Queen Of Four Kingdoms, The

by of Kent, HRH Princess Michael

  Yolande hears from sensible Marie that she has been meeting the Maid in her own quarters in the palace, and that she too has been won over by Jeanne’s character, simplicity and modesty. She learns from others that Marie and Jeanne appear inseparable, always deep in conversation, and in the cathedral where they go to pray. She hopes that Jeanne is finding her place at court, and yet she has a sense of foreboding. Charles’s entourage is no place for a modest, simple country girl, even one as extraordinary as Jeanne d’Arc.

  It is while she is wrestling with her doubts on this score that a letter arrives from Marie, bringing news that temporarily empties her mind of the affairs of state:

  I so wish I had good news for you sometimes, but no. Darling Maman, I know this will be difficult for you, but I must tell you that Juana, that dear, good soul, who has been a part of your life since the very early days, and mine since its beginning, has died, mercifully in her sleep. I could see that the last weeks have tired her, and the winter has been hard this year – so much so that I would not allow her to go out except to church on Sundays, since she insisted. I have ordered a High Mass to be said for her funeral and a beautiful headstone for her grave in the cathedral courtyard. I know how much she meant to you and to us all. Even little Louis is crying for her.

  Yolande walks alone in her garden at Tarascon to bring back memories of their adventures together – most of all that journey from Aragon to her wedding in Arles. Losing Juana feels like losing a limb – a hole has opened up inside her. She knows she must be practical and accept that Juana’s time had come, and a merciful death without pain is something to be thankful for. But they shared so much of their lives; in fact, she almost cannot recall a time when Juana was not there.

  Yolande sits and re-reads Marie’s letter, memories flooding back together with her tears. Dear Juana, how you will be missed. If only she could have been there to comfort her beloved governess and oldest friend at the end.

  When disturbing reports reach Yolande from Bourges concerning Jeanne d’Arc, she realizes at once that her complacent hope of her finding a role at Charles’s court was optimistic. She can only blame herself. Yolande knows how easily the Maid’s honest and perhaps too forthright manner of speaking could upset certain members of the court; and this, she hears, was happening. It was also inevitable that several influential nobles would be envious of the people’s adulation for Jeanne, but also, and worse, it was reported to Yolande that a number of the clergy were overheard speaking against her young heroine to the king. Not that they dare to admit to what is really troubling them: namely, that their power over their flock has been diminished by this girl! That she claims to have a direct line to God and his saints – who speak to her – not to them! As if such a thing was possible? As if the saints would prefer to honour a simple farmer’s daughter with their confidence – and not them, God’s anointed?

  The king’s religious adviser, the Archbishop of Rheims, told his congregation during his Sunday sermon that Jeanne has ‘raised herself up in pride’. He claims that she believes she is ‘closer to God than even the bishops’. A sure sign of pride!

  Some of the king’s military entourage, even those who had seen how much she had inspired the soldiers, have had enough of her ‘stealing their glory’. Did she actually fight as they had? No. She sat on her white horse, in her white armour, holding her white flag, on a hill and out of range of the enemy’s arrows. What was so remarkable about that? Why should seasoned warriors have ‘a girl’ commanding them? And they have had enough of her revelling in her fame.

  Yolande knows the pulse of the court too well, and for her to hear the waves of discontent lapping against the fragile defences of Jeanne d’Arc’s heroic effort makes her fear for her survival. But how can she make the girl listen – and leave before it will become too late?

  Chapter Eight

  From her stronghold in the south, Yolande ponders these difficulties. But she has no notion of the disaster that has in fact already overtaken the maid. In May, during the course of a relatively small battle, Jeanne d’Arc was captured when a soldier hooked his lance into her glittering tunic of gold wire mesh she wore over her armour. Perhaps it was too vain a commission from her to Jacques Coeur and greatly prized – but so too did others! No doubt the ambitious soldier had no idea of her identity, but when brought before the group’s captain, Jean of Luxembourg, he recognised her at once. The soldier could keep the gold mesh tunic – Luxembourg’s prize was worth far more! This terrible news has taken three months to reach Yolande, since Jean Dunois’ couriers kept missing her. Had she but known of it earlier, had she been able to be at Saumur with the king when he held a court in her chateau during her absence, she would never have allowed Charles to abandon Jeanne, who has achieved so much for him.

