Queen Of Four Kingdoms, The (22 page)

And so they near the end. Louis dictates his last testament to her and she writes it down faithfully, word for word.

To my adopted son, the dauphin Charles of France: know that I have cherished you as if you were my own flesh and blood, as your children will be when you marry your betrothed, our much-loved eldest daughter Marie d’Anjou. Accept that I speak to you as I would a member of my own family when I beg you – yes, beg you –
never to trust the Duke of Burgundy
. As much as I ask this of you, I beg you with the same strength and more,
never to take revenge
on this man who has wilfully done you so much harm. Instead, do all in your power, for the sake of France, for the sake of your family, for my sake and that of your
bonne mère
who loves you, to live in harmony with your uncle of Burgundy. This will cost you dear and aggrieve your justly vengeful heart, but it is the only way forward, the only way for you to regain the kingdom that the folly of others has put in such jeopardy.

She can see that the effort tires him as he struggles for breath, but the urgency in his eyes makes it plain he wants to continue.

To the children of my blood who share my heart and my love, obey always that treasure, that love – namely, your dear mother. I ask you to obey her in all things, for she is wise in more ways than you may ever know, more loyal to her adopted country than many of France’s most loyal patriots, and in possession of a greater heart and will to pursue what is right and good. I ask you with my dying breath to honour and obey her, and respect this great lady, until the day of her death and beyond.

Tears roll down Yolande’s cheeks, and she tries to stop her hand from trembling as she writes down this, his last and dearest love letter to her. She knows that Louis loved her from the first moment he saw her, but never has she heard him express his feelings with such tender words and with an admiration intended for all posterity through his dying testament. He takes a deep breath to steady his hand to sign the parchment, and the signature is firm and clear. Then there is no more strength left in him and he sinks back into her arms, sleeping softly, a half-smile on his lips, which she gently kisses.

She holds him like this throughout the night, dozing off herself now and then. When she wakes in the morning, he has not moved; nor does he breathe any longer.

N
o matter how she has tried in these last weeks and months to prepare herself, Yolande feels as if a needle has pricked the balloon of her life and, without air, her being has deflated to no more than a shrivelled bag of animal skin. In her mind, it was the shocking news about the dauphin Jean that hastened the death of her beloved Louis. Yolande sent a message of heart-felt condolence to Queen Isabeau, knowing how desperate she must be to lose her second son and in such a short time, but begged to be excused the funeral in view of Louis’ rapid decline. Now she must plan his funeral.

She reads his last testament over and over. It is his final declaration of love. Her husband Louis, Duke d’Anjou, Guyene and Maine, Sovereign Count of Provence, King of Naples, Sicily and Jerusalem, has, with full confidence, entrusted into her sole care: his house; his fourteen-year-old heir; and his other children, his lands, and all he owns. She is to become regent of his many French territories, and is duty bound to attempt to regain his lost kingdom of Naples and Sicily. As if that is not enough, he has made her the sole guardian of the future King of France, to stand against the combined might and enmity of the Duke of Burgundy and the King of England.

Louis II d’Anjou’s funeral is conducted at Angers with all the customary formality befitting a royal duke, though with less of his family present due to their preparations for the imminent war. The new young Duke d’Anjou, his eldest son, Louis III, stands tall and proud with his siblings, his cousin Jean Dunois and his mother, the Queen of Sicily, receiving the condolences of visitors and local people following the ceremony. They then watch tearfully and respectfully as Louis II d’Anjou is placed in the family crypt.

With her husband’s death, Yolande finds herself a thirty-six-year-old widow with five children, in control of the House of Anjou, not unlike her admirable mother-in-law, Marie de Blois, before her. Also in her care she has the future of the royal House of Valois. Henceforth her role in the history of France will change. They say she still possesses ‘imperious’ beauty. Well, to succeed in the many charges her husband has bequeathed her, she will need it – and all the intelligence she can muster in order to fulfil her heavy destiny.

