Queen Of Four Kingdoms, The (21 page)

‘Charles is thirteen. We must send for him and Marie – she is his official betrothed and twelve now. They must join us here in Paris and be seen as a unit under the protection of Anjou.’

Louis is right. The time has come for Charles to take his place on the Council of State and learn how men govern.

*

On the night Charles arrives, Louis takes him aside.

‘My young prince, since your brother the second dauphin lives with his betrothed and her family outside Paris, I would like you to come with me to the Council of State tomorrow. Just sit by me and listen, and you will learn much.’ With that, he pats the boy’s shoulder and retires.

When they return the following afternoon, they come at once to see Yolande and Marie in the sitting room. As Louis kisses Yolande’s forehead, she can see that Charles is bursting to tell her what happened in council.

‘Madame, you cannot believe what I heard today!’ and he looks at Louis for permission to speak. Louis has reclined next to Yolande with a sigh and is stretching out his hands to the fire as he nods agreement. ‘The council has it on good authority that my uncle of Burgundy has promised Henry V he will uphold the English king’s claim to the throne of France for himself and his heirs! Further, Burgundy is willing to send Henry military aid whenever he requests it! This is treason,
ma bonne mère
!’ Charles bursts out with a mixture of shock and excitement. Seeing the surprised faces of his wife and daughter, Louis nods resignedly and says, ‘Yes, it is true.’

‘Henry V can count on the allegiance of my cousin of Burgundy – who would profit handsomely,’ young Charles adds with shame. ‘Uncle, what can we do?’

Louis looks at the lad and says quietly, ‘You must come with me to the council every day from now on, and you will hear all their ideas on how to prevent King Henry from joining with our cousin against his fellow Frenchmen. For now, I need rest, so say good night to your
bonne mère
and to me.’

E
ach day Louis appears frailer as he leaves the comfort of their house with the young Prince Charles for the council chamber, and each evening Yolande can see how the day’s work has weakened her husband. She sits and listens to what has transpired during the day’s proceedings, and worries more about Louis’ health. To do him credit, their prince is absorbing all the debates and has sensible verdicts on the participants. But as he thrives, her Louis is fading.

When he comes back with his uncle, Charles spends a lot of his time with Marie. She knows her parents want to be alone together, and she keeps herself busy thinking up ways of amusing her betrothed in the evenings.

By the time winter arrives, Yolande can see that Louis’ untiring work for the government during the past months in Paris has taken the last of his strength. To her deepening sorrow, and despite all her loving efforts and the many doctors she has called on to help, she can sense the end is near. He wants to return to his beloved Angers, and she knows the children are longing for them to be there for Christmas, but she cannot move him yet. This December is bitterly cold.

Their sons Louis and René have written a long letter – mostly Louis, but they can hear the voice of little René in it too:

Dearest Maman and Papa,

We are so happy to hear you are coming home. Christmas was not the same without you, as you can imagine, but we have also been having some fun between lessons and games, teasing kitchen maids, and taking pony rides in the snow. Thank you for sending us the entertainers. They were the best we have ever had.

There have been kittens and puppies to play with as well since you left, and swallows making nests in the stables, and we have been watching the head groom break in the young horses. Even little Yolande and baby Charles are beginning to be fun to play with, so we hope you have not been too worried about us.

With Papa home, we will have stories by the fire again, won’t we, and please can he act out scenes from court life in Paris? And Charles and Marie will be back and fun will be the order of the cold evenings again by a roaring fire in the Great Hall! We will roast chestnuts and can we be allowed a little mulled wine after supper? Please do hurry home – we miss you both so much.

All our love, your obedient sons, Louis and René.

How they laugh when they read it – and how Yolande cries inside, knowing that nothing is going to be as the children hope for, or describe.

January is even colder than December, not a season to travel, but Yolande knows there is not much time left to get her husband home.

