The Hutin had summoned the two Eudelines, mother and daughter. The head linen-maid of the Palace, much moved, and full of hope, waited for her royal lover to speak.
When the barber, having dried The Hutin’s chin with a warm towel, had gone out, taking his platter, his unguents and his razors with him, the King of France rose to his feet, shook his long hair about his collar and said, ‘It is true, is it not, Eudeline, that my people are pleased that I have hanged Marigny?’
‘Certainly they are, Monseigneur Louis … Sire, I mean to say,’ she replied. ‘There is a great feeling of happiness throughout the city this morning, and the people are singing in the spring sunshine. One might think that everyone’s troubles were over.’
‘That is how I wish it to be,’ said Louis, interrupting her. ‘I promised you to assure this child’s future.’
Eudeline went down on her knees, and made the girl do the same, to receive the announcement of benefits which was to fall from the all-powerful lips.
‘Sire,’ murmured Eudeline, tears in her eyes, ‘the child will bless you in her prayers till the end of her days.’
‘Well, that is exactly what I have decided,’ replied The Hutin, ‘that she should pray! I want her to take the veil in the Convent of Saint-Marcel which is reserved for the daughters of nobles, and where she will be better off than anywhere else.’
Stupefaction and disappointment were apparent in the linen-maid’s expression. The little Eudeline did not seem to have understood the King’s words, nor even that it was her fate which was in question.
‘Is that really what you wish for her, Sire? To shut her up in a convent?’
She had risen to her feet.
‘It must be so, Eudeline,’ Louis whispered in her ear; ‘her features are too recognizable. Besides, it will be good for our salvation as for hers that she should atone by a life of piety the fault that we committed in bringing her into the world.17 As for you …’
‘Monseigneur Louis, are you proposing to shut me up in a cloister too?’ said Eudeline aghast.
How much The Hutin had changed in a short time! She could see in this man who announced his orders so decisively no resemblance to the moody, disquieting adolescent who had made love with her for the first time, nor even to the unhappy prince, shivering with impotence and cold, whom she had warmed one night the previous winter. Only the eyes maintained their shifty look.
Louis hesitated. He was not ready to take every risk. He thought that the future was uncertain, and that he might once more have need of this beautiful, pliant and luxuriant body.
‘As for you,’ he said, ‘I shall put you in charge of the furnishings and linen at Vincennes, to have everything ready for me whenever I come there.’
Eudeline shook her head. This exile from Paris, this sending of her to a secondary residence, seemed to her an offence. Was there dissatisfaction with the way she looked after the linen? In one sense she would have done better to accept the cloister. Her pride would have been less hurt.
‘I am your servant and will obey you,’ she replied coldly.
As she was leaving the room, she saw the portrait of Clémence of Hungary standing on a table.
‘Is that her?’ she asked.
‘That is the next Queen of France,’ he replied.
‘Be happy then, Sire,’ she said, going out. She had ceased to love him.
‘Of course, of course, I am going to be happy,’ Louis repeated to himself, walking up and down the room into which the sun streamed.
For the first time since he had become King he felt completely happy and certain of himself. He had had his wife murdered, and his father’s Minister hanged; he had exiled his first mistress from the Palace and his natural daughter into a convent. He had cleared the path before him. He could now receive the beautiful Neapolitan princess, at whose side he already saw himself living a long and glorious reign.
He rang for his chamberlain.
‘Let Messire de Bouville be summoned,’ he said.
At this moment a loud crash was heard somewhere in the Palace from the direction of the Mercers’ Gallery.
It was the statue of Enguerrand de Marigny which, taken from its plinth, had been lowered among cries of joy from all those present. The winches had turned too quickly, and the ton of marble had fallen heavily to the ground.
In the front row of the crowd, two men leant over the fallen colossus: Messire Spinello Tolomei and his nephew Guccio. Tolomei was not like Valois; his victory had no tinge of melancholy. His fat stomach had been shaking with fear for two weeks past, and he had slept well this last night for the first time, knowing that Marigny was hanged. He felt that it was a day for a generous action.
