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

  One day he said: “A king who led an expedition to the Holy Land would surely wipe away his sins.”

  Louis to go on a crusade! I considered it. I should not miss him—that much was certain.

  Louis consulted Suger as he always did on important matters, wishing no doubt that he had discussed Champagne with him instead of with me. Suger was not enthusiastic.

  “You have your kingdom to govern,” he said. “It would be a great glory to save the Holy Land for Christianity, but that is for others. Your duty lies in France.”

  Louis by this time was growing very undecided. He was more obsessed by Vitry than ever, and his one great aim was to expiate that sin; he had to shut out the cries of those people in the burning church who continued to haunt his dreams. And seeing how deeply concerned he was, Suger implored him to take no steps without consulting the Holy See.

  There was yet another Pope by this time, Eugenius III, and he believed that people’s indignation should be aroused against the Turks and that it was time to go into battle.

  Someone was needed to preach with this purpose, and the Pope’s thoughts went to one who had more influence in France than any other: Bernard of Clairvaux.

  The Pope wrote to him asking for his help, and so fired by enthusiasm was Bernard that he replied at once, promising that he would go forth without delay. He was sure he could raise a worthy company of crusaders, who would go off to fight for God. So he came to Vezelai to preach the cause.

  If Bernard gave his support to it, it must be right, reasoned Louis. He was growing more and more determined and Suger, who had at first raised his voice against the enterprise, no longer did so as it was supported by the Pope and Bernard.

  It seemed a certainty that Louis would go on this crusade. And what would happen to me? If I could have been appointed Regent, I should have been content, but I knew that would not be. Suger, of course, would be in charge, and I should have even less power than I had at this time. It was a dismal prospect.

  Then an idea occurred to me. Why should I not go with Louis? It would not be the first time a woman had gone on a crusade. The more I thought of it, the more I liked it. Visiting strange places, bringing a little comfort into the lives of valiant crusaders, was an excellent thing to do. I imagined my ladies singing to them. We would take wardrobes of beautiful gowns with us. We could lift the spirits of the warriors and make a great contribution to the enterprise. Men needed comfort after a hard day’s fighting.

  I became obsessed by the idea and when Bernard came to Vezelai to whip up enthusiasm for the cause, I accompanied Louis to hear him.

  There was a unique power in that man. The frail little creature, looking more dead than alive, could inspire an audience, he could seize them and hold them; he could weave a spell about them. Skeptic as I was, I could believe there was some divine power in Bernard.

  There was absolute silence in the square as his voice rang out: “If you were told that an enemy had taken your castles, your cities, your lands, ravished your wives and daughters, desecrated your temples, would you stand by and let him continue or would you take up arms? My children, greater harm has been done to your brethren in the family of Christ. Christian warriors, why do you hesitate? Christ, who gave His life for you, now asks you to risk yours for Him. Defenders of the Cross, remember your fathers who conquered Jerusalem and who are now happy in Heaven. God has charged me to speak to you. Fly to arms. It is God’s will.”

  There was a deep silence when he stopped. He stood there, his arms raised to Heaven, and I think that all in that square felt the presence of divinity.

  Suddenly there was a shout from the people: “God willeth it. God willeth it.”

  The King came to Bernard and kneeling took the cross from him. I followed. Bernard’s eyes rested on me momentarily and there was approval in his glance.

  Then the people were pressing forward. There was scarcely a man who did not want to pledge himself to the cause.

  Adventures in Strange Lands

  THERE FOLLOWED MONTHS OF preparation during which I grew more and more excited. The boredom of the Court was over. I could look forward to the months ahead with sheer delight. I could think of nothing but the Crusade. It was wonderful to feel such excitement about a good cause. I was taking a company of my most favored ladies with me, so there was constant chatter in my apartments, as we discussed what clothes we should need. We were going to bring grace and refinement to the camp. That would be our main duty.

