My father was at first amazed that a subject could show such a lack of courtesy and offer none of that homage which was due to the Crown. It was more than an insult to him; it was an insult to France.
He ordered that Bosredon should be arrested without delay.
And then he rode on to Vincennes.
From a window I saw his arrival. He went straight to my mother’s apartments, and there such a scene ensued, the like of which had never taken place between them before.
He must have known she had many lovers. He was a tolerant man. He knew of her ardent nature. Perhaps he thought it was natural that she should be unfaithful to him during his absences. He himself had Odette de Champdivers to comfort him in his seclusion. He had even had a child by her. However, he had not reproved my mother before. But the insolence of Louis de Bosredon must have ignited years of resentment. He had indulged her; he had been besotted by her; but he would not have her lovers insulting the Crown.
We were all amazed. We all cowered in our rooms, waiting to know what would happen next.
He was accusing her not only of infidelity toward him but of treachery to France. She had her spies everywhere. She was with the Armagnacs. She was with the Burgundians. Anything that suited her purpose at a certain time. He was tired of being treated as though he were of no account.
He sent for the guards. She was under arrest.
He shouted his orders. The Queen should be taken to Tours. There she should be guarded night and day. Every letter she wrote must be examined. All her actions must be reported.
My mother was astounded. What had happened to the poor mad husband who had always been her slave? She tried to protest. She exerted all those wiles which had never failed before. But the King had had enough. He was no longer to be duped.
His country was in dire straits; the enemy was waiting to deliver the final blow; and one of France’s bitterest enemies was its Queen.
And now she was his prisoner.
So my mother was taken to Tours, and I was united with my father.
I traveled back to Paris with him, and there I was with him often. Now and then he talked to me sadly of the past.
He said: “It is my tragedy, daughter, that I have my periods of insanity. I am sane now, but for how long? How do I know? Perhaps it would have been better for me if I had been completely mad. These trips back and forth are sometimes more than I can endure. I trust young Charles will have a happier reign than I. Alas, poor child…he is little more…this has overwhelmed him. I trust he will not suffer as I have done. But sometimes I fancy he has no stomach for the task.”
He liked to have me with him, and I was glad of that time we spent together. I wished it could have been longer. He was so different from my mother, gentle, innately good and kind.
He talked of my mother a little and with much sadness.
“In the beginning it was perfect,” he said. “Too perfect, I suppose. My child, I am afraid of perfection. There is often a canker somewhere. If you could have seen her when she first came to France. She was enchanting…a child…younger than you are now…but she never seemed like a child. She was so eager and loving. I never saw anyone like your mother. There are few of her sort in the world.”
I thought that was not such a bad thing.
He said to me one day: “And you, daughter, you have a happy life ahead of you. You will leave this tortured land. You will be the wife of a great king.”
“Do you think, Sire, that Henry is a great king?”
“He has all but conquered us, has he not? Oh, he had a wild youth, but they tell me that, as soon as the crown was placed on his head, he changed. It was like a miracle, they say. He put aside his frivolities. He gave himself up entirely to his country. It is a rare man who can do that, Katherine. Perhaps that is greatness. I think you will be fortunate to marry such a man.”
“Shall I ever, do you think? For so long there has been talk of it.”
“Much has to be settled. He wants this marriage, depend upon it. We both want it. It is just a matter of settling terms. The King of England asks too much of us, but after Agincourt…it seems inevitable. My reign has been disastrous. We have gone from bad to worse.”
“It was not your fault, dear Father.”
“Perhaps if I had not been plagued…perhaps if I could have kept a firm hand on the reins…perhaps, daughter…it may be then that this strife within our country might not have happened. There is nothing which destroys a country more than civil war and when you have two great houses within their country fighting each other…then that country will fall into despair…as ours has. But we shall emerge. It may be, Katherine, that you will play your part in rebuilding our great nation.”
“How, dearest Father?”
“You will know when the time comes. Perhaps it will be through this much-talked-of union. Your husband will be our conqueror…but he will always remember that it is your country which he has conquered.”
“And what of my mother?”
His face hardened. “I want to trust her,” he said almost piteously, “but I cannot. I would if I could. If only I could.”
His lips trembled and his eyes were melancholy. I was afraid—as we often were—that the madness might be coming upon him once more.
There are many who said Louis de Bosredon met his just deserts.
When he was arrested and imprisoned he was “put to the question.” I do not know what form of torture was applied, but he did not endure it for long. He could not, I was sure, have borne the thought of his beautiful body being mutilated in any way. He quickly confessed to anything they wanted him to. His punishment was that he should be sewn into a sack and thrown into the Seine. A fitting end for an arrogant coxcomb, many said. So this was done and the sack, on which was written “Let the King’s justice run its course,” was thrown into the river.
The Armagnacs rubbed their hands with glee. This was a direct attack against the Queen who had been in secret communication with Burgundy.
