The She Wolf of France (12 page)

And Roger Mortimer had to wait until a wife had been found for the King.

But Charles IV had another, cousin-german, the daughter of
Monseigneur Louis of Evreux, now dead, and sister of Philippe of Evreux, who had been married to Jeanne of Navarre, the supposed bastard of Marguerite of Burgundy. Though lacking in beauty, this Jeanne of Evreux had a good figure, and, above all, was of an age to become a mother. Monseigneur of Valois, who was longing to resolve the difficulty, encouraged the whole Court to influence Charles in favour of this marriage. Three months after the death of Marie of Luxemburg, a new licence was asked of the Pope. And Robert of Artois, son-in-law to Charles of Valois, who was the King's uncle, himself became uncle by marriage to the Sovereign who was already his cousin, since Jean of Evreux was the daughter of his late sister Marguerite of Artois.

The marriage took place on July 5th; Four days earlier, Charles had decided on the confiscation of Aquit
aine and Ponthieu for rebellion
and failure to render homage. Pope John XXII, since he considered it his duty to intervene whenever a conflict developed between sovereigns, wrote to King Edward and pressed him to come to render homage so that at least one of the points in dispute might be resolved. But the French army was already on the march and assembling at Orleans, while a fleet was being equipped in the ports to attack the English coast.

In the meantime, the King of England had ordered levies to be made in Aquitaine, and Messire Ralph Basset was assembling his banners; the Earl of Kent was on his way back to France, but this time by sea all the way, to take up the post of Lieutenant in the duchy, to which he had been appointed by his half-brother.

Was war about to break out? Not at all.
Monseigneur of Valois had to go to Bar-sur-Aube to meet Leopold of Hapsburg about the election to the Holy Roman Empire, and conclude a treaty by which Hapsburg undertook not to come forward as a candidate, in return for a sum of money and various pensions and revenues in the event of Valois being elected Emperor. Roger Mortimer still had to wait.

Finally, on August 1st, in a crushing heat that boiled the knights in their armour as if in so many saucepans, Charles of Valois, stout, resplendent, a crest on his helmet and a surcoat of gold over his mail, had himself hoisted into the saddle. Among his entourage were his second son, the Count of Alencon, his nephew Philippe of Evreux, the King's new brother-in-law, the Constable Gaucher de Chatillon, Roger Mortimer, and finally Robert of Artois who, mounted on a horse in keeping with his own size, could overlook the whole army.

Was Monseigneur of Valois as he left for this campaign, his
second in Guyenne, a campaign he had himself desired, decided on and almost invented, pleased and happy or merely satisfied? He was none of these things. His mood was peculiarly morose, because Charles IV had refused to sign his commission as the King's Lieutenant in Aquitaine. If anyone had a right to that title, was it not Charles of Valois? And what sort of figure did he cut, when the Earl of Ke
nt, that young whippersnapper
and his nephew into the bargain!
- had been appointed to the Lieutenancy by King Edward?

One might well
wonder
what was passing through Charles the Fair's mind, and what reasons he had for his intransigent obstinacy in refusing what
w
as so clearly necessary, when he was normally incapable of making up his mind about anything at all. Indeed - and Valois had no
hesitation
in discussing it with his companions was this crowned fool, this ninny; worth all the trouble one took, to govern his kingdom for him? Would he one day also have to be provided with an heir?

The old Constable Gaucher de Chatillon, who was theoretically in command of the army since Valois had no official commission, was screwing up his saurian eyes beneath his old
-
fashioned helm. He, was rather deaf, but at seventy-four still looked well on horseback.

Roger Mortimer had bought his arms from Tolomei. His hard, bright eyes, the colour of new
steel
! gleamed
beneath
his raised visor; Since, through his King's fault, he was marching against his own country, he wore a surcoat of black velvet as a sign of mourning. He would never forget the date on which they were setting out: it was August 1st, 1324, the Feast of St Peter ad Vincula, and it was a year to the very day, since he had escaped from the Tower of London.

