making war on them. Our duty is to bring an army to my uncle so he can deal with his enemies. We must bolster the King in this effort and keep his resolve strong. That is my direction to you. The goal is Antioch.’
‘How long before it’s our turn to cross the Arm of Saint George?’ Gisela asked. The young woman was playing with a pretty grey and silver kitten, dangling a length of red ribbon for it to chase and pounce upon.
‘Soon,’ Alienor said. They were waiting in the Blachernae for the call to go to their ships. Most of their baggage was packed and ready, and only the small fripperies remained, such as games and sewing to while away the time. Muttering to herself, Marchisa was busy checking her pouches of remedies and nostrums. She had stocked up on syrup of white poppy this morning, and Alienor was still feeling the hole in her purse, but better to have it than not in the months to come.
‘How soon is soon?’ Gisela danced the silk strip just out of reach of the kitten’s paws. ‘A few hours, a few days – a few weeks?’
Alienor swallowed her irritation at Gisela’s whining tone. They were all on edge and she had to make allowances. ‘Hours, I should think, certainly no more than a day.’ She went to look out of the window. The river bustled with ships travelling up and down the Golden Horn. The sky was overcast this October morning and the waters of the inlet choppy and grey. If it weren’t for the lateen rigging on the ships, it could almost have been the Seine.
Louis had begun ferrying their army across to the markets on the other side of the Arm of Saint George. This was partly because the Emperor had cut supplies to the existing camp to a dribble, so he had no choice, and partly because the French soldiers were itching to be on their way before the Germans claimed all the land and the glory. Emperor Manuel had been most accommodating with ships for the crossing and the embarkation was going forward at speed.
Gisela sighed. ‘In Paris the trees will be shedding their leaves,’ she said, ‘and they will be harvesting the apples. I wish I could drink a cup of new cider this instant.’
‘You risk being accused of being a barbarian,’ Alienor teased. ‘Why is Greek wine not to your palate?’
‘Because it goes down so smoothly, and only kicks you later,’ Gisela said.
Alienor had to nod at her sagacity.
The kitten tired of its game and went to curl up on a cushion of plump red silk. The last group of soldiers embarked and set off down the Golden Horn towards the lower chain across the mouth of the inlet, leaving their campsite no more than an area of bare ground, pocked with black scorch marks where the cooking fires had been.
Alienor expected an imminent summons to the quay, but the sun moved another hour on the dial without any word. Growing impatient, she sent Saldebreuil to find out what was happening. He returned looking grim. ‘Madam, the Greeks are delaying again. They say they are waiting for ships to return from the other bank and that there have been difficulties with the money changers at the new market, but I can glean no more than that. They either do not know, or will not say.’
Food arrived: vine leaves stuffed with a spicy meat mixture, and flagons of dark, Greek wine. The eunuchs pretended not to speak French or Latin, and to every question the women asked, they merely shook their heads and gave them bovine looks from kohl-rimmed eyes.
Sunset turned the waters of the Golden Horn the colour of blood and as darkness cloaked the room and the servants lit the scented lamps, Alienor gave up waiting and retired for the night.
By dawn there was still no summons. Looking out of the windows on a world lit by pale sunlight, Alienor noticed fewer vessels travelling on the waterway, and none going in yesterday’s direction. Her sense of unease increased.
Geoffrey de Rancon arrived and was ushered into her presence. He knelt at her feet. ‘Madam, there is news,’ he said. ‘The contingent from Apulia will be here by noon.’
‘Well, that is all to the good.’ She gestured Geoffrey to rise. ‘When do we embark? Have you heard from the main camp?’
‘Yes, madam, a moment ago.’ His eyes were troubled. ‘The Emperor is withholding his ships – keeping them all on the city side, and refusing to trade supplies with us. We had to cross over to you in a fishing vessel.’
‘What?’ Alienor looked at him in angry alarm.
Geoffrey grimaced. ‘There was rioting yesterday at the money-changers’ camp. Some of Count Thierry’s Flemings ransacked the Greek tables and caused mayhem. The King and the Count have punished those responsible and made reparation and the Emperor says he will restore the market once he is sure there is decent order, but he desires securities.’
‘Such as?’ Alienor’s unease deepened.
Geoffrey drew a deep breath. ‘He demands the homage of the King and his senior barons and the promise that any towns we take will be handed over to him.’
Alienor waved her hand impatiently. ‘That was discussed earlier. We knew it was likely. It is not worth fighting over, because once we are clear, we can do as we please.’
