To Be Queen (9 page)

“In the cathedral,” I said. “Is he there still?”

“He was when we left the hall, Your Grace.”

From the formal title she gave me, not only could she see the way my thoughts were tending, but she did not approve. I rose at once, and called for my cloak.

“I feel the need for prayer,” I said.

She did not snort in derision, for to do so would have been beneath her dignity. Amaria stared hard at me for one long moment before she went to do my bidding. As she returned from my trunks, she wore her own cloak across her shoulders.

“I, too, feel the call of God,” she said.

I did not speak but only smiled as I led her into the hidden corridor beyond the wall of my room. The door into the hallway was tucked behind a tapestry. Its hinges were well oiled, and the door opened easily after I unlocked it with the key I kept in my alms purse. I carried few coins for alms, but there were many hidden doors in my father's castle. I held the only key to each of them.

I felt Amaria's displeasure as she walked behind me, but I did not heed it. It was for her to follow me, whatever I set out to do. This night was no exception.

We slipped past my men and the few Parisian guards who dozed on the great staircase. We moved through another hidden door into the bailey, where one of my men, a great hulking warrior named Bardonne, fell in behind me without questioning my purpose. I took him in, memorizing his face before I walked on. I could use a man who asked no questions at my back. I would bring him with me to Paris.

We moved to walk from the bailey through the gates to Bordeaux itself. There was a small door, tucked in close by the portcullis. My gatekeeper knew me at once, and moved to open it for me. Before he could do so, a shadow rose out of the darkness, and stepped into my path so that I could not move, forward or back. The shadow spoke.

“My lady duchess, where do you go, so late in the night and unattended?”

I heard the Baron Rancon's voice, and knew him well, even in the dark. Bardonne had made no noise, but had drawn his short sword. He stood now between the baron and myself, the tip of his blade at my baron's throat. I raised one hand, and Bardonne stepped back. He did not lower his blade but kept watch on Rancon as if he were an enemy.

“I go to the cathedral for prayer, my lord. Will you escort me there?”

The night was dark, but the moon had risen, coming out from behind a heavy cloud. I saw Rancon then in the moonlight. I saw his anger and his jealousy and his desire for me, all bound into one great mass over his heart. These emotions chased one another across the handsome planes of his face. I felt my own heart seize within my breast. I wanted this man, but I was bound for another.

Rancon stepped away, clearing the path so that Bardonne, Amaria, and I might walk on unencumbered. “I will not go with you, my lady duchess. It seems your man has all in hand.”

“I have all in hand. I thank you, my lord baron.”

I stared into the chestnut brown of his eyes. I wished us alone in that moment, myself in his arms. The hunger of lust rose in me, caressing my tongue. I saw answering lust on the baron's face, along with the knowledge that we were not alone in the dark of my father's keep. I was duchess now, and Rancon could not touch me, on pain of death.

Rancon took one more step away from me, and I walked on, though every sinew in my body cried out to stay with him, and to leave Louis forgotten. But Louis could never be forgotten. Baron Rancon was beautiful, but I could not have him, that night or ever.

The great cathedral my grandfather had constructed stood a short walk from my father's keep. I entered quietly, hiding myself within the shadows of the church. No one else was there save for Louis and two of his men. Both of his guards slept, but my husband-to-be knelt before the altar, his head bowed, his hands clasped. I watched the play of the lamplight across the blond brightness of his hair.

I left Amaria guarded by Bardonne in the shadows behind me, and went to kneel beside him.

Louis did not sense my presence at once, so deep was he in his devotions. I was fascinated. Never before had I seen a man who prayed in truth and not for show. I felt humbled in his presence, though I believed in nothing that he prayed to. His silent reverence called to me. I wondered if someday he might be as devoted to me.

I moved and my silk gown rustled. Louis crossed himself, then turned to me, his blue eyes meeting mine in the dimness of that church.

“You came,” he said.

