Queen Of Four Kingdoms, The

by of Kent, HRH Princess Michael

  He tries to kiss away her words, and whispers tenderly, ‘And so you are my darling, my dearest wife,’ but she breaks free.

  ‘No, sire,’ she says firmly, and he looks up, astonished at her tone. ‘For you have a mistress, and you are running from me to her.’ Louis looks at her in astonishment. ‘Yes,’ she says, low and hard, ‘it is true . . . Her name is . . . Naples.’ And with that she turns her head away and cannot help her tears.

  Louis knows of her fears, just as she knows of his ambition. But they also both know that neither of them can change. This night he holds her fiercely, and makes love to her like a man possessed. And so he is – with her, but also with that kingdom she regards as her most dangerous rival.

  Yet his parting from her the following day is as tender as she knows his heart to be. He takes her in his arms in front of the children and says:

  ‘Light of my life, you know of my ambition to rule again my kingdom in Naples and to have you there beside me. I go not only for myself, but for you and the children and for the future of our house. Be content, my dearest wife, on my behalf. Know that I am following my destiny as my father would have wished. I leave in your hands and your care all that I have, the most precious being you and the children. Keep all safe for me and await with joy my return, successful in my quest. I will write regularly – and all of you write to me!’ And he makes a cross on her forehead and on those of each of the children with his thumb.

  Yolande bites her lip, which makes him smile – a quick stroke of her cheek with the back of his forefinger – and then he is in his boat and gone to meet his destiny. She waits for a backward glance, but there is none. He is already lost in his own world.

  Back home in Angers, Yolande hears that when they collected Catherine at Gien, they just missed the arrival of her husband’s family. Was this by accident or design? She thinks hard but cannot be certain. Later that same day, she learns that Charles, the new young Duke d’Orléans, and his brother, sons of the slain Louis and her dearest friend Valentina, were the principal guests at Gien. They were accompanied by their supporters, among them some of the most powerful nobles in France. All were guests of the king’s senior uncle, Jean of Berry, their dear friend, who came with the party.

  Why was my husband Louis not invited to join them, his closest family? she wonders. It certainly seems strange.

  All too soon Yolande discovers the purpose of that meeting at the chateau of Gien. It was a war party – a gathering of the highest in the land. Their purpose: to seek revenge for the assassination of Louis d’Orléans. Their plan: to find a means of eliminating his murderer, Jean of Burgundy. Since the Count d’Armagnac was the senior military figure among the group, the former Orléanists will henceforth be led by him and known as the Armagnacs. At first Yolande asks herself why her husband was not approached to join the family cabal. Then she realizes that Louis’ uncle Jean, among others there at Gien, knows of his burning ambition to reconquer Naples – and his need of Catherine’s money to make that possible. She surmises that, loving him as she knows they do, they were unwilling to present him with such a difficult choice.

  Despite his family’s generous consideration, Yolande knows that Louis would have had no difficulty in making his choice. Nothing would have been allowed to stand in the way of his determination to conquer and rule again in Naples – more than determination, she knows now; it is an obsession.

  Chapter Fourteen

  All Yolande can do is to wait, resigned and anxious, for news of his progress. True to his promise, Louis sends her regular packets full of descriptions of difficulties, of battles on the Italian mainland – some large but none definitive. The seasons come and go: spring and summer in Anjou, autumn and winter in Provence, always accompanied by the growing children lightening the heavy burden of worry and empty nights. Catherine has become an integral part of their lives, her sweet nature winning love on all sides. She worships young Louis, refers to him as ‘my future husband’ with giggles, and follows Marie like her shadow. The children are a blessed distraction from the packets from Italy which she receives with anxious foreboding, always containing descriptions of more small victories, and small defeats.

