Devil's Consort by Anne O'Brien Page B

he would find more fulfilment on his knees before a crucifix than with me. ‘Do you think he dislikes me?’
    ‘I think he finds you too beautiful,’ Aelith crooned to comfort me as she combed out my hair.
    ‘But not in chamois drawers.’
    ‘He is a man. What does he know?’
    ‘I thought he would erupt in a storm of temper when I refused …’
    ‘I doubt he has a temper in him,’ Aelith disagreed.
    ‘Perhaps you’re right.’ Yet there had been just that one moment when I thought I had seen a dark flare of barely controlled rage. ‘But why does he not want me?’
    ‘He does not know women. He does not know how to please them. Now, his cousin Lord Raoul would not hold back, I swear.’
    I slapped her hand away when she tugged on a painful tangle, but she only laughed.
    ‘I don’t even know that he wants to please me.’ I frowned at my knees emerging from the water.
    ‘You didn’t make life easy for him, Eleanor,’ Aelith pointed out, fairly enough, I suppose. ‘You challenged him over how you would and would not travel—and what you would and would not wear.’
    ‘And that wasn’t the first. I’d already been more than forthright over the court position of my troubadour Bernart,’ I admitted with a twinge of guilt.
    ‘What’s wrong with Bernart?’
    ‘Nothing—that’s the point. Never mind—we just didn’t agree.’
    ‘And you haven’t been wed a full day …’
    ‘I suppose I’ve not been a dutiful wife, have I?’
    ‘There you have it. He’s a prince. He’s not used to a woman taking him to task.’
    My thoughts circled round to the main issue. ‘Heseeks the company of God before mine.’ For the first time in my life I was touched with true uncertainty.
    ‘Then you’ll just have to show him the error of his ways, won’t you?’
    I was not much comforted. Aelith shared my pillows. I rose next morning from my marriage bed as much a virgin as I had entered it.

CHAPTER THREE
    W HAT a welcome we received as we rode into the city of Poitiers, making our way towards the Maubergeonne Tower, grandmother Philippa’s tower, the home I loved the most. There was not the slightest hint of the rebellion that troubled the Abbot’s mind. The streets echoed to the cries of joy of my people so that even Louis was forced to smile and wave at their overt approval. And the crowds responded, urged on by Abbot Suger’s largesse. I saw the coin passed from the bound chests in the baggage-wains to the hands of the greedy populace, even if Louis did not. Louis accepted the acclamation as his right. And why should he not? When his face was filled with happiness and he was clad in mail astride a high-blooded destrier as had been arranged for this entry, he was superbly striking, a prince that they could take to their hearts.
    Hope surged within me. This night would see the fulfilment of my marriage.
    I was bathed and stripped by my women and took to the soft canopied bed in my own bedchamber. Nervously, expectantly, I waited. A soft knocking at the door. It was pushed open and there, at last, was Louis, under escort from Abbot Suger but otherwise alone. Well, this would be no riotous bedding ceremony with coarse jokes and bold innuendo, and I was not sorry. But it seemed to me that Louis looked as if he was under guard to prevent a precipitate flight. His expression was mutinous.
    ‘It is time, my lord,’ the Abbot murmured. ‘It is your duty to the lady. This marriage must be consummated.’
    ‘Yes.’ Louis, wrapped about in a furred brocade chamber robe, stood, hands fisted at his sides, face sullen like a child caught out in some misdemeanour.
    ‘Perhaps if you joined your bride in the bed, my lord …? Now, my lord!’
    It might have been a request but Suger’s face was implacable.
    Allowing the robe to fall to the floor, Louis stalked across the room. I was impressed. He stripped well, as I had thought he would, revealing broad shoulders and slender hips. The ascetic life had suited him. Lean,