Queen Of Four Kingdoms, The (7 page)

It is during one of their fireside evenings together that Yolande gathers the courage to ask Louis the question she has been pondering ever since receiving his letter telling her he was coming home from Naples to marry her. She has often wondered whether he would have come if he had not lost his precious kingdom. Or would she have sat spinning and embroidering for years before he sent for her? What if his answer is not to her liking? She has tried so often, but finally she feels the moment is right to ask.

‘Tell me my darling . . .’ she begins with trepidation, then hesitates.

‘What is it?’ Louis fondles her hair.

‘Well, I have often wondered . . . I have wondered about your hopes of returning . . . with me . . . to rule one day in Naples.’ There. She has said it.

Silence.

Louis looks serious and throws another log on the fire. He does not reply at once. It is as if he has to work out the answer himself first, although he must have thought about it often. She bites her lip as he gets up and walks to the window, pours a tumbler of wine, returns slowly and sits.

‘Oh, my darling wife . . .’ He pauses and looks at his wine, and then his words come in a rush. ‘If only I could show you Naples: the great harbour that can hold hundreds of ships, and high above, the mighty volcano Vesuvius belching smoke.’ He looks up as if he can see it. ‘The vegetation in every direction, so green and lush; the pretty houses clustered up the mountain’s slope and around the harbour, painted in different pastel shades, each with its own portico growing grapes; the streets filled with laden donkeys; the animation of the locals, singing and talking loudly while they work – and most of all, the genuine welcome of the townspeople as they row out to greet me in countless small craft when my galleon appears, flying my flag as their king.’ He hardly draws breath. ‘Such voluble, kind, expressive people, full of laughter and gaiety, very different from the French of the north or our subjects in Provence. I have enormous respect for them, and love, yes, love. Of course I want to return with you one day.’ He stops, astonished at his own outburst, and taking her hand, he presses her palm to his lips.

Yolande listens wide-eyed as this man she has come to adore talks about Naples as if he has lost a woman he loves passionately – to another. And he wants her back! She feels icy fingers touch her heart. C
an I not make him happy here in his own land, where he has so much?
she thinks.
This must be my goal. To make Louis forget Naples unless he can have her back without cost or pain – and with me by his side!

‘Naples is not just a port city, you know – it is a large kingdom with landholdings stretching down to the heel of the Italian peninsula, all the way into Calabria and beyond into Sicily. You cannot imagine the glorious weather, the flowers, the animals.’ He sighs. ‘How I love it there.’ As he talks on, describing Roman ruins, caves along the shore with water clearer than glass, sunrises and sunsets seen from different sides of the bay, fish, orchards, vineyards, fields and forests – and more – Yolande realizes how much
that
is his true realm and the place where he has left his soul. Only now has she grasped the strength of Naples. His love of the kingdom will not fade easily.

A
s Yolande follows her husband about his duties in his domains – meeting his representatives, joining the ladies of every town and village they visit, observing their children in the care of the clergy, surveying their livestock, their crops, orchards, vineyards, fisheries – she continues to absorb the complexities of his life. But it is the discreet presence of her mother-in-law, Marie de Blois, that makes her task of learning to manage such an enormous responsibility very much easier. All her life Yolande has lived in large castles, but until her marriage, she has never been involved in their administration. Each morning the two Duchesses of Anjou draw up lists of what needs to be done or learnt that week, whether domestic tasks or the demands of the countryside: harvests; fairs; roads to be repaired; villages to visit; parishes to attend; widows and abandoned children to be housed; rivers to be cleared of fallen trees; the breeding of horses, sheep and cattle; even of hounds for the hunt.

Yolande has come to love Angers, that colossal fortress with its large reception rooms, the glorious series of tapestries of the Apocalypse commissioned by her father-in-law, their toiles painted by a master from Bruges. When she first commented on their beauty, Louis told her with pride, ‘Do you know, my darling, it took the best weavers in Paris five years to complete them. I do believe they are among the finest tapestries in France.’ She is intrigued by the intricacies of their design and workmanship, never tiring of walking along slowly beside them, tracing their story with one finger as she passes.

Despite the chateau’s remarkable treasures – and there are many to appreciate and admire – her greatest delight lies elsewhere.

