Queen Of Four Kingdoms, The (45 page)

Is Yolande indoctrinating Agnès? Yes, she is, because she understands the necessity of laying sound plans to help the monarchy survive, plans that she may not live to see come to fruition. All she can do is sow the seeds, and trust in her knowledge and understanding of Charles, her young protégé and now her king, that these seeds will flower and bear good fruit.

With each passing week during this peaceful time of her life at Saumur, Yolande grows more convinced that she has made the right choice, that Agnès Sorel is the one most capable of helping Charles when she is gone, of turning him away from the valueless women at his court. He has such an appreciation of beauty; hers may just distract him long enough for him to absorb her wisdom and her inherent goodness, and, she hopes, experience ecstasy at last. Yolande will entrust clever Isabelle with bringing this plan to fruition.

She knows it may seem strange that she is discreetly promoting another woman to influence and guide her own daughter’s husband, once he has fallen in love with her. Yes, and Agnès must fall in love with him, because Yolande has realized by now that she is the kind of woman, like her, who would have it no other way. Naturally Yolande knows it will be hard for Marie to witness her husband, her king, in love with someone else, but Marie has been educated by her mother to put the needs of her country before all else, and Yolande is confident that she will understand and play her part. To date, she has given birth to twelve children – and buried eight of them. Only the Dauphin Louis and three girls still live. Since her eighth year, when Charles came into her life as her betrothed, Marie has known she could count on his sincere friendship. She has always been aware of her value to him, his unfailing courtesy to her; and Yolande believes she recognizes his needs, as well as those of her country. She has no doubt that her daughter will put the welfare of the kingdom first – even before her pride, if she must.

When his
bonne mère
is no more, without her guidance Charles will need to harvest all his resources, harvest the good counsel from the advisers Yolande has planted around him. If only she could have had him make use of the natural common sense of her daughter Marie, but she can see his highly developed aesthetic side requires beauty, and more than that, she now understands what he feels he has missed. It was Pierre de Brézé who first alerted her to the fact, and over time she has not seen Charles drawn to anyone at court with the potential to guide him, as well as being someone with whom he can share the magic of love. What he needs is for once in his life to fall in love with all his heart. Yolande knew such a love with her husband Louis, and she knows René has experienced it with Isabelle. How she regrets not having had the same success in mating her darling Marie, but she is sound and sensible enough to be an excellent queen consort and mother, without causing Charles any trouble. In the final analysis, sustaining the kingdom is more important than anything else, and Marie is one of the necessary sacrifices Yolande has had to make to achieve that goal. She believes Marie understands that too.

During the years Isabelle spent in Italy, Yolande often wrote to her at length to explain her hopes for Charles and the kingdom, and she concurs.

For the sake of France Yolande has not hesitated to plant useful spies into the households of those she feared do not have the interests of the king and country completely at heart, and she has no shame in admitting it. Her eyes must be everywhere. These ‘eyes’ have, on occasion, belonged to beautiful young women, totally loyal to her and invariably coming from Anjou. René regards her ‘recruiting’ as a somewhat dubious activity, but Yolande see it as a justified defence of the kingdom. Isabelle agrees with her. Women are much more practical in these matters.

Yolande has written to Isabelle that Agnès is ready to return to her court in Lorraine; she has taught her all she can. Agnès has no idea of the old queen’s hopes and plans for her, apart from her duty to her king and country. Yolande must leave it to Isabelle to ease into Agnès an understanding of the king’s need for her, should he find in this pure maid the great love his own mother-in-law feels he has unconsciously been waiting for. Handled carefully, Agnès Sorel could be the saving of their disconsolate king.

Although Yolande is as confident as she can be that she has paved the way for the king’s future happiness, she is far less confident that her son René is safe. As ever, she relies on letters, but they can be horribly delayed. None of them gives her any hope that there is an improvement in his fight for his kingdom.

At last, towards the end of 1441, a letter arrives from him.

