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Plaidy Jean - The Plantagenet Prelude The Plantagenet Prelude

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Фантастика и фэнтези

Детективы и триллеры

Проза

Любовные романы

Приключения

Детские

Поэзия и драматургия

Старинная литература

Научно-образовательная

Компьютеры и интернет

Справочная литература

Документальная литература

Религия и духовность

Юмор

Дом и семья

Деловая литература

Жанр не определен

Техника

Прочее

Драматургия

Фольклор

Военное дело

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оксана2018-11-27
Вообще, я больше люблю новинки литератур
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Очень понравилась книга. Рекомендую!
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Contents

COVER

COPYRIGHT

GENEALOGY OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR

PART I: ELEANOR AND HENRY

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

PART II: HENRY AND THOMAS

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

BIBLIOGRAPHY

COPYRIGHT

Copyright © Jean Plaidy, 1976

Initial lettering copyright © Stephen Raw, 2006

All rights reserved.

The Estate of Eleanor Hibbert has asserted its right to have Jean Plaidy identified as the author of this work.

Published by Arrow Books in 2007

First published in the United Kingdom in 1976 by Robert Hale Ltd Published in paperback in 1978 by Pan Books Ltd

Arrow Books

The Random House Group Limited

www.randomhouse.co.uk

Random House Group Limited Reg. No. 954009

www.randomhouse.co.uk

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

ISBN: 978-0099493266

Epub ISBN: 978-1446411711

Version 1.0

GENEALOGY OF

WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR

PART ONE: ELEONORE AND HENRY

Chapter I

DUCHESS AND QUEEN

From a window of the Chateau de l’Ombriere the Duke of Aquitaine looked down on the scene in the shaded rose garden. It was one to enchant him. His two daughters – charming creatures both of them though the elder of the two, Eleonore, surpassed in beauty her sister Petronelle – were surrounded by members of the court, young men and women, decorative and elegant, listening now to the minstrel who was singing his song of love.

The Duke’s eyes rested on Eleonore, for she was at the centre of the group. Some quality in her set her apart from the rest of the company. It was not only her beauty nor was it her rank. She was after all the heiress of Aquitaine until its Duke begot a son and, widowed as he was, he must bestir himself if he were to do so, for although he was but thirty-eight years of age, he had lost two wives and the only outcome of those marriages was his two girls Eleonore and Petronelle. Eleonore was tall and she was handsome; there was something commanding about her; she had the air of one born to rule. There was also a sensuality. He sighed, thinking of his father whose life had been dominated by his devotion to the opposite sex and wondering whether his attractive daughter would follow her grandfather in that respect.

She was fourteen years of age, Petronelle three years younger. Yet there was a ripeness about them both, even little Petronelle. As for Eleonore, she was ready for marriage. And if anything should happen to him before this event took place, who would protect her? He imagined her in her rose garden surrounded by her minstrels and the ladies of her court; and some suitor riding into the castle.

There would not only be Eleonore’s vast lands and fortune to attract him but the fascinating Eleonore herself. And if she refused to marry? He knew the manners of the day. The lovely maiden would be abducted, held prisoner, deflowered if she would not yield willingly and placed in such a position that her family would be eager to marry her to her ravisher.

It was hard to imagine such a fate for Eleonore. Yet even she would be forced to submit.

He thanked God that it had not come to that. Here he was a man of thirty-eight with two attractive daughters. He must marry and beget a son. Yet what if he were to marry and there was no son? It was a logical assumption as so far there had been only daughters. How often were royal male heirs elusive. Why should he have been given only daughters? As was customary with men of his times he asked himself whether God was punishing him for his sins or perhaps the sins of his forbears.

His father had been one of the most renowned sinners of his age. Women had been his downfall. He had left his wife and set up his mistress in great state, even having an image of her engraved on his shield. William the ninth Duke of Aquitaine had cared nothing for convention, and although the greatest motive in his life had been the pursuit of women, this was a common enough quality – or failing depending on the way one looked upon it – and he was renowned rather for his love of poetry and song. This Duke’s ideal state had been to lie with his mistress of the moment and listen to the strumming of the harp, and the songs, which were often of his own composing, sung by his minstrels. He was called the Father of the Troubadours and Eleonore had inherited his talent in this; she could compose a poem, set it to music, play it, sing it and attracted to her the finest songsters in the Duchy. What else had she inherited from her grandfather? Having noted the expression in those big languorous eyes as they rested on various comely gentlemen, the Duke wondered.

What he should do was get a son quickly and find a husband for Eleonore. But neither of these projects could be achieved without a great deal of thought. A husband for Eleonore now when she was the heiress could easily be found but it would be remembered that she could be displaced if her father had a son. And to have a son he must first find a wife! Not that that presented any great difficulty. What he must have was a fruitful wife. And there was the gist of the matter. Who could say until a man was married whether his wife would give him a son? What if he married to find the lady barren or capable only of giving him daughters?

So this was his dilemma. Should he marry again and try for a son? Or should he accept Eleonore as the heiress of Aquitaine? What of her husband if she married? Quite clearly, if she were to remain heiress of Aquitaine there was only one husband who would be worthy of her and that was the son of the King of France. So he was torn by doubts as he looked down on the scene, in the garden.