The Royal Succession (10 page)

And he signalled Pierre of the Temple, the royal carpenter, to approach with his workmen, carrying saws, pincers and big iron levers. At the same time the crossbowmen put their feet in a sort of stirrup at the top of their bows, bent their weapons, nocked their quarrels, and took up positions covering the battlements
and embrasures. The archers and pikemen joined their shields in a huge testudo above and around the carpenters. In the neighbouring streets loungers and urchins had gathered at a respectful distance to watch the siege. They were being offered a splendid entertainment, which would be matter for conversation for many days to come.

`I was there as sure as I'm standing here ... I saw the Constable draw his great sword . .. There were more than two thousand of them, for sure, more than two thousand they were!'

Finally Gaucher, in the voice he used for giving orders on the field of battle, shouted, through the raised visor of his helmet: `Messires inside there, here is the master carpenter and the master locksmith, who are going to break down the gates. Here, too, are the crossbowmen of Messire de Galard surrounding the palace at all points. No one can escape. I summon you for the last time to open the gates, for if you do not surrender at discretion, you will all lose your heads, however noble you may be. The Regent will give no quarter.'

Then he lowered his visor as a sign that he was prepared to argue no further.

There must have been a fine panic inside the palace for, at the very moment that the workmen were putting their levers under the gates, they opened of their own accord. The Count of Valois' garrison was surrendering.

`It was time you took the wise course,' said the Constable, as he took possession of the palace. `Go back to your homes and to the houses of your masters; if you do not assemble, no harm will come to you.'

An hour later Philippe of Poitiers was in occupation of the royal apartments. He immediately took measures for his safety. The courtyard of the palace, normally open to the public, was closed, a military guard placed on it, and all visitors were carefully checked. The mercers, who had the privilege of trading in the Great Gallery, were asked to close their stalls temporarily.

When the Counts of Valois and de la Marche arrived in Paris, they realized that the game was lost.

`Philippe has played a dirty trick on us,' they said.

And they hastened to the palace to negotiate their submission, having no longer any alternative. About the Count of Poitiers was a large number of lords, burgesses and ecclesiastics, among whom was the Archbishop Jean de Marigny, always prompt to join the winning side.

`He won't
last. He must be very uncertain
of himself if he feels obliged to seek the support of the commonalty,' Valois whispered to Charles de la Marche, when he saw with some vexation that Coquatrix, Gentien and other notables were present.

Nevertheless, he assumed his best manner when advancing towards his nephew and presenting his excuses for the morning's incident.

`My equerries of the guard knew no better. They had received definite orders because of Queen
Clemence,
'

He exp
ected a harsh rebuff and almost
hoped for it so that he might have a pretext for
opposing Philippe
openly. But his nephew gave him no opportunity for a quarrel and replied in the same tone: `I had to act as I did, and with the greatest regret, Uncle, to forestall the plans of the Duke of Burgundy, who had a free hand in your absence. I received, the news during the night at Fontainebleau, but did not wish to disturb you.'

Valois, to mi
nimize his defeat, pretended to
credit the explanation, and even brought himself to be polite to the Constable, whom he believed to be the author of the whole plot.

Charles, de
la Marche, who was less clever at dissimulation, clenched his teeth.

The Count of Evreux then made the pro
posal which had been previously
agreed with Philippe. While the Count of Poitiers pretended to be engaged in military questions with the Constable and Mille de Noyers in a corner of the room, Louis of Evreux said: `My noble lords, and you too, Messires, I counsel, for the g
ood of the kingdom and so as to
avoid dangerous disturbances, that our well-beloved nephew, Philippe, take possession of the government, we all consenting, and that he should fulfil the r
oyal duties in the name of his
unborn nephew, if. God so wishes that Q
ueen Clemence should give birth
to a son. I counsel also that an assembly of all the chief men of the kingdom be held as soon as it c
an be convoked, with the peers
and the barons, in order to approve our decision and swear fealty to the Regent.'

It was a precise counterstroke to the declaration Charles de la Marche had made the evening before on his arrival at Fontainebleau. But this Act had been prepared by better artists. Led by those who were loyal to the Count of Poitiers, everyone present approved with acclamation. Then Louis of Evreux, repeating the gesture the Count de Forez had made at Lyons, went and placed his hands between those of Philippe.

`I swear fealty to you, Nephew,' he said, falling upon his knees.

Philippe raised, him and, embracing him, whispered in his ear'. `Everything is going splendidly: thank you, Uncle.'

Charles de la Marche, furiously angry at Philippe's success, muttered: `He thinks he's the King.'

But Louis of Evreux had already turned to Charles of Valois and was saying: `I am sorry, Brother, to have taken precedence of you, my elder.'

There was nothing Valois could do but obey. He went forward with his hands outstretched; the Count of Poitiers left them
in
the air.

`I shall be grateful to you, Uncle,' he said, `if you will sit on my Council.'

Valois turned pale. Only the day before he had been signing ordinances and sealing them with his seal. Today he was being offered, as if it were a great honour, a place on a Council to which he belonged by right.

`You will also hand over to us t
he keys of the Treasury,' Phil
ippe added, lowering his voice. `I kn
ow that there is nothing in it
but air. But I don'
t want any more to blow away.'

Valois retreated. He was being asked to give up everything.

`Nephew, I cannot,' he replied. `I must have the accounts
drawn up.'

`Are you really so anxious to put the accounts in order, Uncle?'
said Philippe, with scarcely perceptible irony. `For we should then be compelled to look into them, and to examine also the administration of the sums confiscated from Enguerrand de Marigny. Give us the keys, and we will hold you exempt.'

