During the past two years, Yolande’s friend Valentina d’Orléans has visited her twice in Anjou, and now she is coming to Provence with two of her little ones to escape the cold of the north. Yolande rejoices in her friendship – they have no secrets, no qualms about exchanging any apprehensions – and Valentina’s servants have become good friends of her own house staff, especially Juana and Valentina’s principal maid, Eduarda. Much useful information has been absorbed by Carlo and Vincenzo from the others.
After they are settled, and she and her hostess have sat down to refreshments, Valentina says: ‘No doubt the gossip from the king’s court has reached you? No, please don’t disappoint me by looking so bland. You must have heard about Isabeau’s new son?’
‘Oh yes, that – but I paid it no mind. With a wife like you, no man could look at our sadly obese queen, certainly not your dashing Louis! And I expect him, in his kindness, to console her – as much as he decently can in her tragic situation. I really admire Isabeau for continuing to give Charles children, especially since she never knows when a new fit will start.’
‘Yolande, you are so strange sometimes! I know my Louis has a mistress, though it is not the queen. Yes, don’t look so surprised! Like the people of Aragon,’ she smiles at Yolande, ‘we of Milan also have our agents, and they are quite as good as yours.’
‘Valentina – listen to me, please. We are friends. You believe that, do you not? Then I can tell you that my people – and yes, I do have two reliable agents at the court – have assured me that your Louis is not the father of this latest of the queen’s children – or indeed of any of them. He is too loyal a brother, and I know that to be true. In our many conversations together, the thing that has struck me the most is his devotion and sense of honour where the king is concerned. That is why I paid this silly gossip no mind.’
‘Dearest Yolande. Yes, you are a good friend, but do not count on his sense of honour to me! I know that his mistress – a pretty, decent young lady from what I hear – has recently given birth to a son. My Louis has even given him a title. Don’t look so surprised; it is quite the norm for royal princes!’ she says with a wry laugh.
Not mine, Yolande thinks to herself. Not mine.
With the coming of summer, they have arrived in Anjou, with everyone ready for the birth of her first child. Valentina has told Yolande in great detail how it has been for her and what to expect. Juana has not had a child, so although she knows a lot, she cannot know how it actually feels. Yolande’s birthing rooms are made ready, something she enjoys supervising; and Marie de Blois has produced beautiful lace from a huge trunk in the nursery wing for the crib.
When Yolande’s labour begins, she cannot help wishing: If only my mother could be with me! But the Queen of Aragon has still not recovered from her broken leg and can hardly walk. I am blessed to have dear Juana; I can hear the birds singing and rejoice in our child’s birth, despite the pain.
The midwife rushes about, maids carry clean towels and sheets, buckets of warm water, watered elderflower juice for Yolande. Time seems to stand still. And then, at last, the cry of the newborn baby brings smiles of relief to all the anxious faces.
As Louis III d’Anjou greets the world and the midwife holds up the screaming child to be washed and swaddled, Juana whispers, ‘Thanks be to God the birth was uncomplicated.’ Louis is admitted, and sinks to his knees beside Yolande’s bed. He kisses her palm, nuzzles her neck and buries his head next to hers on the pillows, wiping tears from their eyes while she sinks back exhausted, happy for Louis, for herself, for the baby, for Anjou!
The new father appears overwhelmed – as if no child has ever been born but his. He kisses Yolande’s hand again and again, and strokes the tiny one of his son, sleeping happily after his first feed from the bright-eyed local girl brought in as the baby’s wet nurse.
Now that all has gone smoothly, the midwife delights in telling Yolande horror stories of all the stillbirths she has attended, and the wet nurses waiting ready for a newborn that does not live. Juana is busy counting the baby’s fingers and toes, and cannot stop smiling at her mistress.
The summer passes sleepily and with the contentment that only a healthy growing baby can bring. When the weather starts to turn chilly, the family begins the long, peaceful journey to Provence with the little boy held snugly in Yolande’s arms.
The joy of motherhood – writing letters and playing with the baby – has so totally absorbed Yolande that she has not appreciated what has been happening in the country since their return to Tarascon in the sleepy south. Carlo has remained in Angers this time and Vincenzo has come with her instead, but, involved with the baby, she has not taken the time to question him. She is aware that Louis and Charles confer constantly and quietly with their mother, which does not seem unusual, and it is to be expected that visitors come to see the baby, including a number of Louis’ people from Paris, who, she presumes, also have business to conclude. But slowly, Yolande begins to notice Louis’ absent looks and preoccupation with something, though when she asks, he brushes her questions aside with kisses for mother or baby. No, something is happening; Yolande has recovered from the birth and her antennae are alert. She knows that couriers arrive frequently, perhaps too frequently, from Paris, and she is beginning to feel that there may be trouble of some sort brewing.
Finally, she summons her agent to see her privately. ‘Vincenzo – I have been so blissfully distracted in the nursery, I have not called you to ask if you have anything to tell me.’
‘Madame, Your Grace, I also have not dared to approach you, but there is much movement at the court in Paris of which I think you should be aware, as it will affect my lord.’
