The Lily and the Lion

by Maurice Druon

  Brother Jourdain d’Espagne had been true to his promise and had set out to look for Giannino; but the war and the Black Death had prevented his travelling farther than Paris. The Tolomei no longer had a branch there by then; and Brother Jourdain had felt too old to undertake long journeys.

  ‘He therefore handed the confession and his own account of it,’ went on Rienzi, ‘to another monk belonging to his order, Brother Antoine, a most saintly man who had made several pilgrimages to Rome and had come to see me on previous journeys. And it was Brother Antoine, when he had fallen ill at Porte Venere, who told me about all this, and sent me the documents together with his own account of the circumstances. I must admit that, at first, I hesitated to credit the facts. On reflection, however, they seemed to me far too extraordinary and fantastic to have been invented; human imagination could not go as far as that. Indeed, it is the truth that so often takes us by surprise. I checked the dates, collected a few more facts, and sent to find you. First, I merely sent you messengers who had no letter from me and therefore were unable to persuade you to come to see me. But then, in the end, I sent you the letter due to which, my most gracious lord, you are now here. If you wish to claim your rights to the crown of France, I am prepared to help you to do so.’

  A silver mirror had been brought. Giannino took it over to the great candelabra and looked at himself for a long moment. He had never cared for his face; it was round and rather flaccid, his nose was straight but lacked character, his eyes were blue but beneath eyebrows that were too pale. It was the face of a busy banker engaged in the wool trade – could it really be the face of the King of France?

  And yet, when he remembered Queen Clémence of Hungary, he could not deny that there was a certain resemblance. Great beauty in a woman often becomes transformed into a sort of insipidity in her male offspring. And what had Louis X looked like?

  The Tribune placed his hand on the banker’s shoulder.

  ‘For many years my birth was also impenetrably mysterious,’ he said gravely. ‘I was brought up in a tavern in this city. I served wine to street-porters. It was only later I discovered whose son I was.’

  The formidable and imperial profile, where only the right nostril quivered a little, seemed suddenly a little drawn.

  3.

  ‘We, Cola di Rienzi …’

  BY THE TIME GIANNINO left the Capitol the first rays of dawn were beginning to turn the ruins of the Palatine to gold. He did not go back to the Campo dei Fiori to sleep, for the Tribune had provided a guard of honour which led him across the Tiber to the Castle of Saint Angelo, where an apartment had been prepared for him.

  The next day he spent several hours in prayer in a neighbouring church, seeking God’s help in his greatly perturbed state; then he returned to the Castle of Saint Angelo. He had asked to see his friend Guidarelli; but he was requested to hold no converse with anyone before seeing the Tribune again. He waited all alone till evening, when they came to fetch him. It seemed that Cola di Rienzi dealt with affairs only at night.

  Giannino therefore returned to the Capitol, where the Tribune showed him even greater deference than the day before, and once again interviewed him privately.

  Cola di Rienzi had made a plan of campaign and now told him of it; he was writing immediately to the Pope, the Emperor, and all the sovereigns of Christendom, inviting them to send him ambassadors to receive a communication of the first importance, though he gave them no indication of its nature. And when the ambassadors had assembled in solemn audience, he proposed that Giannino should appear before them, clothed in all the insignia of royalty, while he informed them he was the true King of France – all this, of course, if his most gracious Lord agreed.

  Giannino had been King of France only since the night before, but he had been a Sienese banker for twenty years; and he was wondering what advantage Rienzi hoped to derive from adopting his cause with such enthusiasm, with a nervous impatience, indeed, that set the potentate’s huge body quivering. Why, when four kings had already succeeded to the throne of France since Louis X’s death, was he so eager to engage in such a dispute now? Was it simply, as he asserted, to right a monstrous injustice and restore a prince who had been despoiled to his heritage? The Tribune soon made his basic thought clear.

  ‘The true King of France could bring the Pope back to Rome. These false kings have false popes.’

