The Summer Queen by Elizabeth Chadwick Read Free Book Online

judgement on a sinner. Alienor had feared that Abbé Bernard might be among the French ecclesiasts and had been mightily relieved when he wasn’t. ‘He humiliated my father,’ she said.
    ‘Bernard of Clairvaux is a very holy man,’ Gofrid admonished gently. ‘Above all he seeks the clear path to God and if sometimes he is critical or zealous, then it is for the common good and for God to judge, not us. If you encounter him in Paris, I trust you to act with good and proper judgement as befits your position.’
    ‘Yes, Father,’ Alienor said neutrally, although she felt mutinous.
    Gofrid pressed a light kiss to her brow. ‘I am proud of you, as would your father be if he were here.’
    Alienor swallowed, determined not to cry. If her father were here, she would not have to make this marriage. She would be cherished and safe and all would be well. If she thought too hard about it, she knew she would blame him for dying and leaving her this legacy in his will.
    In Alienor’s absence the wedding presents from Louis had been moved to her chamber and placed on a trestle for her to examine at leisure. Many items were only in her custody for a brief time; she would be expected to make gifts of them to the Church, or bestow them upon families of importance and influence. There was a reliquary containing a sliver of bone from the leg of Saint James. The casing was of silver gilt, decorated with pearls and precious stones, and a little door of hinged rock crystal opened to reveal a gold box containing the precious fragment. There were two enamelled candlesticks, two silver censers and a box filled with tawny shards and lumps of aromatic frankincense.
    For Alienor’s personal use, there was a circlet adorned with gems, as well as brooches, rings and pendants. Petronella had been given a chaplet fashioned from exquisite golden roses set with pearls and sapphires. She wore it now, pinned to her brown waves, while she played with some coloured glass balls Raoul of Vermandois had given to her.
    Alienor looked round; there were yet more boxes to be examined and she felt like a diner at a banquet with an excess of courses. There was too much richness, too much gold enclosing and smothering her. In haste she changed her elaborate gown for one of plain, cool linen and replaced her dainty embroidered shoes with her riding boots. ‘I am going to the stables to see Ginnet,’ she said.
    ‘I’ll come with you.’ Petronella put the glass balls away in her coffer. When Alienor suggested she should remove the golden chaplet, Petronella shook her head and pouted. ‘I want to keep it on,’ she said stubbornly. ‘I won’t lose it.’
    Alienor gave her an exasperated glance but held her peace. Arguing with Petronella over such a trifle was too much trouble on top of everything else.
    In the stables, Ginnet greeted Alienor with a soft whicker and eagerly sought the crust of bread her mistress had brought as a treat. Alienor stroked her, taking comfort in the sweet smell of straw and horse. ‘You’re going to be all right,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll take you with me to Paris; I won’t leave you behind, I promise.’
    Petronella leaned against the stable door watching Alienor intently as if the words were meant for her. Alienor closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the mare’s smooth, warm neck. In a world where so much had changed so rapidly, she was taking what solace she could from the dear and non-judgemental familiar. She would rather bed down in the stable than return to her chamber and that glittering pile of wedding gifts.
    As full dusk fell, Petronella plucked at Alienor’s sleeve. ‘I want to walk in the garden,’ she said. ‘I want to see the fireflies.’
    Alienor allowed Petronella to lead her to the courtyard where they had feasted earlier. It was much cooler now, although the walls still gave off soft warmth. Servants had stacked the trestles against a wall and cleared away the white cloths and fine