‘Louis, come, see this,’ she called to him in excitement on her first day. Louis came to stand by her side on the castle’s arched balcony, gazing down on to the lazy Loire snaking past the city’s feet. ‘Look! Look! From here I can see
three rivers
joining! Surely this is an astonishing sight!’ she exclaimed, wide-eyed.

‘Yes, my darling, they are the Maine, the Mayenne and the Loire,’ he told her, smiling at her pleasure.

Of course he has known this view for years, but she can sit for hours, fascinated, watching the river traffic coming from all directions, learning to recognize the different types of crafts and their origins, even sometimes correctly guessing their cargo. The rivers bring not only produce to Angers; they also bring an endless stream of visitors and merchants, with wondrous goods acquired from all over the country, from the Mediterranean and even beyond.

Soon Angers’ new duchess comes to understand that within this mighty city-chateau lies the source of the House of Anjou’s great pride. Only at Angers can she – or anyone – fully appreciate the tremendous power of this family. She has long heard of the ‘douceur Angevine’, spoken of softly and with wonder; now she understands what it means. Despite its granite-hard majesty, Angers manages somehow to incorporate in its surrounding countryside a unique tenderness, if countryside can be so described. Living here, Yolande believes it can.

Each Sunday they walk with their retinue to the cathedral of Saint-Maurice, an awe-inspiring mix of low, round Roman arches and of the modern style of soaring pointed arches, sweeping heavenward and tempting her eyes to stray from her Book of Hours. One Sunday evening after dinner, as they discuss the magnificence of the cathedral, they arrive at a simultaneous inspiration.

‘Why don’t we commission a fine chapel,’ announces Louis, ‘to be built in the cathedral in our joint name? We shall have the arms of Sicily, Jerusalem, Aragon and Anjou carved in its vaulted archways. In it, we can house Angers’ greatest relic, a small piece of the True Cross brought here by Saint King Louis IX himself.’ And they embrace in their delight at this shared concept.

When Yolande tells Juana, her deeply religious companion is greatly impressed. ‘Oh! Madame! You do realize that once built, your chapel will be designated a
sainte-chapelle,
since it will enshrine a relic of Christ’s Passion?’ Yolande is delighted and runs to tell Louis.

Within the enormous chateau, Yolande and Louis’ two establishments run separately; hers includes quite a number of ladies and ‘women of the household’. In addition, she has a dozen young
demoiselles
, maids of honour from the noblest families in the duchy, in attendance on her. Not only is she obliged to keep these girls, but it is her role to dress them as well. The choice of fabrics allocated to her staff gives an exact indication of their status within her entourage.
How could she have managed this without the guiding hand of Louis’ mother? she thinks.

‘Your own ladies, dear Yolande, should wear silks and velvets from Italy or Paris, whereas the rest of the household wear simpler cloth in strict accordance with their positions,’ Marie de Blois instructs her.

At this time, the fashion in society is for bright colours – scarlet; pinks in tones shading from the most luminous skin colour to fierce flamingo; purples – royal or mourning; deep blue or navy; several shades of gold and strong greens of emerald or peridot. Wherever she sees ladies gathered at receptions in the neighbouring chateaux, Yolande is thrilled to see the company weaving a colour palette of rainbow brightness. She sends at once for fabrics from Paris – and a seamstress – so that she and her ladies can be fitted out appropriately at home.

Even outside Paris, ladies are fashion-conscious, and they have quite different rules and customs to those of Aragon. In France, ladies who frequent the court wear heart-shaped hollow bonnets, or
bourrelets
, covered in delicate gold gauze and often studded with pearls or precious stones, their hair mostly tucked away inside. Some of Duchess Marie’s younger ladies wear the fashionable
henin –
a tall, pointed cone, with a slight veil floating from its tip. This diaphanous veiling trails over brows and down backs, or it might be drawn modestly across a face. Hair is also tucked out of sight inside the
henin
, except for a little showing at the brow. Elegant as they are, these headdresses make entering rooms very difficult. Louis and Yolande catch one another’s eye and watch with barely suppressed glee as ladies wearing the
henin
become acrobats, twisting their heads down and sideways to get through some of the low doorways.