  Rienzi was far-sighted. The war between France and England, which was gradually becoming a struggle of one half of the Western world against the other, had, if not for origin, at least as its legal basis, a dynastic quarrel of succession. By producing the legitimate heir to the throne of France, the other two kings would be deprived of all basis for their claims. The sovereigns of Europe, at least those who were not engaged in the war, would assemble in Rome, remove King Jean II and give King Jean I his crown. And Jean I would bring the Holy Father back to the Eternal City. The Court of France would cease to have designs on the Imperial territories in Italy; there would be no more fighting between the Guelphs and the Ghibellines; Italy would be united again and could aspire to the recovery of her lost greatness; and the Pope and the King of France, if they so wished, could even make Cola di Rienzi, who was after all an emperor’s son and would be the architect of the peace and regained greatness, Emperor, and not a German emperor either, but a classical one. Cola’s mother was of the Trastevere, where the shades of Augustus, Trajan and Marcus Aurelius still walked, even in the taverns, and could still set minds dreaming.

  The next day, October 4th, during the course of a third conversation, which this time took place in daylight, Rienzi gave Giannino, whom he now called Giovanni di Francia, all the documents in his extraordinary case: his foster-mother’s confession, Brother Jourdain d’Espagne’s account, and Brother Antoine’s letter. Then, summoning a secretary, he began dictating a declaration of their authenticity.

  ‘We, Cola di Rienzi, Knight of Grace of the Apostolic Throne, Illustrious Senator of the Holy City, Judge, Captain and Tribune of the Roman people, have carefully examined the documents which have been delivered to us by Brother Antoine, and all that we have learned and heard has merely served to increase our faith in them, for it is indeed by the will of God that the Kingdom of France has been a prey for many long years to war and calamities of every kind, and all these things have been permitted by God, we believe, in expiation of the fraud of which this man is the victim, and which has resulted in his living a long while in lowliness and poverty …’

  The Tribune seemed more nervous than the day before; he stopped dictating whenever he heard an unusual sound, and again when there was an unwonted silence. His large eyes were often turned towards the open windows; it was as if he were keeping watch on the city.

  ‘Giannino, on our invitation, presented himself before us, on Thursday, October 2nd. Before explaining to him what we had to tell him, we asked him who he was, his condition, his name, his father’s name, and about everything that concerned him. All that he told us agreed with the information contained in Brother Antoine’s letters. We then respectfully revealed to him everything we had learned. But since we know that a conspiracy is being set on foot against us in Rome …’

  Giannino started. Was Cola di Rienzi, who was so powerful that he could talk of sending ambassadors to the Pope and all the princes of the world, really in fear for his life? He stared at the Tribune; and Rienzi confirmed the fact by slowly lowering his lids over his bright eyes; his right nostril quivered.

  ‘The Colonna,’ he said gravely; then he began dictating again: ‘… and as we fear we may die before being able to give him our support or the means of recovering his kingdom, we have had these documents copied and have given them into his hand, this Saturday, October 4th, 1354, having sealed them with our seal and engraved with the great star surrounded by eight little stars, and with the little circle in the centre, as well as with the arms of the Holy Church and of the Roman people, so that the truths they contain shall be the better guaranteed and that they
may be recognized by all the faithful. May our Most Pious and Most Gracious Lord Jesus Christ accord us a sufficiently long life to see so just a cause triumph in this world. Amen, Amen.’

  This done, Rienzi went to the open window and, taking Jean I by the shoulder with an almost paternal gesture, showed him the great ruins of the ancient Forum a hundred feet below, the triumphal arches and the fallen temples. The setting sun was turning the fabulous quarry, from which Vandals and popes had drawn their marble for nearly ten centuries, and which was not yet exhausted, to rose and gold. From the Temple of Jupiter they could see the House of the Vestal Virgins, and the laurel growing in the Temple of Venus.

