Devil's Consort

‘No. I am not comfortable. How can I be?’ I ignored his startled expression. ‘I cannot be expected to live like this.’

‘Are you unwell?’ he asked uncertainly.

‘Of course I’m not unwell! Do I look unwell?’ Louis needed a firm hand. Pressing a cup of wine into his hand as I drew him towards the detested brazier in my solar, pushing him into a cushioned chair beside it, I presented him with the list.

‘What’s this?’

‘You said you wished me to be comfortable. Did you mean it?’

‘Nothing is closer to my heart.’

‘Then I need improvements to my rooms. These!’

His gaze slid to the parchment. ‘Can you write, Eleanor?’

‘Of course I can write!’

‘Not many women are considered able to acquire the skill.’

I ignored that. Did he think I’d been raised an illiterate commoner in a peasant’s hut? ‘And, as you see, Louis, I have made a list.’

I watched him as his eyes travelled down it. His lips pursed, twisted; he glanced up at me, then back to my demands. If I was to live out my days here, in the sweet Virgin’s name there had to be some concessions to the life I’d been raised to.

‘So you have.’ Louis continued to read—how long would it take him?—tapping the page with one hand. ‘Windows? Why do you need windows? You have windows.’

‘These are not windows. These are defensive slits for shooting arrows.’

‘I need to be impregnable. This is a fortress.’

‘Is the King of France not safe in the heart of Paris? My women do not shoot arrows. We need larger openings to let in air and sunlight. How can we see to sew and read? How can Faydide see to play the lute? Surely your stonemasons can create some wider, taller windows without too much difficulty.’

‘I suppose they could. But would that not allow cold air in?’

‘Shutters! It’s like sitting in a gale even now. I want wooden shutters for all the windows in my apartments. And in my own chambers I want glazing.’

‘Ah! Glazing.’ Louis’s fair brows climbed as if my extravagance was as gaudy as a peacock’s feathers, but he did not refuse. He tilted his head. ‘It says here, “Remove smoke.”’

‘So it does.’ To my good fortune a chance draught wafted a curl of poisonous fumes to envelop him and reduce him to coughing. ‘I’ll die of the smoke if I have to live with it much longer. My hair, my garments reek of it.’

‘But the Great Hall—’

‘Yes, yes, I know the Great Hall must keep its central fire, but in here I want stone fireplaces, Louis, with chimneys built into the thickness of the walls to carry the smoke away.’

Louis eyed the formidable wall of stones before him as if he personally would have to take a hammer to them. ‘A major building programme, then. The cost will be great, of course. My Treasury—’

‘A little thing,’ I disagreed.

‘Well …’

‘In the palaces of Aquitaine we have chimneys,’ I added slyly. ‘Do you not have the wealth to encompass it?’

He thought for a moment. ‘I do.’

‘And I want tapestries,’ I added.

‘As I see.’

‘You have none to my taste. Not one wall in this palace displays a tapestry of any size or quality. Those I’ve seen are in a state of disintegration or covered with soot. What can you be thinking of?’ I allowed him no time to retreat. ‘Think of the display of your wealth and style, Louis. You are not some insignificant lord, still residing in a stone keep, but King of the Franks. Your palace should be a stamp on your authority, not a rough fortress no better than your ancestors could build a hundred years ago. And if that does not appeal to you, think of how much warmer the rooms will be, keeping the damp and draughts at bay.’

‘I don’t feel the cold,’ Louis observed. ‘But if that is what you wish then order them as you will. The tapestries from Bourges are thought to be the best.’

I reached to kiss his cheek, delighted with the resulting quick blush, and tugged at his sleeve. Louis was open to suggestion, a blank scroll on which I might write. And I would write on it. Not Abbot Suger. Not Queen Adelaide. I would be the one to map out Louis’s future.

‘Will you give the orders for the stonework immediately?’

‘If it pleases you, I will. I should be thankful you’ve not gone ahead and done it already, so that I find us knee deep in stone dust and chippings.’ His smile was charmingly rueful, despite the ponderous humour. ‘I’ve been told that you’ve already dismissed one of my appointments.’

So Adelaide had already complained to her son, had she? It had taken her less than twenty-four hours.

‘Yes,’ I acknowledged airily. ‘The cantor at the palace chapel.’

‘My mother was distressed that he’d been removed.’

‘That’s hard to believe.’ I opened my eyes wide. ‘Perhaps you misunderstood her, Louis. The man had no ear and could scare hold a tune. As for leading a choir … When you hear his replacement, one of my own household with a fine voice, you will admit my choice is good.’ I saw the muscles in his jaw twitch as he prepared to refute this, so I pressed on with an argument he could not deny. ‘It’s only fitting that God be praised to the best of our poor talents.’ I was getting the measure of my husband.

‘That is so, of course …’

‘Do you object to my plans, Louis?’

‘No. Not at all.’

‘You would say if I displease you, wouldn’t you?’

‘You’ll never displease me. I admire you.’

Victory fluttered in my breast. It seemed I could play the obedient, grateful wife with skill. I had no experience of it, but a wise woman can learn, and learn fast. I had got exactly what I wanted.

‘And you will give your orders to the stonemasons today?’ I persisted.

‘Yes. Eleanor …?’

‘Hmm?’ I was already halfway across the room to order my women to pack away the most fragile of my gowns.

‘Is there anything you do like here? In Paris?’

I halted. Turned back. He still sat, looking almost dejected at my lack of enthusiasm for my new home, my list in one hand, the untasted cup of wine in the other. How woefully deficient in authority and importance he could be. Poor Louis. He really had no presence.

As if he read my thoughts, he stood and walked towards me, while I sought desperately for something to say to make him look less of a cowed child who had been refused a promised treat.