Текст книги "The Red Rose of Anjou"

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

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‘Yes?’ she asked eagerly.

‘I could call a truce...say for six months.’

Six months’ respite! she thought. That was something.

She would accept that for she could see she could get nothing more from her cousin.

###

Isabelle returned to her family. Six months. It was a very short time and what could she hope to achieve?

But she was not the woman to sit down and brood. There must be some action she could take and when she had decided what was the best thing to do she would do it.

Then the idea came to her. René had shown friendship to King Charles. He had gone to Orléans at the time of the siege and had taken with him a troop of men to fight for the town—a small one it was true but it had been all that he could muster and Charles had known that and been grateful. He had assisted at the coronation. He had always been loyal to the King and now that the country was emerging a little from the English yoke perhaps Charles would do something for René and his family.

She would go to the King.

She called Theophanie to her and told her that she planned to make a trip to Vienne in Dauphine where the Court was at this time.

‘I shall need time to get the children ready,’ said Theophanie.

‘You are not coming, Theophanie, nor are the children...except the girls.’

Theophanie stared at Isabelle in amazement. ‘You are taking the little girls, my lady?’ she said. ‘Why my lady Margaret is only two years old.’

‘I know well her age, Theophanie, but I am taking her and Yolande and I want you to look after the boys while we are gone.’

‘Of a certainty my boys will be safe with me but have you thought, my lady, that it is no easy task to take two little girls...no more than babies...on such a long journey?’

‘I have considered and decided,’ said Isabelle coldly. She was not so much inclined to accept Theophanie’s familiarity as René was. Theophanie had not been her nurse. And, Isabelle often thought, it was time she was reminded that she was no longer René’s. But she was so good with the children and Isabelle really could trust them with her. René’s mother had said that Theophanie was an excellent nurse and it was wise to keep such people in the family.

‘The point is,’ went on Isabelle, ‘that I shall need someone to look after Yolande and Margaret and I have decided to take Agnès.’

‘Oh, Agnès is a good girl. You’ll not be disappointed in her. It’s the poor little mites I’m thinking of...going all that way...’

‘There is no need to concern yourself with them. Find Agnès and send her to me. I will tell her what preparations she should make.’

Isabelle went back to her chamber. She wondered what good it would do. It must do something. She was pinning her hopes on the King’s gentle nature and the possibility that he would be moved by the sight of Yolande and little Margaret. They were such charming children.

Agnès came to her. A beautiful graceful creature, Isabelle thought. And useful in the household, Theophanie had said.

‘Agnès,’ said Isabelle, ‘we are going on a journey. Did Theophanie tell you?’

‘She mentioned something. I was not very clear about it.’

Isabelle decided to explain to this serene and sensible girl.

‘You know the terrible plight of my lord René,’ she said. ‘He is the prisoner of the Duke of Burgundy. I am going to the King to ask him to help me.’

‘Oh, my lady. I do hope that he will.’

‘I shall talk to him and explain and try and persuade him. It is a hope...perhaps a forlorn one...but I think the sight of my two little girls without a father might move him to act. But I must hope, Agnès. Our situation here is desperate. Now I want you to come with us and help look after the children.’

‘With the greatest pleasure I will do that, my lady.’

‘I thought so, Agnès. Now you must make your preparations.’

Agnès listened. So she was to go to Court. She would perhaps see the King and Queen. She had thought so much about Charles at the time of the coronation and how the Maid had been so loyally devoted to him. She could not believe he was really as unattractive and as helpless as people represented him to be.

At last she would see for herself.

‘You’re dreaming, Agnès,’ said Isabelle sharply. ‘I suppose like most girls you want to go to Court. I can tell you ours will be a somewhat sombre visit and I doubt that even now the Court will be the least bit what you imagine it will be.’

Agnès was thoughtful. ‘I shall be prepared for anything,’ she answered.

###

So they set out.

It was an exhausting journey, but the children, under Agnès’s supervision, were too excited by the novelty of everything to complain.

In due course they reached the Court and Isabelle had no difficulty in gaining an audience with the King. Charles was depressed. He was recognized as the King at last after that miraculous crowning at Rheims, but events had not moved very fast since then.

He was so tired of everything. He almost wished he were a country nobleman and could retire to his estates and have done with all the troubles which surrounded him.

