The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [57]
“Louis,” I insisted, “you have already lost the bulk of your army. Do you intend to lose the rest?”
“We came for a purpose. God will look after us.”
“He has been a little remiss in that direction so far,” I said wearily.
“We are here now. We have come through so far.”
“And what of those who have not? What of those who have died either from the sabers and arrows of the Turks or from very revolting illnesses? Do you call that looking after?”
“Eleanor, you frighten me sometimes. I fear that God will take some terrible revenge on you. You talk blasphemy.”
“Perhaps He might like those of us who speak the truth. After all, what is in my mind has been put there by Him. But enough of this theology. If you are foolish enough to leave, I shall not come with you.”
“You cannot mean that!”
“I do, Louis. I am not leaving Antioch.”
“How can you stay behind?”
“Perfectly easily . . . as my uncle’s guest.”
“Your place is with your husband and the French army. Have you forgotten that you are the Queen of France?”
“That is a matter about which I want to speak to you.” He looked puzzled.
“Louis,” I said, “let us be frank. You and I are not suited, are we? I believe there are times when you regret our marriage. As for myself, I regret it all the time. We cannot go on. I want a divorce.”
“Divorce! How can you suggest that? You are the Queen of France.”
“Queens have been divorced before. I shall not be the first.”
“But . . . why? It is impossible.”
“Why?” I asked. “Because you are not meant to be a husband. You know it is the Church to which you give your devotion. I might want to marry again. I want a divorce.”
“You would renounce the crown of France!”
“Yes, I would. I should no longer be Queen of France and you Duke of Aquitaine. But it would be better for us, Louis. We should be so much happier without each other.”
His face puckered as he looked at me. He was bewildered and unhappy. I was amazed. In spite of everything, he loved me in his way. It was not a passionate desire such as I had for Raymond, but it was a steady affection, an admiration for my beauty, I supposed, though it was difficult to believe that Louis was susceptible to that. He had really been very patient with me. He found a wife embarrassing. He was continually trying to avoid physical contact; and yet, all the time, in his way, he loved me.
I felt a little touched, but it did not prevent my determination to get away.
“I believe you have not given this matter enough thought,” said Louis. “My poor Eleanor, you have suffered a great deal on this journey, and here you live in luxury provided by your uncle. You have always been too fond of pleasure and you should pray for help to conquer that. I think perhaps you are a little overwrought.”
“No,” I cried. “I do really believe we should be happier apart.”
“We have taken solemn vows. On what grounds could we break them? It would be a terrible sin in God’s eyes.”
“Consanguinity is a sin.”
“Consanguinity? What consanguinity?”
“Families like ours always have links with each other. There must be close blood ties between us.”
“Eleanor, what are you saying? I think you are tired. You have suffered a great deal.”
“I am tired of a marriage which is no marriage.”
“What do you mean? What of our daughter?”
“One child in all these years! Why? Why? Because you are more of a monk than a normal man. How can a woman get children in such circumstances? You are not meant to be a king, Louis. And you would not have been . . . but for a pig.”
Louis said: “It is God’s Will that I am as I am. It was God who put the crown on my head. It is His Will that you are my wife. This is something I accept and you must needs do the same.”
“Louis, will you consider this matter of a divorce?”
“No,” he said vehemently.
I thought I saw the beginning of one of his violent rages which could spring up like a storm at sea.
“Think of it,” I said, and left him.
It was not long after that when he came to me. He dismissed my women.