Devil's Consort Read Online Free Page A

the sugar from my fingers, considering the weight of jewellery in the casket.
    Could this Louis Capet protect my lands for me? Hard to imagine at first sight. Louis was no war stallion, forsooth! More a gentle palfrey. I suspected that, if it came to a fight, the rebel Count of Angoulêmewould trample him into the dust of Aquitaine before the Prince had buckled on his weapons.
    I sighed.
    But perhaps all was not lost. Perhaps there were advantages to be gained here. If the Prince came readily to his father’s hand on the bridle, why should he not come equally readily to mine? Could I not replace Fat Louis’s influence with my own? Surely it was not an impossibility? Since the Prince admired my person and my face so greatly, could he not be persuaded to listen to me and take my advice? I would tutor him in how to deal with my vassals. I would educate him in ruling Aquitaine. I would make myself indispensable to Louis Capet.
    I smiled as I ate another plum.
    Prince Louis might not be the worst husband in the world.
    I stood and brushed the sugar from my sleeves. As I prepared to leave the chamber, waving my women to go before me so that I could fall into step with Aelith, it caught my eye. Louis had left the vase. There it stood, the sun still creating tiny rainbows within its crystal. Conscious of a little knot of disappointment, I instructed a servant to wrap and pack it carefully for the long journey to Paris. Then I closed the lid on the French casket. I supposed I would have to wear the gift for my wedding but I would not choose to wear it again. Still, I had hoped that Louis would have admired the vase …
    ‘Well?’ Aelith.
    ‘He’s good to look at. He’s thoughtful and considerate.’
    ‘He’s as pretty as a girl. So your husband will protect your lands for you, will he?’ As ever, my sister was not slow to voice her opinions. ‘Will this boy do it, do you think?’
    ‘Why should he not?’
    ‘He’s milk and water compared to our father!’
    A flash of my eye silenced her. The fact that she had mirrored my own misgivings did not comfort me. I wanted a hawk. An eagle. I feared I was being matched with a dove.
    ‘He’s young.’ My reply was diplomatic. ‘We’ll grow together. And I will be at his side to strengthen him.’
    ‘I think your pretty prince is a virgin, lady.’ Bernart tapped an impudent rhythm against the belly of his lute.
    I was feeling beleaguered here. Were Louis’s shortcomings as obvious to everyone as they were to me? I hoped not. To be the object of pity was more than I could tolerate.
    ‘Perhaps he is a virgin still. He is a perfect knight.’ I tried for magnificent sangfroid.
    ‘But will he be able to couch his lance?’ Aelith smirked, squeezing my hand.
    A jest as old as time. I think I laughed with her.
    I did not laugh later.

CHAPTER ONE
    July, 1137:
    The Ombrière Palace, Bordeaux.
    ‘W ELL , he’s come. Or at least his entourage has—I can’t see the royal banners. Aren’t you excited? What do you hope for?’
    Aelith, my sister, younger than I by two years and still with the enthusiasms of a child beneath her newly developing curves, battered at me with comment and questions.
    ‘What I hope for is irrelevant.’ I studied the busy scene.
    I had got Louis Capet whether I liked it or not.
    I had thought about nothing else since my father’s deathbed decision to place me under the hand of Fat Louis—the King of France, no less—had settled my future beyond dispute. I wasn’t sure what I thoughtabout it. Anxiety at the choice vied with a strange excitement. Queen of France? It had a weighty feel to it. I was not averse to it, although Aquitaine was far more influential than that upstart northern kingdom. I would be Duchess of Aquitaine and Queen of France. I need not inform my newly espoused husband which of the two I considered to be the more important. Although why not? Perhaps I would. I would not be disregarded in this marriage.
    I was Eleanor, daughter and