Joan of Arc was on his conscience, and often that strange episode would intrude on his thoughts and try as he might he could not forget her. Luxembourg, Burgundy’s man, had captured her and had sold her to the English. It was the English who had burned her as a witch but his remorse must be as great if not greater than theirs—for he had done nothing to save her. He should have fought with all his might... and he had turned away. He had rejected her; he had tried to tell himself that she was after all some sort of witch.

He hated war. Bloodshed was revolting. He had to admit it brought gain to some. He thought of Harry of England at Agincourt. But where was Harry of England now? And if the war had brought misery to France how had England fared? They were still struggling for the crown of France. They were groaning under taxation to pay for the war and there was many a widow in England mourning her husband, and children grieving for a father who had gone to France and would never return.

Oh for peace! thought Charles.

And now here was Isabelle of Anjou come to ask something from him. He was sorry for René. He liked René. He was especially fond of René’s mother who was his own mother-in-law. She was one of the most enlightened and interesting women he knew. He found pleasure in her society and regarded her advice with a greater respect than that which he felt for many of his ministers. Yes, he would like to have helped Isabelle. But how could he, against Burgundy? How he hated Burgundy. Burgundy was the bogey of his life.

Her little girls were adorable. Isabelle was a beautiful woman and she pleaded most eloquently, but as he had told his mother-in-law Yolande, there was nothing he could do against Burgundy. The Duke’s resources were far greater than his own; and much as he would like to he could hardly involve even what he had in a private quarrel between two families.

He was desperately sorry. He would have liked to help. Yolande understood. Isabelle must.

Oh, what a wearying business it was being King of a country that was in such a dire state as France was at this time!

He liked to walk alone in the gardens about the castle. One day as he sat down under a tree brooding in his melancholy way, he saw a girl. She was walking through the gardens and stopping now and then to admire the flowers. He watched her for a few moments before she was aware of him. She was unlike any other girl he had known. She was of the Court he supposed but he had never seen her before. He would have remembered if he had, because there was something so distinctive about her.

He called: ‘Well a day, my lady. Are you enjoying the gardens as I am?’

She paused and smiled at him.

‘They are very beautiful, my lord.’

It occurred to him that she could not know who he was because she showed no sign of the great honour he did her by speaking to her.

‘Would you care to sit awhile and talk?’ he said.

She came and sat beside him. The purity of her features startled him. He admired beauty, he admired women. He guessed by her clothes that she was not a lady of high rank. She could not be for if she was he would surely know her. She was not a serving-woman either. His adventures with women had been many. He had never hesitated to indulge himself, and because of that sense of inferiority which his mother had inspired in him those of the lowly kind attracted him. With them he had been able to feel superior. He despised himself and often wished he did not know himself so well. This was different though. He admired her beauty but had no desire for a quick seduction this day and to forget her by tomorrow.

‘I have not seen you at the Court before,’ he said.

‘It is not surprising since I am lately come,’ she answered.

‘And what think you of it?’

‘It is a sad Court in a way. The threat of the English invaders hangs over it still.’

‘Ah yes,’ he sighed. ‘But it has improved has it not? In the last two years there has been change.’

‘A slow change,’ said Agnès.

‘And you think it should be quicker?’

‘But of course, my lord.’

‘The King should bestir himself, you think?’

‘Aye, that he should. He should rid himself of ministers who impede him, and act for himself.’

‘You are not of the Court, but lately come, you say, yet you tell the King’s minsters how they should act.’

‘Not his ministers. But I think the King should rouse himself. He should take the governing of the country in hand. He should be a King in truth.’

‘Which he is not at the moment?’

‘As you said I am a simple girl from the country, but I listen, I think; and I know what has happened. We had a brief glory when the Maid came and drove the besiegers from Orléans and had the Dauphin made King at Rheims...and then...’

‘Yes, my lady, and then?’

‘Then it stopped.’

‘There were no more miracles, you mean. The Maid lost her powers and then the English burned her as a witch.’

‘They should never have been allowed to.’

‘Nay, you speak truth there. And do you think that is why God no longer seems on the side of the French?’

‘He is not on the side of the English either.’

‘In fact He has shut the gates of Heaven and is leaving us to our own devices.’

‘I think...’

‘Yes, my lady, what do you think?’

‘I think that God would help France again if France helped herself

She stood up.