“I am here,” I answered.

“I waited,” he said, “hoping you would come.”

His generous lips stilled; his voice fell silent. I watched his mouth, waiting to see if he might speak again.

When he did not, I leaned close to him, and pressed my lips to his. It was a chaste kiss, an offering of sorts, a question. I was not sure what the answer was. Neither, it seemed, was he.

Louis' lips were soft beneath mine. He did not respond, nor did he touch me. He stayed as still as stone, though I could hear his breath catch, and then quicken.

I drew back from him. Louis' eyes were still closed. He seemed to realize only then that I had pulled away. His blue eyes flew open, and his gaze rested on me.

“Forgive me, my lady.”

I thought at first he apologized for not taking me in his arms. I wondered if perhaps he was shy, for his men were awake now, and Amaria and my own man stood watching.

“I have sinned,” he said. “I have kissed you in the house of God.”

I smiled, thinking that perhaps he was joking. “No, my lord king. It is I who kissed you.”

He flushed, and his pale cheeks turned red. I watched the blood rise beneath his skin, and was reminded once more of a shy maid. I told myself that he had been raised in a church. He had not always known his destiny, as I had always known mine.

Louis did not speak. I rose to my feet and offered him my hand. I watched him hesitate. He seemed tempted, and I wondered if he did not want to lean on a woman to help him stand. Then he spoke.

“I must pray a little longer, my lady. I must ask forgiveness, and seek absolution from my confessor.”

A man in black stepped out from behind the altar then, and I recoiled instinctively. It was Brother Francis, the lead priest in Louis' entourage, the man who had accepted the gift of fruit from my table with a smile earlier that night, as if tribute from a duchess were his due.

Louis' priest smiled at me, a calculating smile that seemed to speculate on what he might gain from catching me alone with the heir of France. I saw that I would have to send this one a bag of gold on the morrow, to buy his silence.

I bowed to Francis, knowing him for the first time as an enemy. I pushed the priest from my mind, as I had pushed the Baron Rancon from my mind half an hour before.

I focused on the young king at my side, on the man who would be my husband.

“Do sleep sometime tonight, my lord king. Tomorrow, we ride out on a hunt.”

Louis turned pale at my words. I thought for a moment he was afraid to hunt with me, but he swallowed hard and nodded. “As you say, my lady. Until tomorrow.”

I curtsied to him, and moved to go. I expected to feel my betrothed's eyes on me as I went, as I would have felt any other man's. But when I turned back at the door, Louis faced the cross above his head. He still knelt, his rosary between his hands, his lips moving in silent prayer. Brother Francis stood over him, as a black crow over a carrion feast, waiting to hear his confession.

 

 

MOST OF MY BARONS BEGAN TO ARRIVE THE NEXT DAY. THEY all came to the great hall to bend their knee to me and to my betrothed. We had to cut our hunt short in order to greet them. I was sorry, but I saw after only a few minutes in the saddle that though Louis was a competent horseman, he did not care for hunting.

When I showed him my hawk, newly tamed to my hand, he shrank from the great bird as from an apparition. His eyes were shadowed with sleeplessness, his pale face almost gray with fear. I handed the bird off to my groom at once, but it took many moments for Louis to regain his color.

That afternoon, we sat on my dais in my father's hall, the great hall that had become my own. Petra sat behind us to remind the barons that if I was to die, the duchy would go not to France but to her.

As each baron stepped forward, I asked him about his fields and crops, his peasants, and his wars. Each was surprised, some pleased and some not, that I knew him and all his doings so intimately. They each bent their knee to Louis, but only after first having spoken to me.

As the fourth baron approached the dais, I began to realize that Louis was still saying my name with his heavy Parisian accent. Though we all spoke French out of courtesy to him, he could not make his tongue and lips form the word
Alienor
. The flavor of the langue d'oc did not sit easily on his tongue for even that one word.