  Yolande is in despair, pacing up and down, sending couriers in every direction with an offer to pay the Maid’s ransom – whatever it is.

  Apart from plunder, the only sure profit to be made in war by either side is through the ransom of important officers. To her horror, Yolande discovers that when Charles refused to ransom Jeanne d’Arc, her captor, Jean of Luxembourg, decided to sell her to the English. It seems her own offer got there too late. The Maid has been taken to Rouen to be examined by the Inquisition. There could be no worse outcome.

  The situation is desperate. Yolande knows that Rouen is far too well defended for the king to try to attack the city, even if he wanted to – and in her heart, she is not sure he does. Rouen is Pierre de Brézé’s home city, and Yolande sends him there to find a way of bribing someone to get Jeanne out.

  When his courier arrives at Tarascon with his letter, she tears it open.

  Madame – I have failed you. There is not a stone I have left unturned in my attempt to reach Jeanne d’Arc’s captors. The English have their prize and they are not going to let her go. She is their way of saving face and they intend to prove her to be a witch – how else could this young girl have succeeded and defeated them? Only with the aid of the devil! Not that anyone I hear in the streets here even believes her to be a girl! She has been placed in a male prison, which is against the law, but they say she broke the law by wearing a man’s clothing. ‘But how else would she be able to keep a semblance of modesty?’ I answer. I promise to keep trying, but I do not believe any amount of money can help Jeanne d’Arc now the Inquisition have her in their power.

  Marie and Yolande are in constant contact now, couriers hastening backwards and forwards between Bourges and Provence, but slowly Yolande begins to understand that she is too late. Neither her daughter, the Queen of France, nor she, the Queen of Sicily has the power to save Jeanne d’Arc, despite their frantic efforts. France is exhausted by all the fighting, her son-in-law too indolent; his men want her removed, and his councillors are more interested in their own selfish purposes. The English will not give her up no matter how much Yolande offers, Pierre makes that clear – and he offered a king’s ransom. This unknown girl from Lorraine has caused the humiliation of the mighty courtiers and the senior clergy of France. To salvage their own shame, just as the enemy must salvage theirs, they will allow the English to condemn her as a witch.

  And even Yolande, despite her desperation at what has happened, is not able to give herself wholeheartedly to the Maid’s plight. Once again she is embroiled in problems of her eldest son’s making. Louis has been betrothed to the Duke of Brittany’s daughter since 1417, under the arrangement Yolande made to secure the duke’s loyalty to the king. Shamefully, he has now cancelled the betrothal, believing an alliance with a princess of Savoy to be of greater advantage to his kingdom of Sicily. This will not be easy for Yolande to resolve; and she must make the long journey from Marseilles in the very south all the way to Brittany in the north in order to make peace on Louis’ behalf. The French cannot afford to lose the Duke of Brittany to the English side again, and Louis cancelling his betrothal will leave that vacillating old duke open to Burgundian offers.

  The journey is long
and circuitous, taking over four weeks travelling by road and on water. When finally Yolande arrives in Nantes, she has had quite some time to think of a solution. She can see only one way to ease the embarrassment and avoid a scandal: she will suggest an alternative contract to the duke. She will propose that his heir, an ally the king is anxious to keep on the side of France, should marry her own youngest daughter, her namesake Yolande. After so much time given to the problem, she believes she has reached the best possible conclusion.

  Reluctantly, Yolande must admit that these long journeys tire her much more now than in her youth. Nevertheless, the result makes it worth her while. To her considerable relief, following lengthy discussions, the duke agrees for his son to marry Yolande’s daughter. Once again she has secured Brittany on the side of France.

  But due to her departure on the complicated journey to Nantes, Yolande missed the courier sent to her in Marseilles by Jean Dunois. Weeks pass before she finally receives his letter with the tragic news of Jeanne d’Arc’s condemnation. How could the judges come to this conclusion? Why has Charles not intervened? Has he no feeling? Another letter from Marie reaches her at the same time that makes her weep with misery and shame at poor Jeanne’s conviction.

