Queen Of Four Kingdoms, The

by of Kent, HRH Princess Michael

  If only she could share the pain with her dear Louis, thinks Yolande. When will he come so they can comfort one another? They exchange daily messages by courier, but none mentions his return or his well-being; only more tragic news. The waiting is so hard – trying to keep a brave face for everyone around her, riding into the villages to console the bereaved, making false promises that imprisoned husbands and sons will return, just as she prays her Louis will. Yolande and the children spend long hours in her chapel on their knees, and none of them has ever prayed so earnestly.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  At last there is news. A courier arrives from Louis. He is coming home. The household is alerted and everyone rushes about – Yolande, children, servants. He is on his way home to Angers. Oh, for the relief of his comforting arms. Dearest Lord, prays Yolande, I beg you, bring him back so that I can mend his heart, his body and his soul.

  He arrives, painfully and slowly, as if carrying the weight of his country’s losses. He stands with his arms open and Yolande runs to him. As he holds her, she is instantly aware how thin he has become. Where is her towering giant? He seems shrunken in body as well as spirit, his face so aged, and in those eyes that speak volumes, she can see everything she fears most.

  After he has embraced the children – almost silently – husband and wife sit by the fire and eat a little, Louis taking only a few mouthfuls of broth. With his face a mask to hide his grief, he gives her more details of the battle and its aftermath – at least eight thousand French killed and fewer than three hundred of the English; of the reaction of the king and the queen and the court; how it seems as if a great black cloud has descended on them, Paris and all the country.

  While Yolande is sitting with Louis by the fire, rubbing her poor husband’s swollen feet, a royal messenger arrives in great haste. He has ridden in a fast relay from Paris with an urgent missive from the court.

  The news is shocking and totally unexpected: the dauphin is dead. Louis and Yolande sit bewildered with disbelief. He has just told her how he left this promising prince in Paris a few days earlier – and in perfect health. The message says the dauphin died of dysentery so violent that poison is suspected. And to whose benefit? she asks herself. Why, surely who else but the Duke of Burgundy’s! For a number of years the dauphin has bravely, repeatedly and openly opposed his disloyal and traitorous father-in-law. Now he has paid for his defiance in the traditional way.

  This news adds to the general misery in the household, not least for Charles, the dauphin’s brother. Christmas will bring no joy to the nursery at all.

  It crosses Yolande’s mind to wonder whether Louis is somehow being poisoned too. She does not dare suggest it to him, but what is his illness, this slow, debilitating daily weakening and wasting of a strong and energetic man? She has the best doctors tending to him and nothing seems to help restore his strength. Or am I jumping at ghosts and imagining assassins around every corner? The land is full of disease, the army rife with dysentery; plague follows in the aftermath of battles – the rotting carcasses of animals are often left lying exposed for the crows, even if the dead soldiers are buried, and that is not always done immediately.

  One would think that Agincourt had been sufficiently terrible to bring an end to the conflict between France’s warring factions; but no, both the Burgundians and the Armagnacs have managed to raise another fighting force from the countryside. The avowed intention of each is to rescue the king and his son, the second dauphin, from the ‘tyranny’ of the other side. The two groups have become so inflammatory that legislation pending before Agincourt has now been quickly passed, decreeing that should anyone be heard uttering the words ‘Armagnac’ or ‘Burgundian’, such a person is to have a hole bored through his tongue with a red-hot poker!

  Louis shakes his head as he stretches out on his usual deep bank of cushions by the fire, Hector and Ajax by his side, his hand caressing whichever comes nearest.

  ‘I just don’t understand it. At the very time when the focus of both parties should be on preventing the English making further moves into French territory, the squabbling between the dukes’ partisans continues, although they never actually come to exchanging blows. What stupidity is this?’ he cries. And then answers himself: ‘Power, my darling, it is all just a power struggle, and as pointless as two fighting dogs snarling and circling one another with no intention of engaging.’

  And what is Henry V doing while the Armagnacs and the Burgundians exercise in skirmishes of no particular significance? Louis’ spies are good, and they know the English king is preparing for a renewed campaign, which they never doubted he would.

  By the end of January, after little more than a month at home, Louis cannot stand doing nothing any longer while daily receiving word of the troubles at court. He has decided, despite his illness, to return to Paris to take up his place at the King’s Council, where his astuteness is needed. Yolande cannot dissuade him, but nor can she bear for him to travel alone in his fragile condition and in winter. She must go with him and take care of him. She fears that in Louis’ present state of health, without her in Paris he will not survive. Yolande both needs and wants to be with him at the seat of power at this important time, not only to support him but because he is a part of history in the making, and she cannot resist observing, even taking part. And yet to leave the children in time of war is an agonizing decision. At least at Angers she knows Louis’ trusted people will defend them to the death, and theirs is an almost impregnable stronghold.