‘So you are going now?’

‘Yes, I must return to my charges.’

‘Who are your charges?’

‘The children of the Duchess of Lorraine. Yolande and Margaret.’

‘So you are in that lady’s train. Shall you be in the gardens tomorrow?’

She looked at him steadily.

‘I would be here, if you wished it.’

‘That is gracious of you.’

She laughed then. ‘Nay, all would say it is gracious of you. I know who you are. Sire.’

He was amazed. She had not behaved as though in the presence of the King. And all the time she had known him!

She was quite unabashed by her own temerity. ‘I have known you long,’ she said. ‘I thought of you often...during the difficult days. I should have been very happy to have been at Rheims on the day they crowned you.’

‘You are a strange girl,’ he said. ‘What is your name?’

‘It is Agnès Sorel.’

‘Agnès Sorel,’ he repeated. ‘I have enjoyed our talk. I shall see you again.’

###

She saw him again. He was attracted by her. She was in the first place outstandingly beautiful, and in a serene way, quite different from the flamboyant beauties of his Court. She cared about the country. That was what amazed him. There was no sign of coquetry. She must have thought him extremely ugly, which he undoubtedly was, and old too, for he appeared to be older than his years and she was very young. He was astonished by how much she knew of the country’s affairs.

By the end of the second meeting he was more fascinated than he had been at the first. Her frank manner, her complete indifference to his royalty enchanted him. He could not stop looking at her. He discovered she was more beautiful every time he saw her. But chiefly he discovered a peace in her company which he had never known before.

He talked to the woman he admired more than any other. She was his mother-in-law Yolande of Anjou who was a frequent visitor at the Court and who had been one of his closest friends ever since he had known her. He was closer to her than to his wife. He was in fact glad that he had married Marie because the marriage had brought him Yolande.

‘Do you know the young girl who travelled in your daughter-in-law’s train? She is in charge of the little girls.’

‘Oh, Agnès, you mean. She’s a delightful creature is she not?’

He was relieved that his mother-in-law shared his views.

‘I find her so,’ he said.

‘You have made her acquaintance...personally then?’

‘Yes. But not as you might think. She is not the sort of girl for a quick encounter today and to be forgotten tomorrow.’

‘I would agree with that.’

‘Her conversation is amazing in one who has lived her life in the country.’

‘She has a bright intelligence and a rather unusual beauty.’

‘That was my opinion.’

‘Have you...plans concerning this girl?’

The King was silent.

‘I find myself thinking of her often but not...in the usual way.’

‘I see,’ said Yolande thoughtfully. She was thinking that it would be good for him to have a mistress of good reputation. If Charles were ever going to win the respect of his people he would have to change. He would have to develop confidence in himself; he would have to act more forcefully; he would have to be extricated from ministers whose one aim was to enrich themselves. He was fond of women; he listened to women. Yolande regarded that as a virtue. She believed that if Charles could be surrounded by wise people, if he could be aroused from his lethargy, if it could be brought home to him that he had the makings of a great monarch in him, he could become one.

She went on thoughtfully: ‘I think the girl would be an asset to our Court. She has a certain grace. I noticed it myself. She could become a member of Marie’s household. I will speak to her.’

‘As always you are my very good friend.’

‘Leave it to me,’ said Yolande.

It may have seemed strange, she ruminated, that she should introduce into her daughter’s household a young girl who was very likely destined to become the King’s mistress. But Yolande was far-seeing. How much better for the King to have one good woman to whom he was devoted than a succession of furtive fumblings with serving girls which was ruining his health in any case as well as undermining his dignity. Yolande looking into the future could see the day arrive when Charles could be a great King. She must therefore allow no obstacles to stand in his way. He needed guidance until he found the way he must go; and he would succeed, Yolande believed. She knew men; she knew how to govern; she herself had acted as Regent of Anjou for her eldest son Louis who was in Naples trying to keep hold of the crown there. In her wisdom she believed that Charles needed as many steadying influences as could be found. And it seemed to her that this beautiful and wise young girl could well be one of them. She could mould Agnès, become her friend. Charles was not the only one who sensed rare qualities in this girl. It was worth giving the matter a try.

Isabelle, realizing that no help could be obtained from the King, prepared to return to the palace in Nancy where her own mother was in charge.