‘Guccio mio!’ he said, ‘you have helped me well. I look upon you as my descendant exactly as if you were my son. I wish to recompense you, to associate you still further with my business. What part of it do you wish to have? Have you any particular desires? Tell me, my boy, tell me what would please you.’
He expected that Guccio, as a respectful nephew, would reply, ‘Decide yourself, Uncle.’
Guccio looked down his thin nose, lowered his black eyelids and replied, taking his opportunity, ‘Uncle Spinello, I would like to have the branch at Neauphle for myself.’
‘What!’ cried Tolomei in surprise. ‘Is that your ambition? A country branch, which functions with only three clerks who are ample for their task? Your ambition does not fly very high!’
‘I am rather fond of that branch,’ said Guccio, ‘and I am sure that it can be expanded.’
‘And I am perfectly certain,’ said Tolomei, ‘that there is a girl in the vicinity, because you seem to me to go to Neauphle more often than business can require. Is she beautiful?’
Before replying, Guccio looked at his uncle and saw that he was smiling.
‘She is more beautiful than any other woman in the world, Uncle, and of noble family.’
‘Goodness me!’ cried Tolomei raising his hands. ‘The daughter of a noble family? You will get yourself into great difficulties. The nobility, you must know, are always ready to take our money, but never to let their blood be mingled with ours. Does the family agree to this?’
‘It will, Uncle, I know that it will. Her brothers treat me as one of themselves.’
‘Are they rich?’
‘They have a big manor, with wide lands around it and several villages of serfs that have not yet been freed. All this represents a considerable capital sum. And they are in very close relations with the Count of Dreux, their suzerain lord.’
Dragged by two draught horses, Marigny’s statue had left the Mercers’ Gallery. The masons were coiling their ropes and the crowd was dispersing.
‘And what,’ asked Tolomei, ‘are these powerful lords, who are so fond of you that they are ready to give you their daughter, called?’
Guccio said the name so low that Tolomei could not hear it.
‘Repeat it, I haven’t heard it,’ he said.
‘The Squires of Cressay, Uncle,’ said Guccio.
‘Cressay … Cressay … the Squires of Cressay. Oh, of course, the people who still owe me three hundred pounds! That’s your rich family, is it? I begin to understand.’
Guccio raised his head, ready to rebel, and the banker guessed that the matter was really serious.
‘La voglio, la voglio tanto bene!’ said Guccio, mingling the two languages in order to be the more convincing. ‘And she loves me too; and to wish us to live without each other is to wish us dead! With the new profits that I shall make at Neauphle I shall be able to repair the manor, which is very fine I assure you, but which requires a certain amount of work upon it, and you will have a castle, Uncle, un castello like un vero signore.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Tolomei, ‘but I don’t like the country. I had hoped for another alliance for you, with the daughter of our cousins Bardi for instance, which would have extended our business.’
He pondered a moment.
‘But it is to love one�
��s dear ones ill to try and make their happiness in spite of them,’ he continued. ‘Go, my boy! I give you the branch at Neauphle, on condition that you stay half the time at my side in Paris. And marry whom you wish. The Siennese are freemen, and one must choose one’s wife according to the dictates of one’s heart.’
‘Grazie, zio Spinello, grazie tante!’ said Guccio, throwing his arms round the banker’s neck, ‘and you’ll see … you’ll see …’
At that moment fat Bouville, coming from the King’s presence, was descending the stairs and crossing the Mercers’ Hall. He had that anxious air about him which he assumed for great events, and walked with the firm tread which he adopted when the sovereign had done him the honour of giving him a command.
‘Ah, friend Guccio!’ he cried, seeing the two Lombards. ‘I am in luck to find you here. I was about to send an equerry to look for you.’
‘What can I do to serve you, Messire Hugues?’ said the young man. ‘My uncle and myself are at your service.’
Bouville looked at Guccio in real friendship. They had happy memories in common and, in the presence of the boy, the old Great Chamberlain felt himself grow young again.
‘Good news, yes, very good news indeed! I have told the King of your merits and how useful you were to me.’
The young man bowed as a sign of gratitude.
‘Well, friend Guccio,’ went on Bouville, ‘we are going back to Naples!’