Louis did not notice, but my barons began to frown, and to take offense. My men were touchy, and needed careful handling, but Louis would be my husband. Here was one way I might establish his authority, while losing nothing but my name. I did not consider the price, for it was a personal matter only. As to the duchy, Louis' authority was my authority, once I went away.

“The Duchess Eleanor greets you,” I said to Baron Rancon.

The memory of our meeting the night before lived still in the dark brown of his eyes. My own lust rose, as I sat there with Louis beside me.

Geoffrey of Rancon saw the desire on my face. He also understood when I insisted on the new pronunciation of my name. He was the first after Louis to speak my name as I would bear it for the rest of my life.

“My lady Eleanor, you grow ever more beautiful.”

Rancon behaved as if he had just arrived, as if he had never seen me the night before, sneaking out of the castle keep.

I laughed at his words, and the sound carried to the far end of the hall, warming the cold stone. I had never before drawn out my laughter, and let it caress all who heard it. All the men in the room stopped their conversations, and turned to me.

“And your tongue is ever silver, my lord. It puts me in mind of the contest a year ago, when you won a dance from me with a song.”

I pitched my voice to fill the great hall without strain. Though I kept my eyes on Rancon, I saw that all my other barons and their wives turned to listen. I had never commanded in my own hall before, without my father standing by. It was a heady moment, but in spite of the warmth of the Baron Rancon's hand on mine, I kept my wits.

“It was more than a year ago, Your Grace,” Rancon said.

“Indeed. How well you remember.” I smiled at him, and made him feel for a moment as if my smile were for him alone, though of course it was not. Louis shifted beside me on his borrowed cushions.

“My lords and ladies, I call for a song. Tonight, in this hall, my lords and knights will sing for me. Each man must compose a new song, using my given name: Eleanor.”

My barons, who had been rapt to this point, began to shift on their feet, and cast glances at one another.

“Among our people, we have the most artistic and talented knights in this land. Indeed, I would stake a claim that my lords might set a poem to music that would rival any man's in Christendom.”

Though my praise was flowery, and calculated to draw them in, I did not lie. The Court of Love had begun in my grandfather's time. Though many great castles now fed and housed countless troubadours, the best songwriters in Europe still came to our halls. And my barons stood to sing with them, bringing songs and tales they had written themselves. I had set my court a challenge, and as I watched, they drank it down.

I infused my voice with just a hint of laughter. “And if you take care with the scansion of my name, you might use your songs again, to woo your own ladies.”

There was a long pause, during which I thought they had slipped my nets. But then they laughed, not because what I said had much wit, but because it was the simple truth. The only reason my men wrote poetry at all was to coax their ladies into their beds.

Baron Rancon and Louis were the only two men in the hall who did not laugh. Louis, no doubt, because he did not get the joke; Rancon because his eyes had still not left my face. I had used him to enforce the new pronunciation of my name, and he did not like it. But I knew he would not question me, there in front of all my men.

I lowered my voice, so that only he and Louis could hear me. “And will you sing again this night, my lord? Will you raise your voice in song for me?”

I knew I was pushing my luck, but I could not seem to stop myself. I still wanted this man. Even now, as I looked at his great wide hands, I remembered how they had felt on my body.

I reminded myself that my husband-to-be sat beside me, feeling lost and out of place, for Rancon and I had begun to speak in the langue d'oc, a language Louis did not understand.

Baron Rancon answered me, his eyes cradling mine. His voice was soft, all traces of anger bled out of it. I saw only his pain, that he must yield me to another.

“No, my lady duchess. There are too many rivals for your affection. This day, I will respectfully retire from the field.”

Rancon bowed low, first to me, and then to Louis, who still sat frowning. Geoffrey left me then, and took a stool at the far end of the hall. He was not alone long, for women found him, and drank with him, simpering and offering themselves, for he was young and unmarried still. I forced myself not to look his way again, but from time to time, all that afternoon and that evening, I felt his eyes on me.