When they arrive in Angers, it is too cold for the children and the household to meet them outside. Yolande takes Louis to his bed at once, and after he has rested, she brings in the children, one by one. They each kiss his cheek and his hand, say a few words and leave. Just this has exhausted him. How thin and yellow he looks, and Yolande can see from their expressions how shocked they are at the transformation of their heroic father. This is far from the jolly homecoming they had longed for, and although young, they can sense their father is seriously ill.

Louis’ condition is Yolande’s total concern. The journey home has weakened him further, and what little strength he has he spends talking quietly to Yolande, propped up in his bed, which has been moved next to the fire in his room. Couriers come constantly but she hardly pays much mind to the contents of the packages – she is so completely absorbed in the care of her husband and his wishes. They sit night after night talking, recalling happier times, discussing their children; houses; harvests. So many plans made; many, she knows, destined to be unfulfilled.

Yolande does not want to spend a moment away from Louis and a day bed is brought in next to his so that she can be with him almost all the time.

The winter months pass slowly. Only when a courier comes from Louis’ young equerry, Pierre de Brézé, whom they left behind in Paris, does Yolande allow an interruption. His orders are to send them anything urgent, and the package is addressed to her. The letter is in code which she sits to decipher and gasps, clutching at her throat as its contents are revealed. The news is beyond belief.

Madame, since I am not confident my lord the King of Sicily is well enough to receive my information, I have taken the liberty of writing to you direct. With deep regret, I must inform you of the sudden and unexpected death of the dauphin, Jean. His father-in-law left him in good health a few days ago at his country house, but returned home from Paris to find the dauphin in a desperate state – his tongue and lips hideously swollen, his eyes protruding from his face. When a large boil burst inside his left ear, he died soon afterwards. Poison is suspected. The courier will wait to return with any instructions you have for me.

France’s second dauphin, the eighteen-year-old Jean de Touraine, dead? So soon after the first? Not only has Jean of Burgundy now removed the next heir to the throne, his nephew, but his enemy – Yolande’s husband, Louis d’Anjou – has the new dauphin in his care. Now only one obstacle, their very own Prince Charles, remains between Jean-sans-Peur and his obsession to rule once the sick king is dead.

She cannot keep this news from Louis, and tells him gently. It may change his instructions for her now that Prince Charles has suddenly become the heir to the throne.

‘Go to him, my dearest, he must know his fate.’ And with that he turns his head into his pillow and weeps.

Somehow, Yolande knows, she must take Charles aside and find the words to tell him as calmly as possible what will become of him now. As she walks down the path towards where she can see the children playing, it feels as if the very stones beneath her feet know what is happening.
Perhaps I am imagining it, but it is almost as if the birds have stopped singing
.

She finds him with the other children preparing to go out. Taking Tiphane aside, she tells her the news and that she is not to tell the children until they are on their way back. Meanwhile she will keep Charles with her, saying she has news for him. When they leave she takes him by the hand and walks with him in the early April sunshine to sit on a bench in the garden. His eyes are apprehensive and questioning as she takes a deep breath.

‘My dearest Charles, I believe you are happy with us, are you not?’ She smiles warmly to reassure him.

Charles eyes her apprehensively. ‘Yes,
ma bonne mère
, you know I am. But I see something is troubling you. Have I offended in some way? Not consciously, I promise!’

‘No, no, not at all. It is just that I want to be sure you trust me, and know that we all want nothing but the best for you,’ she continues slowly.

‘Yes, dearest
bonne mère,
but what is it you want to tell me?’ and now he takes her hand as if to console her – when she should be holding his.

‘Charles, dear boy, you have always called me your
bonne mère,
and that is what I have tried to be. I must tell you something difficult, but you will hear it in the sure knowledge that you are among a family that loves you as if you were a true son.’

‘Yes, yes, I know,’ and he bites his lip with apprehension.

She can think of no other way to say it:

‘Your brother, Jean, is dead. You are now dauphin.’

