Queen Of Four Kingdoms, The (43 page)

He turns at once and embraces her, and she can see tears in his eyes which he wipes away quickly, almost in annoyance with himself. He stutters and swallows hard.

‘Dearest and most perceptive of mothers, how well you understand me. I know you can sense my longing – especially for Isabelle, who has done all and more a wife should ever be expected to do. How I have missed her! Each night when I have prayed in my tower, her face has appeared in my mind’s eye. As did yours, darling Maman, and those of my other children just as I last saw them. I want to know them too – as I have loved getting to know our youngest, Marguerite, with you here. But the others do not know me, and I do not know my kingdom. Maman, can you understand?’ he asks so plaintively, his eyes wide with anxiety at her sorrow over losing him again.

‘I know, I know, my darling boy – you have no need to explain. The time has come for you to leave,’ she manages to say, keeping her voice even. ‘So go with my blessing, and all I ask is that you come back to me before I die.’

They embrace and she can feel the tears on his dear face, and he wipes away hers. Then he turns, and her treasured René, light of her heart, leaves for Marseilles, and on to fulfil his destiny in Naples.
Will I see him again?
She stands outside the entrance to Saumur, unable to move or even to cry out. How like his father and brother – ‘never turn back or you will not be able to leave’ was always in the thoughts of these, her beloved men, as they set out.
Her beloved men, whose lives were taken by their quest for that cursed kingdom.
The desire for this illusion of a kingdom has taken from her both her husband and her eldest son, and now she must fear for her delightful, jovial René.

He has laid claim to his throne of Naples, and Isabelle, crowned by the ambassadors in his stead, has held it for him during the six years he languished in Burgundy’s prison. This brave young Queen of Sicily has even defeated their cousin Alfonso when he dared dispute their title. Yolande’s only consolation is that René has agreed to leave Marguerite behind with her. As he rightly said, ‘She has a greater chance in France to make the kind of match she deserves since you have brought her up splendidly, and she would do even a king or an emperor proud.’ Yolande loves this granddaughter who has much of her father in her character although, happily, she looks more like Isabelle and, she is often told, like Yolande’s younger self – although she doubts she was ever as beautiful.

The next she hears of René, he is docking in Naples after a trouble-free journey, reunited with his beloved Isabelle and with his children. ‘Not a very kingly scene, I grant you,’ he writes, describing his wife’s sparkling eyes and the tears that no one held back, ‘but even the crowds who came to the port to see their king for the first time were wiping their eyes, and they do not even know me yet – what a credit to my regent.’

Letters follow this almost daily, asking her to join them, telling of the wonders Isabelle has carried out, how her little court is a byword for culture, charm and elegance – and in truth, Yolande has heard this from many a traveller friend who has been to Naples. All have told her that the palace is enchanting and the gardens a beautiful haven of peace and tranquillity. And yes, there is a part of her that is aching to join them all there, but she fears that her son Charles, her youngest, still has some maturing to do before she burdens him with the responsibilities of ruling Anjou and Provence. Since she is no longer with the court, it is important that one of the Anjou family is there to remind the king with his presence of her many sacrifices on his behalf.

René’s descriptions of his explorations of his kingdom give her hours of happy reading, especially his amazed delight that wherever he goes he is welcomed sincerely and spontaneously. Since he took the trouble to learn the language while in prison, he communicates easily with his subjects from nobility to peasants. There is much to see as the kingdom is large, covering the lower half of the Italian peninsula. He writes with such excitement: ‘Among the first things I have done is to climb Mount Vesuvius, the crown of my great bay of Naples, and what a view from there. I enclose some sketches to give you an idea. How I would love you to come here and see it all with me. Do come, Maman?’ And how tempted she feels.

Joining René in Naples is a daydream she enjoys now and then, especially when he sends her pretty little sketches of Isabelle and the children playing with Vitesse, their pet cheetah, their surroundings, the bay, the palace and the dogs. What a strange and wonderful gift of Jacques Coeur’s that was: a tame cheetah which still manages to terrify the servants. Their life sounds completely enchanted, but she knows from her own experience how fleeting Paradise can be, and her cousin Alfonso d’Aragon has the devil in him somewhere. She would like to take Marguerite to Naples so they can both appreciate some of its magic, but with Alfonso making threats again on the Peninsular, they must enjoy the life available to them in Anjou.

