The Strangled Queen

by Maurice Druon

  ‘The difficulty will be to persuade the King,’ said Valois, ‘because at the moment he is infatuated with Marigny and also with his brother, the Archbishop, through whom he expects to get a Pope.’

  ‘As far as the Archbishop is concerned, you need have no fears,’ replied the banker. ‘I have him in the. hollow of my hand and I will tell you how when the moment arrives.’

  When Tolomei had left, Artois said to Valois, ‘That fellow is decidedly cleverer than we are.’

  ‘Cleverer … cleverer …’ murmured Valois. ‘What you mean is that he puts in his precise merchant’s language what we had already thought.’

  And for the second time they obeyed the instructions which were given them by the powers of finance. Messire Spinello Tolomei, with the ten thousand pounds for which he had made himself guarantor with his Italian colleagues, was allowing himself the luxury of ruling France.

  But it took nearly two months to convince The Hutin. In vain did Valois repeat to his nephew, ‘Remember, Louis, your father’s last words. Remember that he said to you, “Get to know the state of your kingdom as soon as possible.” Well, by convoking all the provosts and receivers, you will learn the state. And our sainted ancestor, whose name you bear, also gives you an example, for he held a great inquiry of this kind in the year ’47.’

  Marigny approved such an assembly in principle, but he did not think that the time was ripe for it. He always had a good reason for deferring it, justly objecting that a moment when the country was in a state of upheaval was not the time to withdraw all the King’s agents from their posts at once and cast suspicion upon their administration.

  However, the central authority was no longer solid, and it had to be recognized that there were two factions in France which were opposed, at variance and mutually destructive. Torn between these two parties, ill-informed, no longer knowing what was calumny and what reliable information, by nature incapable of clearly making up his mind, sometimes according his confidence to the left, sometimes to the right, Louis X never made a decision unless he was forced to, and thought that he governed when in fact he did no more than obey.

  There was still no tiara looming in the sky above Avignon, where Marigny had put up candidates who made no progress against Cardinal Duèze.

  At last, on March 19th, 1315, yielding to the violence of the baronial leagues, Louis X, upon the advice of the majority of his Council, signed the charter for the Norman lords, which was shortly to be followed by the charters for those of Languedoc, Burgundy, Picardy and Chartres in Champagne. These charters restored tournaments, private wars and gauges of battle. It was once more permitted for gentlemen ‘to fight each other, to ride, to come and go, and to carry arms.’ The nobility regained their freedom to divide up lands and create new vassals without having to refer to the King. Nobles could no longer be arraigned except before their peers. The Sergeants-at-Arms and the King’s Provosts could no longer arrest criminals or directly indict them without first referring to the lord of the region. The middle classes and freed peasants could no longer, except in a few cases, leave the lands of their lords in order to claim the King’s justice.

  Finally, in the matter of military subsidies and the recruitment of troops, the barons reacquired a certain independence which allowed them to decide if they wished or not to take part in a national war, and how much they wished to contribute towards it.

  Marigny and Valois, for once agreed, had succeeded in placing at the end of these charters a vague formula concerning the supreme royal authority and all that ‘by ancient custom belonged to the sovereign prince and to no other.’ This formula, in law, would have permitted a strong central power to annul everything that had been ceded clause by clause. But both in spirit and in fact all the institutions of the Iron King were destroyed. And The Hutin, inspired by Valois, countered with ‘Saint Louis’ whenever anyone mentioned ‘Philip the Fair’.

  Marigny, who had fought to the end to defend the work of sixteen years of his life, said upon that particular day, as he left the Council, that they had laid the foundations for great trouble in the land.

  At the same time the Assembly of all the provosts, treasurers and receivers was called for the middle of April; special investigating officers, called ‘reformers’, were sent out; and when it became a question of where to hold the Assembly, Charles of Valois proposed Vincennes in memory of the King-Saint.

  On the appointed day Louis X, his peers, his barons, his Council, the great officers of the Crown and the members of the Exchequer, came in state to the manor of Vincennes. They made an imposing procession which brought the people to their doors, while urchins, following, cried, ‘Long live the King!’ in the hope of a handful of sugar-plums. It had been bruited abroad that the King was to judge the tax-collectors, and nothing could have given the populace a keener pleasure. It was a warm April day and light clouds floated high above the forest trees. A true springtime in which hope might burgeon; if famine were still abroad, cold at least was over, and people told each other that the next harvest would be a good one if Jack Frost did not scorch the young corn.

  The Assembly was held in the open air near the royal manor. There had been some difficulty in deciding which was Saint Louis’s oak, since there were so many of them about. Some two hundred receivers, treasurers and provosts were regimented there, for the most part sitting on wooden benches, some cross-legged on the ground.