Charles jumps up, his hands covering his mouth as if to stifle a scream. Yolande rises quickly and gathers him to her, holding his shaking body. They remain there for some time, she stroking his hair, while Charles weeps out all the pain he has gathered since his birth, his head pressing on her shoulder.

The children have returned home from their picnic and the older ones are in a solemn mood. Tiphane has told them the news on the way back and they flood their mother with questions: ‘Will Charles die suddenly as well? Will he have to leave us now he is dauphin? One day he will become king – is that good or bad?’

She tries to reassure them in any and every way she can. ‘No, there is no inherited illness as far as anyone knows. Yes, Charles may have to leave us for a while, but he will come back. Yes, he will become king one day, and they must believe that is a good thing, and as his cousins and childhood friends, they must support him always.’

As for Charles himself, he has remained in the nursery all day, shut in on himself – and he stays like that despite all the efforts the children make to cheer him.

In the morning, Yolande receives a message that Prince Charles is to go to his mother, Queen Isabeau, at the royal chateau of Vincennes. She has sent Tiphane to tell him, and he comes to her running, talking terribly fast and incoherently, his face a contorted mixture of disbelief and fear. She calms him and tells him quietly that this is his duty now. ‘Have I not taught you about always doing your duty?’

‘
Ma bonne mère,
I know you can do anything. Please let me stay.’ Again and again he begs her.

By now the other children have joined them, all of them beseeching Yolande to arrange for Charles to remain with them. Carefully she gets up, smoothing her skirts and thinking.

‘Very well,’ she says. ‘I will go and talk to your father.’

When she leaves Louis’ room, she finds a group of anxious little faces waiting for her. They gather around her as she sits down.

‘Your father has said that we must return Charles to his mother.’ They stare at her, disbelieving. ‘As dauphin, it is his duty to go, even if we fear for his safety. There is no more I can do. Charles must obey. As his father the king is too ill to attend the Council of State, it is his duty as dauphin to be present,’ and she sighs, a sigh that comes from deep within her sorrowing heart. She only hopes they were not listening at the door when she said to Louis:

‘
He
has killed two dauphins, and now he will surely take the third, whom I promised God to guard well.’ She does not agree with the decision, but she must go along with it. She will find a way of bringing Charles back, she vows silently. She will protect him.

Even if she cannot keep him at home, she can send a little piece of her home with him, to give him the support he will need at court.
And to make our presence felt,
she says silently to herself. And so, with a heavy heart, she leads Marie into her sitting room.

‘Darling girl, I need your help. I cannot leave your father and go with Charles, so you must accompany your betrothed, show Queen Isabeau that you are by his side, his future wife and queen. I will make arrangements to bring you both back, I promise, and you will have our excellent Angevins to take care of you both. Will you do this for your father and me – and for Charles, my darling?’

Marie falls into her mother’s arms, sobbing. ‘Poor Charles, poor darling boy. Of course I will go with him, for his sake more than anything. I will be by his side, Maman, fear not,’ she says bravely.

Before Charles and Marie leave, Yolande summons her daughter to kiss her father and say her goodbyes. She falls to her knees by his bed and washes his hand with her tears. Their eyes say it all – their messages of love and encouragement, gratitude from her and then a faint ‘goodbye my sweet child – go well’ from him in a whisper, as he makes a cross on her forehead with his thumb. All is said in that shared look between a father and his beloved daughter. Yolande then brings him Prince Charles who kisses Louis’ hand in gratitude, which moves his
bonne mère
deeply. Then Charles and Marie leave for Vincennes and the queen – her domain, her centre of power – safe on their journey at least, in the care of Yolande’s chosen Angevins.

During the following week, Yolande allows the other children to sit with Louis for not more than ten minutes in the morning and again at night. He holds their hands one by one and smiles weakly. He has changed so much. The strong hero of her marriage and their childhood has shrunk into a little old man, and his famous flashing blue eyes have faded to become watery and pale. His mass of blond hair is grey, limp and thin. All the children can do is to come in on tiptoe and kiss his hand, which he then lays on their heads with a light caress.