My mother was not the woman to accept captivity with quiet resignation. Intrigue had always been one of her most exciting pastimes; and consequently she excelled at it.
She had not been at Tours for more than a month before she conceived the idea of getting in touch with the Duke of Burgundy. It was the King and the Armagnacs who had imprisoned her; therefore she knew that Burgundy would be prepared to defy their authority. I do not know how she managed to smuggle a note out of her prison, but I guessed she had contrived to cajole one or more of her guards by that time.
Burgundy was only too eager to aid her in her escape, and from then on they were allies—at least on the surface.
Isabeau was allowed to leave her prison, only to go to Mass at the convent of Marmoutier, which was just outside the city’s walls, and on the occasions when she went there, her guards went with her.
While she was in the convent’s church, a company of sixty men, led by their captain, entered. Seeing that these were Burgundians, her three guards urged her to act with caution while they tried to decide how they could smuggle her out of the church.
It was she who surprised them when she addressed the captain.
“Where is the Duke?” she asked.
“On his way, Madame.”
“Then arrest these three men.”
When the astonished guards found they were prisoners they realized that the Queen had led them into a trap.
In due course the Duke of Burgundy arrived.
He kissed the Queen’s hand.
“My dearest cousin,” she said. “I should love you beyond any man in the realm. You have rescued me from my enemies. You have set me free. I will never fail you, my dearest friend. I know your aim has always been one of devotion to the King and your country. May God bless you.”
The Duke knelt at her feet, and in due course they set out, followed by his men, for Chartres.
My mother was free. It was fortunate for her that my father, overcome by all the distress brought on by t
he situation between them, had had to retire once more to the Hôtel de St.-Paul and the ministrations of the tender Odette.
My mother sent a declaration to all the important towns, in which she stated that, owing to the King’s unfortunate seclusion, the government of the country was, for the time being, at Chartres, and with her was her good cousin, the Duke of Burgundy, to help and advise her when necessary, until the recovery of her good lord, the King.
So my mother was free and, with Burgundy beside her, had regained her power.
The Armagnacs kept control of the King and the Dauphin; and the conflict in my country was stronger than ever.
In the meantime Henry had returned to France and was laying siege to Rouen.
A few men from the besieged city escaped and came to Paris. They had a terrible story to tell. The people had been determined to hold out until help came to them. Poor deluded men and women! What help could they expect? Nevertheless, they had fortified their ramparts; they had forced all those who could not bear arms or were too feeble to withstand the siege to leave the city; they had hoarded food and had prepared themselves in every way.
Twelve hundred helpless men and women were sent out of the town; and the miseries they endured are too distressing to brood on. I was especially sorry for the pregnant women who had nowhere to go. They gave birth unattended outside the walls of the city. Death stared them in the face, and their greatest fear was that their newly born infants would go unbaptized. Friends from within sent down baskets that the newborn children should be brought up to be baptized, and when this was done, they were lowered down to their helpless mothers and left to die.
How cruel was war! I should hate those men who came over to our country and caused so much misery—and all for a crown!
The people inside the city’s walls suffered too. They were forced to eat cats, dogs, rats, anything that came to hand. And the winter was approaching.
They were very brave, those people of Rouen. If those in high places had shown the same dedication to their country, we should not have been in the sorry plight we were.
When the fall of the city was imminent, the men of Rouen decided to fight to the end rather than give in. They planned to stand together and fight outside the city walls after having set fire to it. They were courageous and Henry admired courage. He declared he would spare the lives of all citizens—with one or two exceptions—if they would surrender peacefully; and so a compromise was reached.
Henry said later that one of the proudest moments of his life was when he entered Rouen—that city beloved of his ancestor Richard Cæur de Lion and which King John had lost with the English possessions in France.
Our resistance was coming to an end. These disasters could not continue. The English were marching through Normandy, and everywhere cities and castles were falling into their hands.
We were ready to make terms.
My mother returned to Paris. She behaved as though there had never been a rift between her and my father, who had now lapsed into a state of melancholy. Everyone around him was watchful lest he should slip into violent madness.
Dr. Harsley had left Court, deciding that his own health demanded that he should live a quiet life in the country. So my father was taken back to the Hôtel de St.-Paul, to Odette, whose company, I was sure, was more beneficial to him than any doctors would have been.
My mother had commanded that, as I was now of some importance and had my part to play in bringing peace terms to a satisfactory conclusion, I should be under her care.
I was given an apartment and several attendants. What a delight it was to find my old friend Guillemote among them.
We greeted each other rapturously. She had changed a little. She was slightly more plump, but there was still the same rosy face—the face, I always thought, of a good woman and one on whom I could always rely.
“I have thought of you often, my lady,” she said, “and wondered how you were getting on.”
“The convent was more comfortable than …”
She nodded.
“But I missed you. So did Michelle and Marie.”
“Michelle is a grand lady now. I wonder if it has changed her.”
“I suppose we all change. I must have changed a good deal.”