  Having Brittany allied once again to France cannot begin to compensate the Queen of Sicily for having failed Jeanne d’Arc, and she swears she will carry that guilt to her grave. The English paid handsomely for this astonishing girl, and now they will make her pay for their loss of Orléans, by condemning her to death – as a sorceress. How absurd, thinks Yoland – and how typical as well. In their egotism, only devilry could have defeated them. Never a pure maid who inspired soldiers well beyond their capabilities! Yolande would have paid as much and more. Dear God, why did my offer not reach Jean de Luxembourg in time? she cries out to the heavens. How could the king listen to his councillors and not to her?

  Yolande’s enquiries reveal that only two of the Maid’s judges were English; the rest were French. To be condemned by her own people, whom she saved – this is an even greater crime. By all accounts Jeanne’s trial was a farce, with none of the correct procedures followed. She should have had a lawyer. She should have been in a women’s gaol, guarded by nuns, and not by soldiers in a prison with men. Her judges claimed she sinned by wearing men’s clothing – of course she would do so in a men’s prison, to avoid being raped. May they burn in their own hell! she curses.

  Yolande’s heart goes out to Jeanne, alone in her cell in Rouen, and she prevails on Pierre to see that at least she receives some creature comforts – writing materials, food and blankets. She pays well to receive constant news of Jeanne d’Arc’s well-being and treatment – what else can she do? – while she continues to search in vain for a way of freeing her.

  Many months pass before the regent, the Duke of Bedford, delivers the sentence: Jeanne d’Arc is to be burnt at the stake at Rouen on 30 May 1431.

  Immediately she hears the news, Yolande sends a messenger to Pierre de Brézé in his home town. ‘Pierre, use whatever influence you have and spend whatever you need to arrange for Jeanne to be given a strong draught she can take before they collect her from the prison, so that she will feel almost nothing.’ She knows Pierre does her bidding and that Jeanne receives the medicine – but will she take it? Pierre remains in Rouen on Yolande’s instructions in case there is something, anything, that can be done.

  Following Jeanne d’Arc’s execution, Pierre de Brézé’s feels duty bound to come to Tarascon and tell Yolande the details himself.

  ‘Pierre – you surprise me! But in view of the news, how glad I am that you have come – I was expecting a letter . . . but I can see from your distress you want to tell me yourself – am I right? And I know it won’t be easy. Come, dear young friend. Sit with me here and I will send for refreshment.’ Pierre sighs his gratitude and gratefully sits, the weight of injustice and his sense of failure weighing down on his hunched shoulders. It was a long ride from Rouen but at least he stopped this time to freshen himself before calling on his patroness.

  ‘Madame, my gracious Lady,’ he begins, his voice sad and solemn, ‘yes, I felt I should tell you all in person.’ And she takes his hand for a moment to reassure him. ‘Just as you instructed, I did send Jeanne a draught – made by a very reliable man I know – who assured me that some minutes after drinking it, she could still walk but would feel no pain, nothing. However, to judge from the way she walked – firm, straight, almost determined – from the prison, I doubt she had taken it. As she was being led to the square with the post to which she was to be chained, the local citizens cried out repeatedly that she could not be a girl, that they had been tricked and that the Maid was really a boy. The executioner had his instructions, and lit the pyre. Her hair and her clothes had burnt from her body – also the ropes they had used to tie her to the stake – and there she lay, quite naked.’ At first there was some jeering. Then – silence – and I was aware of the crowd’s surprise as all could see she was indeed a girl.

  ‘Poor Jeanne,’ Yolande cries, her tears bitter. ‘How shaming to be so exposed, even in death.’ Drying her eyes, she continues to listen to Pierre’s account:

  ‘Then the executioner piled back the logs and burnt her to ashes, which were gathered and thrown into the Seine. By royal command there were to be no relics left of Jeanne d’Arc, who many believe to be a saint, not a sorceress.’

  ‘By royal command,’ repeated Yolande almost in disbelief. ‘Was that Charles? Surely not, more likely the Archbishop of Rheims,’ she says quietly to herself.

