The Plantagenet Prelude - Plaidy Jean - Страница 22

Raymond laughed and set about planning how he could get the better of this king whose refusal to fall in with his plans made it impossible for him to carry them out.

They talked earnestly together...he and Eleonore. They must find a means of keeping her in Antioch.

He understood her far better than she understood him.

He knew that her passion for him was as superficial as his for her. She did not know this. Eleonore, the romantic Queen of the Troubadours, was enamoured of love itself and she saw it as supreme. He did not tell her that since he had been the means of freeing her from irksome convention, she would break away from an accepted mode of behaviour, and nothing would restrain her. But he knew this to be so.

It would not be long before she took another lover.

They parted tenderly. They would not emerge from the arbour together. She should go first.

As she did so she saw a figure detach itself from the bushes. She pretended not to notice but walked on. The man who had emerged from the shadow followed her.

Before she reached the palace she turned and came face to face with him. She laughed derisively.

‘You!’ It was a man she had always despised, Thierry Galeran, a eunuch of immense stature. He was clever and had made his name at the court of Louis the Fat, who had singled him out and made use of his statecraft. It was this King who had recommended Thierry Galeran to his son and Louis had as deep a respect for him as his father had had.

‘For one moment,’ said Eleonore, ‘I had thought you might have planned to seize me for a certain purpose. What a joke! That would have been quite outside your range.’

Galeran bowed. He said: ‘I saw you in the gardens and recognised you, my lady. I thought to offer my service should you need protection.’

‘I need nothing from you,’ she answered shortly.

She hurried into the palace and briefly wondered whether he had seen her enter the arbour. If so would he guess what she had been doing there?

She laughed to herself. ‘Something, my poor eunuch, which you could not understand,’ she murmured.

Galeran retraced his steps to the arbour; it was thus that he came face to face with the Prince of Antioch and he knew at once that the Prince had been the companion of the Queen of France.

Smarting under the Queen’s insult, he debated with himself whether he should inform the King of France of what he had seen. Perhaps it was a little premature. No, he would do nothing as yet, but he would keep a close watch on the Queen.

Since she had broken her marriage vows with Raymond, Eleonore thought often of some of the handsome men who had made advances to her and whom she had rejected.

There was Raoul, Count of Vermandois who had turned in desperation to Petronelle, and was now with the Abbe Suger helping to govern France. She had had a great fancy for him; there was Saldebreuil who was in the hands of the infidel. She thought of him a good deal.

She mentioned to Raymond the fact that many of the best soldiers in Louis’s army had fallen captive to the enemy and how she often wondered what had befallen them.

Obsessed by his great scheme Raymond constantly sought methods of bringing it to fruition. And an idea had occurred to him which on immediate consideration seemed hopeless but on closer consideration less so.

‘There is a Saracen named Saladin who is a prince of some power,’ he told her. ‘He is a man of good looks and a certain culture. I think he might even become a Christian one day.’

‘A Saracen become a Christian! It is unheard of.’

‘Not so, my love. Saracens have become Christians and Christians Saracens for certain considerations. It is not unheard of. But this Saladin is an interesting man. Do you know, I believe if you sent a message to him to the effect that you wished to make a request he would at least listen.’

‘This is what I wish more than anything. I could then make an offer of a ransom and see if I can bring about the return of my good Saldebreuil. Will you help me?’

‘With all my heart. Leave the matter to me.’

The result was that in a very short time there was a message from Saladin. He had heard a great deal about the beauty and charm of the Queen of Troubadours. She wished to make a request to him. He would grant this and ask only one favour in return which she might feel it in her heart to grant him. Would she receive him that he might have the great pleasure of hearing her request from her own lips and of seeing for himself the lady who was so renowned for her grace and beauty.

Such a reply delighted Eleonore. The incident was worthy of one of her own ballads.

If he could come to her she would be delighted to receive him, was her reply.

She told Raymond of the matter.

‘He will have to make his way through a hostile army. How can he do this?’ asked Raymond.

‘He says it is what he will do.’

‘He will risk his life for a glimpse of you and the pleasure of saying a few words to you!’

Yes indeed. This was the kind of romance of which her troubadours sang. She was delighted to find that it existed in real life.

‘He will never reach here,’ said Raymond sadly.

‘He will. I know he will.’

‘I will do all I can to help him. I will send out an escort, and he shall be disguised in such a fashion that no one will recognise him.’

Eleonore was delighted. ‘My dearest Raymond, how good you are to me!’

‘Why should I not be to the one I love?’

Life was exciting, thought Eleonore. This was how it should be lived. Alas, from one day to the next she did not know how long she would stay here. Louis was restive.

Never had she seen him so determined as he was now to go on with his plan. He would not listen to reason. Every day she grew more incensed with him and passionately wished she could end their marriage.

But she would not think of Louis. She would think of this romantic infidel who was going to risk his life to come and see her.

How his dark eyes flashed as he contemplated her! How tall he was! What a warrior!

He spoke a little French, not much, but enough to convey his admiration of her and the effect she had on him.

She was no less impressed by him. He was different from any man she had ever known and the alien quality was irresistible.

She wished to ask a favour of him, he believed. She told him that a man for whom she had some regard was a prisoner in his hands. His name was Saldebreuil de Sanzay. She was ready to offer a substantial ransom for his return. Saladin declared that he would accept no ransom. It was enough that she had made a request. His greatest pleasure would be to grant what she wished.

A messenger should be disguised and sent to the castle where the Frenchman was incarcerated. He should be immediately released and given safe conduct.

‘What a charming gesture,’ cried the Queen. ‘How can I thank you enough.’

She set out to please him. She sang songs of her own composition, songs of love. He listened entranced.

Raymond joined them and seemed delighted that they found such pleasure in each other’s company. How very cultivated her uncle was, thought Eleonore. How different from poor gauche Louis! She and Raymond were lovers, but he saw at once that there could not fail to be a strong physical attraction between herself and the fascinating infidel.

The very fact that he was an infidel added to his attraction. She could not help feeling completely excited in his presence.

Raymond said that he must not attempt to leave the palace for a while. He had traveled far and risked much.

He and Eleonore should have more delightful interviews before he returned to his armies. Raymond would make sure that he was well guarded and that his identity was kept secret. They could rely on Raymond.

When he was alone with Eleonore – Prince Saladin having returned to the secret apartments Raymond had found for him – Raymond said to Eleonore: ‘I have a plan. You may think that it is impossible. If so, do not hesitate to say so. You know I think of nothing but your good.’