6. The bombards

THE RINGING of the tocsin surprised young Edmund, Earl of Kent, as lie was lying on the flagstones of a room in the castle, trying vainly to get cool. He had half undressed and was wearing only cloth breeches as he lay there with outspread arms, motionless and overcome by the Bordeaux summer. His favourite greyhound lay panting beside him. -
The dog was the first to hear the tocsin. It rose on its front legs, pointed with its nose, and laid its quivering ears back. The young Earl of Kent woke out of his doze, stretched himself, and suddenly realized that this huge clamour came from the bells of La Reole which were all wildly ringing. In an instant he was on his feet, had seized the thin cambric shirt he had thrown over a chair, and had hastily put it on.

But already there was a sound of footsteps hurrying towards his door. Messire Ralph Basset, the Seneschal, came in, followed by some local lords, the Lord of Be
rgerac, the Barons of Budos
and Mauvezin, and the Lord of Montpezat on whose account - at least he thought so and took pride in it - the war had broken out.

The Seneschal Basset was a very short man indeed; and the young Earl of Kent was surprised by his lack of inches each time he saw him. Moreover, he was as round as a barrel, for he had A prodigious appetite, and was always on the verge of losing his temper, which made his neck swell and his eyes pop.

The greyhound disliked the Seneschal and growled whenever it saw him.

`Is it a fire or the French, Messire Seneschal?' asked the Earl of Kent.

`The French, the French, Monseigneur!' cried the Seneschal, almost shocked by the question. `Come and look; you can already make them out.'

The Earl of Kent bent to gaze into a tin mirror and put his fair curls straight about his ears; then
he followed the Seneschal. In
his white shirt, open across his chest and falling loose over his belt, with neither boots nor spurs, and his head bare, he gave a curious impression of grace and intrepidity, also perhaps of a certain lack of responsibility, among these armed barons in their iron mail.

As he emerged from the keep, the huge clangour of the bells took him by surprise and the bright August sun dazzled him. The greyhound started howling.

They went up to the top of the Thomasse Tower, the great round tower which had been built by Richard Coeur de Lion. Indeed, what had that ancestor of his not built? The outer fortifications of the Tower of London, Chateau Gaillard, the Castle of La Reole . . .

The wide Garonne flowed sparkling at the foot of the almost precipitous hill, its course meandering across the great fertile plain which was bounded by the distant blue line of the Agenois hills.

`I can't make anything out,' said the Earl of Kent, who was expecting to see the French vanguard on the outskirts of the town.

`Yes, look there, Monseigneur!' someone shouted above the noise of the tocsin. `By the river, upstream, towards SainteBazeille!'

Screwing up Ibis eyes and shading them, with his hand, the Earl of Kent was finally able to make out a glittering ribbon advancing parallel to the river. He was told it was the reflection of the sum on breastplates and horse-armour,

The din of the bells was still making the air quiver. The ringers' arms must have been exhausted; Below, the population of the town was hurrying to and fro, swarming in the streets and particularly about the town hall, How small men seemed when observed from the battlements of a Citadel! Mere insects. Frightened peasants were crowding down the roads leading to the town, some dragging a cow along, some driving goats before them, some goading their ox-teams. Everyone was flying from the fields; and soon the people from the neighbouring villages would start arriving, their belongings on their backs or heaped in carts. And the whole crowd of them would have to find what lodging they could in a town already overpopulated by the troops and knights of Guyenne.

'We shall be unable to make any proper estimate of the numbers of the French for another two hours,, and they won't be under the walls before nightfall,' the Seneschal said:

`Oh, it's a bad time of
year for making
war,' said the Lord of Bergerac peevishly, for he had bad to fly before the French advance from Sainte-Foy-la-Grande a few days earlier.

`Why is it a bad time of year?' asked the Earl of Kent, pointing to the clear sky and the smiling countryside below.

It was rather hot, of course, but wasn't that better than rain and mud? Had these people of Aquitaine been in the Scottish wars, they might have complained less.