  A year has passed and Louis’ army and navy have swollen to such a size that this enormous force needs more money than even Catherine of Burgundy’s dowry allows. Like her mother-in-law, Marie de Blois, before her, Yolande offers her jewels as an added guarantee. At least she has the comfort of Louis’ choice of second-in-command – Tanneguy du Chastel, a tough Breton captain who acted as his bodyguard in Naples during the years Louis spent there before their marriage. An Angevin, he returned with Louis, and, once they were back in Anjou, he came whenever he was summoned. Tall, strong as an oak, a chest like a barrel and a thick red beard, even his gruff voice is enough to frighten strangers. Tanneguy is well known as a wrestler among Louis’ bodyguard and heavy bets often placed on him to win – which, invariably, he did. When asked by Louis to accompany him on his visits throughout his territories, he always called at whichever of their castles they inhabited, and despite his rough appearance he learned courtly manners, always greeting her respectfully but amiably. There was something about him that she instinctively liked – from the first day she noticed him in Louis’ bodyguard as they left Arles for Tarascon, she felt she could rely on him and trust him. Tanneguy’s reputation among their soldiers is stalwart, and it comforts her to know that he has not left her husband’s side since embarking with him from Marseilles. Also, having been with Louis to Naples before, he knows what to expect.

  Is she anxious about the outcome of this expedition on which so much depends? Yes, oh yes! She lives in fear and dread that her beloved husband might be captured, injured or, worse, killed. But what can she do? This is the path he has chosen and it is her role to support him with all her ability. And with her prayers! How she prays each day for his success and safe return. But even if he does succeed, surely he will not return; he will stay and rule, and what then? Will she be obliged to remain in France as his regent instead of sharing his throne in Naples? Yolande does not much care for either outcome, but she prays most fervently for his safety.

  As the autumn turns chill in Anjou, and she prepares to leave for Provence with the children on their annual migration south, she finds herself faced with an inheritance problem of her own.

  On the death of her childless uncle Martin, King of Aragon, as the next in line in accordance to her father’s will, Yolande proposes that her eldest son Louis be accepted as his heir in her place. Her son’s rival for the throne is Ferdinand of Castile, the thirteen-year-old son of an Aragon cousin. Despite his youth, he is already a successful cavalry officer, who has fought against the Moors. Louis is only eight, and the council of Aragon, faced with a lengthy regency in the case of her son, decide to give the throne to Ferdinand. Yolande feels cheated. As her father’s ablest, eldest and then only living child, she had always hoped that she would rule in Aragon one day, and if not her, then her son. For the second time she has been deprived of what she considers her rightful inheritance, but there is nothing she can do.

  The weeks and months stretch over a year and it seems that the time passes both slowly and quickly – slowly because she longs for Louis’ return; quickly because she is constantly occupied, divided always between administering his estates and ensuring that the brood in her nursery, oldest to youngest, are being brought up as he would wish.

  There are daily lessons for the older ones in the schoolroom. Louis and Yolande insist that they receive religious instruction from their dear house priest, Father Jean-Charles, that they hear Mass with them every Sunday and read the family’s Book of Hours (rather more than they care to). Louis and Marie are pious, but René is only interested in the music in church. Jean Dunois is cautiously religious – to please them, Yolande thinks – and little Catherine of Burgundy just follows Marie everywhere in silent adoration.

  René loves the songs and lyrics sung by the minstrels who come to t
heir court, and Yolande explains to the children how their inspiration comes from the troubadours, with their romantic tales of chivalry and of rescuing beautiful maidens from dragons. All the children love history, and that is usually the subject of their bedtime story. Marie is very attentive at her schoolwork, and so is Louis, but their cousin Jean Dunois is easily the cleverest of them all. How René hero-worships him! Catherine is adorable, never utters an unkind word and is the first to hug and give sympathy to the wounded, learning from Tiphane how to wash cuts and tie bandages. She is loved by them all and Yolande can see that she and Louis are already great friends and accomplices in some things, especially when he teaches her the finer points of schooling her beautiful ponies. To Yolande, she is as a second daughter, bringing her little bunches of flowers after a walk, painting pictures for her and doing everything she can think of to give pleasure. She has brought an extra ray of sunshine into their lives, and Yolande trusts that she can feel how much they all love her.

