The Courts of Love: The Story of Eleanor of Aquitaine Read Online Free

embroidering altar cloths, while others took it in turn to recite verses and sing to us.
    It was a pleasant summer’s day—not too hot for the shade under the trees was pleasant.
    I saw him walking through the gardens with my father, and I thought he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. He was very tall and upright, with blond hair, blue eyes and a merry expression. Since my talk with my father about marriage. I was paying more attention to young men. I had always been aware of them and liked to see what effect I had on them, and I was accustomed to receiving ardent looks which delighted me. I liked to think of myself as one of those sought-after maidens who kept themselves aloof because they were far too precious to fall into the hands of lesser men and must wait for the perfect knight.
    I left the group of girls, Petronilla at my heels; she followed me everywhere.
    My father saw us and smiled. “Oh, Raymond,” he said, “here are my daughters Eleanor and Petronilla. Daughters, your uncle Raymond.”
    We curtsied. Uncle! I was thinking. There must be some mistake. He gazed at me and murmured my name.
    “And Petronilla,” said my father.
    Petronilla gave him a dazzling smile but I was delighted to notice that it was I who held his attention.
    “I did not know that I had such enchanting nieces,” he said.
    “You should have come before,” my father told him. “It is not good for there to be rifts in families.”
    We went into the palace with him. I think he was rather surprised by the easy manners between us. We were doubtless expected to be in awe of our father instead of making light conversation with him         .         .         .         at least I did. Petronilla said little, but I could see that she was as enchanted by this new uncle as I was.
    He proved to be about eight years older than I, and he was Philippa’s youngest son, born just after she had left the castle on the arrival of Dangerosa.
    Alas, his visit was brief, but I was with him a great deal during the ten days he stayed in the palace for he was as attracted by me as I was by him. Each morning I awoke with the joyous thought: Raymond is here. We would ride together. I would sing for him. Petronilla was often with us and so was my father but I liked best the times when we were alone.
    He told me that I was the most enchanting little girl he had ever met. There was a certain regret in his eyes and in his voice, and being precocious I knew what he meant by that. This was love, of which the troubadours sang, but he was a man, and for all my sophistication I was but a child, and he was my uncle, so there was too strong a blood tie between us for us to be lovers. But all our looks and gestures spoke of love; and I shall always remember Raymond as my first love.
    He talked to me of serious things. I had an idea that he believed that by pretending I was not a child I should miraculously become a woman and then we could both give expression to what we felt.
    He reminded me of my grandfather although I had only known him as an old man and this was a radiant young one. He was after all my grandfather’s youngest son but he had never known him because he had been born after Philippa had left.
    He told me that he was without fortune which was why he was setting out to make it. He was starting first in England, for he had met Henry, the King, who had promised him a welcome. I was sure he would make a name for himself, for he was meant for greatness         .         .         .         even though at this stage it was difficult to see how he would do this.
    He was a great talker and I loved to listen.
    He told me much of what was happening around me and of which I had been ignorant before. I had thought that my father was all-powerful; it was a revelation to learn that this was not the case and that he had dangerous enemies.
    The greatest of these was the Church.
    I began to see