‘If that were all, madam, it would be simple,’ Geoffrey said. His gaze flicked to Gisela. ‘He also wants to seal the bargain with a marriage alliance between one of his nephews and a lady of the French royal house.’
Gisela’s eyes widened with shock. ‘I came as an attendant to the Queen, not as a piece of merchandise to be bartered for goodwill.’
‘What does the King say?’ Alienor asked.
‘He is considering the Emperor’s requests, madam,’ Geoffrey replied neutrally. ‘He thinks it might be a reasonable price to pay.’
‘No!’ Gisela cried. ‘I won’t do it! I would rather die!’
Alienor’s irritation stirred. What choice had she had when Louis entered Bordeaux in the summer of her thirteenth year? What would she have given to be able to refuse him? What would she have given for a rescue? ‘Be quiet,’ she snapped. ‘Weeping and railing will not help matters. Use your head, you foolish girl.’
Gisela swallowed and sent Alienor a beseeching, terrified look.
‘There are fates far worse, believe me,’ Alienor said grimly. ‘You would live a life of luxury here. You would dress in perfume and silks and want for nothing.’
‘Madam, I would lose my soul,’ Gisela wept. ‘Please do not let this happen to me. I would die.’
‘You only think you would. I tell you this because it happened to me ten years ago, but I live still.’ Alienor turned to Geoffrey. ‘That was why the Emperor wanted everyone across yesterday. If he withholds his ships, he can ransom us for whatever price he wants – or so he thinks.’ Her lips hardened. ‘He may have withdrawn his ships, but the Genoan traders still have theirs, and there are always those who can be bribed to take us across. Louis may do as he wishes in the matter of homage, but I will not stay here to be used.’ She placed her hand on Geoffrey’s sleeve. ‘Find a way for us to leave, and swiftly.’
He put his own hand over hers in reassurance – a steadying gesture to others but conveying much more to Alienor. ‘Trust me, madam.’ He squeezed her fingers, bowed and left the room.
‘I should have known,’ she said. ‘I cannot fault the Emperor’s politics, but we should have been more wary.’ She looked at the trembling Gisela. ‘Do not worry. I have more compassion than to leave you to the fate Louis would seal for you.’
Gisela swallowed. ‘When you said I would live a life of luxury here, I thought—’
‘I know what you thought,’ Alienor said. ‘Indeed there are some advantages to being a bride here, but I would not leave you behind.’
Gisela knelt at Alienor’s feet. ‘Thank you, madam, thank you!’
‘Oh, get up,’ Alienor snapped. ‘The women who serve me are not milksops. Make yourself useful. Our baggage is prepared, but we may have to travel light. Take the things you truly need and tie them in a bundle, and have your cloak ready. Who knows how quickly we may have to move.’
Geoffrey returned at noon with six serjeants dressed as servants, tunics covering their mail. ‘I have hired a ship from the Genoans,’ he said. ‘We should make haste. They have not tried to stop us by force, but they may change their minds. The sooner everyone is on the far bank, the better.’
‘We are ready.’ Alienor fastened her cloak and, beckoning her women, followed Geoffrey to the door.
At the foot of the stairs, one of the Emperor’s eunuchs barred their way, but Geoffrey showed him a foot of drawn sword and after a moment the man lowered his gaze and stood aside. The guards on duty at the gate were reluctant to let them pass, and pretended not to understand at first even under the threat of Geoffrey’s blade. Alienor turned to Marchisa. ‘Tell them that I am going to the new camp to talk to the King about the marriage arrangements for his kinswoman and I will make it worth their while if they let me pass.’
Marchisa spoke to the men in Greek with much supplication and elaborate hand gestures, augmented by a bribe in the form of a casket of gold rings that had originally been a gift to Alienor from the Empress Irene.
The jewellery changed ownership in a metallic flash and the guards opened a postern door to let them through. Beyond, waiting on the riverbank, two shallow fishing boats rode at their moorings, waiting to cast off.
Alienor’s heart drummed against her ribcage as Geoffrey took her hand and helped her into the first one. His firm grip steadied her, and she sent him a grateful look.
The soldiers took up the oars and rowed out from the bank to a waiting Genoese galley laden with men from the contingent of Louis’s army that had travelled via Apulia. Aboard the ship was Louis’s brother, Robert of Dreux, who had been talking with its commanders.
‘Thank God, madam,’ he said, as Alienor stepped aboard. He turned to embrace Gisela. ‘You are safe now, cousin.’
Gisela gave a small gasp and leaned into him, trembling. ‘I prayed you would not throw me to the wolves.’
