The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [71]
Bernard had taken charge of the proceedings. Geoffrey was an old enemy of his whom he disliked intensely and on whom he had already pronounced the ban of excommunication.
I liked these Plantagenets; there was a recklessness about them; they reminded me of my grandfather.
Bernard declared his horror to see Berlai in chains and demanded that he be immediately released, to which Geoffrey replied that he would not be told when to release his prisoner and he would decide what his fate would be.
Bernard then said that if Geoffrey would release Berlai, he would attempt to have the ban of excommunication lifted.
“I do not regard holding my enemy as a sin,” retorted Geoffrey, “and I have no wish to be absolved on such an issue.”
Bernard was outraged. He called upon God to witness the blasphemy of this man.
“God hears you,” he said. “You have offended against Heaven. Your fate is sealed. Very soon you will be called upon to face your Maker, and then you will be forced to repent your sins. You will be dead in a month.”
There was a hushed silence. Then Geoffrey and his son, taking their prisoner with them, walked out of the room.
They did not leave Paris immediately and, when the furor had subsided a little, it was agreed that there should be more talks.
The next day I saw Henry Plantagenet again. There were several people present but he came close to me. His hand touched mine as if by accident. His was rough but in spite of that I felt a certain thrill at the contact. He smiled at me, his eyes seeming to take in every detail, traveling over my throat and beyond.
“You are very beautiful,” he said almost mockingly. I bowed my head in acceptance of the compliment.
“So accustomed to praise, I doubt not,” he went on, “and so it should be, for you are worthy of it. I would I could speak with you somewhere . . . alone?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Matters of state should be discussed with Abbot Suger,” I said.
“I would rather discuss them with you. Come, my lady, you will be safe, I promise you.”
“It did not occur to me for one moment that I should not be.”
I should have turned away. I should have said that the insolent boy was not to approach me again. But I hesitated. There was something about him which made me want to tarry.
I said: “I cannot imagine what you would wish to discuss with me.”
“Then give me an opportunity to tell you.”
“Come to my apartment,” I said, “in an hour. One of my women will bring you to me.”
He bowed.
I was feeling absurdly excited. There was something unusual about him. He had said I was beautiful, but he had spoken in a matter-of-fact way as though stating an obvious fact. There was no note of wonder in his voice, as I had heard many times before. And what was he suggesting? I could hardly believe I had assessed him correctly. He was the sort of young man who would walk into an inn, take a liking to a serving girl, summon her to his bed as though he were ordering a meal, seduce her and then be off. What games did he think he could play with the Queen of France? It would be amusing to see.
I was waiting rather impatiently for him.
“Young Henry Plantagenet,” I had said to my women, “has some request to make. I have promised to see him. When he comes, bring him to me.”
He stood before me. It was obvious that he paid little attention to his appearance. I saw why they called him “Henry Curtmantel,” for he wore a very short cape quite unlike the usual fashion. He was, I discovered, the kind of man who does not care what he looks like but dresses always for his own comfort.
“Well, sir,” I said, “what would you have of me?”
“I think you know,” he replied with a smile.
“I am quite unaware.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps it is too intimate a matter to be brought up just at this moment.”
“I do not understand you.”
“I think we are going to understand each other very well.”
He was having an extraordinary effect on me. I had to admit to myself that I found him exciting and very attractive. It amazed me that I should, but I was starved of excitement.