  ‘It was there,’ said the Tribune pointing to the site of the ancient Roman Curia, ‘that Caesar was assassinated. Will you do me a very great service, my noble lord? No one yet knows who you are, and you can travel peacefully like a simple citizen of Siena. I want to do everything in my power to help you; but to do so I must be alive. I know there is a conspiracy being set on foot against me. I know my enemies want to put me to death. I know that the messengers I send out of Rome are watched. Set out for Montefiascone, go and find Cardinal Albornez on my behalf, and ask him to send me troops with all speed.’

  In what an extraordinary adventure Giannino had become involved during the last few hours! Hardly had he become the claimant, the Prince Pretender to the throne of France, than he was to set off as the Tribune’s emissary to get him help. So far he had agreed to nothing, and yet how could he possibly say no?

  The next day, October 5th, after twelve hours on the road, he reached Montefiascone, through which he had passed five days earlier cursing France and the French. He had an interview with Cardinal Albornez who at once decided to march on Rome with the troops at his disposal: but it was already too late. On Tuesday, October 7th, Cola di Rienzi was assassinated.

  4.

  Jean I, the Unknown

  GIOVANNI DI FRANCIA RETURNED to Siena, where he lived quietly for two years, continuing his banking and wool business. He merely looked at himself rather often in the mirror. However, he never went to sleep without thinking he was the son of Queen Clémence of Hungary, the cousin of the sovereigns of Naples, and the great-grandson of Saint Louis. But he was not naturally very audacious. It was difficult to leave Siena abruptly at the age of forty, and announce to the world: ‘I am the King of France,’ without incurring the risk of being thought mad. The assassination of Cola di Rienzi, his protector for three days, had given him seriously to think. Besides, to whom could he turn for help?

  All the same, he had not kept the matter entirely secret. He had told something of it to his wife Francesca who, like all women, was curious, and to his friend Guidarelli who, like all notaries, was curious too; above all, he had spoken of it to his confessor, Fra Bartolomeo, a Dominican.

  Fra Bartolomeo was an excitable and talkative Italian monk, and he immediately saw himself as confessor to a king. Giannino had shown him all the documents Rienzi had given him; and the Dominican began to gossip about them in the town. Soon the Sienese began to whisper to each other about the fabulous circumstances of the legitimate King of France being their fellow citizen. People gathered in front of the Palazzo Tolomei to stare. Customers bowed very low when ordering wool from Giannino; they considered it an honour to sign a contract with him; and they pointed him out as he walked through the narrow streets. The commercial travellers who had visited France asserted that he bore a great facial resemblance to the French princes, since he was fair, round-cheeked, and had a wide gap between his eyebrows.

  The Sienese merchants began spreading the news to their correspondents in the commercial houses of all Europe. It was then discovered that Brother Jourdain d’Espagne and Brother Antoine, the Augustines everyone thought dead, since they had both given an impression in their accounts of the affair of being old and ill, were in fact still alive and even on the point of setting out on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. The two monks wrote to the Council of the Republic of Siena and confirmed all the declarations they had made; and Brother Jourdain even wrote to Giannino, pointing out all the misfortunes that had fallen on France and exhorting him to take courage.

  Indeed, these misfortunes were grave. King Jean II, ‘the False King’ as the Sienese now called him, had given the measure of his genius in a great battle fought in the west of his kingdom, not far from Poitiers. Since his father, Philippe VI, had been defeated at Crécy by infantry, it had occurred to him to dismount his knights, though he had neglected to make them discard their armour when throwing them into the assault against an enemy established on the crest of a hill. They had been cut to pieces in their grey shells like so many live lobsters.

  The King’s eldest son, Charles – who was known as the Dauphin since the House of France, towards the end of the previous reign, had bought back the Dauphiné from the Count of Viennois – had been in command of a section of the army, but had quitted the battlefield, so it was asserted, on his father’s orders, though there could be no question of the alacrity he had displayed in obeying them. It was also said that the Dauphin’s hands had a tendency to swell and that he therefore could not hold a sword for long. In any case, his discretion had saved a few knights for France, while Jean II, cut off with his youngest son, Philippe, who kept shouting: ‘Father, guard your right! Father, guard your left!’ when it was a whole army he had to guard against, had in the end surrendered to a knight from Picardy who had taken service with the English.

