The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [76]
There would be new responsibilities for Henry now, but I had no doubt that he would be able to deal with them.
And then . . . Suger died. Louis was desolate. He had loved the old man, and I doubt a king ever had a better servant. He was buried with great ceremony at St. Denis. When I attended the funeral, all I could think of as they laid him to rest was that the great obstacle to my freedom was removed.
There was Bernard now, and although he was my great enemy—and Suger had never been that—I believed he would help to get me what I wanted.
Suger had had a kingdom to hold together; Bernard had a soul to save. I was sure he thought I was descended from the Devil when he considered my grandfather and father; and I really did believe that he wanted to see me separated from Louis.
I went to work on Louis once more. I pointed out the need for divorce, for him to marry a woman who could give him sons, as I clearly could not. Why not start afresh with someone of whom God—and Bernard—could approve?
Bernard arrived in Paris, and Louis discussed the matter with him.
There was a degree of consanguinity, said Bernard, and it might well be that that did not find favor in God’s eyes. Moreover my reputation would no doubt have offended the Almighty. When Bernard came down in favor of the divorce, I knew the battle was won.
Bernard worked his will. Very soon he had the barons believing that the best thing that could happen to France was that its King and Queen should be divorced.
At length it was decided that the case should be heard at the church of Notre Dame de Beaugency under the jurisdiction of the Archbishop of Bordeaux.
I took up residence at the nearby chteau after having given instructions that when a decision was reached it should be brought to me immediately. As soon as I had it and it was favorable—which it must be—I would make my way to my own dominions and there wait for Henry to join me.
There was only one matter which saddened me. I should have to part with my daughters. They must be declared legitimate. I had no fear on that point. Bernard was on excellent terms with the Pope, and they both favored Louis; but of course as Daughters of France they would have to stay with their father, and I should lose them. I did love them, but my life had never been entirely dedicated to them. At that time I was not a woman to live only for my children; and the sexual hold which Henry Plantagenet had on me was greater than anything else. So I should have to reconcile myself to losing my daughters; but I had always known that if there was a divorce that would be an inevitable outcome.
I sat in the tower watching the church for the first sign of a messenger.
At last I saw the two bishops—one of them the Bishop of Langres—accompanied by two gentlemen, coming into the courtyard and I hurried down to meet them. The bishops were getting ready to make a long pronouncement but I said impatiently: “I can wait no longer. Tell me, what was the verdict?”
“May we come inside?” one of them asked.
“No,” I said vehemently. “No more delay.”
Seeing that I was determined the Bishop of Langres said: “My lady, the Court has declared that the marriage is null and void on account of the close relationship between you and the King.”
I was overjoyed as I took them into the chteau.
Louis was near to tears when he said goodbye to me, and so was I when I took my farewell of my children. I promised them we should meet again and I hoped not before too long.
I told Louis he should marry again and this time he would get a son. It was his duty to do so, and it was what Bernard and the people wanted. He would have to do his duty toward them.
He shook his head miserably. The last thing he wanted to do was marry again.
Poor Louis! What a pity they would not allow him to go into a monastery.
But it was all over. There was no need for me to stay. I was free.
Now I could return to Poitiers. First I must send a message to Henry to tell him the news, and that I would wait in my capital city for him to come to me.
And so I set off.
It was springtime,