Queen Of Four Kingdoms, The (26 page)

‘Sire, friend and cousin, I come to ask you to endorse your son Charles as your rightful heir, and create him Lieutenant General of the kingdom.’ On cue, Odette whispers to the king: ‘Dearest sire, we have spoken of this before, as I know it is in your heart to give your son these privileges. You will remember our discussions?’ The king nods. ‘And you agreed it would be an excellent procedure?’ Again the king nods.

After some ten minutes more, it is concluded. Charles will be confirmed by statute in his new position. By this Act, the queen will be removed as regent, and the dauphin’s future appears secure. Yolande sighs inwardly. Another goal achieved.

The king has been most generous to Odette de Champdivers and given her two fine manors and an estate in Poitou. Odette fully understands that his munificence is due to the Queen of Sicily, in return for her service. When they are alone, Yolande takes the opportunity to ask her some things she would not dare commit to a letter. ‘How mad is the king?’ she begins.

‘Oh, at times, very! But he always knows me, and although he can be terrible with some, with me he is always kind and gentle.’

This comes as a relief to Yolande, since she has heard of his cruelty and brutality to others. Nor does she know why he is always willing to see her – or perhaps he recognizes a kindred spirit who intends him only good.

‘Odette, my dear, you know this already but I want to stress it to you again. Should you ever, at any time, feel threatened by the king, you must promise to let me know at once, and I will see you are brought to safety. Now give me your promise?’ This Odette does, and curtseys to the ground. As Yolande leaves, she sees that the younger woman has risen, and she catches the reflection of a tear on her cheek.

In spite of the Queen of Sicily’s important achievement with the king on behalf of the dauphin, the spectre of Naples has returned to haunt her family. She always knew it would happen – her beloved eldest son Louis is leaving once again for Marseilles, this time to sail to Italy to chase his elusive inheritance. Yolande has feared for so long that her darling eldest son will follow in his father’s footsteps; she has been waiting for this day, dreading it, but knows she must be supportive and understanding, although it breaks her heart to see him so. She has always known he will never escape that irresistible, cursed mistress who had his father in her thrall!

As if his ambition was not enough of a burden, she must also be an integral part of his plans. Louis will need his mother to be on hand in Provence to supply his requirements for provisions, men, ships and armaments. For this reason she intends to base herself there for the next four years with the younger children, to manage their considerable landholdings and raise more funds. When Yolande married Louis II d’Anjou, she saw that her role was to support her husband, and now, as she promised him, she must do the same for their eldest son. Yes, she fears for her beloved golden boy, setting out on an unwinnable quest, but she recognizes that look in his eyes, his father’s look before he left for the Italian peninsula. Since she cannot oppose his will, she is duty-bound to support it, no matter her own opinion.

Louis has come to bid farewell to all the family currently based at Saumur. Yolande stands back, looking at them – how they have all grown, especially Louis, as tall as her husband and so like him when they met for the first time. Her son is sixteen now and has filled out, is reputed to be a good swordsman and cavalry officer – quite a young gallant. The children run to greet him and pepper him with questions about his quest – they know he will see the mighty volcano Vesuvius and that is their most thrilling topic. Finally, when she has him alone, Yolande looks at him keenly, deep into his blue eyes with her own of a darker, sapphire blue. ‘Well, my eldest, the first flower of my love for your father, I wish you success, health and happiness. May you fulfil all your ambitions, win and rule your kingdom with kindness and justice – and write to us often. Many ships pass between Marseilles and Naples and we expect to hear everything. You will write, won’t you my darling boy?’, and at this her voice breaks and they embrace. She cannot help her tears – she has experienced this scene before. All she can do is pray he succeeds in all his ambitions. With her right thumb she traces a cross on his forehead and blesses him.

A
fter years of feuding, the Duke of Burgundy and the dauphin have at last understood the need to resolve their differences and unite for the sake of France for, without the two factions joining forces, a comprehensive English victory is recognized by every citizen across the country as inevitable.

