The Courts of Love: The Story of Eleanor of Aquitaine by Jean Plaidy Page A

others         .         .         .         and I quite envied you.”
    “Which other?”
    “There were men with him.”
    “Do you mean the Abbot Suger?”
    Petronilla was overcome with mirth.
    “You know I didn’t mean him. Abbot Suger indeed! He looks such another as the grim old Archbishop. I mean the handsome one who was presented to you.”
    “Do you mean Thibault of Champagne or Raoul of Vermandois?”
    “The attractive one.”
    “They were both attractive.”
    “One was especially so.”
    “What a lot you noticed!”
    “One would be blind and insensitive not to notice that one.”
    “Are you sure you did not mean Louis?”
    “Indeed I did not.”
    “I think I know. It was Raoul of Vermandois. I must say, he did seem rather attractive.”
    “Rather! He was overwhelmingly so. I hope I shall have the opportunity of meeting him soon.”
    “Petronilla, you are getting frivolous.”
    “I follow the example of my sister always.”
    “You must show more respect. Remember, I shall be not only the Duchess of Aquitaine but very soon, they say, the Queen of France.”
    “I am looking forward to being there         .         .         .         particularly if this Raoul is going to be in attendance.”
    “I can see I shall have to watch you. And how did you like my Louis?”
    “He seemed rather mild         .         .         .         and very young.”
    “And you had eyes only for the charming Raoul. I daresay he is something of a rake.”
    “Oh, Eleanor, how can you know?”
    “I have a sixth sense about these things. You are a very young girl, Petronilla, and I can see that you will have to be careful. And how can you talk frivolously about your preference for this man when your sister is soon to be cast up on the altar of marriage?”
    “It won’t be an unwilling sacrifice. You must tell me
all
about it. I think Louis looks quite nice in a way. I think you will not have any difficulty in handling him.”
    “He is attracted by me. I think he was afraid they were going to present him with some monster.”
    “Well, he must have had a pleasant surprise, and you have not been disappointed. This is a happy day for us all.”
    She was smiling smugly and I was sure she was thinking about Raoul of Vermandois. I could see that I should have to keep a wary eye on Petronilla. She was growing out of childhood and, like myself, she had been brought up in the Courts of Love.
    We had to entertain our guests in a royal manner and I was determined to show the French that we in Aquitaine lived as graciously as they. But though I arranged banquets and tournaments, Louis took little part, though the Counts of Champagne and Vermandois distinguished themselves. I watched Petronilla. Her eyes were on Raoul of Vermandois. I thought: I really do believe she has fallen in love with him.
    I had discovered certain facts about Raoul. He was married to the niece of the Count of Champagne. Of course, I told myself, Petronilla was young and frivolous. I remembered my own infatuation for my uncle Raymond. That had been intense while it lasted. I believed Petronilla would be more reckless than I, and I guessed that she had inherited our grandfather’s sensual nature. I had myself inherited that nature to a certain degree but I had always been imbued with the love of power, and I thought that would prevent my being carried away by my emotions.
    Meanwhile I was interested in Louis. I had to be if I were to spend the rest of my life with him.
    I was pleasantly pleased. Not that I was by any means in love with him. Perhaps I did not want to be. I wanted to be in command, and being in love might prevent that. I saw that I could make Louis my slave. He was inclined to be puritanical. Poor boy, fancy being in the care of Abbot Suger all those years! I could imagine what that had been like. He would have led the secluded life of a