  The spring of 1411 is late, but Yolande has received wonderful news that fills her with joy. Victory at last! Louis has defeated his cousin Ladislaus Durazzo in a definitive battle outside Naples and reconquered his kingdom! Oh, how she rejoices for him! She has trembled at the arrival of every courier, and agonized through Louis’ letters full of descriptions of battles on the mainland peninsula and endless negotiations. Now, this news of a definitive victory has made the endless anxiety worthwhile.

  The children celebrate at home in Anjou, making costumes and restaging the final battle after dinner tonight, and Yolande has given all the staff a free day to toast their master, once again the ruler of Naples! All his dreams and the years of hope and prayer have come to fruition! Thanks be to God.

  Weeks pass in the euphoria of achievement; then another letter arrives. It is not possible! Their celebration was premature. Louis’ victory was far from definitive, since Durazzo managed to retreat into the walled city of Naples and, by prolonging the campaign, has succeeded in bleeding Louis’ coffers dry. By August, Louis writes that he can no longer afford to support his huge army. Even though Yolande has promised her jewels as a guarantee, with frustration and great sadness he has been obliged to abandon his reconquered territories and sail for home. How she cries for her poor dear husband. So many hopes dashed again. The children have never before seen her weep and are tender in their concern, especially little René, who throws his short, fat arms around her legs and buries his curly red head in her lap. Drying her eyes, Yolande tries to explain things to them.

  ‘My darlings, I am not in pain or crying for myself. My tears are for your beloved father and his vanished dreams.’ But she is talking more to herself, as she can see they do not understand. How can they?

  She determines to travel to Provence and meet Louis when he arrives in Marseilles – to console his wounded pride in her arms. They will all travel south together, and Tiphane can stay with the children at Tarascon until she and Louis come back there. Seeing her blond hero return defeated will be hard, and she will need Juana’s quiet strength to help her.

  They meet on the pier at Marseilles. As Louis steps off the boat, she runs to embrace him. They need no words. Their tearful eyes say it all. With a lump in her throat, she notices how much this expedition has aged her handsome warrior, but says nothing. To have him near is all she wants.

  ‘How beautiful you look, my dearest,’ he says in greeting, and that brings her more tears since she is sure she does not.

  ‘You must be tired, beloved,’ she replies. ‘Stay and rest awhile with me here in Marseilles.’

  They make for their large turreted palace in the port, magnificent with its towers of sandstone glowing in the sunset. She bathes him herself in her copper tub lined with a linen sheet, and pours oil of lavender into the water – the scent of their beloved Provence, to remind him of home. She watches as he closes his eyes and breathes in the aroma deeply. May it bring him happy memories, she prays silently. She does all she can to soothe him with her words, and tenderly massages the oil into his neck and shoulders. As the sea air is cool this night, they sit on cushions by the fire and drink the warm broth that Juana brings in to them. When she sees his eyes begin to close, Yolande leads him to the bed, where she holds him all night long. He sleeps without once moving.

  In the morning, she finds him awake and refreshed beside her, looking at her in a way she knows so well.

  ‘Come home to Tarascon, my love,’ she whispers, her finger tracing new scars on his chest and arms. ‘Tell me everything so that we can plot and plan, and take comfort in our good health and renew our energy to fight again. At least I am to be paid a considerable sum in token compensation for the loss of my father’s throne, and that may help your attempt to secure yours in Naples for our son.’ A year earlier she would never have believed she could utter such words! Naples! That curse on the family of Anjou and on her marriage! But Louis’ tired, aged face makes her suffer for his loss, and instinctively her heart goes out to him.

  Tarascon, she knows, cannot be a refuge for him to recover from his campaigning for long. She is conscious of the gravity of the situation at the council in Paris and wrote him nothing of the troubles the country was facing. He had battles enough of his own to fight in Naples. Why burden him with those at home. Although he is still banished from the capital, Burgundy has used his popularity with the Parisians – and, no doubt, some hefty bribes – to sway them to his will from his camp outside the city. As a result, the people have refused to allow entry to the king’s supporters – the combined armies of Berry and Orléans – as well as Armagnac and his terrifying troops from Gascony. She watches as his eyes stray somewhere far away – perhaps to Paris – or even Naples.