“You’ve grown up…which was to be expected. And the boys …” She turned away to hide her emotion.
“I know. Both Jean and Louis …”
“And little Charles?” she went on quickly. “Such an important man now. The Dauphin, no less. I trust all will be well with him.”
“Guillemote,” I said, “we are together again. Let us stay so.”
She lifted her shoulders. “If it is in our power, my lady.”
“I shall do my best. I shall not let you go away.”
“They say you are going to make a grand marriage…across the sea.”
“I shall be important then, Guillemote. I shall be the one who says whom I shall have about me.”
She smiled rather sadly. “I shall never forget the day they took you away. There was such sadness. Nothing was the same. I wept until I had no tears left. All my little ones gone, especially you, Madame Katherine.”
“Well, Guillemote, don’t be sad now. We are together again.”
“Mademoiselle de Champdivers was good to me. She is a good woman. I think she arranged that I should come here to be with you.”
“Yes,” I said. “I know she is good. I am thankful that my father has her to look after him.”
I felt considerably comforted to have Guillemote so near.
The King of England was now ready to talk peace; and my mother was making arrangements into which she entered with the utmost enthusiasm. She was sure that I would be instrumental in softening the peace terms.
“This betrothed of yours strikes a hard bargain,” she said with a coy laugh. “Now, child, we must make you so desirable that he will decide…for your sake…to modify the terms. You are handsome enough. Yes…just a little like me. And amazingly like your sister Isabelle for whom he once had a great desire. He will see her again in you…and therein lies our hope.”
My emotions were in a turmoil. I was about to take the most important step in my life and it might well be that soon I should be married to a man whom so far I had never seen. But I had a vivid picture of him in my mind. I saw him as Isabelle had seen him; and again as quite a different person: the wise, shrewd conqueror. Was it possible for a man to change as drastically as he was said to have done? It seemed hardly likely. But surely this rash and frivolous youth of Isabelle’s version could never have conquered France.
Earlier I had been terrified of union with him; now I had to admit to a certain excitement. I wanted desperately to see him, and my fear of what might follow was swallowed up in my excitement.
“Your complexion is good,” my mother said. “You have a lovely soft skin and your eyes are very fine. They are like mine. Your mouth and teeth are good. But your nose, my dear. That comes from your father. The Valois nose. A pity! But it is not too marked in you. You must smile. You look so solemn. You must look interested. I shall expect you to charm him. He is a soldier…no doubt a little rough…and English manners have never had the grace of the French. Never mind, you will act with grace and charm…and if you do that, he will be enchanted. Now, try this.”
It was a gown shaped to my figure, coming up high to the throat. It was discreetly adorned with jewels and there was a strip of ermine down the front. On my head was an arched crown, from which a veil flowed down to my shoulders.
My mother clapped her hands. “That is good,” she said. “Oh, daughter, I have hopes of you.”
I felt a little thrill of pleasure and for once did not recoil when she kissed me.
The meeting was to take place in Pontoise, and a splendidly decorated barge was made ready to take us there.
My father, who, under Odette’s ministrations, had recovered a little, was to accompany us.
“It is necessary that he is there,
” said my mother. “As long as he remains quiet, all will be well.”
Close to the river, pavilions had been set up and there were elegant tents made of green velvet decorated with cloth of gold.
As we sailed down the river, I could not stop myself from watching my poor father. I thought, he should not be with us. How did he feel…he who had lived so much of his life in a clouded world…to be sailing down the river to meet the conqueror of his country? His father, the Wise Charles, had left him a prosperous land, a proud kingdom…and under him, it had come to this. He had to look to his daughter to charm the King of England sufficiently for him to accept her as part of the peace terms. It was humiliating…distressing beyond words—and I suffered with him.
My mother looked beautiful in spite of a certain obesity which only seemed to add to her voluptuousness. She was animated and I understood that what she craved most in life was excitement, and the significance of this occasion could not stop her enjoying it.
As for myself, I felt I had left my childhood behind me forever.
We disembarked and, as we approached the royal tent, I saw Henry.
He was very tall and slender; and what struck me most about him was his immense vitality. He was comely enough, with a pleasant oval face. I noticed his long, straight nose. I usually looked at people’s noses, as people do look at the features of others when they are particularly aware of their own. His complexion was fresh and he looked as though he lived much of his life in the open air. He had brown hair and eyes of the same color, very bright and, I noticed with relief, quite gentle, though afterward I learned they could flare into sudden wrath. I was agreeably surprised and I felt great pleasure as his eyes eagerly turned on me and I knew that he was not displeased.
He bowed to my parents and then took my hand and kissed it.
He sat opposite me and, while he talked with my parents and members of the Council, his eyes strayed again and again to me. I lowered mine and he smiled. I was feeling more and more reassured with every moment.
I was disappointed to learn that, in spite of his openly expressed admiration for me, he did not lower his demands.
Jean Plaidy - [Queens of England 07] Page 8
