The Summer Queen by Elizabeth Chadwick Page A

spring evening with holy sanction, and it was tender and perfect.
    Alienor was sitting up in bed with Adelaide standing beside her when Louis hurried into her chamber. They had been back in Paris for almost three months, and life had returned to its usual routine, except that for the last four mornings Alienor had been sick on rising and today Adelaide had summoned the royal physician to examine her.
    ‘Sire,’ said the man, diplomatically concealing under a cloth the urine bottle he had been examining. ‘I am happy to tell you that the young Queen is with child.’
    Louis stared at him with widening eyes. ‘Truly?’ He turned to look at Alienor.
    Despite feeling nauseous, she gave him a wide smile, brimming with triumph and joy.
    ‘Then the Virgin answered our prayers at Le Puy!’ Louis’s pale face flushed with wonder and joy. ‘There will be an heir for France, my clever, beautiful wife!’
    ‘It is early days yet.’ His mother raised a warning forefinger. ‘Alienor must rest quietly and do nothing that might harm the baby or herself.’
    Alienor hid a grimace. She knew perfectly well what Adelaide was up to and had no intention of retiring into seclusion for the rest of her pregnancy. She cast a shy glance at Louis. ‘I should like to go to church and give thanks to the Virgin for her great bounty.’
    He looked pleased but uncertain. ‘Is it wise to leave your bed?’
    ‘Surely it can do nothing but good to go and pray?’ Alienor turned to the physician, who hesitated, and then inclined his head.
    ‘Madam, prayer is always efficacious.’
    Behind the closed bed curtains, Alienor had her women dress her in a gown of blue wool and covered her plaited hair with a veil of fine white linen edged with tiny pearls. When she emerged, intentionally looking like a madonna, Adelaide had gone.
    Louis gazed at her with adoration. ‘I am so proud of you.’ He kissed both her hands and then her brow.
    Side by side they prayed together at the altar in the ancient basilica of Notre-Dame. Alienor still felt queasy, but it was bearable. She was carrying the heir to France, and Aquitaine, and that gave her an inner sense of power as a fertile woman and nurturer. On the outside, it was part of becoming a true queen and entering into her own light.
    Emerging from the dark and candle glow of the old Merovingian church, Louis and Alienor found a messenger waiting for them. His clothes were dusty and he stank of hard-ridden horse and unwashed man. ‘Sire. Madam.’ He dropped to his knees and bent his head. ‘There is grave news from Poitiers.’
    ‘What is it?’ Alienor demanded before Louis could speak. ‘Get up. Tell me.’
    The man stumbled to his feet. ‘Madam, the people have risen up and declared themselves a commune. They say they will throw off the rule of the Dukes of Aquitaine, and of France. They have occupied the palace and even now are strengthening the defences.’ He reached into his travel-battered leather satchel and produced a creased letter.
    Alienor grabbed it from him and broke the seal; as she read the contents, her hand went to her mouth. It was like looking over her shoulder and seeing her lands falling into a dark chasm. This deed could crack her inheritance apart and undermine all she had and all that she was; she would be nothing – unable to maintain her position and dignity at court. As Duchess of Aquitaine she could stand up to others, including Adelaide, with integrity. Without her lands she was prey for the wolves.
    Louis took the note and as he read it, his lips tightened.
    ‘We have to do something,’ she said. ‘If this should spread …’ It was too terrible to think about. ‘We must quash it now; there can be no prevarication. I’ll order my baggage packed.’
    Louis looked at her in surprise and alarm. ‘You cannot do that; you are with child. You know what the physician said.’ He took her arm. ‘I will deal with this. They are my subjects too, and an affront to you is