  The Valois was now King Edward III’s prisoner. And the fabulous sum of a million florins was being asked for his ransom. There was certainly no question of the Sienese bankers coming to his aid.

  One morning in October 1356 these events were being discussed with a great deal of excitement in front of the Siena Municipio, in that fine square which is like an amphitheatre, surrounded by rose and ochre palaces. Indeed, the discussion was so animated and the accompanying gestures so emphatic that the pigeons had taken fright. Fra Bartolomeo, in his white habit, suddenly joined the largest group and, justifying his renown as a predicant friar, began speaking as if he were in the pulpit.

  ‘We shall now see at last what kind of a man this prisoner king really is and what right he has to the crown of Saint Louis! The time for justice has come; the calamities that have overtaken France during these last twenty-five years are a punishment for her sins. Jean of Valois is merely an usurper! Usurpatore! Usurpatore!’ cried Fra Bartolomeo to the rapidly growing crowd. ‘He has no right to the throne he occupies. The true, the legitimate King of France is here in Siena. Everyone knows him as Giannino Baglioni!’

  He pointed across the roofs towards the Tolomei Palace.

  ‘He is thought to be the son of Guccio, who was the son of Mino; but he was in fact born in France, the son of King Louis and Queen Clémence of Hungary.’

  The city was so stirred by this speech that the Council of the Republic met at once in the Municipio, summoned Fra Bartolomeo to bring the documents, examined them, and after a long discussion decided to recognize Giannino as King of France. They were prepared to help him recover his kingdom; and they appointed a Council of Six from among the wisest and richest citizens to watch over his interests and inform the Pope, the Emperor, the sovereigns and the Parliament of Paris that there was a son of Louis X in existence, who was legitimate though dispossessed. They also voted Giannino a guard of honour and a pension.

  Giannino was rather frightened by all this to-do and began by refusing everything. But the Council insisted; it waved his own documents in his face and refused to take no for an answer. In the end, he told them of his interviews with Cola di Rienzi, whose death still obsessed him. After that, there was no limit to the Council’s enthusiasm. The most noble among the Sienese quarrelled for places in his bodyguard. Indeed, the various districts of the city almost came to blows as on the day of the Palio.

  The enthusiasm lasted for something under a month, during which Giannino walked the streets of his city with a princely sui
te. His wife could not quite make up her mind as to what attitude she should adopt and she wondered whether, mere bourgeoise that she was, she could ever be anointed in Reims. As for his children, they had to wear their Sunday suits every day of the week. The eldest by Giannino’s first marriage, Gabriele, wondered whether he should be considered heir to the throne? Gabriele Primo, King of France, sounded a little odd. Or again (and poor Francesca Agazzano trembled at the thought), would the Pope not have to annul the marriage, which was clearly a most unsuitable one for so august a person as her husband, so that he might contract another with a king’s daughter?

  The enthusiasm of the merchants and bankers was soon quieted by their correspondents, who represented to them that business in France was bad enough, and that the Italians had quite sufficient difficulty already in maintaining their establishments there and in England without anyone putting forward a new king. The Bardi of Florence laughed at the very idea of the legitimate sovereign being a Sienese. France had a Valois king, at the moment a prisoner in London, where he enjoyed a luxurious captivity in Savoy House on the Thames, with all his household complete, and the freedom to console himself for the assassination of his darling La Cerda with the young pages. France had too, an English king, who was demanding that the crown should be recognized as his by right. And now the new King of Navarre, grandson of Marguerite of Burgundy, and Giannino’s nephew, if it came to that, already known as Charles the Bad, was also claiming the throne. And the whole lot of them were in debt to the Italian bankers. This was clearly no moment for the Sienese to support the claims of their Giannino.

  As a result, the Council of the Republic forbore to write to the sovereigns, send an ambassador to the Pope, or representatives to the Parliament of Paris. Giannino’s pension and guard of honour were soon withdrawn.