The Courts of Love: The Story of Eleanor of Aquitaine Read online

  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 o
f 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.

  Alas, his visit was brief, but I was with him a great deal during the ten days he stayed in the palace for he was as attracted by me as I was by him. Each morning I awoke with the joyous thought: Raymond is here. We would ride together. I would sing for him. Petronilla was often with us and so was my father but I liked best the times when we were alone.

  He told me that I was the most enchanting little girl he had ever met. There was a certain regret in his eyes and in his voice, and being precocious I knew what he meant by that. This was love, of which the troubadours sang, but he was a man, and for all my sophistication I was but a child, and he was my uncle, so there was too strong a blood tie between us for us to be lovers. But all our looks and gestures spoke of love; and I shall always remember Raymond as my first love.

  He talked to me of serious things. I had an idea that he believed that by pretending I was not a child I should miraculously become a woman and then we could both give expression to what we felt.

  He reminded me of my grandfather although I had only known him as an old man and this was a radiant young one. He was after all my grandfather’s youngest son but he had never known him because he had been born after Philippa had left.

  He told me that he was without fortune which was why he was setting out to make it. He was starting first in England, for he had met Henry, the King, who had promised him a welcome. I was sure he would make a name for himself, for he was meant for greatness ... even though at this stage it was difficult to see how he would do this.

  He was a great talker and I loved to listen.

  He told me much of what was happening around me and of which I had been ignorant before. I had thought that my father was all-powerful; it was a revelation to learn that this was not the case and that he had dangerous enemies.

  The greatest of these was the Church.

  I began to see my father through new eyes. Not that Raymond ever spoke against him. But when he told me of affairs in Europe I realized that my father had only a very small part in them.

  Raymond was interested in Bernard of Clairvaux, who was at this time in conflict with my father.

  “He is a very powerful man,” Raymond told me, “and it is unwise to cross swords with him.”

  “And that is what my father is doing ... crossing swords?”

  “I should not be talking to you thus, dear child. Let us sing a beautiful song together. That is more suitable to the occasion, I am sure.”

  “Let us sing certainly ... but first I would hear of this Bernard of Clairvaux.”

  “If you have not heard of him, assuredly you soon will. He is a monk and he is renowned for his power with words. He draws the most hardened sinners to the monastic life. It is said that mothers hide their sons, wives their husbands and friends their companions for fear that he will lure them away from them. As a young man he went to the monastery of Cteaux because it was noted for its austerity, and that was the life he chose.”

  I grimaced. “How tiring such people are!” I cried. “They want to be miserable themselves and to make everyone else so at the same time. If they want to starve and mourn, I say, let them, if they will allow those who want to enjoy life to do so.”

  He laughed at my vehemence. “I see you are a little hedonist. I am of your opinion. But we cannot ignore this Bernard. He is becoming too powerful a figure in the world.”

  “It seems to me that one must either be very wicked or very good to win the approval of the people.”

  He laughed again. “And an observer of human nature too, I perceive. What a wise niece I have.”

  “Tell me more of this Bernard.”

  “He and his followers became so well known that many wanted to join their Order and there was not room at Cteaux to hold them so they decided to build a new monastery. They went in search of a place where they could build it and they came upon the wooded valley of Langres which was very dark and gloomy and would have to be cleared.”

  “They make me impatient,” I said. “Why choose a place which demanded a lot of hard work before they began to build? They might have chosen a sunny plain somewhere.”

  “But that would not suit Bernard. He believes that only by suffering can a man come to God. So they worked hard; they cut down trees; they settled there and built the famous abbey of Clairvaux. They endured great hardship and as a matter of fact, Bernard became so ill because of the austere life he led that they feared he would die.”

&nbs
p; “He had none but himself to blame.”

  “You are a realist, my dear little niece. Of course you are right. But there was great consternation. He was regarded as a saint. You have heard of the great doctor William of Champeaux. He went to Bernard. He cured him, taught him that it was possible to live frugally and be healthy. So now we have Bernard traveling the country, urging people to forsake their evil ways and whipping them up to a frenzy of piety. But the point of his discourse now is the acceptance of Innocent II as the true Pope.”

  “I know of the rivalry between the two Popes.”

  “It is splitting not only France but the whole of Europe. There are the supporters of Anacletus and those of Innocent.”

  “But why are there these two Popes?”

  “Because there was a split among the Cardinals and each candidate for the Papacy declares himself the winner. It is dividing the whole of Christendom. Italy stands for Anacletus and France for Innocent. At least that was how it was until Bernard took a hand in the dispute. You see, Louis sent for Bernard. Louis, indulgent as he is to his own appetites—and his immense body bears witness to that—is a very religious man. How the ascetic Bernard and gross Louis became so reconciled to each other it is hard to say, but the fact is that Louis has persuaded Bernard to stand for Innocent; and that means that he will win the whole of Europe to his side with his honeyed words.”

  “So this matter will be settled then?”

  “What I am telling you is that there are some who still stand for Anacletus and your father is one of them.”

  “Is that why he is so troubled lately?”

  “It may well be.”

  “Why should we in Aquitaine be bothered by what is happening in Rome?”

  “What happens in the world affects us all. Does your father talk to you of these matters?”

  “Of some. He did not talk of this.”

  “I would guess that it is because it weighs heavily on his mind.”

  “What is Anacletus to him?”

  “It is hard sometimes for people to change a course when they have set out on it.”