The early spring arrives, and with it news of a forthcoming visit from the king’s delightful brother, Louis d’Orléans and his wife Valentina. Yolande and her mother-in-law fill the state rooms with flowers – whole branches of blossom trees in places – and the royal suite is prepared for their first illustrious guests. Musicians, jesters and a splendid
trouvère
famous for his poems and songs of love have been engaged. They will have dinners and dances and ride out in the countryside. Louis tells her that his cousin and wife enjoy the chase as much as they do, especially with falcons.

Most of all, Yolande wants to get to know Valentina and make of her a friend with whom she can exchange confidences. From the moment they met at court in Paris, she felt they might share a strong bond.

‘Welcome, dear cousins, welcome,’ calls Louis as they arrive – both on horseback, although two carriages follow with their luggage. To Yolande’s surprise, they travel with very few attendants, all mounted, and just a dozen soldiers. And their own three wolfhounds.

‘My dear Valentina, you have no ladies in attendance?’ she asks in surprise – no grand lady from Aragon would travel so lightly.

‘Yes, of course I do,’ she laughs. ‘See the two young gentlemen riding astride on that pair of greys? They are really ladies who can dress my hair as well as my clothes – and my horses! I hate to be fussed over and my clothes are always as simple as possible. Is that not also your custom?’ she says with a smile.

Yes, she knows me already
, thinks Yolande.
We will be friends.
Valentina’s riding habit is superbly cut, and Yolande tells her so.

‘Ah, thank you, my dear. I brought my tailor with me from Milan and will lend him to you willingly. Now, show me our rooms and then take me around your kingdom of Angers!’ And they both laugh with the complicity of their new-found alliance.

The two cousins Louis – who both reply when addressed by either wife, since none but their family is so familiar – plainly enjoy one another’s company. Their talk is largely of the political and economic situation in the country – ‘man talk’, as Valentina puts it – while their two ladies relish finding out one another’s tastes in literature, art, music, gardens, cuisine and animals. Valentina joins Yolande in the kitchens and they discuss menus at length with Carlo and Vincenzo, the under-chefs hovering. Some culinary triumphs emerge from these sessions – and a few disasters as well, to their shared mirth.

On a brilliant spring day they ride out together on the chase. It is not too warm, with enough scent for the deerhounds, and the hunt ends at sunset with two stags at bay killed by their huntsmen. On the second day they ride out with a falcon each on their left arm to bring down game birds. They start early, their horses fresh and frisky, and it gives Yolande great pleasure to see how well Valentina rides.

‘I like your mounts, dear cousin,’ Valentina calls. ‘The Andalusian bay gelding was superb, and now this clever little Arabian stallion.’

‘I could see how well you rode and so I dared to put you on him. He is called Ismail and comes from the Barbary Coast. He is the king’s wedding gift to me and I have never allowed anyone else to ride him,’ Yolande says with pride, before they take off after the huntsmen, who have sighted their prey.

The two Louis are competitive and never stop their games, whether on horseback or in front of the fire: silly guessing games, or chess, or cards, or mimes to entertain their ladies when they are alone after dinner and the guests and musicians have left.

It is a shared sadness when Louis and Valentina leave, as they must but with firm friendships formed between them.

To their delight, Louis’ uncle, Jean of Berry, also comes to stay and accompanies Yolande when she follows her husband going about his official duties within Anjou. She walks some paces behind Louis as she should, and notes his people’s devotion to him. ‘Our good and generous duke,’ she hears from all sides with genuine appreciation. Louis is not an actor like other lords she has observed; he is sincere, and the people can see it in his eyes. Yolande finds herself admiring him more each day.

‘Uncle Jean, it makes me so proud to watch Louis in action as Anjou’s ruling duke. Since he was just a boy when his father died, was it you who taught him?’

‘Dear child – forgive me, you look very young to my old eyes – Louis’ mother, our dear Marie de Blois, was astonishing in the way she coped with both her sons, but yes, I did come to Angers and often went around his estates with him, giving him my advice on how to judge and choose people to work for him. I think I opened his eyes a little, although he quickly found his own style of governing.’