by Jean Plaidy
That the new Charles was going to drive a hard bargain was apparent. He would not give Henry one of his own daughters which he could easily have done; but Margaret, he implied, was good enough for Henry. She was a French Princess and the French were no longer in the position they had been in when Katherine the present King’s sister was given to Henry the Fifth.
Charles was not inclined to agree to a peace treaty. Why should he, with everything going in his favour? He would agree to a truce, of course; but he implied that the only thing which could bring about peace was for England to give up all claim to the French crown.
René of Anjou expressed himself dubious. Could he give his daughter to one who had usurped his hereditary dominions of Anjou and Maine?
This was an indication of what terms would be demanded.
Suffolk was relieved to escape from the conference and return to his wife. He was glad he had brought Alice with him for he could talk to her as he could to no one else.
‘I like not this matter,’ he said. I can see what will happen. The French will make great demands and the King will accept them because he wants peace and Margaret. And later when it is realized what we have had to pay for her, the people will blame me.’
‘You have the King’s assurance that no blame shall be attached to you.’
‘The assurances of Kings don’t account for much in matters like this.’
‘What can you do?’
‘I cannot agree to give up Anjou and Maine, of course. I don’t know whether a truce will be acceptable when peace terms were required. I have achieved very little advantage for ourselves.’
‘And what is Margaret’s dowry to be?’
‘There again, they seem to set a high store on this young girl who has only recently acquired the status of Princess and even then her father has nothing more than a hollow title.’
‘Alas,’ said Alice, ‘it shows how low England has fallen when you remember it is only a little more than two years ago when it was England who was calling the tune.’
‘Which brings us back to the Maid of Orléans who brought about the change. Charles is a different man from the Dauphin.’
‘They say it is Agnès Sorel who has changed him.’
‘It is amazing that women should have had such an effect on men.’
‘It often happens,’ retorted Alice, ‘although less rarely so spectacularly. Perhaps it is because Charles is a king that it is so noticeable. But what will you do, William?’
‘I can see only one course of action. I shall return home and put the proposals before the council.’
‘Very wise,’ she commented. ‘Let it be their decision not yours. It is well in such matters to be only the ambassador.’
So they travelled down to the coast and set sail for England.
###
Suffolk faced the Parliament. He had already laid the proposition before the King and the Cardinal. The French were asking a great deal but the King was becoming more and more enamoured of the idea of marriage with Margaret of Anjou and the Cardinal saw it as important to peace and although the demands for Maine and Anjou had startled them at first, they were wavering and were coming to the decision that anything was acceptable which would bring about the marriage.
To make matters worse, Margaret’s dowry was to be the islands of Majorca and Minorca which were of no value at all, for although René claimed to have inherited them from his mother, Yolande had had no jurisdiction over them. In fact all René had to offer was titles. There could rarely have been a man who had so many titles and so few possessions.
The Duke of Gloucester stood up and loudly opposed the marriage.
It was humiliating, he said, for the King of England to contemplate marrying a lady without possessions whose title to Princess was suspect, who demanded everything and gave nothing. He and his party—which was quite significant— opposed the match. He would do everything in his power to prevent it. It was giving way to the French; it was playing into Charles’s hands. They could be sure their enemies were laughing at them. Forget this marriage with Anjou. Let the King take one of the daughters of the Count of Armagnac and then let them prosecute the war and win back all they had lost because of the weak policy they had followed since the death of his brother the Duke of Bedford.
The Cardinal rose to oppose Gloucester. The enmity between them which had lasted for years was as strong as ever.
The Cardinal pleaded for peace. The country needed peace. Those who thought otherwise had no knowledge of what was happening in France.
Gloucester was on his feet. He was a soldier, he reminded them, a man who had conducted campaign after campaign.
‘With considerable failure,’ commented the Cardinal.
Gloucester, red in the face, almost foaming at the mouth, spat out at his uncle, ‘And you, my lord, you man of the Church, what do you know of military campaigns?’
I know, my lord, whether they succeed or not and we cannot afford more failures. The people will not agree to go on being taxed for a war that brings us no gain.’
‘My brother the King...’
‘Your brother the King was one of the most successful generals the world has known. Alas, he is dead, and his victories have gone with him. Times have changed. The French are in the ascendant. To carry on a war in France with all the attendant difficulties of transport and supplies is impossible. We need peace. And if the French will only give us a truce let us take it.’
The Parliament had grown accustomed to listening to the Cardinal. The late King and Bedford had relied on his judgment. He was known to be a man who served the Crown well, whereas Gloucester, popular as he might be in some quarters, was renowned for his rashness.
And the King clearly wanted the marriage.
The Parliament was therefore persuaded that the marriage with Anjou would be good for the country and it was agreed that the terms for a truce would be accepted and the question of Maine and Anjou should be left open to be discussed at some later date. So Suffolk was sent back to France to arrange the marriage by proxy.