When she went she left Agnès Sorel behind. Agnès had become Maid of Honour to the Queen of France.

###

Meanwhile René was finding a certain amount of enjoyment in captivity. He had never been one to care for battles. His position forced him into a situation which his inclination would have been to avoid if there had been a choice. Yolande had seen that he had been brought up to reverence the laws of chivalry, and these often made heavy demands on a man.

However, at Dijon, he had leisure and he was free of making war. The laws of chivalry demanded that he must be treated with the utmost respect which resulted in the fact that, strictly confined as he was, he was more of a guest at Dijon than a prisoner.

Although he was closely guarded he could go where he liked within the castle and he found pleasure in the chapel where there was a great deal of glass some of which had been decorated with exquisite paintings. René was a painter of some ability; he was also a poet and a musician; how often had he deplored his inability to devote himself to these activities which he loved. Now here was a chance. He had so much admired the paintings in the chapel that he would like to paint on glass himself. Glass was found for him and paints provided and in a short time René was passing the days of his captivity in a very pleasant fashion.

Time flew. He had completed a portrait of the late Duke John of Burgundy, who had been known as the Fearless; and so pleased was he with it that he did another of the Duke’s son, the present Duke Philip.

He then painted miniatures of other members of the family and looked forward to each day when he could continue with his work.

When he heard that the Duke of Burgundy had announced his intention of visiting Dijon he scarcely heard the news; he was so intent on getting the right texture for the hair of the subject of one of his paintings.

Duke Philip arrived and expecting to find an abject René of Anjou begging for his release was surprised to find the captive intent on his work.

The Duke looked at the painting. ‘Why it is beautiful,’ he said. ‘I had no idea you were an artist.’

‘Oh,’ said René modestly, ‘it passes the time.’

He talked of the way he mixed his paints and the subjects who pleased him most.

‘You seem to have found an agreeable way in which to spend your captivity,’ said the Duke.

‘An artist,’ explained René, ‘can never truly become the captive of anything but his own imagination.’

‘So an artist can be content wherever he is.’

‘While engaged in the act of creation most certainly.’

‘It seems to me you do not find all this in the least irksome.’

‘At times, yes. I should like to be with my family. My children are growing up, you know, and it is always a joy to see them changing. But while I paint my work engrosses me. It is so with artists.’

The Duke was amazed. There could not be a man less like himself. It was not that the Duke was not a highly cultured man. He was. He loved beautiful things, but first and foremost he was the Duke of Burgundy and his main object in life was to uphold his power and increase it.

But he was greatly impressed by René’s work and when he saw the pictures which his prisoner had painted of Duke John and himself he declared that they were very fine indeed and should be placed in the window of the chapel.

‘You embarrass me,’ he said. I do not care to hold an artist such as you captive.’

‘There is an easy remedy for that,’ said René with a smile. ‘Let me go free.’

‘Now you know that is not possible. There are conventions to be observed in matters like this. If I freed you without conditions I should have every prisoner I take claiming to be an artist.’

‘That is a matter, my lord Duke, which could be put to the test.’

‘The appreciation of great art is an individual matter. I should be told that my prisoner was a great artist but of a different school from that which I admired. You see my difficulties.’

‘I do, my lord.’

‘On the other hand,’ said the Duke, ‘I would discuss terms with you. You were captured in battle. The dispute over Lorraine has to be settled. Who has the prior claim—you as husband of Isabelle or Antoine de Vaudémont! Are we to enforce the Salic Law or not? I can see an easy settlement to that dispute.’

‘I should be glad to know it.’

‘You have a daughter, have you not?’

‘Two. Yolande and Margaret.’

‘It is of the elder I would speak.’

‘That is Yolande.’

‘My dear man, Antoine has a son, young Ferri. Why should not these two be betrothed? In time Antoine’s son and your daughter would inherit Lorraine. Would you agree to that? I ask you this, but at the same time I must remind you that you will remain a prisoner until you do.’

‘It seems a fair enough solution,’ said René.

‘Then that will settle the main dispute. But naturally there must be a ransom. Certain castles shall we say?’

‘Which?’ asked René.

‘Clermont, Chatille, Bourmont and Charmes?’

‘You strike a hard bargain.’

‘And twenty thousand gold crowns.’

‘Twenty thousand gold crowns! Where shall I find them?’