  Under a canopy embroidered with the arms of France the young King, a crown upon his head, sceptre in hand, was seated upon a faudesteuil, a sort of fold-stool deriving from the chair of State which, from the origins of the French monarchy, served as the sovereign’s throne when he was travelling. The arms of Louis X’s faudesteuil were carved with the heads of greyhounds and the seat consisted of a red silk cushion. On each side of the King, the peers and barons were assembled and the members of the Exchequer sat behind trestle-tables. One after another the Royal functionaries were called up, carrying their account-books, together with the ‘reformers’ who had been placed in charge of their particular districts. The work of checking threatened to become extremely boring and Louis X, taking the proceedings patiently, was distracting himself by counting the wood-pigeons flying about the trees.

  It was not long before it became clear that the accounts in nearly every case showed lavish squandering and traces of dishonesty and embezzlement, particularly during the immediately preceding months, since the death of Philip the Fair, and during the period when Marigny’s authority had been undermined.

  A certain excitement began to ripple among the ranks of the barons, and among the functionaries a certain fear. When it came to the turn of the Provosts and Receivers of Taxes for the region of Montfort-l’Amaury, Neauphle, Dourdan and Dreux, upon whom Tolomei had furnished the most precise evidences of guilt to the ‘reformers’, there were marked signs of anger from those in the King’s neighbourhood. But the most indignant of the lords was Marigny, who showed his fury the most clearly. Suddenly his voice drowned all others, and he harangued his subordinates with a violence which made them bend their heads. He demanded restitution and promised punishment. Suddenly Monseigneur of Valois, rising to his feet, interrupted him.

  ‘You are playing a fine part for our benefit, Messire Enguerrand,’ he cried, ‘but shouting so loudly at these scoundrels will do you no good, because they are the very men whom you have placed in these positions, they are devoted to you, and it is clear that you have shared their loot.’

  Such absolute silence followed upon this declaration that a dog could be heard barking in the neighbouring countryside. The Hutin did not know where to look; he had not been expecting an accusation of this kind.

  Everyone held his breath as Marigny advanced upon Charles of Valois.

  ‘Me, Monseigneur,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Me, have you dared to accuse me? If a single one of this riff-raff’ (he indicated with his open hand the assembled receivers of taxes) ‘if a single one of these bad servants of the kingdom can come out and
affirm upon his conscience, swear upon his oath, that he has paid me any bribe, or given me the least part of his receipts, let him come forward.’

  Then, pushed forward by Robert of Artois’s great hand, a man advanced, trembling, short-armed, round of face, and with a hideous birthmark at the corner of his eyebrow.

  ‘Who are you? What have you go to say? Do you want to be hanged?’ asked Marigny.

  Master Portefruit stayed silent, though he had been well briefed, first by Guccio, then by the Count of Dreux, Lord of Montfort, and finally by Robert of Artois into whose presence he had been brought the day before. His life was to be spared, and even the profits he had amassed, upon condition that he brought false witness against Marigny. ‘Well, what have you got to say?’ Valois asked in his turn. ‘Do not be afraid of confessing the truth, because our well-loved King is here to listen and render justice.’

  Portefruit went down on one knee before Louis X and, spreading wide his arms, said in so feeble a voice that there was difficulty in hearing him, ‘Sire, I am most culpable, but I was compelled to act as I have by the secretary of Monseigneur de Marigny, who each year demanded a quarter of the taxes for the benefit of his master.’

  Marigny kicked the Provost of Montfort aside with his foot, and the latter, having accomplished his filthy business, hastened to lose himself in the crowd.

  ‘Sire,’ said Enguerrand, ‘there is no single word of truth in what that man has said; he is acting under instruction, but whose instruction? I see it all too clearly. I can be accused of ill-placed confidence in these rascals whose dishonesty has now been made apparent; I can be accused of not having sufficiently overseen them, of not having sent a round dozen of them to be broken on the wheel, and I will accept the blame, even though for the last four months I have had all disciplinary powers over them taken from me. But let no one accuse me of theft. This is the second time, Messire de Valois, and this time I will tolerate it no longer.’

  Turning towards the King with a wide, dramatic gesture, the Count of Valois cried, ‘Nephew, we have been deceived by a wicked man who has been too long in our counsels, and whose misdeeds have brought curses upon our house. He is the cause of the extortions of which the country complains and has, for the sake of his own private gain, made treaties with the Flemings to the country’s shame. This was the cause of your father’s falling into a depression from which he died before his time. It is Enguerrand who is responsible for his death. As for me, I am prepared to prove that he is a thief and that he has betrayed the kingdom, and if you do not have him immediately arrested, I swear to God that I will no longer appear at your Court nor at your Council.’

  ‘It’s a damned lie!’ cried Marigny.

  ‘Before God, it is you who are lying, Enguerrand,’ replied Valois.

  Thereupon, he threw himself at Marigny’s throat, seized him by the collar, and these two men, these two wild beasts of whom one was Emperor of Constantinople and the other had his statue among those of the Kings, hurling insults at each other, raising the dust about them, began fighting like a couple of labourers in the presence of the whole Court and the whole administration of the Council.

