Chanson du Dame Aquitaine

The shock was plainly painted on her features as she shrank away from the gang of boors, but she soon reclaimed herself and stood up proudly, challenging them. “What calls you here, sirrahs, that you feel free to enter your Queen’s chamber at whim?” she demanded.

The one at the head of the others, who I recognized as the messenger of the previous evening, was undaunted. “My pardon, Lady,” he rejoined, sarcastic and tainted with unfit pride. “By the King’s order, you will please come with us, presently.”

Confused by this treachery, the villainy of her husband’s vassals, she stood fast against them. “I shall do nothing of the sort. Answer to my Lord Husband that I shall go to him once I have freshened myself. Now leave.”

“Again, my pardon,” he said, and gloating at that. “It is not for discussion, you will come with us now. By order of sovereign King Louis the seventh, you are under arrest, and will please accompany us without comment.”

“This is an outrage, and I will not go with you. Tell the King I will await him here, if he has demands on me let him make them himself!” Disbelief was apparent in the eyes of that sweet lady, but she would not be daunted.

With just a look communicating the next course of action, this foul messenger’s lackeys moved forward and, disgraceful, villainous, they laid hands upon her, held her fast against struggle and led her impatiently out of the chamber. I found myself numbed when this scene played out, appalled and yet impotent against them. Leaving my cover, I sought the very letter that I was meant to deliver, and regardless of the royal stamp, I tore it and read fast through its content. In the king’s name, she was requested to meet with him, as soon as she read this. It imparted the plan to abandon Antioch immediately and resume their journey to Jerusalem—or so wise council had convinced him to do.

My heart shattered, and to what evil came this I demanded silently. Racing through many a corridor and hall, I hastened to warn my Prince, hoping to win Eleanor’s freedom through a more powerful ally. Already though had he been informed, as I heard coming from his rooms the broad, strong voice inquiring the meaning of this relay. The doors were thrown wide, and shook near asunder by the force behind them, and out came the Prince followed by many of his higher officials. A motley of voices speaking all at once, the quick shuffling of hard-shod feet, and amongst this party I found myself leaving the keep and gaining the fresh morning air. There it was more than clear, as through the tower-flanked gate opening onto the road to Jerusalem, the entire host of King Louis and his Frankish army were taking their leave, without ceremony, without dignity.

Shoving through a mob of confused, babbling spectators, Prince Raymond, with myself following upon his heels, claimed the stairs leading to the ramparts. Taking two and more at a time, we both attained the summit and leant over the corrugated archer ports, viewing beneath us the army marching away, and there, amidst the rabble the Queen’s carriage, barricaded by a company of soldiers on either side. Briefly we saw, the Prince and I, the curtains raise up, and a lonely face look at the city once more, catching the Prince’s gaze and holding it there with supplication in the eyes, until a sergeant reached over and pulled the covering back into place. That was the last glimpse of beautiful Eleanor I have ever gained. Beside me, Prince Raymond bellowed curses upon the entire Frankish host. Forswearing all attachment to the crusade of this King’s, he rained insult and demands upon the ears of the retreating army.

I felt the life flee from me when that last apparition of dear Lady Aquitaine’s face was stolen away. Absentmindedly I stayed put and watched the army leaving down the road, all until it was beyond my vision, beyond and lost in the horizon of the Syrian landscape. Reclaiming my own room upon stumbling legs, I threw myself to my knees enraged and destitute. I had indeed entertained the dream that good Prince Raymond could have won her freedom had not the King, under the ill-words of his ministers, taken the cowards leave. Shattered were these dreams, I knew it in my very soul to be so; for King Louis would not dare to return through Antioch again, and Raymond in his wrath would never join the expedition led by such villains.

And so, here I offer up my profession of love, unbounded and unchanging, to Queen Eleanor, the Lady Aquitaine, to these flames as witness and judge alike. Further I only need offer up my flesh to the service of the Temple Knights, and await final release. Signed: William Gaspard du Vichiers.

The End.