Queen Of Four Kingdoms, The (30 page)

Both kings dead! If only she had her dear Louis with her to counsel the dauphin, the new King of France – or is he?

The Duke of Burgundy has rejected the English offer to become regent. Of course! He would far rather be king. The Duke of Bedford, as regent of France once again, accompanied his brother’s coffin to England for burial in Westminster Abbey. When he heard of the death of Charles VI, he promptly turned back for the funeral of the French king – but more importantly, to claim the throne for his nephew, the baby Henry VI of England.

Already on the road, a fast courier meets Yolande with a letter from Pierre de Brézé in Paris: ‘Madame, I beseech you, hurry to Bourges.’ She must join Charles and see that he takes the necessary steps to mount the throne of France. This is the dauphin’s moment and it must not be lost.

The Queen of Sicily arrives in Bourges in the golden glow of early autumn. When her party reaches the outskirts of the city, she is instantly aware of an air of expectancy, of bustle, everyone in a hurry, everyone busy; people arriving, tradesmen, carriages, as well as mounted visitors in attire that ranges from the fashionable to the homespun. The streets seem much more crowded than usual and there is a distinct buzz, an effervescence, in the air. But what this effervescence means, good or bad, as yet she cannot tell.

Her first stop is with Marie at the royal palace. She embraces her, then René, who has also hurried to Bourges with Isabelle from Nancy. But they are not there to rejoice – each of them knows what the death of the two kings means for the dauphin. Henry V’s death was surely an act of God in their favour – at the least, an act of justice. Their own king’s death has Marie, René and Yolande sharing the same thought: a ten-month-old baby king in England cannot inspire the French nation. And France has a twenty-year-old dauphin waiting in the wings, a dauphin who is, by tradition, now the legitimate King of France – at least in the eyes of many.

‘Where is Charles?’ Yolande asks, but apart from being with his entourage, no one seems to know.

Suddenly, there he stands before them, the new King Charles VII. As he enters, they embrace, and Yolande traces the sign of the cross on his forehead with her right thumb – just as she would to her son – before making him a deep reverence. Charles bursts into tears, then composes himself somewhat and turns to face her.

‘
Bonne mère,
does this mean I am now the lawful King of France? Or will the English crown my tiny nephew of England in my place?’ His eyes are wide and red; how she feels his anguish. Without hesitating, she makes another slow, deep curtsey, and bows her head before rising to reply:

‘Sire, yes, you are now the lawful king. The English will try to crown your nephew, but we shall have the country behind your legitimate claim, I promise.’ She knows she is promising what she cannot deliver, but she is determined that this prince will come into his rightful inheritance. Then tears appear in his eyes once more, and he weeps: for his father, for himself, his country and his uncertain future.

Yolande sends out several of her trusted Angevins, who have awaited her arrival, to test the mood of the people. Unsurprisingly, the word she receives back from the streets – her intelligence-gatherers are efficient – is that the people of Berry, and certainly of its capital, Bourges, would be far more willing to accept Charles as their king than an English baby prince. Marie, René and Yolande stress this to Charles, to reassure him as much as possible, but his eyes are vacant and hesitant. That wretched Treaty of Troyes hangs over him and drains his confidence still.

Yolande dispatches one of her Angevins to try to find Jacques Coeur – he may know the feeling of the country from his many agents. The messenger returns with a note:

‘Madame and Majesty, with sincere apologies, I beg you to understand when I request that you come to my office for a private meeting. It would be better for you and especially for your son-in-law if I am not seen together with your family at this time.’

Yolande hurries through the narrow backstreets of Bourges, winding her way between the many delivery carts. She goes on foot and heavily veiled, accompanied by twelve of her best men wearing disguise so as not to draw attention. On arrival at Jacques Coeur’s office, they check the interior and see that it is safe – only his four impressive giant Moors stand guard in the corners of the room, their black, muscled arms glistening; shiny, curved scimitars at their waists. She has warned her men not to be afraid, but they seem happier to wait for her outside.

Jacques Coeur receives her with his usual courtesy, hand on heart and a dignified bow.