‘Well, I am strong and well now, so do not spare me any details.’
He seems reluctant, but realizes her determination. ‘Madame, it is not my place to do more than to tell you what I have seen. The court is dividing into two distinct parties – that of Duke Philippe of Burgundy, who favours the English established in Normandy, the better to ease his trade with Flanders; and that of the Duke of Orléans, who favours the French interests of the king. This is not a new situation, and wise Duke Philippe has always ensured that the two parties have never come to any form of confrontation, but you may not realize how ill he is, and the condition of the king.’
‘Duke Philippe is old, that I know, but is he really ill? And the king?’
‘Madame, forgive me, the duke is dying, and his heir will not prove as wise, I hear. As for our good king, he has lapsed into the worst of his seizures to date and cannot be controlled. I dare not say more.’ And he looks at his feet in discomfort.
‘Thank you, Vincenzo, this information has been very helpful. Continue with your observations and let me know all you hear.’ And she dismisses him. There is nothing more she can glean from him, and though a part of her quails at what she has to do, she knows that the only person who can really enlighten her is her husband.
Yolande is sitting embroidering next to her sleeping baby under the shade of a great old oak tree in the garden when Louis joins her. This time, she hopes, he will not brush her anxiety away.
‘My darling, I sense something is wrong – I know your look and you are more troubled than I have ever seen before. Please tell me what is worrying you. I want to help, but I cannot unless you tell me the true situation at the court in Paris. I know you trust me, so let me share your burden.’
Louis is never willing to discuss his family; it is hard for him, but he forces himself to explain.
‘Dearest wife, I have tried to keep the worst from you for some time, especially since you had such a pleasant introduction to the king. It will be hard for you to imagine, but his viciousness, bad language and filthy habits have finally driven away his queen. You look shocked – you did not know what happens when he has a seizure? His cruelty knows no restrictions. He attacks not only with his tongue but with his sword! Isabeau has tried everything and sent for every doctor and soothsayer, and all the ch
arlatans of the world have taken advantage of her. She loved Charles deeply until his madness took a real hold.
‘When the king loses his mind, the government is taken over by ministers who are often more interested in their own causes than in those of the country. The steadying Marmosets have been dismissed, and the king’s power is divided between two distinct parties – that of our wise and powerful uncle Philippe of Burgundy, and the king’s loyal brother, our friend and cousin Louis d’Orléans. The king’s remaining uncle, Jean of Berry, as you know, is a dear, mild man and a scholar, who prefers not to interfere in affairs of state and stays mostly in his own territory in central France, studying the arts.’
‘So what is the problem, if the leaders of both parties are so wise and committed to the good of France?’ she asks.
Louis continues gently: ‘Inevitably the two politically minded dukes, Burgundy and Orléans, have a conflict of interest in forming the government’s policies. Because our uncle of Burgundy has substantial business interests in Flanders, he leans favourably towards our traditional enemy, England, whose trade routes match his; whereas our cousin Louis d’Orléans firmly supports the French interests of his brother the king. As yet, discussion between the parties has continued in a rational vein – both are reasonable men, as you rightly say, with the interests of France at heart. But my uncle of Burgundy is old, as you know, and daily I receive disturbing reports that he will not live long. Meanwhile his son Jean, “the Toad”, whom you met at court, has been stirring up trouble behind his father’s back.’
‘Are you saying that the party around cousin Jean of Burgundy is working against French interests and therefore those of the king?’ she asks, aghast, but one look from Louis silences her. Yolande has no leave to criticise members of his family. But this news shocks her. Such disloyalty among the king’s closest family members. I see now why Vincenzo would not go further with his information. I wonder if Valentina would dare let me know by courier what is going on. Louis treats me still as if I am made of fragile glass. But I am made of steel! Fully recovered from the birth, her mind is as sharp as before.
Another courier arrives when Yolande has retired with her baby. Louis receives his visitors and does not come to bed until she is asleep.
The next morning, he joins her for breakfast with the little one.
‘My darling wife, I have grave news,’ he begins. ‘A courier last night brought me the report I have been dreading for weeks. Philippe of Burgundy, whose mighty power managed to control the other factions at court, has died. I regret I must leave at once for Paris. Please understand. Charles and my mother will remain with you.’
‘My darling, you look deeply concerned. Tell me what this really means. Yes, your uncle kept the peace as you say, but what do you expect to happen now? What will you do in Paris that requires you to leave so suddenly? How do you think you can keep the peace – if it needs keeping?’ she asks, in some confusion.
‘Jean, “the Toad” as you call him, is the new duke. Burgundy is the largest and the richest dukedom in France. He has money and an army. In other words, if he is so minded, this cousin of mine can make a great deal of trouble. To what end, I do not yet know, but I fear him. All will be well I am sure, but the king is having one of his worst seizures and our dear Louis d’Orléans, his staunchest ally, needs my support. As the senior peer of the realm, I must go to Paris to sit at the head of the Council of State and keep the peace within my family.’
After hasty arrangements have been made and the journey prepared, he comes to her with a kiss on her forehead and that of the baby.
‘God bless you both,’ he says, and is gone.