Both the Burgundians and the Armagnacs are so paranoid with hatred of one another that it seems impossible for them to agree on a meeting place. In league with the English, the Duke of Burgundy controls the north and the east of France; the dauphin holds most of the south – with the exception of Yolande’s territory of Guyenne, which is in the hands of the Burgundians. Finally, a meeting place has been chosen, at Montereau in the Île-de-France region of north-central France.

Charles has excellent captains whom Yolande sent him from Anjou, most markedly Tanneguy du Chastel. And there are others who she is sure will prove their worth. Since Yolande is obliged to remain in Provence, she has sent a number of her best agents – young Pierre de Brézé among them – who are not known to one another, to mingle and scout for her. This is something she learnt at home in Aragon – it is wise to keep one’s agents unaware of one another, then they can never conspire against their principals. A small precaution, but one she adheres to. They may see each other in her households yet be unaware of their exact role in her employ.

It is a hot afternoon in September and Yolande sits at her writing table in her chateau of Tarascon in Provence. The books are refusing to balance and are making her head ache, or perhaps that is because thunder is expected. But the thunder that comes is not from the skies. She hears loud shouts, then many voices and feet running down stone passageways. A courier bursts into the room despite the guards trying to hold him back. The poor man is in tears with exhaustion, and she recognizes him as one of Pierre de Brézé’s men.

Waving away her guards, she gives him some water, which he gulps. Mud-spattered and hardly able to stand after riding hard, he hands her a note on which Pierre has written:

‘Madame, I have no time to write. Trust this man. Please hear him. My written account will follow with the next courier.’

What can this mean? She cannot imagine what is to follow, but forces herself to wait until the man can speak. After some minutes, with difficulty, he begins:

‘My lord Pierre de Brézé has asked me . . . madame, to tell you as follows . . . that the first meeting between the Duke of Burgundy and the dauphin . . . aimed at settling their differences . . . was a failure. The duke let it be known that he would not even bother . . . to attend the next summit . . . to discuss a peace treaty . . . but his decision was reversed by the presence of a lady . . . named Jeanne de Giac.’

Yolande’s face does not change, and gives no indication that she knows the woman as the attractive wife of Pierre de Giac, a member of the Duke of Burgundy’s entourage she has seen at court. Still breathing heavily, the man continues:

‘It seems the duke . . . was rather taken with the Dame de Giac . . . who persuaded him to listen to your trusted Angevin envoys Tanneguy du Chastel and Arnaud de Barbazan. This time their meeting with the duke was a success . . . gifts were exchanged and a peace treaty was drafted.’

Yolande’s face still has not changed expression, but how is this possible? How could a woman of such little standing have been able to influence the mighty Duke of Burgundy, especially in a matter as critical as the safety of the kingdom?

Slowly the story emerges, the gaspings of the courier clarified by a letter which swiftly follows in Pierre’s own hand. And the clearer the picture becomes, the more horrific it seems. The representatives of the two sides had already agreed to meet on neutral ground, namely in the middle of the bridge at Montereau. This was decided despite some misgivings from the Duke of Burgundy, but with the help of the Dame de Giac, he was persuaded. An enclosure was erected on the bridge, and two parties of ten men – unarmed but for their swords – accompanied their principals, the dauphin and the Duke of Burgundy, to witness the signing of the agreement. Polite greetings were exchanged and both parties bowed to one another.

But from this point, things began to go horribly awry. ‘Suddenly, an argument began between a group of the murdered Duke Louis d’Orléans’ followers – including the dauphin – and the Burgundians. This quickly became heated, and a scuffle broke out. Your faithful Angevin, Tanneguy du Chastel, pushed the dauphin out of the enclosure, saving him from harm, before the first blows were struck.’

Instinctively, Yolande catches at her throat. ‘Blows?’

It seems that the Armagnacs felt that only a horror similar to the vicious murder of their leader, Louis d’Orléans, could avenge that crime. And it was the dauphin’s guardian knight, Tanneguy du Chastel, who smashed his battle axe on to the Duke of Burgundy’s head, spilling his brains on the bridge. Another sliced off the duke’s right hand, just as the hand of Louis d’Orléans had been cut off – as if this had become a new ritual of political assassination.