  ‘Madame, I will never forget that day – 30 May 1431 is forever engraved on my conscience – nor the knowledge that I failed you – and her.’

  ‘Pierre – no, don’t blame yourself. We are all guilty – all right-minded people who know she was not a witch, are guilty. You did all you could. If anyone is to blame, then I am. Knowing the king and the court as I do, I came south for my work and left her to her fate.’ Pierre adds forlornly: ‘I am certain she did not take the draught I sent.’

  ‘At my request, Jeanne d’Arc came to Chinon aged seventeen, to begin her remarkable odyssey, and rightly, she became the country’s heroine, saviour, to some, even a saint. At nineteen, after completing her holy mission to “save France”, the judges of the Church’s Inquisition condemned her as a witch, and sentenced her to burn at the stake,’ Yolande almost whispers, shaking her head in disbelief.

  ‘Madame – the courtiers just say “war is pitiless”, often with a shrug; that Jeanne d’Arc had outlived her usefulness. Even if this was true in a military sense, she should never have met such a terrible and undeserved end. Of course, once she had been condemned as a witch by the Elders of the Church, who were the people, or even the king’s men, to deny the word of God’s representatives on Earth?’

  ‘No one would dare, my friend,’ and with that sad verdict, Yolande puts her arm around Pierre’s shaking shoulders, as he sobs out his frustration and sense of failure.

  Is the King of France guilty of Jeanne d’Arc’s death? Not alone, not solely, susceptible as he is to any silver tongue, especially as the verdict came from a jury of clergymen. This is not an excuse, but Yolande offers it as an explanation, even if she feels her own guilt heavily in her heart. The time she spends in her chapel in Tarascon brings her a measure of comfort in prayer. Her adult life has been spent following her beloved husband’s wish – to work for the salvation of the king and the kingdom – and she believes sincerely she has done all she could in this regard.

  Yolande, the proud Princess of Aragon, the Queen of Four Kingdoms, who has never considered failure, whose self-belief has always been firm, secure, strong, must now face the fact that, despite all her efforts with Charles, they have not been enough. For that she can only blame herself – she shaped him. He was her clay, and the result is no work of art.

  Part Four

  Chapter One

  With each birthday, Yolande reflects on the previous year as well as on he
r life in general; it is something her mother taught her as a child, a habit she cannot break. This year, 1431, she has turned forty-nine, and is, say some, still in possession of her famed ‘imperious beauty’. It does not concern her, but the strength and reach of her power, and that of her family members, most certainly does. Earlier in this tragic year of Jeanne d’Arc’s death, her beloved son René, Duke of Bar, also became Duke of Lorraine when Isabelle’s father died peacefully in his sleep. With a nursery full of children at Nancy, it seemed to Yolande that their life, at least, was settled. She knew of their plans for improving their united duchies, and looked forward to her next visit to them and their latest child, a little girl they named Marguerite.

  Her own darling eldest, Louis, writes regularly with his news from his kingdom – always with sketches and amusing anecdotes – and the inevitable list of requirements for his army to be sent to him from Marseilles. Of her two youngest, Yolande is gentle, pretty and harkens to her, and Charles has become a great favourite of the king’s and is enjoying his new elevation and coronation bequest. But she worries about Marie who has still not filled her nursery with playmates for her little Louis. And there is more.

  From her agents she hears that it would seem as if Jeanne d’Arc’s remarkable achievements on the king’s behalf – and her tragic end – have not swayed him away from his life of pleasure for long. How is it possible that Charles, newly crowned and consecrated, has returned so quickly to his old ways? Following that extraordinary and deeply religious ceremony at Rheims, Yolande thought the king would become responsible at last. Most unruly young people become serious when they acquire great responsibility, after all. Marie is quietly desperate, and tells her mother that following the execution of the Maid, something left the spirit of the king. He recognized a life force in Jeanne d’Arc that seemed to flow into him and helped him really become a king at Rheims. With her death, condemned by the Church and burned at the stake as a sorceress, Charles has lost himself again. Was he wrong to believe in the Maid? Or was he bewitched by her? In his confusion, he puts up no resistance to the bad influences around him.