Here I am, still in Naples. Alfonso has laid siege to the city and for the past seven months we have held out, the citizens displaying extraordinary courage. To see my brave Neapolitans suffering is hard. Most have sent their families out of the walled city, and only the fighting men remain. The royal castle was built long ago to withstand just such a siege, and there are a number of small tunnels through which some food has been able to come in – and a little gunpowder. But as the weeks pass, it becomes harder for our men on the outside to supply us. Finally, today, five of my senior captains asked to see me.

They came with great regret and hesitation, to inform me that food and gunpowder are in short supply, and our situation here has become untenable. And they made clear that, for all our sakes, I must not be taken prisoner. Pressure would be put on the King of France to pay a great ransom for my life, or for the lives of my citizens. How terrible it was for me to hear them say there is nothing more I can do here, and to know they are right. They requested that I leave while there is still a way out, and handed me a document signed by all the captains saying it would be better for them if I was not in the city when they were obliged to open the gates. I feel almost numb with the realization – and to be honest, I have felt it coming for some time – that I must give up my kingdom and leave my good men to their fate. With deep regret, I have agreed to their request. I am to use an old escape route long prepared, it seems, by past rulers.

Yolande reads this passage again and again, feeling the raw pain of her son – knowing how his men will be treated by her cousin, their conqueror. And for René to be pushed out by his captains! Not only to save himself, but because they would be made to suffer more if he was captured.
My poor son!
How she wants to hold him; tell him that life is not full of heroes; that battle is not a noble art; that death can come quickly, without justification or preparation. Has he not learnt that lesson yet? After his treatment at the hands of Duke Philippe, how can he still believe in chivalry?

She reads on:

I asked for our soldiers to gather in the parade ground and our chaplain to say Mass before I left. Every man removed his helmet or head covering, knelt and received Communion. After the service, I walked through the ranks, shaking hands, patting familiar backs, trying to smile and to control my tears. I had no need to say anything; they know I am leaving, and they know why. Many of the men could not hold back their own tears. They can see I believe they have done their best – we all have – but now the end has come: the end of my kingdom, the end of their freedom, the end of our many hopes and dreams. None of us has any doubt as to the future of a city that has defied a man who considers himself the rightful ruler. Alfonso d’Aragon will take his revenge, of that we are certain.

She waits anxiously for the next courier. What has happened? Has he escaped? She paces the corridors and wrings her hands. Anxiety for René destroys the serenity Yolande has enjoyed for some time here at Saumur. For the past two weeks she has felt her heart pounding, dreading and yet longing for news to reach her.

At last – a courier. Trembling, she opens the packet. It is from René, in his own hand. He is alive!

Maman, I am safe – but a shell of a king, and so ashamed.

When I made to bid my good captains farewell, I had no speech left – my throat and tongue were dry; only my tears continued to flow. I stood on the ramparts and waved as they saluted me in unison. Once I had turned, I could not look back. Two of my captains led me gently through a series of chambers within the ramparts, doors opening and locking again behind us, until we came to a small room with a well in the centre. They removed the lid, and looking down, I saw a narrow metal ladder. They put a strong leather apron over my head covering my front and another covering my back which they tied around my girth. Both captains knelt down before me and I placed my right hand on their heads for a moment. No one spoke. I climbed into the well and descended the metal staircase. After some minutes, the rungs came to an end and the tunnel made a turn to the right. I sat down as I was instructed; pushed off, then leant back with my head slightly raised. Soon I felt myself sliding down a smooth path inside the tunnel. I could smell sea air as I slid, gaining speed. After some minutes, the tunnel levelled out again but not enough to stop my descent, although I did slow down. I descended for a while longer, and whenever I gained too much speed, the tunnel would level again. Suddenly I saw a speck of daylight ahead, and soon after, I arrived at the bottom, my feet resting in soft sand.