‘Madame, I beseech your forgiveness for this secrecy, but in view of the dauphin’s presence in the town, the Duke of Bedford’s agents are everywhere and the English are anxious that he will succeed in declaring his right to the throne.’

‘And what do you think, Jacques, my friend. Should he announce himself as King Charles VII?’ she asks earnestly, pushing back her veil. ‘I see you hesitate; I give you my word, this conversation between us will remain just that. You have agents all over the country – I need to know your instinct when you have so many informants.’

‘Madame – you know you have my trust and I have yours. Yes, I think the new king should announce himself as the rightful heir of his father, but it will not be easy to dislodge the English. The Duke of Bedford has been a fair and good regent during the lifetime of both the late kings, French and English, and there is nothing to say he will not continue in the same way. Whereas our new King Charles is still an unknown quantity and some of his actions do not speak well for him, not least his reputation for – excuse me – debauchery.’

She knows he is telling her the cold facts; she cannot dispute them. She thanks him as she makes to leave, and he bows. As he straightens, he looks into her eyes and says: ‘Madame and Majesty, you know you can count on me always to do your bidding. Know too that I will support the new King Charles VII in any way I am able.’ He bows again and she leaves, confident in the allegiance of this able man.

Weaving around carts and small children, holding her veil close to her face and over her nose, the Queen of Sicily makes her way back to the palace. More of their loyal people are gathered there – Jean Dunois has joined René and Charles, and a number of her Angevins wait in another room, Tanneguy du Chastel and Arnaud de Barbazan among them. Jean Dunois has news from Paris.

‘Madame, you will be pleased to hear that very few French accompanied the funeral cortège of the English king to Paris and on to the coast, but huge crowds turned out for our own King Charles VI’s funeral journey to Notre-Dame. Vast numbers of people gathered and cried out their desperation that such a good king should leave them! An even larger crowd accompanied the cortège from the service in Notre-Dame on to his royal resting place at Saint-Denis. I estimate the crowd at around eighteen thousand.’

This is good news at last – and a surprise that in spite of his illness, the French still loved their once-so-promising king.

Jean Dunois has more to add, though: ‘At the end of the ceremony in the crypt of Saint-Denis, the heralds announced the new reign of King Henry VI of France and England, shouting with one voice, “Long live the king! Long live the king!” The assembly, who were all hand-picked supporters of the English, shouted: “Noël!” in the traditional salutation, but I could detect little enthusiasm from the crowds in the streets of Paris, and that despite the Duke of Bedford’s personal popularity.’

And yet Yolande still wonders how many will leave the court at Bourges calculating they can win more favours in the Duke of Bedford’s retinue.

In the early afternoon, she walks with a sombre Charles, wearing a coat of royal mourning, into Bourges’ soaring cathedral, followed by Marie and René also in black, and then by Isabelle and Jean Dunois, all of them heavily guarded by Angevin soldiers wary of an assassination attempt. The royal family have come to attend a full Requiem Mass for the soul of the late King Charles VI. Yolande wears formal black velvet robes, pearls and her crown as Queen of Sicily, in this way endorsing Charles’s claim as the legitimate King of France. The cathedral is ablaze with candles and heady with incense; tall branches of red and gold autumn leaves serve instead of flowers. At the end of the service, and the moving tribute to the late king by the archbishop, Charles leads Yolande and Marie from the cathedral, one on either side of him, as a glorious Te Deum is sung by the choir beneath the tall vaulted arches.

For the first time, Yolande can see something of kingship in Charles. How well he carries himself on this momentous day. They halt on the cathedral steps, Marie and her mother standing a little behind Charles and to either side, as he faces a huge crowd. In his fine, strong voice, then and there he declares himself King of France, and here, too, the heralds proclaim with one voice: ‘Long live the king! Long live the king!’ blowing hard on two dozen silver trumpets. They are all deeply moved, although inwardly each of them is unsure whether Charles’s monarchy will ever be established, even though it is his birthright.

Charles is gambling on the support at least of the people of his duchy of Berry, and that, to judge from their cheering – a myriad hats thrown into the air as he salutes them – he has. But as for the country, he cannot know. The only thing he can claim by right is that in the established custom of France, the dauphin inherits the throne of his father the king. For the English to challenge his claim is to be expected, but Yolande is assured by her agents that a significant part of France recognizes the son of the late Charles VI as his legitimate heir.