  ‘I am afraid there is more, and it is worse,’ sighs Yolande. ‘Jean-sans-Peur has gathered a loyalist army from his own region of Burgundy and advanced with them towards Paris. By some miracle, a clash between the two factions has been avoided, but for how long?’ Louis’ lined face distorts in anguish, and then turns red with anger.

  ‘How can they all be so utterly stupid!’ he exclaims, jumping up. ‘Surely the nobles realize the futility of these petty squabbles for supremacy at court. Fighting a civil war between their own territories, French against French, can only benefit our enemy the English!’ He is shouting now, and she tries to calm him by massaging his shoulders as he slumps down in his chair.

  ‘Where is my wise uncle of Berry? What has got into the head of Armagnac? Is Bourbon blind?’ and with those words, he jumps up again and strides down the Great Hall and back, heels and spurs scraping and clinking as he stamps his fury into the stone.

  ‘Yes, I see,’ he starts again, more slowly. ‘They are trying to protect the king in Paris, trying to keep Burgundy away from him and the queen. But this is sheer madness; even in Naples I heard that the English are planning a new campaign. What defence measures have been taken to protect the north if the armies of the royal dukes are gathered around Paris?’

  Yolande takes a deep breath: ‘I am afraid the situation is even more serious, my love,’ she replies sadly. ‘Both factions have been trying to enlist the support of the English, sending them couriers – with incentives. Your agents and my own have confirmed it to me,’ she almost whispers.

  Silence. Then:

  ‘I have no choice,’ he says decisively. ‘I must leave for Paris and see what I can do to drive some sense into my family.’

  Yolande has feared this response, but she insists that Louis remain with them for a week to rest – he still looks less than his usual self and she thinks it will cheer him to enjoy the children a little. More than that, though, she cannot do. Once again it seems she is destined to be without her beloved husband by her side.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Louis has been gone some weeks, and his frequent letters have not enlightened Yolande more than to confirm the preparations being made by the English to launch a new offensive across the Channel. On Louis’ instructions, she has remained in P
rovence with her family; safer in the south, at least for the time being. Who knows what this new offensive may mean?

  Today, to her delighted surprise, Louis has arrived at Tarascon and promises to remain with them for some months! The children rush about, overexcited and out of control – and she can see how pleased Louis is with his little ones. When he returned from Marseilles he had hardly time to kiss them before leaving for Paris.

  It is Juana who comes to tell her how the master is impressed by what she has done in his absence. How he marvelled at all the improvements, and especially at the account books.

  ‘Madame,’ she bursts out, ‘he is overwhelmed by how well you have administered his estates and has nothing but praise for you.’

  Yolande is quietly delighted, but waits to hear it from him. That night, in his arms, he tells her, and shows her, himself.

  The next day, he praises Yolande in front of the assembled household staff.

  ‘As you all know, my wife, the Queen of Sicily, has been acting as my lieutenant general in my absence. No doubt you also know what I did not until my return, and that is how brilliantly and efficiently she has succeeded. I must tell you that I am very proud of what has been achieved on my behalf by all of you, my competent administrators, and by your workforces.’

  Yolande never expected public praise! Louis’ surprised delight is infectious, and the children hug her and everyone is kissing everyone else, and tears of joy well up again, even in Tiphane’s tough young face!

  What happiness it is to have him back amongst them. When he set sail for Naples, René was just a year old. Now he is a boisterous three. Marie is seven. Louis is nine and Jean Dunois a year older. Although much smaller than the elder boys, Catherine is a year older than Louis, her betrothed. The nursery is a lively place where Yolande has made sure that the children are unaware of the conflict within the two branches of their family. Even the older ones were told only that their father was away fighting somewhere; they know from children’s tales that that is what knights are supposed to do; fight in battles and tournaments. They race their ponies, play ball, and hide-and-seek – with prizes that Tiphane and Juana somehow produce for them all. Or they steal into the kitchen and raid the freshly baked biscuits they smell from afar, a furious cook chasing after them. How the rest of them laugh!