The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [64]
There was no point in staying in Calabria. Now we must make our way home.
“We should,” said Louis, “visit Roger who has done so much to help us. It would be most discourteous not to do so.”
I agreed. I had heard that the Court of Roger, who called himself King of Sicily, was luxurious; and I felt I needed to rest a while in such surroundings before beginning the rest of my journey.
Roger was at Potenza and he received us royally. He was gracious, and it was pleasant to be in the company of an attractive man who made no secret of the fact that he admired me.
But it was at Potenza that I heard the tragic news which made me wish I had not survived.
Soon after we left Antioch, Nureddin had attacked the city and Raymond had successfully routed the enemy’s armies. Nureddin would have accepted a truce which would promise Antioch freedom from harassment for a number of years. Raymond was a proud man, I knew that well. How he would have laughed at Louis’s retreat from the walls of Damascus at the mere mention of Nureddin’s name. Instead of a truce he decided on a further attack. I knew he was impetuous. He had not stopped to think, in his desire for me, what effect our relationship would have on Constance and Louis. He was like his father, I supposed. He had all the charm, all the good looks, everything that makes an ideal man . . . in peace time; but he could not have been a shrewd warrior otherwise he would not have gone forth to attack the mighty Nureddin with so small a contingent.
It was King Roger himself who told me about it.
“Of what could he have been thinking? To go out and attack such a man with a small force! Did he think he was going to frighten Nureddin and make him believe reinforcements were coming up? Nureddin is not the man to know fear, and there were no reinforcements. Raymond fought bravely, but he was doomed. He must have known it.”
He was slain. I could imagine with what rejoicing the news must have been received in the enemy’s camp. He was the bravest of the Christians, their most respected leader. The Mussulmans respect bravery. They put his head in a silver box and carried it to Nureddin.
I could scarcely bear to listen. I thought I was going to faint.
“The Queen is overcome,” said Roger.
“Raymond was her uncle,” explained Louis. “There was great affection between them.”
My uncle! My lover! And the most handsome, the most perfect man in the world. And they had killed him. Why did they wage their senseless wars? Why must they always kill what was good and fine in life?
I said I would retire to my apartment. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to remember every moment of our time together.
Raymond, my love, so alive, so different, the one I had been waiting for all my life—and now he was dead.
In spite of my sorrow, I was more determined than ever to leave Louis. I should never see Raymond again; my hopes of returning to Antioch and living there in luxury, Duchess of Aquitaine and beloved of Raymond, had gone forever. Raymond had died and Louis, in spite of all the hazards he had faced in the last two years, still lived.
I said to him: “Louis, I must have a divorce.”
“You have not given enough thought to what this would mean,” he replied.
“I have thought of little else . . . for months.”
“Your lover is now dead and you could not have married him had he lived even if he planned to divorce his wife on some trumped-up charge.”
“This is a matter between ourselves,” I said firmly. “I want a divorce.”
“We are in Italy,” said Louis. “We should not leave without visiting the Pope.”
I considered this. If I were to get my divorce, I would need the help of the Pope. It seemed to me a good idea to have a meeting and if possible discover what his attitude would be.
When I was presented to Eugenius, my hopes were raised, for he was benign to both of us. True, he treated Louis with especial respect. He said he had found favor