  Louis was happier. He felt he was going to expiate all his sins in this venture. There were fewer nightmares and Vitry was hardly mentioned during those exciting days. He still spent a great deal of time in prayer. But he was content.

  The country was to be left in the charge of Suger. He and Louis had had their differences, but in his heart Louis knew that the minister his father had bequeathed to him was a man to be trusted completely. Suger was for France. It was true that Louis was more influenced by Bernard, but he knew that Bernard was the emissary of the Pope and worked solely for Rome, while Suger thought first of France. Suger was without any doubt the man to take over the reins of government.

  However, some in the country were not happy. A great deal of money was needed to finance the expedition, and that meant higher taxes to be borne by the people. There were some murmurings about that. But not as many as might have been expected. People had a feeling that God had commanded this crusade and they did not want to offend Him.

  Petronilla was sad. She would have enjoyed coming so much and I should have liked to have her with me. It was at times like this that the ban of excommunication could make itself felt.

  Poor Petronilla, she must stay at home and console herself with her attractive husband.

  We heard that Bernard’s campaign in Germany had been as successful as that in France. The Emperor Conrad would be setting out with his army and we should all meet somewhere along the route to Jerusalem. Dispatches had been coming in from various places on the route. We had permission to pass through certain countries on our way where we should be given an honored reception.

  We were to leave Paris in June of that year 1147 and from there make our way to Metz, where men from all over the country would join us.

  I had said goodbye to little Marie and tried to explain to her that her father and I were going away on a mission because God had asked us to.

  There was to be a ceremony at St. Denis before we left, and Pope Eugenius had come to France to bless the enterprise. It was a magnificent sight. From the cathedral hung flags and banners. Everywhere were men with red crosses emblazoned on their tunics; the streets and squares were crowded. People had come from miles around to witness the impressive ceremony.

  We assembled in the cathedral. I caught a glimpse of Adelaide of Savoy. My mother-in-law eyed me with dislike and disapproval. I expected she was thinking me bold and brazen to accompany her son on this expedition. But I cared nothing for her.

  The Pope was offering the chest containing the relics of St. Denis for Louis to kiss and this he did with solemnity. Then Eugenius took the banner of France, the oriflamme shimmering with red and gold, and presented it to Louis, who as he took it, looked inspired, ready to fight for God and the glory of France.

  So we rode out of Paris on our way to Metz for the meeting of the men who would come from all the four corners of France. I had rallied those of Aquitaine and was proud that so many of them had answered the call. I rode at the head of my ladies. They looked beautiful. I had insisted that there must be nothing drab about them. Their task was to bring beauty and relaxation to the men. But we were crusaders none the less. Our soldiers would feel refreshed and inspired because of our company. This we firmly believed.

  At first everything was idyllic. We put up our tents each night and as the weather was good we sat in the open. Fires were made; we cooked; we sang and told stories. Those who liked such things enjoyed them while the more pious spent the time in prayer.

  And so we passed into Germa
ny to learn that the Emperor Conrad had gone on ahead with his army. We should meet up with him, we believed, in Constantinople, where the Byzantine Emperor Manuel Comnenus, we hoped, would offer us hospitality.

  The euphoric atmosphere waned a little. Food became scarce. There was trouble in one of the German towns when hungry crusaders seized food which was being unloaded, and a fight, which was scarcely a holy one, broke out; that caused a great deal of unpleasantness. These peaceful towns would not tolerate a marauding army descending on them and stealing their provisions even if they did call themselves holy crusaders.

  Louis was distressed when the citizens of Worms refused to trade with the crusaders and the shortage of food increased. This was Germany, not far from home, and many were asking themselves how they would fare in really hostile countries. It became clear that some of the enthusiasm for the crusade was beginning to wane.

  After that fracas some men left the army and returned to their homes.

  It seemed best to go on as quickly as possible, and so we set out, trying to forget the unfortunate incident which had resulted in a number of desertions.

  So we pressed on to Constantinople.