For his services in this matter he was awarded the title of Marquess.
###
Theophanie was in a state bordering between bliss and sorrow. She was going to lose her charge and yet the young girl, who had so little in possessions to offer a bridegroom, was going to make a brilliant marriage, for although she was going to marry the enemy she would be a Queen and a real Queen at that. Not like her father and mother who called themselves King and Queen and had no country to rule.
Oh, she was proud of her Margaret. So would her grandmother the lady Yolande have been if she could see her today.
Margaret herself did not seem greatly impressed.
‘You don’t seem to want to be Queen of England,’ Theophanie complained.
‘England has been our enemy, Theophanie. Have you forgotten how we used to watch out for the soldiers and how alarmed everyone was when they were near?’
‘Young ladies like you were born to end these wars. I always reckoned you did more with your pretty looks than the men did with their cannons and cross bows.’
‘You mean alliances. I am just a counter in the game, Theophanie.’
‘Oh, you’re more than that. You’re like your mother and your grandmother. You’re going to be one of those women who do the ruling. I’ve always seen that in you.’
‘It will be strange to be in a foreign country away from you all.’
Theophanie was saddened and put up her hand to knock away a tear with a degree of impatience. ‘It’s always the same with us nurses,’ she said. ‘We have our babies and then they are snatched away from us. Kings and Queens and noblemen lose their daughters when they become ready for marriage. It’s only the poor who can keep their children with them. You’ll have to promise me never to forget old Theophanie and what she taught you when you are Queen of England.’
Poor Theophanie, she felt the parting deeply. Margaret
did too. It was the end of her girlhood. She was going to a new country and a husband. She wondered a great deal about Henry.
Her parents were to escort her to Nancy where the proxy ceremony would take place. The King of France would attend, for her marriage was of importance to France. She knew that. She would see her aunt Marie and Agnès again.
Her father talked to her about the marriage as he painted, for he was loth to leave the picture he was working on.
‘It never seems the same when one comes back to it,’ he said. ‘When people produce works of art they should live with them, stay with them night and day until they are completed.’
‘Dear Father,’ she replied, ‘I am sorry my marriage is taking you away from the work you love.’
‘I was joking,’ he said. ‘Of course I want to be at my daughter’s wedding. Do you realize what you are doing for France...for us all by this marriage?’
‘Yes,’ she answered.
‘You will be in a place of authority. You will be able to guide the King to act in favour of your country.’
‘Do you think a King of England would be guided to act against his own country in favour of France?’
‘Not really, of course, nor could we expect him to. What I mean is a little gentle persuasion eh, when some matter arises.’
‘I shall have to wait and see what matters arise.’
‘You will delight him I know. And he must want this marriage very much to consider giving up Maine and Anjou for it.’
A few days later her father was disturbed. Since her betrothal he had taken her into his confidence. It was as though he regarded her as already Queen of England and if she were going to work for the good of France she must be kept cognizant of affairs.
‘The Vaudémonts will attend the wedding and they say that it is high time that your sister Yolande and Ferri were married. Yolande is older than you and yet you are to be a bride. They want a double wedding.’
‘It will be wonderful to see Yolande again.’
‘Margaret, I always intended that this wedding should never take place. Yolande...my daughter...to marry my great enemy.’
‘But it was the terms of peace. Father. You agreed to this marriage.’
‘Because I was forced to.’
‘But it was for this reason that you were released.’
‘Yolande was only a child then. I was determined that the marriage should never take place. I am still determined. And now the Vaudémonts will be coming to your wedding and they are making plans for Ferri de Vaudémont to marry Yolande at the same time.’
Margaret was astounded. She was very uneasy when she saw the look of determination in her father’s face and she wondered whether he was planning some wild action to prevent the marriage of Yolande and Ferri de Vaudémont.
###
Margaret said a sad farewell to Theophanie, who was in tears knowing that it was highly improbable that they would ever meet again, and with her parents set out on the journey to Nancy.
The whole neighbourhood was en fête. This was going to be the grandest wedding they had seen for a long time. It was true the bridegroom would not be present and there would be a nobleman of high rank to stand in for him but the King and all the Court would be there, among them the famous beauty and counsellor of the King, Agnès Sorel, who, it was said, he loved more than his life.
There would be festivities which would last for days and already the traders in the neighbourhood had profited by all the work this had brought them.
Crowds of people were converging on the town of Nancy from all over France and the people even cheered the English delegation.
When Margaret appeared riding between her father and mother the people went wild with joy. ‘Long live the beautiful bride!’ they shouted; and Margaret was thrilled for the first time by the acclaim of the people. It was then that she realized the importance of the occasion. She was going into a new country as its Queen and silently she vowed that she would never forget her native land.
The King and the Queen were already in the castle. Margaret sank to her knees and was lifted up by the King and warmly kissed. Her aunt Marie glowed with affection too and there was Agnès standing beside the King, dazzling as ever with that rather unearthly beauty of hers.