`Because it's the grape harvest, Monseigneur,' said the Lord of Montpezat. `The villeins will be aghast to see their vines trampled, underfoot, and they'll blame us. The Count of Valois knows very well what he's doing; he did the same in 1294; ravaged the whole country to wear it down the more quickly.'

The Earl of Kent shrugged his shoulders. The Bordeaux country would not be affected by the loss of a few barrels, and war or no war, one would still be able to go on drinking claret. An unexpected little b
reeze was blowing about the top
of the
Thomasse Tower; it entered the young prince's open shirt and played agreeably over his skin. How marvellous it felt merely to be alive!

The Earl of Kent placed his elbows on the warm stone of the battlements and allowed himself to dream:, At twenty-three, he was the King's Lieutenant for the whole duchy, that is to say invested with all the royal powers; justice, war, finance. In his own person he was the King himself, It was he who said: `I will it' and who was obeyed. He could give the order: `Hang him!' Not that he was thinking of giving any such order, but he had the power to do so., And then, above all, he was far from England,. far from the Court, far from his half-brother and his whims, angers and suspicions, far from the -Despensers, with whom he had of necessity to pretend to be on good terms, though he hated them. Here he was on his own, his own
master,
and master of all he
surveyed. An army was
coming to meet him, but he would charge it and defeat it, there could be no doubt of that. An astrologer had told him that he would accomplish his greatest actions and achieve renown between the ages of twenty-four and twenty-six. His childhood dreams were suddenly coming true. A g
reat plain, an army, sovereign
power No, indeed, he had never
felt happier in his life.
His head
was swimming
a little with an intoxication which was entirely due to his own- feelings, and to the breeze playing over his chest, t
he vastness of the horizon.

`Your orders, Monseigneur?' asked Messire Basset, who was becoming impatient.

The Earl of Kent turned and looked at, the little Seneschal with a shade of haughty astonishment.

`My orders?' he repeated.' `Have the busines
18
sounded, of course, Messire Seneschal, and get your people to horse. We
shall go out to meet them
and charge.'

'
But what with, Monseigneur?'

'Good God, with our troops, Basset!'

`Monseigneur, we have barely two hundred, here, and there are more than fifteen hundred coming against us according to the figures in our possession. Is that not correct, Messire de Bergerac?'

Reginald de Pons de Bergerac nodded agreement. The little
Seneschal's neck was redder and more swollen than ever; he was
aghast and on the verge of exploding at such imprudence.

`Have we no news of reinforcements?' asked the Earl of Kent. `No, Monseigneur, still nothing. The King your brother, if
you will forgive my saying so, is letting us down badly.'

They had been waiting for these long-heralded reinforcements from England for four weeks. And the Constable of Bordeaux, who had troops, made a pretext of their failure to arrive for not moving himself, for he had received an order from King Edward to march when the reinforcements had disembarked. The young Earl of Kent was not so much a sovereign as it might appear.

Owing to the delay
and the consequent lack of men
who could tell if the promised reinforcements had even been shipped? - they had been unable to prevent Monseigneur of Valois strolling across the countryside, from Agen to Marmande and from Bergerac to Duras, as if in a pleasure park. And now that Uncle Valois was in sight, with his long ribbon of steel, there was still nothing that could be done about it.

`Is that also your advice, Montpezat?' asked the Earl of Kent.

`I fear so, Monseigneur, I very much fear so,' replied the Lord of Montpezat, chewing his black moustaches.

For he was obsessed with a longing for revenge. As a reprisal for his disobedience, Valois had ordered his castle to be demolished.

`And you, Bergerac?' Kent asked again.

`It makes me weep with rage,' said Pons de Bergerac with that strong, sing-song accent that was common to all the minor lords of the region.

Edmund of Kent did not bother to ask the Barons of Budos and Fargues de Mauvezin for their opinions; for they could speak neither French nor English, but only Gascon, and Kent could not understand a word they said. In any case, their expressions were sufficient answer.

`Very well then, close the gates, Messire Seneschal, and make dispositions for a siege. And when the reinforcements do arrive, they'll take the French in the rear, and perhaps that wil
l be better still,
said the Earl of Kent, trying to console himself.