The Red Rose of Anjou (2 page)

‘Indeed not,’ agreed René. ‘But who would have believed a few months ago that we should have achieved such success.’

It was true. But Isabelle was more realistic than her husband and she knew that the English would not be driven out just because of one French victory—spectacular though it was.

There was bustle throughout the castle as René made his preparations to leave for Rheims. Even the children were aware of it and young John wanted to know why his father was with them.

‘He’ll not be here for long, my lord,’ Theophanie told him. ‘He’ll be off again soon. He’s going now to put a golden crown on the King’s head.’

‘Why?’ asked John.

‘Because he’s the King of course.’

‘I want a golden crown.’

‘You can’t have one, my little master, and that’s flat, and I can’t say I’m sorry about that. Crowns,’ muttered Theophanie more to herself than the child, ‘they never brought much good to anyone as far as I can see.’

John was inclined to whimper until Agnès took him into her lap and explained to him that crowns could be heavy things that sometimes hurt the head that carried them. He should not crave for one. Those who had them had to wear them and sometimes did not very much enjoy it.

John went to sleep and as she sat holding him Agnès wondered about the King. What she had heard of him had not been very flattering. He had made a bad impression on the people and few had any hope in him except the strange peasant girl who was supposed to have had instructions from Heaven to have him crowned and to win France back for him.

‘His father was mad,’ people said. And yet there were some who said he was a bastard and no son of the mad King after all. He was now about twenty-six years old. ‘But he looks all of forty,’ was another comment. ‘It’s the life he lives. They say the ladies of the Court won’t look at him—Dauphin though he is and true King you might say—so he contents himself with serving-maids who welcome him to their beds for the sake of the royalty he brings with him.’

Agnès was wise enough to realize that these stories must be exaggerated—and on the other hand there was possibly a grain of truth in them.

‘His mother told him he was a bastard...not the King’s true son. They say that has upset him more than the loss of his kingdom.’

Poor Charles, thought Agnès.

He was a husband though and a father. Surely he found some comfort in his family.

‘His lips are thick and he has hardly any brows and lashes; he was born with an exaggerated Valois nose which is bulbous and most disfiguring in his blubbery face...’

Oh no, thought Agnès, he cannot be as bad as all that. The Lord René was fond of him, and extremely happy because he was going to his coronation. Perhaps I shall see him one day and judge for myself, and as I am prepared for a monster I might have an agreeable surprise.

Theophanie came in and took the sleeping John from her. ‘A crown indeed. God preserve you from that, my precious,’ said Theophanie kissing the sleeping face.

René was ready to leave and the whole household was in the courtyard to wish him godspeed on his journey to Rheims.

Theophanie was there beside him—the specially privileged nurse who remembered the days when she held him in her lap and taught him his first tottering steps.

‘Now you take care, my lord René, and don’t you get caught up in any of these troubles. Keep well away from those Burgundians...a nasty lot them...going against their own country. And tell Marie I’m thinking of her and not to forget to keep her temper. Tell her she’s a Queen now...in very truth. Tell her that Theophanie wants to be proud of her.’

René smiled at her and kissed her hand. Dear René, the best of the bunch—always so kind and courteous, a real gallant knight. She only hoped he would be able to look after himself if he came into contact with those wicked Burgundians or the even more wicked English.

Two years had passed since René went riding to Rheims to assist at the coronation of Charles the Seventh. The war was not over as so many people had optimistically prophesied it would be. The Maid had been captured by the Burgundians and sold to the English who had burned her in the square at Rouen. That brief glory was over—but not quite. Joan had made her impact. The fortunes of France had changed and although there were still English in France—and in dominant positions—Orléans had been saved, several towns had been recaptured by the French and there was a crowned King of France. The English had wanted to bring the little King of England over to crown him and they had done so, but not at Rheims. Oh, no, that was still in the hands of the French. They had had to be content with

Paris and everyone knew that a crowning at Paris was not the same as one in Rheims.

René was often with his family at the Château Keure. They were wonderful days when he came to the nursery and played with the children and told them stories. He was far more gentle than their mother and they all adored him. Even two-year-old Margaret waited for his coming and shouted with delight when he appeared.

