of them even questioning that a match between them would not occur.
‘We may spend much of our time moving between our holdings, especially when I am finally successful in claiming my birthright in England. Have you ever travelled there?’ he asked, guiding her to a bench while he stood, or rather paced, nearby.
‘Nay. Many other places but not across the Channel.’
And she had travelled far and well during her lifetime—as far as the Holy Land and through many countries and territories as they returned. Eleanor had seen many wonders, peoples and lands from the very exotic to the familiar. But she’d never gone north to England. As Henry’s wife, she would be expected to visit there and rule with him, once he attained the throne.
‘What is your favourite place in England?’ she asked, trying to learn more about this man she would marry. ‘Other than the battles, of which I have heard a little, when did you spend time there?’
She did something then that she did well—Eleanor listened. Her teachers had taught her that there was much to be learned in both the words chosen and the words left unspoken and now she watched as he became very excited, telling her about his time in England with his uncle, becoming a knight just two years past. He spoke of his teachers and his time in England as a child, spent with his mother’s half-brother, the Earl of Gloucester.
The Duke of Normandy was a passionate man—his plans to claim his birthright, his refusal to bow to the whims of Louis, indeed his willingness to take a path that many could and would call treason, and even just his interests in fighting and hunting and hawking, all spoke of his enthusiastic approach to everything in life. And the manner in which he constantly found ways and opportunities to touch her spoke of his passion of another sort.
When an hour or more had passed, Eleanor sat on a bench in a secluded alcove of the garden. Henry lay with his head on her lap, entwining his fingers with hers as they spoke. She laughed, more than once, at his impertinence and arrogance and she could not remember the last time she’d felt so very light-hearted or was filled with such anticipation about any event in her life.
Though Louis would remain her liege lord for her lands and titles in Aquitaine and Poitou, a marriage to Henry would return her to the same status, perhaps even higher, than her now-former husband and any new wife he might seek. Louis most likely did not wish to do so, though finding a new wife, begetting a male heir, was something his ministers and advisors, both religious and secular, would pursue vigorously. In order not to be shamed by this new social order, marriage to someone equal to or higher than Louis would be necessary.
Eleanor sighed then, realising the political efficiency of this proposed match bore more weight than she had first considered. Much as she’d like to think it could be about other matters or issues, it would not be. She was a woman of rank and privilege and as such would never be free from the responsibility to marry well.
‘That does not bode well for my suit,’ Henry said softly as he reached up and gently moved a few loosened strands of her hair out of her face. He turned his hand and caressed the exposed area of her cheek as he smiled. ‘Is there ought I can do to remove the frown from your brow, Eleanor?’
If she closed her eyes and listened only to the sound of his voice, she could almost believe they were simply a man and a woman. Her biggest concern lay in the most dramatic difference between the two men she would call husband—Henry’s appetites, for all things exciting, would bring her into a life very different from the one she had with prayerful Louis. She’d watched all of her life while sexual affairs changed the world around her and she suspected—nay, she knew—Henry would never be limited to one woman in his bed.
All she could hope for was his regard, his respect and possibly his love, even while she knew she would share his body with others.
‘I think you will break my heart, Henry.’ She shared her deepest fear. ‘I think you will break it often.’
Regret entered his grey gaze and Eleanor read the truth there—Henry knew their life would not be easy and that her fear would be realised. Men of power and status lived a certain life with perquisites and expectations. Women other than their legal wives were always part of that life. Though not a large problem as Louis’s wife, Eleanor understood that it would be a part of any marriage with Henry, especially as young and vigorous as he was. When he opened his mouth as though to speak against such accusations she placed her finger over his lips to stop him. Better not to make promises she knew could not be kept over time.
‘But we will manage this, will we not?’ she asked.
‘Better than manage,’ he whispered, and he guided her head down so he could touch his mouth to hers. ‘We will be spectacular together, Eleanor. Spectacular.’
The kiss that followed his words gave her hope of such things. He tangled his hands in her hair and one kiss led to another and another until she could think of nothing else but having this man as her husband.
Chapter Four
City of Poitiers, Duchy of Aquitaine, 18th May 1152 AD
The day dawned bright and sunny as days in her favourite city often did in the midst of spring. Gentle breezes flowed around the city, rustling the flags that flew high on the walls of Poitiers. The colours of the Duke of Normandy interspersed with her own decorated the castle and the cathedral, announcing to all their future lord’s arrival. Eleanor leaned her head back and inhaled the fragrance of the blossoms of May.
She would never tire of this place and its beauty. She was of this land and of these people and it would always be part of her soul. Did he feel the same about Normandy or Anjou? Or England? Was there a city or province that called to his blood the way Aquitaine did hers?
Her gaze moved over the people gathered along the sides of the road as her carriage made its way from the castle stronghold to the cathedral where the marriage would take place. Though no announcement had been made, word had spread and her people came to wish her well. Waving to her as she rode past, they smiled and some of the children even tossed flowers at her.
Negotiations had concluded that afternoon they’d spent in the garden and now they would wed. The ceremony would be much smaller than personages of their consequence might have been expected to hold but the circumstances around this marriage warranted it. They and their advisors understood that the king could take offence to it since they did not ask for his permission, as those sworn to their liege lord should have.
She sighed then, catching the attention of the two women who accompanied her inside the carriage. Constance and Eloise smiled and she allowed them to continue to think she thought on Henry and his many attributes—attributes they’d discussed for hour upon hour these past days. A woman on her wedding day should not be thinking on the possibilities of coming war and retribution claimed by a king.
After discussing this same issue with Godfroi and other advisors, Eleanor suspected that Louis’s true opinion about this situation was that, though he’d released her from their marriage, she should not seek another on her own but wait for him to arrange one. In her mind, she could see his reaction, his usual Capet calm regard exploding into something completely different. She’d seen it once, in Antioch, when accusations were made against her behaviour towards her uncle. She had no doubt that the news of her marriage to Henry and the merger of all of their lands and titles would enrage him as little else could.
‘Madam,’ Constance said. ‘We are approaching the cathedral.’
Eleanor nodded and arranged her