Y
olande will grieve for her husband all her life long; now she must follow his instructions for the sake of France. No sooner is her beloved Louis buried than she sets out for Queen Isabeau’s court at Vincennes, where Charles has gone on his royal mother’s insistence, taking Marie with him.

The Queen of France graciously welcomes the Queen of Sicily and on 13 April 1417, she watches as the fourteen-year-old Prince Charles, third son of King Charles VI of France and Queen Isabeau, is formally installed as dauphin, heir to the throne. With his new title, the traditional territory and income of the Dauphiné is bestowed on him. From his late brother Jean, he receives ownership of the county of Touraine. These properties are added to the duchies of Poitou and Berry he inherited from his great uncle, the Duke of Berry.

Thirteen-year-old Marie, his betrothed, stands with her mother, each wearing, over their court dresses, a cape of red velvet lined with ermine – Yolande’s of blue brocade, Marie’s in pink silk. The ceremony is conducted with great solemnity in the royal chapel of Vincennes, its choir in full voice and the silver trumpets blaring. According to Yolande’s quick exchange with Odette, the king is quite sane and stands to the right of his son, his mother on the left, both wearing their crowns. Each has placed their hand nearest him on their son’s shoulder and they solemnly swear to uphold his rights as the sole heir to his father’s throne. This is followed by a trumpet salvo and the bells of Vincennes’ chapel ring out to cheers from the people gathered outside. Not more than one hundred – and those, the most senior members of the royal court, are gathered inside the chapel.

Following the death of the second dauphin, Odette wrote to the Queen of Sicily that the king had neither been aware of his second son’s installation nor his death; indeed, he had forgotten he existed – there were so many children. But she had carefully explained to him that the first dauphin, whom he had known and liked, had tragically died of illness, and now his son Charles was being installed. He seemed content with that although he had no idea which one he was. When she reminded him he was being brought up by the Duchess Yolande d’Anjou and betrothed to her daughter, Odette wrote that ‘his eyes lit up and he seemed pleased’.

In spite of the pomp and ceremony, the atmosphere at Vincennes is not at all to Yolande’s liking. There are too many Burgundians at the court, and she cannot help remembering the fate of the two earlier dauphins, Charles’s brothers, and the suspicions of poisoning that implicated the Duke of Burgundy. Worried and alone, she asks herself:
What would Louis have done?

Sadly, the days of relying on her husband’s strength and advice have gone for ever. Emboldened by her new responsibilities, Yolande reminds herself:
Je le garde, moi. I will keep him safe.
That was the promise she made to God, and by God she will keep it. Immediately following the investiture, despite Isabeau’s protests, and trembling slightly, the Queen of Sicily announces to the Queen of France and the court that Marie and the new dauphin will return with her to Angers at once. She gives no one time to protest. A strong guard of her best Angevin soldiers is waiting to escort them, and she and the children ride for Anjou before anyone can stop her.

It is her first bold decision as a widow and regent, and her reward is the touching relief on the faces of the children when they arrive at Angers.

Yolande knows that Charles and Marie will not stay with them for long. Before her husband died, he advised Charles to take up his new life as dauphin by forming his own court at Bourges, capital of his new county of Berry, since this would be the most appropriate base for him. It is a city Louis knows well from visiting his Uncle of Berry there. Charles has decided to follow his advice and establish himself in the beautiful town, strong and prosperous and with citizens known to be loyal to the monarchy. Marie, who loves precious works of art, will be happy among Uncle Jean’s treasures, and the army stationed there will protect them. It is a rich area in the centre of France, its people guarded and reticent. With great forests for the pleasure of the hunt, full-flowing clear rivers, clean, healthy fields, plenty of cattle, vines and orchards, the dauphin’s new domains are indeed bountiful, and Yolande is happy for him.