‘You will have time to find the money. I should advise you to agree. Ransoms have a habit of increasing with the years. I am being lenient. You must admit. It is because of the respect I have for an artist.’

When the Duke had gone René considered the matter. He wanted to be with his family. He longed to see the children. It was true that little Yolande would doubtless be expected to join the Vaudémonts. Well, that was the sort of thing that happened to girls.

He agreed and very soon after was speeding on his way to join his family.

###

After René had been warmly greeted by his family both Isabelle and her mother considered the terms of his release and declared that they were very harsh.

In the nursery, Theophanie was fuming.

‘A nice state of affairs,’ she said. ‘A little mite like my Yolande to go off and live with strangers. Her cousins they may be, but it’s not right. It’s not right at all. And Agnès. Who would have believed that? A Maid of Honour eh, to the Queen. I reckon she’ll be pining for her nice place in my nurseries before very long. Agnès at Court! I can’t see it. I can’t see it at all.’

But the real tragedy was of course the departure of Yolande.

It was a mercy, she muttered to herself, that the child was so young...too young to realize. She was only four years old, poor mite. She was asking a great many questions about her new home.

‘As if I could tell her,’ mourned Theophanie.

Margaret looked on with wide eyes. ^

‘Why is Yolande going away?’

‘Because she’s going to be betrothed.’

‘What is betrothed?’

‘Married, in time.’

Theo, shall I be betrothed?’

‘You certainly will, my lamb.’

‘Is it a good thing to be?’

‘It’s sometimes very good...for others,’ added Theophanie bitterly.

The boys were interested. ‘You’ll have to go one day, Margaret,’ they taunted her.

Yolande was half sorrowful, half proud. She was after all the centre of the activity. She had to have new clothes and was given special lessons on how to behave.

It was particularly hard that she should have to go now that their father was home. When Margaret pointed this out to Theophanie she said somewhat mysteriously: ‘Well, it’s just because...’

And try as she might Margaret could get no more out of her.

In due course Yolande went away and Margaret missed her very much although her father was with them again and that made life very pleasant. He had changed. There was a scar on the left side of his forehead which was where the arrow had struck when he had been captured by the Maréchal de Toulongeon which was the reason why Yolande was no longer with them.

René was very different from their mother. He liked to be with them. He would paint and sing and read poetry and that was very interesting. He talked to them all about how he had been captured and had painted on glass in the Château of Dijon; he was entirely frank with them and he was giving them all an interest in music and poetry.

‘It is well enough,’ said the Dowager Duchess Margaret who was with them. ‘They will be cultivated; but we must not forget that they must learn other things besides an appreciation of the arts.’

Margaret was fond of her son-in-law but she was now and then exasperated with his attitude. He was a considerable artist it was true; his poetry and music gave pleasure to the entire household and even the youngest pages would listen entranced when René sang his own compositions in the great hall after dinner.

‘But what of this ransom?’ demanded the Dowager Duchess of her daughter. ‘Fine poetry and paintings are not going to pay that, are they? And will Burgundy wait much longer?’

There was an additional disaster. The Maréchal de Toulongeon had added his claims to those of his master Burgundy.

He was the one who had actually captured René. He was therefore claiming a further eighteen thousand crowns as his share of the ransom.

‘There you are,’ said the Dowager Duchess. ‘Time is passing and nothing is being done.’

‘I don’t think René gives it a thought,’ said Isabelle. ‘He is so happy to be here with his family and to pursue those pleasures which are such a delight to him.’

‘In that way he is merely putting off the evil day. It is more than two years since he returned and nothing has been done except to send Yolande to the Vaudémonts. Believe me, Burgundy will not wait much longer and now that Toulongeon is adding his demands René will find himself in great difficulties. Something must be done.’

‘I will speak to René,’ said Isabelle.

Margaret shook her head. ‘That is no use. I will speak to the Emperor of Germany.’

‘Sigismund?’

‘Why not. He has great power. He might be able to persuade Burgundy to be more moderate. There is just a possibility that Burgundy would listen to him.’

‘It is worth trying,’ said Isabelle. ‘No harm can be done.’

The more the Dowager Duchess considered this the more pleased she was with the idea. She would send messages to the Emperor who, as he was her brother-in-law, could scarcely refuse to help her. She was getting old, she said, but thank God she could still make decisions.