  The barons had risen to their feet, the provosts and receivers of taxes had moved backwards, tumbling their benches over in their terror. Suddenly there was a loud laugh. It was The Hutin who had been unable to play the role of Saint Louis to the end.

  More infuriated by the laugh than by the shameful spectacle of the two combatants, Philippe of Poitiers came forward and, with unexpected strength, separated the two opponents and held them apart at the full extent of his long arms. Marigny and Valois were gasping, their faces crimson, their clothes torn.

  ‘How dare you, Uncle?’ said Philippe of Poitiers. ‘Marigny, control yourself, I order you to do so. Go home and calm down.’

  The strength and authority of this boy of twenty-one had its effect upon these men of double his age.

  ‘Go, Marigny, I tell you,’ insisted Philippe of Poitiers. ‘Bouville! Lead him away.’

  Marigny permitted himself to be led away by Bouville and went towards the gate of the manor of Vincennes. People scattered before him as if he were a fighting bull escaped from the toril.

  Valois remained where he was; he was trembling with fury and kept repeating, ‘I’ll have him hanged; as true as I’m standing here, I’ll have him hanged.’

  Louis X had stopped laughing. His brother’s intervention had given him an object lesson in authority. Moreover, he was suddenly aware that he had been tricked. He rose from his chair, drew his cloak about his shoulders and said sharply to Valois, ‘Uncle, I must speak to you at once; please follow me.’

  3

  A Slaughter of Doves

  ‘YOU GAVE ME YOUR assurance, Uncle,’ cried Louis The Hutin, pacing nervously up and down one of the rooms of the Manor of Vincennes, ‘you gave me your assurance that this time there was no question of accusing Marigny, and you have done it! It is taking too much advantage of my goodwill.’

  When he came to the end of the room, he turned quickly about, and his cloak described a circle about his calves.

  ‘How can one keep one’s temper, Nephew, in face of such villainy?’ replied Charles of Valois, still panting from his fight, and holding the pieces of his torn collar.

  He was speaking almost in good faith and could now persuade himself that he had yielded to a spontaneous impulse, when in reality the comedy had been decided upon two months ago.

  ‘You know very well that I need a Pope, and you know too that only Marigny can make one for me; Bouville has made that perfectly clear!’ went on The Hutin.

  ‘Bouville! Bouville! You believe only the information that Bouville brought back with him, and he saw nothing and understands nothing. The young Lombard who was sent with him to look after the gold has told me more than your Bouville about matters at Avignon. I assure you that Marigny will never succeed in making the Pope you need. In fact, he knows what you want and is putting every obstacle he can in the way of it, so that you will keep him in power. Where will you be tonight, Nephew?’

  ‘I have decided to stay here,’ replied Louis.

  ‘Very well, before evening I shall bring you evidence which will destroy Marigny, and I think then that you will certainly finish by handing him over to me.’

  Thereupon Valois left for Paris, taking with him Robert of Artois and the equerries who normally served him as escort. Upon their way they crossed the train of wagons which were bringing to Vincennes the beds, chests, tables, and crockery for the King’s residence during the night; for at that date the royal castles were not permanently furnished, or were but barely so, and it was necessary to bring all that was wanted with an army of furnishers who arranged everything in a couple of hours.

  Valois went back to his house to change his clothes while sending Robert of Artois to Tolomei’s.

  ‘Friend banker,’ said the giant, ‘the moment has come for you to give me that document you spoke of, which establishes the thefts committed by Archbishop Marigny from the possessions of the Templars. Monseigneur of Valois needs it within the hour.’

  ‘That’s all very fine, Monseigneur Robert. You are asking me to give up a weapon which has already saved us once, me and all my friends. If it gives you the means of destroying Marigny, I shall be delighted. But, should Marigny unfortunately survive it, I am a dead man. And then, Monseigneur, and then, I have been thinking …’

  Robert was boiling over during this conversation, because Valois had told him to make haste, and he knew the value of every wasted moment; but he knew too that by hurrying Tolomei he would obtain nothing.

  ‘Yes, I have been thinking things over,’ continued the latter. ‘The good laws of the time of Monseigneur Saint Louis which are in process of being restored are an excellent thing for the kingdom; but I would like an exception made of the decrees under which the Lombards were chased out of Paris. My friends have spoken to me about it, and I would like an assurance that we shall not be disturbed.’


  ‘But listen, Monseigneur of Valois has told you so; he supports you; he protects you!’

  ‘Yes, yes, fine words, but we should prefer that this was all in writing. The Lombard companies of which I am, as you know, Captain-General, have respectfully prepared a request to the King asking him to confirm our customary privileges; and at this time, when the King is signing every charter placed before him, we much desire that he should sign ours. That done, Monseigneur, I shall most willingly place in your hands the document which can hang, burn or send to the wheel Marigny the younger or Marigny the elder, whichever you like, or indeed both of them at once.’