The hardest part for her is to let Marie leave home for Bourges. She knows she must – it is her place now to be near Charles, especially when he does not have his
bonne mère
on hand to guide him. Marie has a sensible head on her shoulders and they are firm childhood friends. It is the strengthening of their bond of friendship on which Yolande is counting – and that Charles will listen to her daughter’s advice, but of that she is not so sure. Inevitably, his new position has given him a certain inflated opinion of himself and he might not listen to Marie as he would to Yolande. At least Marie can give her mother an accurate account of what is going on at his fledgling court and ask for her help if need be.

As difficult as it is for her to let Marie leave home, it is almost harder to part with Juana, her mainstay since her own childhood and the last link with her former life. But she wants to be sure her beloved daughter has someone near who is capable and honest, someone she can trust and confide in. Yolande is older now and more experienced, and accepts that she will have to rely on herself.

During the past year, Charles has been presiding over councils and meetings of the estates, taking his role very seriously. Nor does this seem to be a passing phase, but one of resolution and purpose. His signature appears on several important edicts of his father’s – it is a well-formed, literary, practised hand with beautiful script learnt with the encouragement of his
bonne mère
; the flourish of his signature made with confidence.

And yet, there is still much that disturbs her about her adopted son, little incidents that seem at odds with his newly assumed princely stature. Charles returns often to Angers or Saumur with his entourage, and she watches him closely, noticing his reactions, especially to the inevitable flattery of courtiers hoping for preferment. Mostly he just smiles – and she can tell from his eyes he does not believe a word. Perhaps it is not surprising that he has become somewhat cynical and yet, at the same time, he is a realist. She has often observed him being charming, even alluring, to groups of people, while knowing how he laughs – inwardly – at their pretentions. He has admitted as much to her and to his cousins, telling them quite frankly how he, too, will charm and flatter almost anyone to gain his own ends.

When she scolds him, he laughs good naturedly. ‘
Bonne mère
, you know that what I am saying is true. Most people only want to profit from me. Very few are like you and your family, and this is how they deserve to be treated.’ To this she says nothing, but she has been concerned for some time by his lack of basic morals. To her dismay, she notices how, with his new status as dauphin, he has become adept at controlling his associates by dispensing favours – his resources are too limited to buy loyalty – and this new trait also dismays her. Granting positions is easy for Charles and costs him nothing, and yet country gentlemen dream of nothing more than a court appointment. It may be just a useful kind of guile, but his little schemes disturb her. What kind of prince and future monarch is he becoming?

When he was very young and first came to live with her at Angers, the child prince would regale the family with stories of his father’s court, where he had witnessed his uncles and cousins creating important-sounding positions and granting them often to plainly unsuitable candidates. When he asked one of his uncles why they did this, he was told: ‘These men can be useful in some way, and once we have achieved our objective, they can always be dismissed or humiliated into submission.’ He told his audience this with a laugh, and Yolande hoped then that he would never be in a position to do the same. But now he is.

One day at Angers, she heard Charles teasing Jean Dunois.

‘Ha ha! My cousin, although you are the son of my royal uncle Louis d’Orléans, you are illegitimate and can therefore never inherit, and without an inheritance you really are no one at all. But if, dear Jean, you do as I command, perhaps one day I will give you a far grander title and great estates! What do you say?’

She will never forget how Jean Dunois smiled in his lovely mysterious way, so like his father, and replied with apparent sincerity:

‘My dear princely cousin, how
good
of you to even consider such an elevation for me when, as you rightly say, I am no one after all.’

Although Charles maintains his cousin is ‘no one at all’, his military talents have been noted. Now Jean Dunois has been appointed equerry to the dauphin, a position that requires him to travel in Charles’s entourage as he moves about the country ensuring that people are loyal to his cause. But he still manages to report back to the Queen of Sicily at regular intervals. On one such visit she can sense from his very bearing that there has been trouble. They climb the great stairs to the first floor and she calls for mulled wine and cake.

‘Sit with me, dear young friend, and tell me your news,’ she says.

Jean looks at his hands, and then at her.

‘Madame, as you have ordered me to do, I have come to tell you of an incident of which I feel you should be aware, as it may have repercussions for the dauphin.’