When in the throes of great happiness, sadness often walks alongside, as Yolande has always taught her children. In the spring of 1440, her darling namesake daughter dies at the age of twenty-eight of childbed. She is the second of Yolande’s grown children to die, and it grieves her mother deeply. She was always a good child, gentle like Marie, and uncomplaining. Yolande tries to console herself with the thought that at least her marriage to the Duke of Brittany’s eldest son, a compromise to cover their shame at Louis’ cancelled union with his daughter, turned out to be surprisingly successful. But even that cannot make up for the fact that now, suddenly, she is gone, leaving a void in her mother’s heart.

Her only consolation is in knowing René has found happiness in Naples. He continues to send her letters brimming with the excitement of the ebullient child he has always remained inside – and has become again – through discovering his playground kingdom. His enthusiastic sketches give his mother an even clearer vision of his surroundings. With Isabelle and the children he rides to the vineyards; watches the harvesting; the festivals; the ships coming into harbour with visitors and traders from all over the Mediterranean, the Levant, Near East or even further. Isabelle’s young ladies are elegant and entertaining, know many amusing games and dances, and although she keeps them closely protected, they are a delight at her court as many of their visitors inform the Old Queen on their return from Naples. Most of all, she treasures René’s sketches of the children as the only record she has of how they grow and change.

D
o we become wiser with age? Now that Yolande has reached her fifty-eighth year, she feels she has attained a certain peace in her life, not only from the knowledge that René’s estates in France and Lorraine are in good order, but because the life of Charles their king has reached a stage where he can be proud of all he has achieved. At last she has secured reliable people around him; the reconciliation with Burgundy is complete; the English are confined to Normandy. All the bad influences that infiltrated his court she has quietly banished or neutralized, and his advisers are people worthy of her trust – primarily her youngest son Charles, who is cleverer than her adorable René, and on whom René has bestowed his own earldom of Maine. Charles has become a close confidant and key adviser to the king. Pierre de Brézé has also risen to a senior post in the royal circle and government. Most importantly, the king has finally taken his able constable, Arthur of Richemont, into his confidence.

Thanks to these sound men, the country’s finances are in order, the military are disciplined and ready, and the king is becoming a
real
king, in the eyes not only of the court, but of all his people. He is more confident, more assured, and Yolande likes to think that by treating him as a king since his father’s death, she has helped him to become one. It has come as something of a surprise to many that he has chosen to take up the position at the head of his army himself, another proof of his growing self-confidence.

Yolande has decided that the moment has come for her to leave the court, its peculiarly enigmatic king and its varied troubles, and to spend the rest of her days at her beloved Saumur, in the beauty of the Loire district of Anjou. When she informs the king of her decision, he decides to come to Saumur to spend some time with her there. There is so much neither of them can commit to letters.

‘Welcome, sire,’ she says, as she forces her stiffening knees into a low reverence from which he raises her the moment he can jump down from his horse. She smiles at the Charles she came to know here, the dear Charles, caring and considerate and uncorrupted.

‘Welcome home to Saumur,’ she says, and they embrace.

Once inside, by the warmth of the fire, cups of mulled wine in their hands, he says, ‘
Bonne mère
, you know how much you have always meant to me. I cherish every memory and often sit and reminisce with Marie about our childhoods spent with you and the others. I feel truly blessed to have had your good counsel for many years and I ask you please, even if you no longer feel able to join my court, to continue writing to me with your thoughts.’

‘Of course, Charles, dearest son,’ she replies. ‘You know I will always look on you as my own.’

He tells her of his plans for the standing army he intends to create – just as her husband, his uncle Louis, advised him long ago – and then they speak of him and of her darling lost son, and of René in Naples and so much more. She asks about Marie and his dauphin, and she can see he is troubled on both their accounts – Marie because she cannot seem to bear another healthy child, and Louis because of his strange character. She knows it would be so much better if he had siblings. Being an only child, everyone defers to him, and that has not helped.

