In the name of God, I formally invest you with the dukedom of Normandy, Louis was intoning to Henry, then bent forward and kissed the young man on both cheeks. The young duke rose to his feet and stepped backward to join his father, and both men bowed.
We have much to thank Abbot Bernard for, the King murmured to Eleanor, his handsome features relaxing into the sweet smile that he reserved only for his beautiful wife. This peace with Count Geoffrey and his son was of his making.
More likely it was some wily strategy invented by Geoffrey, Eleanor thought, but she forbore to say anything. Even the unworldly Louis had accounted it odd that the crafty Count of Anjou had made this sudden about-turn after blaspheming in the face of the saintly Bernard, who had dared to castigate Geoffrey for backing his son, Henry FitzEmpress. Stubbornly, Henry FitzEmpress had for a long time refused to perform homage to his overlord, King Louis for the dukedom of Normandy. Even Eleanor had been shocked.
That boy is arrogant! Louis had fumed. I hear he has a temper on him that would make a saint quail. Someone needs to bridle him before he gets out of control, and his father cannot be trusted to do it, whatever fair words he speaks for my benefit.
I cant believe that Geoffrey was lackwitted enough
to cede his duchy to that cocky young stripling, Louis muttered now, the smile fixed on his face.
Eleanor was finding it difficult to say anything in reply, so smitten was she with Henry.
Even now, I do not trust either of them, and neither does Abbot Bernard. Whatever anyone says, I was right to refuse initially to recognize Henry as duke. Why God in His wisdom struck me down with illness just as I was about to march on them I will never understand. Louis was working himself up into one of his rare but deadly furies, and Eleanor, despite herself, knew that she had to make him calm down. People were looking
Louis was gripping the painted arms of his throne with white knuckles. She laid a cool hand on his.
We must thank God for Abbot Bernards intervention, she murmured soothingly, recalling how Bernard had stepped in and, ignoring Geoffreys customary swearing and blusterGod, the man had a temper on himhad in the end performed little less than a miracle in averting war.
Aye, it was a fair bargain, Louis conceded, his irritation subsiding. No one else could have extracted such terms from the Angevins. Eleanor could only agree that Henrys offer of the Vexin, that much-disputed Norman borderland, in return for the Kings acknowledgment of him as Duke of Normandy, was a masterful solution to the dispute.
Come, my lord, she said, they are all waiting. Let us entertain our visitors.
As wine and sweetmeats were brought and served, the King and Queen and their important guests mingled with the courtiers in that vast, dismal hall. Searching for Duke Henry in the throng, hoping for the thrill of even a few words with him, just to hear once more the sound of his voice, Eleanor unwillingly found herself face-to-face with the saintly Abbot Bernard, who seemed equally dismayed by the encounter. He did not like women, it was well known, and she was convinced he was terrified of the effect they might have on him. Heavens, he even disapproved of his sister, simply because she enjoyed being married to a rich man. Eleanor had always hated Bernard, that disapproving old miserythe antipathy was mutual, of coursebut now courtesy demanded that she force herself to acknowledge him. The odor of sanctity that clung to himOdor indeed! she thoughtwas not conducive to social conversation.
Bernards stern, ascetic face gazed down at her. His features were emaciated, his skin stretched thin over his skull. All the world knew how greatly he fasted through love of Our Lord. There was barely anything of him.
My lady, he said, bowing slightly, and was about to make his escape and move on when it suddenly struck Eleanor that he might be of use to her in her present turmoil.
Father Abbot, she detained him, putting on her most beseeching look, I am in need of your counsel.
He stood looking silently at her, never a man to waste words. She could sense his antipathy and mistrust; he had never liked her, and had made no secret of his opinion that she was interfering and overworldly.
It is a matter on which I have spoken to you before, she said in a low voice. It is about my marriage to the King. You know how empty and bitter my life has been, and that during all my fourteen years of living with Louis, I have borne him but two daughters. I despair of ever bearing him a son and heir, although I have prayed many times to the Virgin to grant my wish, yet I fear that God has turned His face from me. Her voice broke in a well-timed sob as she went on, You yourself have questioned the validity of the marriage, and I have long doubted it too. We are too close in blood, Louis and I. We had no dispensation. Tell me, Father Abbot, what can I do to avert Gods displeasure?
Many share your concerns, my daughter, Bernard replied, his voice pained, as if it hurt him to have to agree with her for once. The barons themselves have urged the King to seek an annulment, but he is loath to lose your great domains. And, God help him, he loves you. His lip curled.