René said to Isabelle: ‘This is the life for me. How much happier I am with my family than attending Court.’

‘You are happy to be with your sister though.’

‘It is good to see Marie. She is well able to take care of herself.’

‘And Charles, too, it seems.’

‘Well, she and my mother have a strong influence on him. He has changed, Isabelle. The coming of the peasant girl from Domremy had a marked effect on him. It is said that she assured him he was the King’s legitimate son.’

‘A mixed blessing,’ commented Isabelle. ‘To be the son of a mad father and have every right to the crown or to be free of taint and no right at all. A difficult choice to make.’

‘Not for Charles. He is convinced now that he has a right to wear the crown and it seems of late that he is rousing himself from his previous lethargy. He is really giving his mind to freeing his country and bringing prosperity back to it.’

‘Perhaps he will do it...with your sister to help him.’

‘Don’t forget my mother.’

‘Ah yes, indeed. Well perhaps there are better days ahead for France.’

Occasionally René left on some military exercise. Then there was gloom in the Château; but when he returned the joy of reunion was so great that, said Theophanie, it was almost worth the sadness they had suffered through his absence.

One January day two months before Margaret’s second birthday, messengers arrived at the Château.

They brought sad news. Isabelle’s father, the Duke of Lorraine, had died.

Isabelle’s grief was tempered by the sudden realization that she, as her father’s heiress, should inherit the Dukedom of Lorraine. The possession of this rich territory would make all the difference to them. René would of course take the title and this would mean that Lorraine and Bar would be united and that René instead of being a not very affluent nobleman would become a wealthy and influential one.

Her assumption proved to be correct. The Duke’s estates passed to his only child and the family fortunes changed overnight.

The first step would be to leave Pont-à-Mousson for Nancy. There they would take over the late Duke’s Château and live in a style afforded by their new position.

‘This,’ said Theophanie, ‘is more like it. This is how it should be for my lady Yolande’s son.’

There was great excitement in the nurseries when the children realized they were to leave for Nancy. John plied everyone with questions and Louis and Yolande listened wide-eyed to the answers. Even baby Margaret was aware that something was afoot. Theophanie was very glad of the help that Agnès gave her.

‘That one is so good with children,’ she commented to the lady Isabelle. ‘I rely on her. She will make a good mother when her time comes, mark my words. The Lord intended her to be a mother.’

‘She is a good girl,’ said Lady Isabelle, ‘and now that we have the means we shall look to finding a husband for her.’

‘I’ll ask the Lord to find her a good one,’ said Theophanie. ‘She’s worthy of the best, that one.’

It was all very pleasant while it lasted. Everyone was enchanted by the château in Nancy and all the new treasures they were able to acquire. They hadn’t realized until now how shabby everything had been in the Château Keure. Nancy was very grand.

‘Little more like what we had when I was with my lady Yolande,’ commented Theophanie. ‘My lord René would remember.’

Lady Isabelle might have commented that she had been brought up in grand surroundings also and that indeed they owed their new good fortune to her side of the family.

But disaster was lying in wait.

One day travellers arrived at the castle. As René and Isabelle watched their approach they felt a twinge of alarm for they recognized the colours of the Duke of Burgundy.

He was not present himself. They would not have expected the great man to call without some herald warning them first; and in any case, he was one of the enemies. He had made it known that he had deeply deplored René’s arriving with his men to help the Orléannese at the time of the siege.

The visitors were received with the customary hospitality.

and while they were drinking wine in the great hall they came to the point.

The fact was that René and Isabelle were being asked to leave the Château as soon as they could conveniently do so and René must also give up his title of Duke of Lorraine. In accepting this and Isabelle’s believing herself to be her father’s heiress, they had overlooked one important point. The Salic Law prevailed in France and that meant that she could not inherit her father’s estates. The title and estates of Lorraine in truth belonged to the late Duke’s eldest nephew, Antoine Count of Vaudémont, who was the nearest male heir.

‘That is not so,’ cried Isabelle. I am my father’s daughter. He meant everything to go to me.’

