The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [75]
When I was alone with Louis, I asked him once more.
He shook his head. “It would not be good for France.”
“You listen to Suger.”
“He is the wisest man I know.”
“But surely he cannot wish you to continue with a marriage which is no true one.”
“It is a true marriage to me.”
“Louis,” I said, “you know that you were not meant to marry. You should have gone into the Church.”
“God decreed it should be as it is.”
“Yes . . . yes. God in His Heaven commanded a pig to kill your brother, I have heard it many times. You should give your country a male heir.”
“You wish to try once more?”
“God has shown clearly that he does not intend us to have a male heir. You must divorce me and marry someone who can give you what you need . . . what the country needs.”
“Suger does not believe it is God’s will.”
“Suger fears the loss of Aquitaine.”
Louis looked at me sorrowfully. “I have heard rumors of you . . . and the young Plantagenet.”
“Yes?” I said.
“It grieves me.”
“You could have the marriage annulled.”
“For adultery.”
“It is the most conclusive of all reasons.”
“Do you want so much to leave me?”
“I believe it would be best for us both. We have never been suited to each other.”
“I am sorry I have failed you.”
“We have failed each other. Louis, it is clear to me that we should never have married. We are too close in blood.”
Even as I spoke I shivered. I was as close if not closer to Henry Plantagenet.
“That,” I went on vehemently, “is the best of all reasons. If you divorced me for adultery you would not be able to marry again, and you must marry again. Suger must realize how badly France needs a male heir.”
“He believes we could get one through prayer.”
“It is not the usual method.”
Louis ignored my remark. “If we were truly penitent, He would grant our request.”
He seemed uncertain. No doubt he was thinking there was much to forgive. Vitry for him, adultery for me.
I said: “Bernard would advise a divorce, I believe.”
I was sure that was true. Bernard thought I was a devil incarnate. I thought: If it were not for Suger, it would not be so difficult.
Impatiently I left Louis. He would waver constantly. Suger on one side, Bernard on the other. He would never come to a conclusion.
The Plantagenets had left, and life was inexpressibly dreary without Henry.
Not long after their departure there came startling news.
They were riding with their party when, overheated after hours in the saddle, they decided to halt for a rest near the river. They sat for a while watching the cool river flow by. Geoffrey announced his intention to have a dip in the river. It would cool him down, he said. So he and Henry divested themselves of their clothes and went in.
They swam and sported together for a while, then came out and dressed. After that they made their way to the spot where they would encamp for the night. There was a cloudburst and they were drenched to the skin, but it was a warm day and they were not bothered by this, hardy warriors as they were.
I heard in detail what had happened later.
That night Geoffrey developed a fever. He was fearful, remembering Bernard’s prophecy: “You will be dead within the month.” There was still time for that to come true. He called his son to him and spoke to him as a man does on his deathbed. Henry laughed the idea to scorn.
“Do you attach importance to the words of an old man spoken in anger?” he demanded.
It seemed that Geoffrey did, and as the night wore on, Henry began to believe that he might be right. He tried to convince his father that he was frightening himself to death just because a so-called prophet had made a pronouncement. But at length it was necessary to send for a priest, and by the morning Geoffrey was indeed dead.
There was a great deal of talk about Bernard’s spiritual power. People remembered that he had prophesied the death of Louis’s brother. Bernard it seemed could lay a curse on a man and that was what he had done to Geoffrey.