Valois understood the threat.
`Very well, Nephew; the keys will be brought you within the hour.'

Philippe extended his hands to receive the homage of his most powerful rival.

The Constable of France then came forward in his turn.

`Now, Gaucher,' Philippe whispered to him, `we must deal with the Burgundian.'

8. The Count of Poitiers' visits

THE COUNT OF POITIERS had no illusions. He had just had a first, quick and spectacular success; but he knew that his adversaries were not to be disarmed so easily.

As soon' as he had received the meaningless oath of loyalty from Monseigneur of Valois, Philippe crossed the palace to pay his respects to his sister-in-law, Clemence. He was accompanied by Anseau de Joinville and the Countess Mahaut. Hugues de Bouville, as soon as he saw Philippe, burst into tears and fell on his knees, kissing his hands. The ex-Chamberlain, though he was a member of the Council of Peers, had not put in an appearance at the afternoon's meeting; he had not left his post nor sheathed his sword during all these last hours. The assault on the palace by the Constable and the panic and departure of the Count of Valois' men had subjected his nerves to too harsh an ordeal.

`Forgive me, Monseigneur, forgive my weakness; it is from joy of seeing you back ...' he said, wetting the Regent's hands with his tears.

`It's all right, my friend, it's all right,' replied Philippe.

The old Joinville did not recognize the Count of Poitiers. Nor did he recognize his own son and, when he had been told three times that they stood before him, he mistook one for the other and bowed ceremoniously to Anseau.

Bouville opened the door of the Queen's room. But, as Mahaut made to follow Philippe, the Curator, recovering his energy, cried: `You alone, Monseigneur, you alone!'

And he shut the door in the Countess' face.

Queen
Clemenc
e was pale and weak and clearly did not share the preoccupations that excited the Court and the people of Paris. As she saw the Count of Poitiers come towards her, his hands outstretched, she could not help thinking: `If I had been married to him, I should not be a widow today. Why should it have been Louis? Why was it not Philippe?' She forbade herself questions of this nature, which seemed to her reproaches to Almighty God. But nothing, even piety, could prevent a widow of twenty-three from wondering why other young me
n, other husbands, were alive.

P
hilippe told her that he had assumed the Regency and assured her of his utter devotion.

`Oh, yes, Brother, oh yes,' she murmured, `help me!'

She wanted to say, without knowing how to express herself: `Help me to, live, help me against despair, help me to put into the world this new life which from now on is my only task on earth.' She went on: `Why did our Uncle Valois make me leave my house at Vincennes almost by force? Louis gave it to me with his last breath.'

`Do you wish to return there?' Poitiers asked.

`It is my only desire, Brother! I shall feel better there. And my child will be born as near as possible to his father's spirit, in the place where he left this world.'

Philippe took no decisions, even lesser ones, lightly. He turned his eyes away from the white veils which framed Clemence's face and looked out of the window at the spire of the Sainte-Chapelle, whose outline seemed uncertain and misty to his short-sighted eyes, like a great gold-and-stone
stalk, on the summit of which
seemed to blossom the royal lily.

`If I grant her this wish,' he thought, `she will be grateful to me, will look on me as her defender and will obey my decisions in all things. On the other hand, my adversaries will have less easy access to her at Vincennes than here, and will have less chance of using her against me. Besides, in her present state of grief, she is of no use to anyone.'

`I want to do everything you wish, Sister,' he replied; `as soon as the Assembly of notables has confirmed me in my position, my first care will be to take you back to Vincennes. Today is Monday; the Assembly, which I am hastening on, will doubtless take place on Friday. I think you will be able to hear mass in your own house next Sunday.'

`I knew you were a kind brother, Philippe. Your return is the first relief God has granted me.'

When he came out of the Queen's apartment, Philippe found his mother-in-law waiting for him. She had been disputing with Bouville and was walking alone, with long mannish strides, up and down the flagstones of the gallery beneath the wary eyes of the equerries of the guard.

`Well, how is she?' she asked Philippe.

`Pious and resigned, and well worthy of giving France a king,' replied the Count, of Poitiers, loud enough to
be heard by all those present.

Then, in a low voice, he added: `I think, in
the state of health in which
I found her, that she will lose her child before her time.'

`It would be the best present she could give us, and would make everything much easier,' replied Mahaut in a whisper; `and then we should have done with all this mistrust and armed men about her. Since when have the peers of the realm been forbidden access to the Queen? I've been widowed too, devil take it, and people could always come and see me on affairs of State!'

Poisoner though she was, she was genuinely indignant that the general security measures should apply to her.

Philippe, who had not yet seen his wife since his return, went with Mahaut to the Hotel d'Artois.

`Your absence has seemed very long to my daughter,' said Mahaut. `But you will find her wonderfully well. No one would think that she was on the point of being brought to bed. I was just the same in my pregnancies, active till the last day.'

The meeting. between the Count of Poitiers and his wife was moving but there were no tears. Jeanne, though she was heavy and moved
with
difficulty, showed every sign of health and happiness. Night had fallen, and the glow of the candles, so becoming to the complexion,
blurred any signs on the young
woman's face of her condition. She was wearing a number of necklaces of red coral, well known to have a beneficent effect on childbirth.

It was in Jeanne's presence that Philippe became truly aware of the successes he had already achieved, and allowed himself some self-satisfaction. Taking his wife in his arms, he said: `I really think, my darling, that I can now call you Madame la Regente.

`Pray God, my dear lord, that I may give you a son,' she replied, clinging to her husband's strong, spare body.

`God will put the crown on His mercies,' Philippe whispered to her, `if He does not allow the child to be born till after Friday.'