B
ut a fine ceremony is not enough to make a king. Yolande is soon aware and with growing dismay that Charles takes little day-to-day interest in governing the country. The only person she can tackle about this is Marie, who bursts out immediately:

‘Maman, he has little confidence that he will ever be king. His only trust,’ she says with tears threatening to fall, ‘is in you, as I have no power to sway him one way or the other.’

‘But at least he confides in you and talks to you, doesn’t he? You tell me in your letters how he pours out his frustrations, but am I to understand he does not seek your advice?’

‘Maman dearest, you often ask me to have him do this or that – but you must understand, I have
no influence
on him whatsoever, although he never fails in his kindness to me,’ she says in a tone of real regret, turning away from Yolande’s look of concern. ‘My main function in the life of my husband is that of a pillow to cry on and to conceive his heirs.’

And Yolande holds her darling daughter close, willing her strength of spirit into her.

She contemplates her son-in-law, this new King Charles. He is not a warrior prince, never warlike by temperament; no, he has learnt other ways of winning over opponents to his cause. He has a pleasing manner of speech and his deep, resonant voice can be quite captivating. He is a good listener, and when he replies, always politely, with reasoned and logical arguments, they often succeed. He speaks well and with conviction, and uses understated flattery to turn the minds and hearts of men to his own ends.

When in council, and also at court, he has become more ingenuous in his discussions, to the point of deviousness. He never pontificates; he asks advice constantly, but she knows him well enough to be sure he has no intention of following what he is told. Yes, he disappoints her at times, but she knows instinctively that his manoeuvrings are a part of his desperate plan for survival. Although he makes light of his troubles, she is convinced Charles is very aware of the tightrope he walks daily, and of all the forces ranged against him.

After her absence of four years in the south, his
bonne mère
can see the physical change in Charles, and for the better. At twenty, the young king is rather slim, small and dark, like his mother, Queen Isabeau, was said to be in her youth. His upper body has developed to that of a larger man, and he covers his knock knees and spindly legs with unfashionably long tunics, hanging down to mid-calf, although the current style is for short tight jackets over hose. His posture is straight – he holds himself well and proudly, and he definitely has presence. His eyes are not large, but dark and intelligent, his nose long, his mouth sensual. His deep knowledge of the New and Old Testaments and the Acts of the Apostles surprises many. He values solitude and country life, and as well as attending Mass, he says his Hours each day, and confesses his sins regularly. His appetite is small; he eats and drinks very little. He does not like to see too many unfamiliar faces around him, and cannot abide strangers. Overall, the impression he gives is of a sensitive, clever, noticeably cautious young man. And, she thinks, with good cause, considering the upheavals of his childhood.

And yet, and yet . . . knowing his weaknesses, she can see that many of the courtiers do all they can to manipulate Charles for their own advantage. Favourites succeed one another in rapid succession, while he remains blind to their scheming. Since he has little faith in ruling, it saddens Yolande to see him succumb to most of the temptations put before him.

One of these contemptibles is Georges de la Trémoille. Born into a grand aristocratic family, he is cultured and charismatic, connected to all the great families of France and superior to the other favourites who have manipulated Charles to date. Although he was a former ally of the Duke of Burgundy, even then he saw that reconciliation between the late King Charles VI and the Burgundians was the sole means of defeating the English. This has always been Yolande’s clear aim as well, but without the assistance of this greedy brute, who has made himself the richest landlord in the country.

The Queen of Sicily discovers that the immediate goal of La Trémoille is to rid the court of one of her protégés, Arthur of Richemont, the excellent younger brother of the Duke of Brittany, who fought with distinction at Agincourt. To her astonishment, she hears from Pierre de Brézé that La Trémoille has publicly raised with the king the subject of her own truce with the King of England and the Duke of Brittany, agreed years ago to protect her territories. This truce was instigated by the Queen of Sicily
to protect her territories
and made with the late king’s sanction. It was Yolande who suggested to her neighbour of Brittany that he do the same!