The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [36]
There must be a way.
It was said that Bernard was a saint and as such might have the power of miracle working. I believed that he wished France well. France was his country and he had always kept a paternal eye on Louis. I was sure he believed that Louis was meant for the Church, and no doubt he regretted that sudden appearance of the pig as much as Louis had. I felt an irresistible desire to laugh at the thought of Bernard’s admonishing God for letting that fateful animal run out at the crucial moment.
An idea occurred to me. What if I went to Bernard? What if I talked to him of my predicament? What if I begged him to intercede for me with the Almighty, as he seemed to be on such good terms with Him? Could he influence God to make me pregnant?
An opportunity occurred which made me feel that God was watching over me. For some time Suger had been building a cathedral at St. Denis. This was now completed and was to be opened with a brilliant ceremony which Louis and I were to attend with the leading churchmen. Bernard would most certainly be there.
If I could speak to him at the time, it would be more diplomatic than visiting him or asking him to visit me. So this was what I proposed to do. He would understand the need to give France an heir, I was sure. He might possibly be able to help me.
It was a beautiful day when we set out for St. Denis. There were crowds everywhere to cheer us. The people were happy on this occasion. They loved a ceremony. There were so many people making their way to St. Denis for the opening and dedication that there was no room to accommodate them all. Tents had been set up in fields, and there were crowds of all sorts and conditions of men and women. The inevitable pedlars called their wares, and there were apprentices, religious sects, the infirm looking for a miracle, and a smattering of pickpockets, I had no doubt.
Suger came out to greet us and to take us to those apartments which had been prepared for us. I asked if Bernard of Clairvaux was present and was relieved to hear that he was.
“I wish to speak with him,” I said. “Would you arrange a meeting between us?”
Suger looked surprised but rather pleased, I thought. No doubt he believed that, if I wanted to see the saint, it might be a sign that I was reforming. I had never shown any desire to speak to him before.
I was left alone in the apartments. Louis had gone to the chapel to pray. I could imagine his pleas for forgiveness. Vitry, Vitry, Vitry. I was heartily sick of the name.
But I would not waste my thoughts on that. I had to prepare myself. What should I say when I found myself face to face with Bernard? How should I best approach him? He would be aloof, I knew. He cared not that I was the Queen of France. He was one of those who saw themselves above all others on account of their saintliness and their special relationship in heavenly circles. I had always found the saintly arrogant.
There were many stories about him, and I began to build up a rather terrifying picture.
I remember conversations I had with my women about him.
“He thinks it is sinful to eat. They say he was very handsome when he was young, and he hated his body because it was strong and virile, so he starved himself and nearly killed himself until some doctor made him see that if he did not change his ways he would die. Then he realized that God had sent him to Earth for a purpose and it was necessary for him to keep himself alive.”
“He never washed himself,” said another. “He thinks that would be vanity. He wears a hair shirt . . . and the more full of lice it is the better he likes it, for he feels it is saintly to be tormented.”
“He never speaks to his sister. He has cut her right out of his life because she married and has a large family. He thought she should have gone into a convent.”
“He hates all women because he thinks the Devil has put them on Earth to tempt men to perdition.”
I had grown angry at that. “Why do you regard this man as great?” I cried. “If