It seems Charles has some inkling of this himself. ‘When I look back on all you have advised me to do in my life, and how often I did not follow your wise direction, I realize how misguided I have been. I have learnt my lesson and will listen and obey better in future! And I promise, with your permission, I will visit again soon, if you will allow?’

Yolande knows he has only come for one night – and considers it an honour he has come at all, with so many demands on his time. In the morning they bid one another farewell, after many assurances on her part that he is always welcome, just as he has been since childhood. Charles looks at her tenderly, and she knows she has a place in his heart.

T
o Yolande’s surprise, she receives emissaries from the new young Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick, indicating an interest in her granddaughter.

‘My dear child, what do you think? Shall we receive his ambassadors?’ she asks Marguerite.

‘Well, Grandmaman, why not?’

‘Only because I cannot give them an answer one way or the other – that is for your parents to decide.’

‘But let us see them anyway. You are always teaching me the importance of curiosity if I want to learn – and I am curious to know what they have to say.’

The two of them laugh, and decide that yes, they will receive the ambassadors – their visit will allow them some distraction.

‘Let’s dress up for them,’ Marguerite says with glee, and Yolande sends a courier to Jacques Coeur with a message to supply her with a suitable wardrobe for Marguerite to meet the emperor’s representatives. Jacques does as he is bidden, and more. Yolande can imagine her friend thinking: ‘If this princess is to become an empress, she must look the part.’ She has instructed him to spare no expense, and he has certainly taken her at her word!

‘Grandmaman, look!’ says Marguerite when the trunks of clothes arrive, and they play like children at dressing her up.

When the ambassadors come, Marguerite makes her entrance in the most luxurious gold brocade and white ermine. Yolande can tell from their expressions that her granddaughter has made a great impression: beautiful and intelligent as well as superbly dressed. And she laughs to herself, but her laugh is a poignant one, as she remembers the ambassadors who came to visit her all those years ago, those men who set the course of her life.

‘Well, my darling girl, what did you make of them?’ Yolande asks her granddaughter after their visit.

‘Madame Grandmère, I will do whatever you and my parents say,’ she replies in her peculiar formal way. ‘I found them agreeable, and from the pictures they showed me of the young emperor, I was not displeased.’

‘So if your parents were in favour, you would not disagree?’

‘Oh no, I think I should like him, and what fun to become an empress!’

Marguerite has a mind of her own, despite the impeccable manners she has been taught, but it is René and Isabelle who must take the decision; Yolande cannot do it for them. The ambassadors will have to wait for a reply from Naples. But Yolande also knows in her heart that their arrival signals a change in her own life. If she is to make a good marriage, Marguerite must be exposed to court life; she is reaching the age where her beauty, intelligence and position proclaim her a desirable match. Yolande writes to Isabelle in Naples:

Darling Isabelle, I believe I have taught your enchanting youngest and most delightful child everything that I know to equip her with the ability to enter a union with any prince or great lord. Now it is your turn to expose her to the court life to which my gentle old age no longer draws me. I think it might be appropriate for her to be at the royal court of France in the care of my darling Marie, who would welcome her, I know. Forgive me, my time there is past. May I have your thoughts on this?

But by the time her letter reaches Isabelle, it is too late. By return, Yolande learns that their situation has changed completely. There is dramatic news from René in Naples:

Maman, my dearest mother, I am sad to say that the enchantment of our court in Naples was too good to last. I have lived in a fool’s paradise these past three years. Once again our cousin Alfonso d’Aragon has intervened to try to establish his right to our throne. It seems our quarrel will never end. When he was captured by the Genoese navy and handed over to the Duke of Milan, remember how we hoped he would remain the mighty duke’s prisoner for a long time? To my amazement, it seems Alfonso convinced the duke it was in Milan’s interests that
he
rule in Naples, not me, and he was released, while I was held for six years by Burgundy!