A Proud Taste for Scarlet and Miniver by E. L. Konigsburg Read Free Book Online

Edessa. After all, he argued, no road to Jerusalem was safe for Christians as long as Edessa was held by Moslems. Louis realized that although Jerusalem was in danger of falling as long as the Turks held Edessa, Antioch, which was even closer, was threatened far more. Louis could see that even though he would be helping Jerusalem a great deal by helping Edessa, he would be helping Raymond more. He was not anxious to do that. He resented Raymond; he resented the cozy, shared laughter of his wife and her uncle. Louis was jealous.
    The noblemen who were Louis’s vassals resented Eleanor, too. They held her and her willful ways and her Amazons responsible for the tragedy that had overcome them that dreadful day on the plateau. They held her even more responsible than that. Had it not been for her, Louis would never have gone to war years before; and had he never gone to war, he never would have done what he did at Vitry; and had he never done what he did at Vitry, he would never have felt the need to go on Crusade; and if he had never needed to go on Crusade, neither would they; and if they had not gone on Crusade, they would not be halfway across the world now trying to help her fancy Uncle Raymond. Even though Raymond’s plan made military sense, they urged Louis to take Damascus instead. Was it not Louis’s soul, not Raymond’s precious Antioch, that was to be saved?
    Louis turned Raymond down, and Raymond flew into a rage—a rage for which only Eleanor had any sympathy. She told Odo that she and her uncle wanted a private audience with Louis; he was to stand guard at the door and keep all others out.
    Raymond began the conference by reviewing the wisdom of his plan to recapture Edessa. Louis listened. Raymond’s plan was well laid out. It was sound. It made sense, but Louis turned it down again. “My advisers and I have decided to take Damascus.”
    “I urge you to reconsider,” Raymond said.
    “We will go to Damascus,” Louis repeated.
    “But, Louis …” Raymond began.
    Eleanor interrupted, “My husband suffers from a complaint common to weak men: he will not change his mind once his advisers have made it up for him.”
    Louis got up from his chair. “We will leave for Damascus in the morning.”
    “I shall not,” Eleanor said.
    “I said
we
will leave in the morning,” Louis repeated.
    “I am staying in Antioch,” Eleanor said.
    Raymond smiled.
    Louis saw the smile and his pride, as a husband and as a king, could not allow him to be smiled at in the manner of Raymond or be spoken to in the manner of Eleanor.
    “You will leave with me in the morning, Eleanor. You are my vassal and my wife, and that makes two sets of laws that grant me sovereignty over you.”
    Eleanor replied, “I am your vassal, sir, only because you hold my lands. And you hold my lands only because I am your wife. But watch that, Louis, watch that! Because there are those who say that in the eyes of Heaven I am not your wife.”
    “Who says that?” Raymond asked.
    “Abbot Bernard for one. Abbot Bernard says that my husband and I are cousins within the fourth degree, and therefore we are living in sin. Abbot Bernard says that in the eyes of God, Louis and I are not husband and wife.”
    “But the Pope …” Louis stammered.
    “The Pope looked the other way when we married, Louis. And so did you. Your passions and my possessions overcame your conscience. Take another look at our family trees, I say, and then tell me whether I am your wife.”
    Louis was badly shaken. Raymond’s smile broadened. Louis looked from him to Eleanor and then said, in a low, steady voice, “Pack your things, Duchess of Aquitaine. We leave Antioch in the morning, and we leave together.”
    Louis then called to Odo. “Please see that the queen has an escort to her room this evening, kind Odo. She will need a good rest for her journey tomorrow. Please see to it that there is a guard at her door so that no one may enter or leave her room. If she complains