Tears blur Yolande’s reading and she wipes them away angrily to read Pierre’s final words:

‘In their madness, the assassins of both sides claimed that
their
hands had been guided by sorcery and by the invocation of demons. Madame, forgive me – more will follow my further enquiries.’

Dear God, she thinks in her despair, how easy it is to allege witchcraft for the inexplicable. She sends the courier out of the room and calls for Tiphane while she sits moaning, rocking to and fro in anguish, both her arms tight across her stomach. Tiphane tries to calm her, pressing a damp cloth to her forehead – she can see that Yolande is in mental agony. What were the Armagnacs thinking of? How can the dauphin ever inspire confidence in anyone after condoning such a senseless and brutal assassination? This is not witchcraft – it is treachery! The two sides will never be able to unite against the English after this.

Couriers arrive one after the other, and the more she reads from the eyewitness accounts coming in from her agents, the more she hears her inner voice:
The dauphin must have known of this, he must have taken part! How could he not have known? Surely these, his most faithful followers, would not have acted without his consent?
She is beginning to realize how deeply Charles must be implicated, and she wants to cry out in her rage and anguish. So many years spent trying to build him up, only for him to destroy everything at Montereau!

And worse, she begins to understand that not only is Charles implicated, but some of the responsibility must rest with her. Several of those involved are her own appointments – the very Angevins she had hoped would keep Charles steady. In her absence, busy with Louis and his needs, these apparently wise counsellors have become bellicose. How quickly attitudes change when she is far away! Among the authors of this catastrophe are old and trusted members of her circle – Tanneguy du Chastel, and the captain Arnaud de Barbazan. How could her carefully chosen advisers, guardians of the dauphin, have been willing parties to this terrible and damaging crime? She sits, feeling her stomach glued to her spine in silent apprehension.

And as for Giac, what kind of man is he to have let his wife persuade the Duke of Burgundy to go against his instincts and come to Montereau? And what is his part in all this? She has heard the most horrific stories about the man: how he killed his pregnant first wife by forcing her to take poison, and then tied her to him while sitting behind him on a horse, riding four leagues at a gallop until she was dead. When her body was found the next day, it had been partly devoured by wolves. He did this to free himself so he could marry Jeanne, a rich widow with whom he was enamoured. They must have become accomplices, he and his new wife, and entered into some kind of agreement with leading Armagnacs to deliver the Duke of Burgundy to them. What were they promised, she wonders, to commit such treachery – and by whom? From her enquiries, it seems there is no crime too low for this Giac nor his wife if it gains them profit. Will she learn more? What is Giac’s hold on Charles, because she is sure he has one. According to the letters she receives, he has become Charles’s favourite and there is nothing he is unwilling to do for him and will grant him any favour within his power.

Her head aches, and the picture she sees and cannot blot out from her mind’s eye is of Tanneguy’s axe splitting the skull of Jean of Burgundy and spilling his brains all over the bridge at Montereau. And Charles! What did Charles know about this?

P
hilippe, the new Duke of Burgundy, is married to one of King Charles VI’s daughters; now his father has been killed by the officers of the king’s son, his brother-in-law. What is going through his mind? From what little she has observed of him at court, Yolande judges Philippe to be a young man of quiet resolution. He will weigh up carefully his reaction to this situation. And how much rancour does he carry for his sister’s rejection by the Anjou family, supporters of the dauphin? When she heard that her darling little Catherine died of smallpox the year following her return to her father, Yolande grieved very much, but at least it could not be said she died of a broken heart.

In his confusion, the dauphin has written an apologetic but utterly thoughtless letter to Philippe. In it he claims that his men acted in response to the old duke’s ‘threatening attitude’. He offers Philippe the same proposition he put to his father – to join with him against the English. What madness is this? Is Charles so stunned he has lost all sense of reasoning? Does he imagine for one moment that the new duke will just ignore his father’s brutal murder and unite with the dauphin to oppose the English? This is certainly the last thing he will do now. Yolande has always believed she knows and understands Charles, perhaps better than anyone, but this is a Charles she cannot fathom at all.