  Despite her confidence in their Angevins taking excellent care of them, the parting is hard. Yolande waves from the carriage until their little faces, smiling and crying simultaneously, are out of sight. She knows Louis senses her fears, but he says nothing, just holds her hand. He has always been a man of few words, but his eyes speak for him.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Strange as it may seem, in the many years of their marriage, Yolande and Louis have never actually lived together for any long period of time. He has either been on the Italian peninsula or with the king, but now, weak and ill as he is, the time has come for Yolande to learn how to do a man’s work – his work – and she remains by his side learning from him while he takes up the reins of government in Paris.

  For the first time, these two strong personalities are together in the capital without the distraction of a family around them. Is there any friction? Yes, at times; they discuss and disagree on some political issues, but Yolande always bows to his position and experience, even when sure she is in the right. It is the way she has been brought up.

  ‘The council is full of fools,’ he announces angrily on his return most evenings. ‘I have always said it and I will say it again. They are donkeys, and just as stubborn and stupid.’

  He recounts the absurdities of the day’s session while she calms him by rubbing his shoulders or massaging his feet by the fire – despite the comfort of their Parisian home, Louis has begun to feel the cold badly.

  ‘My bones ache, dearest, do light a fire,’ he will beg, and she changes into a light silk shift to survive the heat he needs in the room.

  ‘Tell me about the council; why are they fools?’ she asks, trying to quieten his agitation with questions.

  ‘They think the rise of our cousin of Burgundy to run the country is inevitable, perhaps even desirable! Idiots! If he has the run of the council of state, then he will make himself king quick enough. But they just do not see it coming!’ he fumes.

  One evening, Louis arrives home from his council meeting ashen-faced, and tells her of a Burgundian plot that has been discovered.

  ‘The two of us, together with my uncle Jean of Berry, the excellent provost Tanneguy du Chastel, and possibly even the queen, were to have been abducted and put to death. The details were prised out of the captured perpetrators in the usual gruesome ways.’ But for her husband’s calm courage in the telling, Yolande thinks she might have fainted. ‘The plot was planned for Easter Sunday, a day when we would have
been either leaving for Mass together or returning – and easy prey for our enemies to catch us all together.’

  Yolande thanks God then, and even more so when they do get to Mass, that they were saved in time and most of the villains caught.

  ‘Despite his frail health and his age, Uncle Jean of Berry has taken command and appointed Armagnac as Constable of France. He is a wise choice, since he has brought with him to Paris his fierce Gascon mercenaries, six thousand of them – a considerable force for imposing peace,’ says Louis, almost with a chuckle.

  As soon as the new Armagnac constable arrives in Paris, he wastes no time in executing the plotters, and imposing stringent security measures on the populace.

  Two months later in mid June when Louis returns from his session at the council, husband and wife are beside the fire in their sitting room, sharing the warmth with the dogs, when Louis says sadly:

  ‘I have news that will grieve you, my darling. It has all been too much for our dear uncle Jean of Berry. He died some days ago at home in Bourges, mercifully in his sleep.’

  Yolande drops her stitching. Another death. Uncle Jean is the last of his generation to go, and she loved him dearly.

  ‘This is sad news. Such a dear man, and kind. He told me how he looked after you when you were small and fatherless, and gave you advice on how to rule. We shall miss him.’ She ponders. ‘I am truly saddened by his loss. He was always so good to us, and wise.’

  ‘I am told that in his wisdom, he has designated our Prince Charles as his sole heir,’ Louis tells her, ‘and not the dauphin.’

  ‘How strange’ thinks Yolande, and remembering the insight of this dear man, perhaps he had an idea that Charles might need his fortune in the future.

  For Charles, this inheritance will be an incredible bonus at a difficult time. Louis and Yolande have willingly borne the burden of financing him to date, but now the strain on their coffers will be eased, at least for a while. But the Duke of Berry’s death leaves another major gap in the ranks of the Armagnacs.

  Later the same evening, Louis turns to Yolande:

  ‘I have been thinking – I believe the moment has come to promote our young royal charge into a useful role.’

  A slight raising of her eyebrows at this, but she continues with her stitching, waiting to hear her husband’s plan.

  ‘We know that Charles has observed how his family members have vied for the right to govern when his father could not. He has watched his royal uncles, and realized how a position of power can be exploited in the granting of pensions, promotions, offices, liberties and immunities, not to mention all the tangible gains that can be meted out to favourites, worthy or not.

  ‘Charles is thirteen. We must send for him and Marie – she is his official betrothed and twelve now. They must join us here in Paris and be seen as a unit under the protection of Anjou.’

  Louis is right. The time has come for Charles to take his place on the Council of State and learn how men govern.

  *

  On the night Charles arrives, Louis takes him aside.

  ‘My young prince, since your brother the second dauphin lives with his betrothed and her family outside Paris, I would like you to come with me to the Council of State tomorrow. Just sit by me and listen, and you will learn much.’ With that, he pats the boy’s shoulder and retires.

  When they return the following afternoon, they come at once to see Yolande and Marie in the sitting room. As Louis kisses Yolande’s forehead, she can see that Charles is bursting to tell her what happened in council.