Footnotes
fn1 See The Iron King
fn2 The numbers appearing in the text refer to the historical notes at the end of the book.
Historical Notes
1. At this time there existed two families of Burgundy, ruling over different territorial provinces; on the one hand, the ducal family, whose capital was at Dijon; on the other, the family of the Counts Palatine of Burgundy who, until the reign of Philip the Fair, were subject to the German Holy Roman Empire. Their principal residence was at Dôle.
Marguerite of Burgundy was the daughter of the Duke and of Agnes of France, daughter of Saint Louis. She had married in 1305 Louis, eldest son of Philip the Fair and of Jeanne, Queen of Navarre.
Jeanne and Blanche of Burgundy were daughters of the Count Palatine and of Mahaut of Artois. They had married respectively Philippe and Charles, the second and third sons of Philip the Fair.
When Marguerite and Blanche had been convicted of adultery (as has been recounted in The Iron King), Jeanne of Burgundy had been accused only of being an accomplice and had been separately imprisoned in the castle of Dourdan, in far less harsh conditions and for an undetermined period.
2. Guillaume de Nogaret, a Knight of Languedoc, justiciar of Philip the Fair and Secretary-General of the kingdom, celebrated for his military expedition against Pope Boniface VIII, and for having led the judicial and penal action against the Order of the Knights Templar.
To Pope Clement V and the King of France he was joined in the curse pronounced by the Grand Master, He died soon afterwards, following the Pope by a few weeks, and preceding the King by a few months.
3. Since 1309 Robert of Artois had been claiming possession of the County of Artois, which had been given by a royal judgement to his aunt, the Countess Mahaut. He pursued this inheritance suit with rare tenacity for twenty years.
4. In the fourteenth century the principal officers of the Crown were as follows: The Constable of France, Supreme Commander-in-Chief of the Armies; the Chancellor of France, who was responsible for justice, held the seals, dealt with ecclesiastical affairs and what would today be called foreign affairs; the Sovereign Master of the King’s Household, who ruled over everyone, whether nobleman or commoner, in the King’s immediate service.
The Constable (Connétable) had of right a seat on the Inner Council of the King. He had a room at Court and accompanied the King whenever he travelled. Over and above his perquisites in kind, he was paid twenty-five pence parisi per day and ten pounds on every feast day in peacetime. In wartime, or when the King was travelling, his payment was doubled. For every day of fighting, when the King was actually with his armies, the Constable received an extra hundred pounds; everything taken in captured enemy castles or fortresses belonged to him, with the exception of gold and prisoners, which belonged to the King. Of the horses taken from the enemy he had first choice after the King. He had judicial powers over all the royal household. If the King were not present in person at the taking of a fortress, it was the Constable’s banner that was hoisted upon it. He took part in the Coronation and carried the golden sword before the King. On the field of battle the King himself could not order a charge or an attack without having taken the advice and obtained the agreement of the Constable.
During the reign of Philip the Fair, of his three sons, and during the first year of the reign of Philip VI of Valois, the Constable of France was Gaucher de Châtillon, Count of Porcien, who was to die an octogenarian in 1329.
The Chancellor of France (Chancelier de France), assisted by a Vice-Chancellor and by lawyers who were clerics from the Chapelle Royale, was charged with formulating the royal Acts and affixing upon them the royal seal, which was in his keeping. He had his seat in the Inner Council and also in the Assembly of Peers. He was the head of the magistracy, presided over all judicial commissions, and spoke in the King’s name at Parliamentary sessions. He was always an ecclesiastic; which explains why, during the last years of Philip the Fair’s reign, no one officially bore the title. This came about because the Archbishop who had been Chancellor in 1307 had refused to seal the order for the Templars’ arrest, and Philip the Fair took the seals from his hands and gave them to Nogaret, who was not in holy orders. Nogaret, therefore, did not receive the title appropriate to his functions, and the title of Secretary-General to the kingdom was specially created for him, while the traditional prerogatives of the Chancellor were divided between Nogaret and Enguerrand de Marigny, who was made Coadjutor of the King and Rector-General of the kingdom. On January 1st, 1315, one month after Philip the Fair’s death, the post of Chancellor once more received an incumbent in the person of Etienne de Mornay, Canon of Auxerre and Soissons, who had until then been Chancellor to the Count of Valois. He continued in office until Trinity 1316.