  We were greatly relieved to arrive there. I was attracted at once to the Emperor Manuel Comnenus. He was young and full of fire and ambition, indeed a man whose company I could enjoy.

  He came to meet us surrounded by a glittering cavalcade. He had an easy charm but there was a watchfulness about him. He was particularly charming to me and told me that an apartment should be prepared for me which would naturally be unworthy of me but which was the best he could offer.

  He told us that the Emperor Conrad had already arrived and was on the point of departure for the next stage of his journey.

  What a joy it was to live in a palace after months of being on the move! I and my ladies reveled in it. Our saddle-bags were unpacked and we dressed ourselves in a manner suited to such a Court and we were very merry.

  We talked together a great deal about Manuel Comnenus, whom we all agreed was a singularly attractive man. He gave us all his rapt attention. He was serious with Louis and his advisers, a little frivolous with the ladies, and his looks and gestures expressed his admiration for me. It seemed to me that he was the sort of man who knew how to be whatever everyone wanted him to be. That needs a great deal of shrewdness and I was sure Manuel was not lacking in that quality.

  To be in Constantinople stimulated my imagination. It was a wonderful city, founded by Constantine the Great, from whom it derives its name—the City of Constantine who had been baptized in Rome by Pope Sylvester in the year 326. Small wonder that riding through the streets of this great historic city, with its Emperor beside me, I felt inspired. I told myself that whatever hardships lay ahead I should always be grateful for the opportunity to join this crusade.

  We were greeted warmly by the Emperor Conrad and had many interesting conversations comparing our journeys. He had suffered less hardship than we, although he did admit that it was the army which had been treated with respect and when some of his men had gone off alone they had encountered hostility.

  I realized that an army descending on a town could provide difficulties for the inhabitants, even though they made a peaceful transit.

  In due course Conrad departed. We were not quite ready to do so yet and Manuel continued to treat us as honored guests, talking a great deal about himself and his country and the continual watch that had to be kept for the Turk whose covetous eyes were always on Constantinople.

  I found Manuel of great interest and this was due, in some measure, to the fact that I was unsure of him. I knew he felt insecure and his main aim was to protect his territory. He had unexpectedly become Emperor four years earlier. He had been the youngest of four brothers, but so clever had he proved himself, and so hazardous was the position of the empire that, when two of his brothers died, his dying father had insisted that his youngest son inherit after him, taking precedence over the remaining elder brother. The villainous Turks consistently threatened them, and a very astute and wily ruler was needed to keep them at bay. I was not surprised that Manuel attempted to turn every situation to his advantage.

  He told both Louis and Conrad that if he helped them he would expect them to return any of the cities they took which had previously been his, and captured by the Turk. Both Louis and Conrad felt that they were not in a position to promise this and they replied that there would have to be consultations. So the matter was left in abeyance.

  We continued to be entertained after Conrad’s departure. We were taken to Constantine’s Palace and there saw many holy relics—the cross and crown of thorns among them, which impressed us greatly.

  Then a disquieting incident occurred. It began when Manuel said he had something to tell us which would cheer us. A messenger had come to the palace with the news that Conrad had had a resounding victory and had defeated the Turkish army. The way was clear now for us to go ahead.

  It was disconcerting to discover by chance that it was quite the reverse when a member of Conrad’s army found his way back to Constantinople. He was bedraggled, weary and half dead from exhaustion. He begged to see the King of France. Louis was always accessible and the man was brought to us. He told us how utterly Conrad’s army had been defeated. It seemed that they had been led into a trap where the Turks were waiting for them. Taken by surprise, they had been overwhelmed and were now a defeated army.

  The Bishop of Langres assembled the commanders together, with the King, to discuss this matter. I insisted on being present. I was, after all, the Queen of France and one of the leaders of the expedition, even if it was a band of women I was leading.

