The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [38]
“The marriage was annulled.”
“By sinners.”
“Men of the Church.”
“Alas,” he said.
“I would ask you to use your influence. You of all men could do so if you wished. You have the power to subdue those about you. You have been chosen by God.” I could see that he was unimpressed by flattery. A different approach was necessary. I went on: “Our troops have been withdrawn from Champagne.”
“The land must be given back to the Count.”
“It will be when the ban on my sister and the Count of Vermandois is lifted.”
“That cannot be until the Count of Vermandois returns to his lawful wife.”
I looked at his thin, austere face and saw the stubborn purpose there, and I knew in that moment that it was no use pleading for my sister. She must continue to pay for her pleasure; and indeed she was less disturbed about the consequences than I. I was in the presence of an extraordinary man and I was aware of the power which came from him. I had come here to plead my own cause not that of Petronilla. I decided to change my mood. I would try to be a little humble.
“I know that you are favored by the Lord God,” I said. “I would have you know that I have a great respect for you and for all you have done and are doing.”
“I am surprised to hear that.”
“Perhaps I have not appeared as appreciative as you might have thought necessary. The King, my husband, holds you in great regard.”
“The King is a good man but often misguided. He is led by evil influences.” The steely eyes bored through me. I was that evil influence, he implied. He went on: “He has been led into wars. He has offended God. He has taken up arms in evil causes. That must stop. I am sure the King is penitent. It is necessary for others to follow his example.”
I said: “I wish to ask your help. In all the time of my marriage there has been no child.”
“Then it is God’s will that there should be none.”
“I believe you could intercede for me.” I raised my eyes to his face pleadingly.
Bernard was having an effect on me. I could believe there was something holy about this man. There came into my mind a vivid picture of my father, standing before him in the church and then falling to the ground. Yes, there was a certain power about him. I believed he could work miracles.
So great was my faith in him that I was sure he was aware of it. His attitude changed subtly.
“So,” he said, “you wish for a child.”
“It is necessary,” I answered. “France must have an heir.”
“It is in the hands of God,” he said.
“You could help me.”
“It will be God’s will.”
“But if you could intercede for me. Please . . . I beg of you.”
He was silent. He stared above my head as though he were in communication with some spirit above me.
“If you were to change your ways,” he said, “if you were to dispense with sinful thoughts, if you listened to the voice of God, there might be a child. It is for you to change your ways.”
“I will do anything,” I said.
He bowed his head and folding his hands began to pray, and I was praying with him.
I said: “If you would speak to my husband . . .”
“He also wishes for a child.”
“But,” I replied, “he does little to help us get one.”
“Then let us pray.”
I had never thought to find myself on my knees with this strange man, who was so different from everything I had hitherto admired. Yet I believed in him.
“There would have to be peace with Champagne,” he said.
“Yes,” I said, for I knew it must be so and that our object in attacking Champagne would come to nothing. Petronilla and Raoul would remain under the edict. They must fight their own battles. I had one object in mind. I must have a child.
So there was peace between us and nothing gained from that futile war.
This was unimportant, for Louis, no doubt primed by Bernard, returned to my bed and at last I became pregnant.
Great was my joy. I was ready to accept Bernard as a miracle worker. I had kept my part of the bargain. I had refrained from meddling in state matters. I had spent my days with my women, embroidering, reading good works. This was not as irksome as