‘On the day I could not do that,’ she told her daughter, ‘I would wish to depart this life.’

‘My dearest mother,’ said Isabelle, ‘you have always been a woman of power. Sometimes I think the women of our family should have been the ones to govern. Everywhere we are cursed by this ridiculous Salic Law.’

‘It is an added obstacle for us to overcome, my dear. Now we will see what Sigismund can do for us with Burgundy.’

It was some time before she discovered. The messengers had to reach Sigismund and he had to decide how to act. He wanted to help and sent messengers to the great Duke to tell him that he considered the terms he had arranged with René were too harsh. They must in the name of reason be modified. He knew the state of René’s affairs and that he was not in a position to meet demands such as the Duke had made.

A few months passed. The pleasant life continued. René asked nothing more than to be with his sons and Little daughter; and his only regret was that Little Yolande had had to go away. He could blissfully forget that he must find the ransom and that Burgundy’s patience might be getting exhausted.

The Dowager Duchess was feeling very pleased with herself. She had received a message from Sigismund to say that he would do all he could to make Burgundy see reason and had already approached him. She was congratulating herself on her ability to solve her son-in-law’s problems far better than he could himself when she had an unpleasant shock. Emissaries from the Duke of Burgundy arrived at Nancy.

Their message was that the Duke was incensed that René should have had the temerity to appeal to Sigismund. As for the Emperor, he would do well to mind his business. As a result of this meddling, Burgundy would negotiate no longer. René must return to captivity and this time bring his two sons with him as hostages.

René was astounded. He did not know what Burgundy meant.

He expressed his bewilderment to his wife and mother-in-law. I do not understand what Burgundy is talking about,’ he said. ‘Sigismund! What has he to do with it?’

The Dowager Duchess had turned pale. She put her hand to her heart. Isabelle laid an arm about her shoulders and whispered: ‘You must not upset yourself It is bad for you. You were only trying to help. René will understand.’

Margaret shook her head. ‘It is my fault,’ she said. ‘Oh René, how can you forgive me? I could not bear to see you doing nothing and it was I who asked Sigismund to help.’

‘Ah,’ said René slowly. ‘I see now what has maddened Burgundy.’ He shrugged. ‘You must not reproach yourself, my lady. I know all you did, you did for me and Isabelle. Well, it is an end to our life here at Nancy but only for a while. All will be well in time.’

‘René,’ said Isabelle, ‘stay and fight. Let us see if we can defeat this arrogant Duke.’

‘With what?’ asked René. ‘We cannot pit ourselves against him. I must perforce go and take the boys with me.’

‘René...stay. Let us find some means...’

But he shook his head. ‘The laws of chivalry demand that I honour my commitments. I was taken in fair battle; I must therefore pay the ransom demanded or remain a prisoner.’

They could see that it was impossible—he being René—for him to take any course but the honourable one.

‘When you take the boys with you,’ said Isabelle, ‘there will only be little Margaret left to me.’

René took her face in his hands and kissed her.

‘She is a beautiful child. You will find great comfort in her.’

Within a few days Isabelle, with little Margaret on one side and the Dowager Duchess on the other, waved goodbye to René as he rode off into captivity.

###

It was a sorrowful household. The Dowager Duchess was wrapped in gloom. She could not forget that she had brought this about and she could not forgive herself.

‘Sometimes I think,’ she told her daughter, ‘it is better to be as René. He reviews his captivity with calm and without shame. If they will supply him with paints he will be happy.’

‘Dear Mother,’ replied Isabelle, ‘you must stop grieving. You are making yourself ill. You were right to do all you could. Who would have believed that Burgundy would be so angry that he takes his revenge in this way?’

‘I think Sigismund must have approached him without tact. I should have thought of that. But for me René would be here now and although you are poor and without the means to extricate him from this humiliating position, at least you were together.’

There was nothing Isabelle could do to comfort her mother. Each day the Dowager Duchess grew more pale, wan and listless. Her appetite had deserted her and she could not sleep at night thinking about the havoc her interference had caused.

When August came it was stiflingly hot and she was obliged to take to her bed. Within a few days Isabelle had grown really anxious. The old lady had lost that tremendous verve which had made her seem immortal and because she had lost it, Isabelle knew that she was very ill indeed.