They were making a very important occasion of it.
Then she was presented to the English embassy headed by Suffolk. He introduced her to his lady to whom she immediately took a great fancy. She liked Suffolk too. There was a kindliness about him and he had such a protective air.
The King told her that jousts and all sorts of entertainments were being planned to celebrate her nuptials.
‘Dear niece,’ he said, ‘this is going to be an occasion you will never forget.’
‘I suppose, Sire,’ said Margaret, ‘that few forget their wedding days.’
‘This is but a proxy marriage and there will be the official ceremony when you get to England. I want you to remember this as your last ceremonial occasion as a Princess of France.’
He placed his hand over hers and patted it. She sensed that he was very pleased with the wedding.
It was a great delight to see Yolande again.
At first the sisters did not recognize each other, which was natural since it must be twelve years since they had been together. They both remembered though vaguely the upheavals in their lives which young as they were had made a deep impression. There was that journey to France undertaken when Margaret was two and Yolande three to go with their mother to plead with the King. They remembered how shortly afterwards Yolande was taken away to go to live with the Vaudémont.
‘And now we are both to be married,’ said Yolande.
‘You too?’ asked Margaret.
‘Ferri is determined on it. He has said we have waited over-long. Every time it is suggested our father makes some excuse why it should not take place.’
‘You want to marry then, Yolande?’
‘But of course,’ said Yolande. ‘Ferri and I have grown up together. We have always been good friends. It is different for you, Margaret. You have never seen your bridegroom.’
‘The Marchioness of Suffolk tells me a great deal about him. She says he is handsome though gently so...if you know what that means. In fact, everything about him is gentle. He is kindly and hates being cruel to anyone even his enemies, and he is a great scholar and interested in poetry, painting and music’
‘That should suit you,’ said Yolande, ‘and if you are anything like our mother and grandmother—which I suspect you are— you will be able to tell him what he ought to do.’
‘The more I talk of him the less apprehensive I become. What of Ferri?’
‘Ferri is bold and romantic and I would not have him otherwise. I am fortunate not to be going to a man I do not know.’
‘But I feel I already know Henry through Alice.’
‘Who is Alice?’
‘She is the Marchioness. I call her Alice. She asked me to. She is a very pleasant woman. I have taken a fancy to her and I think she has to me.’
‘Most people would be ready to take a fancy to their Queen.’
‘I have no doubt, but I do feel friendship for Alice. She is different from any woman I have met. Perhaps it is because she did not descend entirely from the nobility. Her father, she tells me, was Thomas Chaucer, the eldest son of Geoffrey Chaucer who made a name for himself with his writing. He married a sister of Catherine Swynford who was John of Gaunt’s third wife. You see the connection.’
‘Ah, she climbed into the nobility.’
‘Her father was a very rich man. He was Speaker of the House of Commons and the Marquess of Suffolk is her third husband.’
‘What a lot you know about her.’
‘We talk and it comes out. She was an only child and I suppose she had a fortune. She was married to the Earl of Salisbury before she married Suffolk. I like her very much. In fact I like Suffolk too. I feel in them I shal
l have good friends in my new home.’
‘You are excited about this marriage, Margaret. I wish mine could be settled. Father is going to stop it again, I believe.’
‘Perhaps if you spoke to him...’
‘I have done so. He hates the Vaudémont, Margaret.’
‘I suppose it is natural. They were really the beginning of his troubles. If they hadn’t claimed Lorraine...’
‘They had a right to,’ declared Yolande. ‘The Salic Law does exist and their claim for Lorraine comes before his.’
‘You will never get our father to see that.’
‘But he agreed to the terms...marriage for Ferri and me.’
‘I am sure Father will relent. It would be pleasant to have the two marriages together.’
‘We are going to insist on it.’
‘Then I am sure it will take place.’
But René was adamant when it was suggested.
‘There is so much that has to be arranged first,’ he insisted.
But those who knew him well fully understood that this was another example of his procrastination. The fact was that he did not want his daughter to marry into a house which he considered an enemy. That he had promised, that the marriage had been one of the terms of an agreement did not worry him. René was accustomed to waiving an agreement when it suited him.
But he had reckoned without a hot-blooded, romantic lover. Ferri was making plans and if he could get no satisfaction from his prospective bride’s father he intended to carry them out.
The dark November weather had no effect on the ceremonies.
In fact it accentuated their brilliance and crowds witnessed the proxy marriage of Margaret with the Marquess of Suffolk standing in as her bridegroom when the Bishop of Toul performed the ceremony in the church of St. Martins in Nancy and in the presence of a most illustrious assembly presided over by the King of France.
The King had said that this should be an occasion to be remembered and he was determined to make it so. René was nothing loth. He was eager that no expense should be spared— even if it was the expense of others—and with the King of France giving the orders it was very grand indeed.