Chapter Seven
The situation among the contentious factions at court has not improved by the time Yolande’s daughter Marie is born, a year later in Angers. Again she is fortunate: the birth is easy and the baby is an instant delight, not only for herself and Louis, who visits regularly from Paris, but also for his mother, in whose honour she is named. Even Ajax and Hector are gentle with the little ones and show no signs of jealousy. Instead they are fiercely protective and growl at anyone who is not a familiar of the nursery.
Marie de Blois is a grandmother made in heaven, never tiring of playing with the children. Yolande’s passion for animals, soon shared by little Marie, inspires her to keep a small menagerie at Angers, with ostriches, Araby goats, curly-haired sheep, rabbits and exotic birds. Louis indulges her whims with stoic patience. She does not want the animals too far away – the children must be able to visit them often – but at the same time they do need sufficient space. She consults with Juana and the farm managers, and despite their dislike of the idea, it is done to her satisfaction. In fact, it is such a success that she decides to construct another menagerie in Tarascon when they are next in Provence. ‘I shall send instructions ahead and surprise the children. They can choose their animals when we arrive,’ she tells Juana.
‘Goats, sheep and ostriches! We’d prefer to eat them than keep them,’ she hears one of the workmen mumble, and gives him a fierce look.
‘Juana dear, please make sure that everyone understands these animals are for our pleasure and not for the pleasure of their table!’ And Juana roars her good-natured laugh.
‘That I will, madame, that I will!’ With Juana in charge, Yolande is confident that the animals will be well treated during their frequent absences. There is no one in the household who is not a little afraid of Juana, including sometimes even Yolande herself. Childhood discipline is hard to forget.
Knowing her love of dogs, her mother has sent them three of her home-bred levrette puppies. Yolande calls them Circe, Castor and Pollux, and they too love the children, not minding their pulled tails or ears. The Queen of Aragon has also sent her daughter a wolfhound bitch, Calypso, to inspire Ajax and Hector to produce some legitimate progeny. Thus far the dogs have populated the area surrounding Angers and Saumur, not to mention Provence, with their cross-breeds!
Yolande recognizes that to have had the benefit of Marie de Blois’ guidance and affection in the first four years of her marriage has been a great privilege. No one could have taught her better how to run and manage her husband’s many houses; and yet Marie herself had to do it all alone.
Time and again Yolande asks her mother-in-law to tell her the story of her own life, but she always finds a way of changing the subject. Then one day, they are resting by the fire, exhausted after playing with the children, who are sleeping at last. Yolande pours some homemade juice for them both and notices Marie’s vacant gaze into the fire as she hands her a goblet. Then the older lady turns to her daughter-in-law and says:
‘My dearest, you have often asked me about my past life, and now I feel ready to tell you.’ They settle themselves comfortably, Yolande sitting up to give her full attention. ‘My dear daughter, I have lived long and my life has not been as easy as many would imagine, but the most important lesson I have learnt in my many years, and which I want to pass on to you if you will allow, is that of patience.’
‘Patience?’
‘Yes, learn to be patient, since young people are always in a hurry and circumstances can change quickly. Without patience, often the wrong decision is taken and regretted. I have decided to tell you about my life, as there may be something in my experiences that could help you to manage your own,’ she continues with the sweetest of smiles, nestling herself more comfortably into the deep velvet cushions. ‘We live in such uncertain times, and our future, particularly now, is unsure. Perhaps my challenges will help you triumph over adversity, should it, God forbid, come your way.’
Yolande remains silent for fear of breaking the spell.
‘I married at fifteen and immediately, on our wedding day, my husband was called upon to be one of forty noble hostages in exchange for his father, France’s King Jean II, and his brother, both captured at the Battle of Poitiers in 1356 by England’s Black Prince. “Six months,” he called out as he left me, his bride, still standing at the al
tar. “I shall be home in six months to take you into my arms.”’
She looks so sad, Yolande wants to take her into her own arms even though it all happened long ago.
‘But, my dear, France’s treasury was empty; there was no money to pay the hostages’ ransom. That was when I learnt patience, the lesson I want to pass on to you. Desperate to see me, six months later my husband escaped and came home as he had promised me at the altar. What a night we had, our first . . .’ A dreamy look comes into her eyes, and Yolande dare not interrupt her – Marie is far away, reliving her memories. After a pause, she continues.
‘The second hard lesson I had to learn was that of fortitude. My father-in-law King Jean was deeply shocked to find that his son had returned home unlawfully. He felt dishonoured by such unchivalric behaviour. The only solution he would consider was that both he and my Louis – and we had spent just one night together – must redeem their joint honour by returning together to detention in England.’ Yolande cannot help her hand slipping up to cover her mouth as she listens. Marie’s vacant look and monotone telling making it harder to bear.
‘King Jean died in captivity in England and was succeeded by my Louis’ older brother, who became King Charles V. As heir to the throne, he had not been permitted to be a hostage, although he did offer himself.’ She pauses, as if it is hard to go on. ‘I had to wait ten more years for my husband to come home.’
Queen Of Four Kingdoms, The Page 7