  ‘Madame, you cannot believe what I heard today!’ and he looks at Louis for permission to speak. Louis has reclined next to Yolande with a sigh and is stretching out his hands to the fire as he nods agreement. ‘The council has it on good authority that my uncle of Burgundy has promised Henry V he will uphold the English king’s claim to the throne of France for himself and his heirs! Further, Burgundy is willing to send Henry military aid whenever he requests it! This is treason, ma bonne mère!’ Charles bursts out with a mixture of shock and excitement. Seeing the surprised faces of his wife and daughter, Louis nods resignedly and says, ‘Yes, it is true.’

  ‘Henry V can count on the allegiance of my cousin of Burgundy – who would profit handsomely,’ young Charles adds with shame. ‘Uncle, what can we do?’

  Louis looks at the lad and says quietly, ‘You must come with me to the council every day from now on, and you will hear all their ideas on how to prevent King Henry from joining with our cousin against his fellow Frenchmen. For now, I need rest, so say good night to your bonne mère and to me.’

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Each day Louis appears frailer as he leaves the comfort of their house with the young Prince Charles for the council chamber, and each evening Yolande can see how the day’s work has weakened her husband. She sits and listens to what has transpired during the day’s proceedings, and worries more about Louis’ health. To do him credit, their prince is absorbing all the debates and has sensible verdicts on the participants. But as he thrives, her Louis is fading.

  When he comes back with his uncle, Charles spends a lot of his time with Marie. She knows her parents want to be alone together, and she keeps herself busy thinking up ways of amusing her betrothed in the evenings.

  By the time winter arrives, Yolande can see that Louis’ untiring work for the government during the past months in Paris has taken the last of his strength. To her deepening sorrow, and despite all her loving efforts and the many doctors she has called on to help, she can sense the end is near. He wants to return to his beloved Angers, and she knows the children are longing for them to be there for Christmas, but she cannot move him yet. This December is bitterly cold.

  Their sons Louis and René have written a long letter – mostly Louis, but they can hear the voice of little René in it too:

  Dearest Maman and Papa,

  We are so happy to hear you are coming home. Christmas was not the same without you, as you can imagine, but we have also been having some fun between lessons and games, teasing kitchen maids, and taking pony rides in the snow. Thank you for sending us the entertainers. They were the best we have ever had.

  There have been kittens and puppies to play with as well since you left, and swallows making nests in the stables, and we have been watching the head groom break in the young horses. Even little Yolande and baby Charles are beginning to be fun to play with, so we hope you have not been too worried about us.

  With Papa home, we will have stories by the fire again, won’t we, and please can he act out scenes from court life in Paris? And Charles and Marie will be back and fun will be the order of the cold evenings again by a roaring fire in the Great Hall! We will roast chestnuts and can we be allowed a little mulled wine after supper? Please do hurry home – we miss you both so much.

  All our love, your obedient sons, Louis and René.

  How they laugh when they read it – and how Yolande cries inside, knowing that nothing is going to be as the children hope for, or describe.

  January is even colder than December, not a season to travel, but Yolande knows there is not much time left to get her husband home.

  When they arrive in Angers, it is too cold for the children and the household to meet them outside. Yolande takes Louis to his bed at once, and after he has rested, she brings in the children, one by one. They each kiss his cheek and his hand, say a few words and leave. Just this has exhausted him. How thin and yellow he looks, and Yolande can see from their expressions how shocked they are at the transformation of their heroic father. This is far from the jolly homecoming they had longed for, and although young, they can sense their father is seriously ill.

  Louis’ condition is Yolande’s total concern. The journey home has weakened him further, and what little strength he has he spends talking quietly to Yolande, propped up in his bed, which has been moved next to the fire in his room. Couriers come constantly but she hardly pays much mind to the contents of the packages
– she is so completely absorbed in the care of her husband and his wishes. They sit night after night talking, recalling happier times, discussing their children; houses; harvests. So many plans made; many, she knows, destined to be unfulfilled.

  Yolande does not want to spend a moment away from Louis and a day bed is brought in next to his so that she can be with him almost all the time.

  The winter months pass slowly. Only when a courier comes from Louis’ young equerry, Pierre de Brézé, whom they left behind in Paris, does Yolande allow an interruption. His orders are to send them anything urgent, and the package is addressed to her. The letter is in code which she sits to decipher and gasps, clutching at her throat as its contents are revealed. The news is beyond belief.

  Madame, since I am not confident my lord the King of Sicily is well enough to receive my information, I have taken the liberty of writing to you direct. With deep regret, I must inform you of the sudden and unexpected death of the dauphin, Jean. His father-in-law left him in good health a few days ago at his country house, but returned home from Paris to find the dauphin in a desperate state – his tongue and lips hideously swollen, his eyes protruding from his face. When a large boil burst inside his left ear, he died soon afterwards. Poison is suspected. The courier will wait to return with any instructions you have for me.