Читать книгу Royal Weddings...Through the Ages - Elizabeth Rolls, Ann Lethbridge - Страница 11

Le Mans, County of Anjou, 1157 AD

Eleanor, Duchess of Normandy and Aquitaine and Queen of England, smiled as the baby was handed to her husband. Henry had wanted sons and this was the third they’d produced—something even she had wondered would be possible when they’d married five years before. After having only daughters with Louis Capet, the doubt had lived deep within her. The births of little Henry and this son had eased her grief over losing the firstborn of Henry’s get and now her contentedness in the marriage she’d sought with the House of Anjou increased. Henry examined the baby and then nodded his joy at her.

‘I agree with your choice, Eleanor. Richard is a fine name for my son,’ he said. He handed the baby back to his nurse and sat on the bed, next to Eleanor, sliding their hands together. ‘I am pleased, wife.’

Eleanor understood that part of her husband’s pleasure involved tweaking the nose of her former husband, who could not seem to have a son. Word would be sent out announcing the arrival of the latest son in the Plantagenet family and she could imagine Louis’s reaction.

‘As am I, husband,’ she said, accepting the kiss he offered.

‘He will make a fine heir to Aquitaine,’ Henry declared as boldly as ever, knowing that the decision was hers and not his to make.

‘He could,’ she answered, not consenting or rejecting the idea as yet.

Five years before he had relented in his demands over this issue, but, like a dog with a juicy bone, he could not let it go. Though he’d gone on to make his claim on England the year after their marriage and then assumed the throne there another year after that, Henry still wanted Aquitaine. Even having England within his grasp did not cause him to let go of her claim of control over her provinces.

Now though, he was happy with this new heir she’d given him and would be gracious in her refusal. He realised it even as she did and so she eased her stance the tiniest bit.

‘Richard Plantagenet, Duke of Aquitaine,’ she said. ‘It does have an appealing sound to it.’

Henry leaned in close and touched his mouth to hers, gently squeezing her hand as he did so.

‘You will do,’ Henry replied. Kissing her again, he gathered her close and held her in his arms, mindless of anyone else in the chamber. ‘Aye, you will do, Eleanor.’

* * * * *