Hands pulled me gently out and helped me stand. As I blinked in the bright sunlight, I heard a man say: ‘All is well, sire, you are safely outside the city. We have been sent by your friend Jacques Coeur. His ship is waiting a little further out in the harbour. We are ready to row you to her. She is a good, steady vessel. All will be well.’ They were talking to me as if I was a child or an idiot – so I must have given the impression of being one or the other, or both. They removed my leather aprons, which had kept me from damage during my descent of the tunnel, and gave me some water to drink. Slowly I felt myself returning to my senses. The fresh sea breeze on my face helped, but looking back up at the fortress of Naples I saw a small group on the ramparts watching out for my safe departure and waving. I could only hang my head.

My poor darling son!
thinks Yolande.
Oh, the anguish I feel for him!

It seems that one of Jacques Coeur’s innocent-looking merchant ships was waiting for René at anchor, a ship in fact well armed, as was her crew. As soon as René climbed on board in Naples, the order was given to set sail. Not long afterwards, Alfonso d’Aragon arrived with his forces and took possession of his kingdom.

The House of Anjou will never return.

René is safe. Yolande can breathe again. But mixed with the relief is the misery of it all. Yet another wasted effort; more lives lost in vain, and the Anjou fortune as well. There are no circumstances she can imagine that will enable another of the Anjous to turn the Aragons out of Naples after this. The spell is broken; the chimera has evaporated.

But he is on his way home, at least. It makes her smile a little, but sigh a little too, to learn that he has tarried in Italy to absorb art and to befriend the great and the good there. And she understands the shame he feels that keeps him from her.

Somehow the knowledge that René is safe has allowed Yolande to breathe normally again and loosen the tight reins that have held her in control for so long. Through her willpower alone she has forced herself to live on and resolve the greatest of her problems – the safe return of this most precious of her children. Now she feels her days are running out and there is not much of her life left. How well she remembers this same time before Louis’ death, when he forced himself to dictate to her his testament and last love letter. Now she too wants to leave some words for her children and theirs, to act as a guide when they are in need, and to help them understand her actions, some of which might otherwise seem strange to their thinking. She writes:

For my children and grandchildren, and then theirs:

First of all, I made it my mission to be of service to my husband, a man for whom I had the greatest respect as well as a deep, enduring, passionate love. When he died, I knew there would never, could never be another man to share my life. He taught me many things; the first, to give my complete loyalty to France, and by that, he made me understand, to the monarch. And he took me with him to his territories and showed me how to rule as his regent when he would need to be elsewhere.

When the young prince Charles came to us, he was most unlikely to inherit the throne, and I taught him the same values I passed to you, my own children, values worthy of a prince. When he became dauphin, the very nature of his position left him open to the envious and to others who wished him harm, often spreading damaging and mendacious tales about him.

Despite his coronation and unction, still he has had to continue to battle for his rightful position, fighting enemies close by him as well as from outside his kingdom. He found himself struggling for survival, which made him even more impenetrable to his people. Charles VII has become an inscrutable king, unfathomable to many, shaped by his own experiences. But shaped too by the love and wisdom I have poured into him since he came to us as a raw lad of ten, aching with insecurity and the lack of any affection or attention. You, my children, joined me in this and embraced him like a brother. I can do no more for my king – it is up to others now, and I trust I have trained well those I could. You, my children, know him in the way children find out one another’s strengths and weaknesses. I know that nothing he does will surprise you, because you know both sides of his character, the good and the bad.

I have taken some difficult decisions during my life, but always in the interests of France and her rightful king. If ever you doubt any of my past actions, I say only this: ask yourselves if what I have done was in the honest belief that it would help the kingdom and the king; for that has been the sole motive throughout my adult life as taught me by your father.

Now I look out at the leaves on the trees turning yellow and gently falling. I have had my bed moved to the window of this beautiful boudoir at Saumur that you all know so well, in order to see the carpet made by these honeyed shapes in my high courtyard garden, and they give me much pleasure, reminding me of that fabled ‘douceur Angevine’. October is almost over and autumn has arrived late. I feel like the season, crisp and golden. I know I am nearing the end of my life, and to be surrounded by such beauty brings me great contentment.