The Master of the Household (Souverain Maître de l’Hôtel de la Maison du Roi), later called the Grand Master of France, had under his orders the Bursar (Argentier) who was responsible for the accounts of the Royal Household, made purchases and kept the inventory of the furniture, hangings and wardrobe. He had a seat upon the Council.
Under them, among the great officers of the Crown, was the Grand Master of the Cross-Bowman (Grand Maître des Arbalétriers) who was under the Constable, the Grand Almoner (Grand Aumônier) and the Great Chamberlain (Grand Chambellan). The principal functions of the last was to care for the arms and clothing of the King, and to remain near him by day and night whenever the Queen was not with him. He had charge of the secret seal, could receive homage in the King’s name and administer the oath of allegiance in his presence. He organized the ceremonies at which the King created new knights. He administered the Privy Purse and was present at the Court of Peers. As he was responsible for the royal wardrobe, he had jurisdiction over the mercers and all the various clothing trades. He had under his orders a functionary called the King of the Mercers (Roi des Merciers) who checked weights and measures, balances and gauges.
Finally, there were other posts whose titles derived from functions now in desuetude and which were at this date no more than honorific, though they gave access to the King’s Council. Such were the posts of Grand Groom of the Chambers (Grand Chambrier), Grand Butler (Grand Bouteiller), and Grand Pantler (Grand Panetier), held respectively at the period we are dealing with by Louis I, Duke of Burgundy, by the Count of Saint-Pol, and by Bouchard de Montmorency.
5. At this period Paris was not yet the seat of an Archbishopric. The Diocese of Paris came under Sens which, from this fact, was politically the most important religious appointment in France. It was, therefore
, the Archbishop of Sens whose duty it had been to preside at the Ecclesiastical Tribunal which had condemned the Templars of Paris, and it was to assure their condemnation that Enguerrand de Marigny had nominated his brother Jean for this preferment.
6. The quintain was an exercise on horseback with a lance which consisted in tilting at a body of a manikin attached to a pivot. It represented a knight in armour, one of whose arms was fitted with a stick. If the player made a false hit, the manikin turned upon its pivot and hit the inexpert horseman.
7. The mysterious power attributed to the Kings of France of being able to cure scrofula by prayer and the laying on of hands was called the Royal Miracle. This power was transmitted from sovereign to sovereign upon the King’s deathbed and in the presence only of his confessor (see The Iron King).
8. Mercers and the vendors of ornaments, finery and trinkets were privileged to sell their wares in the King’s Palace in the Great Gallery called the Mercers’ or Merchants’ Hall.
9. Saint Louis of Anjou, Bishop of Toulouse, second son of King Charles II of Anjou (the Lame) and of Queen Marie of Hungary, who died in 1299, had renounced his rights to the throne of Naples in order to enter holy orders.
This Anjou branch, like the Artois branch, was descended from a brother of Louis VIII of France. During its existence it collected two hundred and eight-nine crowns, as well as twelve beatifications.
Charles of Valois had first married Marguerite of Anjou-Sicily, eleventh of the thirteen children of Charles the Lame and Marie of Hungary. He therefore found himself in the privileged position of being at once the grandson of one saint and the brother-in-law of another.
The pretensions of the Anjous to the kingdom of Hungary, pretensions that were to triumph, issued from the marriage of Charles the Lame with Marie of Hungary, daughter of Etienne V and grand-daughter of Bela IV, of the Arpadien dynasty – a parallel marriage to that of Isabel of Anjou, sister of Charles the Lame, with Ladislas IV, brother to Marie. Ladislas IV, having died childless in 1290, Queen Marie claimed the throne of Hungary for her eldest son, Charles Martel, who bore the title but did not reign and who died in 1295, while the Hungarian lords preferred to him the King of Bohemia, Wenceslas, another grandson of King Bela IV.
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