‘My lady,’ was the answer, ‘the Count of Vaudémont does not agree with this. Nor, I must tell you, does the Duke of Burgundy.’

‘The Duke of Burgundy! This is not his affair.’

‘He disagrees.’

René was deeply depressed. His brief respite was over. He knew what was in Burgundy’s mind. This was punishment for supporting the Armagnacs. It was more than that. Burgundy wanted his way in Lorraine. Burgundy wanted to control the whole of France.

Isabelle’s eyes were flashing with fury. ‘You may go back and tell your masters that Lorraine is mine...ours. We will not give up one part of it.’

‘My lady, I would ask you to consider carefully...My lord Duke is determined.’

‘Go back to the Duke of Burgundy and the Count of Vaudémont,’ cried Isabelle. ‘If they want Lorraine, tell them to come and take it.’

Thus it was that the idyll was over and the battle for the estates of Lorraine began.

###

Theophanie shook her head over the turnabout in their affairs.

‘My lord René had no heart for it,’ she told Agnès. ‘If it had been left to him he would have handed it all back to that Vaudémont. There’s a saying, Agnès my dear, that if you want to live in peace keep friendly with Burgundy.’

‘I have no respect for a Frenchman who works against Frenchmen.’

‘It goes back a long way, my dear. The Duke’s father was murdered by the Dauphin’s men...That started it. Well, more or less, but before that the Duke of Orléans was murdered by Burgundy. It’s these family quarrels. I never did like them. If I was the Lord I’d just pick up that Burgundy and Armagnac and give them a smart smack where it hurts most.’

Agnès laughed, visualizing such nursery tactics from the Almighty.

But there was disaster in the air, she knew. She had become interested in their nation’s affairs since the coming of Joan of Arc. She liked to hear how the Maid had restored his confidence to the Dauphin. But this was of course a private quarrel—a battle for Lorraine. ‘They should amend this Salic Law,’ she said to Theophanie.

‘Of course they should,’ agreed the nurse. ‘When I think of the women in my family...’ She meant of course that of Anjou in which she had served since she was a girl. ‘Well, when I think of our women, I’ll say this, Agnès, they’d do as well in battle as any man...and bring more sense to it too if you ask me. The Lord saw it when he sent the Maid. Look what she did. What if they’d started talking about this Salic Law to her, eh?’

‘It would scarcely have applied to her,’ Agnès pointed out.

‘Salic Law,’ went on Theophanie. ‘As if the lady Isabelle hasn’t got every right to what her father left her. And what has it to do with this Burgundy? That’s what I should like to know.’

The days passed. The lady Isabelle was clearly anxious. She would go to the topmost turret and there look out for signs of René and his men returning, she hoped victorious from the battle to uphold their rights.

She did not have to wait long. The battle had been over quickly and it was decisive.

She was in the turret watching when she saw several men riding fast and making for the castle. Hurrying down she was in the courtyard before they arrived. One look at them was enough to tell her that her worst fears were realized.

‘My lady,’ gasped the leader of the band. ‘Ill tidings. We were completely overcome at Bulgnéville. We put up a brave fight but none could withstand Burgundy’s troops. They were everywhere and we were outnumbered. Vaudémont would not have succeeded without the help of the great Duke.’

Isabelle cried impatiently: ‘My lord...René...Oh God help us they have taken him. He is dead...’

‘No, no, my lady. He lives. But yes, they have taken him. He was badly wounded...but he lives...in the hands of the Burgundians.’

Isabelle closed her eyes. Theophanie was beside her. ‘There, my lady. The news is not that bad. He lives...that is what matters most. The rest we’ll sort out.’

‘A prisoner...’ murmured Isabelle. ‘Burgundy’s prisoner...’

‘The good Lord won’t let that wicked man keep a good man like Lord René long. I know that. He’ll be back, my lady. You’ll see. Here, Agnès, take my lady’s arm. Let’s get her to her chamber. This has been a great shock for her.’

Isabelle smiled wryly. ‘Oh stop treating me like one of your children, Theophanie.’

Theophanie said, ‘You’re right. You’re not one of my children. You’ll know what to do, my lady. Don’t I always say it’s the women who manage these things best?’