  The Bishop said at once: “There is treachery here. Conrad’s men were cut to pieces because the Turks were lying in wait for them. How did they know the road the Germans would take? Depend upon it. They were betrayed.”

  “By whom?” asked Louis.

  “Need you ask, sire? By the Emperor Manuel Comnenus most certainly.”

  “How could he, a Christian, lead Christians to the Infidel?”

  “With the utmost ease, my lord. He is no friend to us. Of that I am sure.”

  “But the Turks are his enemies.”

  “He needs to placate them. No doubt they had offered bribes.”

  “I find it hard to believe that of any man,” said Louis, “and especially a Christian. Manuel has been a good host.”

  “My lord, that does not prevent his being an enemy. Conrad’s army is in retreat. The Turk will be awaiting the coming of ours.”

  “What shall we do?” asked Louis. “Confront Manuel? Ask him if this be true?”

  The Bishop raised his eyebrows to the ceiling, as well he might. My poor Louis was no diplomat. One of his greatest weaknesses was to believe all men were like himself—a trait of the innocent, perhaps. I thought: Save me from good men.

  I was not sure about Manuel’s treachery but I could well believe it existed.

  “We are among traitors,” went on the Bishop.

  “We must act with great care,” said Louis. “Until we are sure of Manuel’s good faith we will tell him nothing.”

  “He already knows a good deal. We could beat him at his own game.”

  “How so?”

  The Bishop’s next words made me catch my breath. “We have a well-equipped army here. We could capture Constantinople.”

  Louis stared at him.

  “Our plan is to go to Jerusalem, to make the Holy Land safe for Christian pilgrimage.”

  “That is why we should make sure that this is a safe haven for them, and not ruled by a traitor who has just sent a fine army to destruction.”

  “I would engage in no war but a holy one,” said Louis.

  The Bishop sighed.

  Several of the others spoke.

  “My lord Bishop,” said one, “you are not sure of Manuel’s treachery.”

  “Did he not tell us that Conrad was victorious? Surely that could only have been so that he
could lead us into the same trap.”

  “He could have been misinformed.”

  I knew how these men were feeling. They wanted to move on. They wanted to go to the Holy Land. They wanted the glory that would come with the capture of Jerusalem. No one at home would understand the importance of taking Constantinople.

  As I listened I began to see that the Bishop might well be right. Although I was attracted by Manuel, I knew an ambitious man when I saw one, and I was fully aware that he would sacrifice everything to gain his own ends . . . the German army . . . our army . . .

  Had I been the commander I should have said: Let us take Constantinople. But of course they would not listen to me. I shrugged my shoulders. The inevitable would happen. We should leave Constantinople and march on. But at least we could be wary of any traps Manuel might set for us.

  We took our farewells of Manuel and listened with skepticism to his protestations of friendship. None of us betrayed our doubts of him—not even Louis, who did not really believe in them, which was the only reason why he was able to deceive Manuel. The rest of us were more subtle and some of us could put up as good a front of deception as Manuel himself.

  We crossed to Asia Minor and when we were encamped there Manuel’s treachery was proved without a doubt when we came upon Conrad with the remains of his shattered army.

  The sight of him saddened us. He was no longer the confident warrior wielding the sword of righteousness; he himself had been quite badly wounded; he was a defeated man.

  He sat in the royal tent with a very few of us—myself and some of Louis’s most trusted advisers. I was sorry to see among them Thierry Galeran, a man I detested and who, I was sure, reciprocated my feelings. He was a eunuch chosen, because of his immense strength, to be Louis’s bodyguard. He was more than that; he was also a diplomat and considered to be brilliant. He always slept in Louis’s tent that he might be ever alert for the King’s safety. He seemed to have become one of Louis’s chief advisers. I suppose a woman such as I was would feel a natural anathema to such a man. But he was ever-present and I knew that Louis paid great attention to what he said. He would stand there, often silent, listening, and I was sure he missed nothing. He was alert as Conrad told the story of his betrayal.