Free The Courts of Love: The Story of Eleanor of Aquitaine by Jean Plaidy

there.
    What a triumph! If only I could always rid myself of all my enemies so easily.
    Louis was sad for a while. He hated conflict of any sort. But in time he seemed to forget it; and he bore no malice to me because of her departure.
    I was amazed by my power over him. It was wonderful to be so cherished.
             
    About this time there were murmurings of discontent in France. It was hardly to be expected that there would not be some malcontents. A king who had been much respected, and who, I know now, had been one of the best rulers France had ever had, had died leaving a young one in his place. Naturally there were some who believed they could take advantage of the situation.
    Louis was panic-stricken. I felt annoyed with him. There were times when he seemed to forget that he was king. Much as I liked having a docile husband I did not want a poltroon.
    “You will have to quell this revolt at once,” I told him.
    “I thought of sending one of my generals with a few men.”
    “One of your generals with a few men! Oh no! You must go yourself. You are the King. It is you who has to defend your realm. You must go at the head of your army.”
    He looked dismayed. Poor Louis, he would be much happier on his knees before an altar or praying in a monk’s cell than leading an army. His early beginnings when Suger had molded him into a churchman had formed his nature—just as my upbringing in the Courts of Love had molded my character. He hated the thought of war, but he had to go. I insisted. France was my destiny now as much as it was his. If he did not put down this uprising, there would be more.
    Because he could not bear that I should despise him he put on armor and went to Orlans.
    I proved to have been right. The sight of him with the might of the army behind him settled the question. The people of Orlans meekly surrendered, gave up their leaders to the executioners and shouted:
“Vive le Roi!”
as Louis rode through the streets.
    He returned to me triumphant. It had not been so difficult after all. He was sorry he had had to order that the leaders be executed, but that was what his generals had suggested should be done.
    “They were right,” I said. “If you had allowed them to escape, any little town which thought it had a grievance would rise up against you. Oh, Louis, I am so proud of you. This is your first real test since you became king, and see, you have come right through with shining honor.”
    I kissed him and told him how great he was and that it was nonsense to think he was not a soldier at heart. It was the duty of every king to defend his realm.
    “I have no real feeling for it, Eleanor,” he said. “The thought of inflicting pain and death nauseates me.”
    “You’ll grow out of that,” I assured him. “A king must be strong. The death of a few troublemakers is nothing compared with that of thousands which a war would bring about. You should rejoice in your action, for I do.”
    So I soothed him.
             
    One rebellion will often breed another. This one was particularly depressing because it took place in my own dominions         .         .         .         and in Poitiers of all places, which I had always considered my home.
    I suppose it should not have been so unexpected. Their Duchess had become Queen of France and they—a proud people, who had always known independence—were now under the sway of a foreign land, for that was what they considered France to be. They decided they would have none of it. They would throw off the yoke of the foreigner to whom they had been casually handed just because of their Duchess’s marriage to the King of France. They announced that they would rule themselves and set about forming a Poitevin government.
    This seemed to me the height of disloyalty. I was very angry. I did not stop to consider how these people might be feeling. They had lived in a free and easy manner under their dukes. There