Read Online To Be Queen by Christy English - Free Book Online Page B

with an escort of five hundred knights. At last, the young king, heir to the kingdom of France, was riding to Bordeaux to marry me. No doubt his father, Louis VI, would live another ten years or more, but the throne of France sought to safeguard its future by crowning its prince early, during the old king’s lifetime. The man I would marry would not need to be crowned when his father died, for his coronation had been celebrated in the cathedral of Reims already.
    Young King Louis sent word to me a week before he arrived, so my women and I were ranged in my father’s castle keep to greet him. The sky was a clear blue overhead, with no hint of clouds. The warmth of the wind beckoned me to go on a hunt, but I knew my duty, to myself and to my father’s memory. We had both worked for years to see this marriage done. I would stay inside the palace where I was safe, until my husband-to-be and his five hundred knights arrived.
    His men could not stay in the keep, for there were too many of them. I arranged for tents to be set up in the fields surrounding the city, so that Louis’ troops would not come inside the city walls. I had no doubt that the Parisians would take offense at this, for they were a touchy people, or so I had been told. No matter. We would begin as I meant to go on. I was duchess here.
    Summer was rising, and the fruit was thick on the boughs, not yet turned ripe. I saw Papa’s pear trees twining along the garden wall. I would not be here when that fruit was eaten.
    I pushed that thought aside. I would be Queen of France. I would have pears sent up from Anjou to please my palate. When I was queen, the world would lie at my feet.
    When Louis, my betrothed, rode into the keep, I turned to the gate, a smile on my lips. The soul of courtesy, Louis left most of his men outside. Only twenty warriors accompanied him through my father’s castle gates, a number easily welcomed. My hospitality would not be overwhelmed, even when my barons came to see us married.
    At first sight, Louis took my breath away. Only sixteen years old, my husband-to-be was tall and fair, with soft blond hair falling to curve against his cheek. He wore no outer finery, no crown or diadem, but his clothes were of the finest silk, even for riding. I saw then that he had looked forward to this meeting, as I had. He sought to honor me.
    Louis came down off his horse and stepped toward me without hesitation. He knew me at once, as I knew him. Tales of my beauty had preceded me. But when he stopped dead in his tracks, I saw that in his eyes I was more beautiful than tales could tell.
    â€œMy lady duchess,” Louis said, bowing low before stepping forward to take the hand I offered.
    â€œMy lord king,” I said as I curtsied.
    Louis kept my hand. His eyes were as blue as the sky above our heads. His lips looked soft and sensuous, curved in a smile that did not fade. I caught my breath and reminded myself who and where I was. I spoke in my public voice, but he seemed to understand that I wished we were alone.
    â€œYou are welcome to this place, my liege. Come inside and take refreshment. Let my ladies entertain you.”
    He flushed with pleasure and bowed so that his pink cheeks might be hidden. I saw then how young he was, much younger than I in his mind and heart, though I was a year his junior. Louis had been raised among monks, before his elder brother was killed falling from his horse, leaving Louis as the only heir. Young Louis was not used to politics. No doubt he needed a guiding hand.
    I offered him my arm, and he took it. Perhaps my guiding hand would do.

    For hours my ladies sang and smiled for Louis. He sat beside me on my dais, and was gracious to all who welcomed him. The afternoon festivities turned into the evening meal, and all the while, Louis sat at my side, saying little, and looking beautiful.
    I longed to get him alone. As I caught his eye, he blushed once more, almost as a maid might. It occurred