‘I won’t let them have you,’ Robert growled. ‘I would rather swear fealty to a dog than Manuel Komnenos. Let my brother do as he sees fit, but they shall not have my oath, and they shall not have you.’
Alienor gave him a sharp look. ‘Louis still intends swearing fealty?’
Robert shrugged as the Genoese ship made its way down the Golden Horn. ‘He must if he wants to obtain the supplies and guides the Greeks have promised, but if it is like all their other promises, I doubt we’ll see much in exchange. I have told him I refuse to take it, and as to a marriage between Gisela and the Emperor’s nephew – let Louis agree if he wishes, but he cannot hand over what he does not possess.’
Alienor raised her brows at him. ‘You would abduct Gisela?’
Robert shrugged. ‘I would rather call it taking her under my wing.’
‘Do what you must,’ Alienor said with a brisk nod. ‘I applaud you for it, although you risk your brother’s anger.’
‘I do not fear him,’ Robert said with a steely gleam in his eyes.
Robert disembarked his charges at the French camp on the far side of the Arm and made swift preparations to ride on to the outpost scout camp at Nicomedia, two days’ journey away. ‘Madam, I am in haste, or I would offer to bring you too,’ he said as he swung into the saddle.
Alienor smiled and shook her head. ‘I can fight my own battles. Godspeed you now, and bless you too.’ She watched him clap spurs to his mount and ride out with Gisela at his side. Not for the first time she wished that the birth order between Louis and Robert had been reversed. She could have better borne her burden and perhaps even found a modicum of happiness as queen to Robert’s king.
Shortly after noon, Louis arrived at the dwelling where Alienor and her ladies were being accommodated. Exhaustion had set dark shadows under his eyes and deepened the lines between his nose and mouth. He glanced around the room at the women making up the beds and bringing water for washing. ‘Where is Gisela?’ he demanded.
‘With Robert,’ Alienor replied. ‘She has gone with him to Nicomedia. She does not wish to wed one of the Emperor’s kin and Robert has taken her part.’
‘You stood by and let him do so?’
Alienor shrugged. ‘Whatever treaty you have planned with the Emperor will not be sabotaged for the loss of an unwilling bride.’
His face darkened. ‘You have no notion how difficult it is keeping a balance between all factions. If I do not agree to the Emperor’s requests, he will cut off our supplies and leave us stranded. If I do agree to them, my own men call me a weak fool. What am I supposed to do?’
The retort on the tip of her tongue was ‘Be a man’, but she curbed herself. ‘I realise how difficult it is, but who has your best interests at heart? And who will guard your back?’
‘Precisely,’ Louis snapped. ‘Do I trust the Emperor who makes stealthy plans while facing me like a dog doing his business, or my precious brother and my wife, who do exactly the same? Which should I choose?’
‘Why don’t you ask God or your precious eunuch and see if they will give you an answer?’
He struck her across the face so hard that she staggered against the wall. ‘You are poison!’ he shouted, his face contorted with fury. ‘You are a foul viper, clad in all the sins of Eve! You sicken me!’ Turning on his heel, he slammed from the room.
Alienor put her hand up to her face. She had bitten her tongue and there was blood in her mouth. She hated him, how she hated him. Antioch could not come soon enough.
That evening she held court lavishly with musicians, entertainment, food and copious amounts of wine. It was an act of defiance both to the Greeks and to Louis, who did not put in an appearance. Alienor had not expected him to do so, and even while she felt like crying inside, she raised her head in defiance and set out to dazzle all who came within her orbit.
Geoffrey and Saldebreuil arrived from arranging matters for the march to Nicomedia and found their lady at the centre of the dance, a shield of laughter brightening her face. She wore a dress of dark green silk embroidered with stars, the long sleeves and skirt flowing around her as she swept and turned.
‘Something has upset our lady,’ Saldebreuil said wryly. ‘Best beware on the morrow.’
Geoffrey said nothing, because the sight of her had stunned the words out of him. He had always loved her, first when she was a bright, precocious child and the daughter of his seigneur, Duke William. He had been a very young man then, with a wife and a growing family, and Alienor had been a general part of that group. But then Burgondie had died bearing their fourth child and Alienor had begun to grow up and, as his grieving eased, he had started to dream of a future with her. Duke William was a widower himself and considering a new marriage in order to beget a son. Had such a thing come to pass, Geoffrey knew he would have stood a chance of wedding Alienor. Fate had decreed otherwise when William had died untimely. Geoffrey was sufficiently pragmatic to accept what had happened, but still romantic enough to remember the dream. Alienor had matured and changed, but she remained his Alienor, shining with all her different facets, and the wanting never went away.