Elizabeth Rolls - Royal Weddings...Through the Ages

Henry felt her hand tremble ever so slightly and squeezed it, willing her to look at him. Eleanor of Aquitaine, a woman who had travelled the world and seen a holy crusade, was nervous about marrying him? He would never have thought it possible. But then, until just a few months ago, he would never have believed such a marriage possible either. Now, as she smiled at him and he saw some softer emotion flicker deep in her blue eyes, he was glad his beliefs had been so misplaced.

When she’d arrived before the church and he’d heard the people chanting her name and his, his heart had raced with excitement and anticipation of their joining. He watched as she prepared to climb from the carriage, smoothing the blue gown that matched the colour of her eyes and adjusting the shimmering veil that covered her long hair, hair left unbound as though a virgin bride.

The blatant desire in her eyes as their gazes met only served to confirm that virginity could be overrated and that a woman of experience had much to offer. The passion that awaited them both would be as exquisite as she was and his body shook from the power of his response to her. Only hours remained until they were one in name and in body and he hoped he could resist acting the barbarian and carrying her off to his bed before the festivities concluded!

Her boldness, her vitality, her sense of humour and adventure, all called to him. Her beauty and her innate passion riled his blood. She would be a fitting wife for him and he was glad of it. The bishops, surrounded by the wafting smell of burning ashes and candles, consecrated their union by praying blessing after blessing for them and offering a seemingly endless litany of prayers. Henry grew anxious to reach the end of this ceremony. ‘Twas sacrilegious possibly, but he wanted her called wife so that he could have her to himself—and that could only happen when they were declared married.

With each passing prayer, he drew her closer, enjoying the feeling of her body near his and the knowledge that she was minutes away from being his. At last, the final benediction was prayed and, as they knelt next to each other, Eleanor squeezed his hand in response.

She was a fitting match for him and would be the wife he would need at his side during these next crucial years as he claimed England at last and forged his own kingdom. Everything he needed in a helpmeet, everything he wanted in a future queen and everything he wanted in a woman he found in Eleanor.

As he helped her stand and listened to the bishop’s words declaring them man and wife before God, Henry felt the laughter bubbling up from within and he let it out. It echoed through the large open spaces in the cathedral and then hers joined his as they raced down the long centre aisle towards the doors and the rest of their lives together.

Reaching the doors, he paused only long enough for the guards to open them before drawing Eleanor into his arms and kissing her the way he wanted to, beginning to make her his and to claim her passion for himself. Then, waving off those who would help, he lifted her onto one of the matching horses that stood waiting for them and climbed onto the other.

Trumpets flared and drums beat. Their names were chanted by the crowds and echoed down the cobbled streets of Poitiers as they made their way slowly back to the castle where they would celebrate with a feast and dancing for the rest of the day. Eleanor’s every move was filled with elegance and grace, as she nodded to her people, now his, and accepted their adulation as though it was more than simply that expected of a people for their liege. She was accepting their love.

Though his men surrounded them as their honour guard, Eleanor’s own troops led their way along the streets. An example of what their marriage meant, this merging of Normandy and Aquitaine, Angers and Poitou, would create something new and different among the powers on the continent. Henry smiled and waved as people called out his name.

As he turned back, he caught sight of Eleanor smiling at him and, for a moment, they were not duke and duchess or count and countess. They were not heirs or heiresses. Instead they were simply Henry and Eleanor, a man and a woman, married and beginning the rest of their lives together. In that instant, Henry offered up a prayer for all those things every man must wish for at such a time—many years together, a happy life and the blessing of children.

Eleanor nodded at him, seeming to understand and share his feelings, and Henry knew all would be well between them. Reaching over, he held out his hand and took hers. They rode the rest of the way with hands joined.

‘Twas hours later when Henry announced an end to the feast and sent Eleanor off with her ladies to prepare for their marriage bed. Though his men and those he called friends called out bawdy words and offered challenges to him, he brushed them off and arrived at Eleanor’s chambers alone. A formal bedding ceremony was expected, but Henry had ordered there be none. She would be his wife for the rest of their lives, for Henry had no intention of repeating Louis’s mistake in letting such a treasure escape. He would never repudiate their marriage or the woman herself and he had no intention of exposing her loveliness to the gawking gazes of others.

As arranged, she was alone when he entered, her women leaving just as he closed the door behind him. Uncertain of what to expect or where he would find her, Henry lifted the candle he carried and saw her in the bed. He lost the ability to think in that moment, for the sight of her sitting there among silken pillows and sheets, with only her hair covering the creamy flesh and feminine curves, was too alluring to resist.

What should not have surprised him was the way she watched him as he walked across the bedchamber to stand before her. If he thought she would watch him with less intensity or interest than he watched her, Henry discovered differently in a very short time. He remembered the moment he caught her staring at him in Louis’s court last autumn and saw the frank assessment in her knowing eyes. The same gaze greeted him now and he wondered how bold she could be.

Henry paused at the side of the bed, placed the candle on the table to join the others there and began to untie the laces on his tunic and shirt. She never said a word, but she missed nothing. He lifted his arms and tugged the garments over his head, allowing her to watch.

He could feel the heat of her gaze move over his flesh and his body reacted to her frank scrutiny by readying itself for what was to happen. Eleanor shifted in the bed but said nothing. Then a slight smile curved her lips and she nodded, giving him permission to continue! He laughed then and reached for the belt around his waist. Watching her reaction caused his heart to pound and his blood to race through his veins, heating every part of him.

Henry bent down and removed his boots and stockings before loosening his trews and pushing them down and off. Standing, he faced Eleanor and let her look her fill for he intended to do the same of her before the night was done. If he thought she would look away or not carefully examine his manliness, he was wrong, but the true surprise came when she spoke.

‘As I said some weeks ago, Your Grace, you will do.’

He would have sputtered out some words but her gesture forestalled him. Eleanor lifted the sheets, gifting him with a view of her full breasts and narrow waist. When she opened her legs and offered him a place between them, he accepted the passion and the woman she offered.

Only some hours later, when their ardour had been spent by several bouts of pleasure together did he respond to her words.

‘As will you, my sweet Eleanor. As will you.’

Le Mans, County of Anjou, 1157 AD