The King Without a Kingdom (22 page)

Who would have dared tell him that he had been wrong to give in to his vindictive nature? For him as well, that day was a fork in the road. Take the path on the left or the path on the right. He had taken the wrong one, just as the Count of Harcourt had done at the bottom of the stairwell. After six years of a difficult reign, filled with unrest, difficulties and setbacks, he was giving the kingdom, which was only too willing to follow him down that path, the example of hate and violence. In less than six months, he was to hurtle down the route of real tragedy, and take France with him.

A
H!
I
AM DELIGHTED
, truly delighted, to have seen Auxerre again. I didn’t think God would grant me this favour, nor that I would appreciate it quite so much. To see places again that were home to a moment of one’s youth is always particularly moving. You will experience this feeling, Archambaud, when the years have piled up on you. Should it befall you to go through Auxerre, when you get to my age … may God preserve you until then … you will say: ‘I was with my uncle, the cardinal, who had been bishop here, his second diocese, before receiving the galero … I was accompanying him on his way to Metz, where he was to see the emperor …’

Three years long I resided there, three years … Oh! You mustn’t think that I am nostalgic for that period, nor that I felt the gift of life more intensely when I was Bishop of Auxerre than I do today. To tell you the truth, I was even eager to leave. I had my eye on Avignon, while knowing full well that I was too young; but ultimately I felt that God had put in me the force of character and the faculties of mind that could serve him well at the pontifical court. In order to teach myself patience, I pushed forward with the science of astrology; and it is precisely my mastery of that science which induced my benefactor John XXII to set the galero upon my head, when I was but thirty years old. But that, I have already told you … Ah! My nephew, in the company of a man who has experienced many things in life, you must get used to hearing the same things several times. It isn’t that when we are old we get soft in the head; but our minds are full of memories, which come to life in all sorts of circumstances. Youth fills the time to come with imagination; old age relives the past through memory. The two things are equivalent … No, I don’t have any regrets. When I compare what I was then with what I am now, I have reasons only to praise the Lord, and to praise myself a little, in all modesty. It is merely time that has flown from the hand of God and that will no longer exist when I stop remembering it. Except at the Resurrection, when all of our moments will be brought together. But that is beyond my comprehension. I believe in the Resurrection, I teach people to believe in it, but I don’t embark upon the task of picturing it myself, and I say that those who cast doubt on the Resurrection are most arrogant … No, really, more people than you might think … because they are too infirm to imagine it. Man is like a blind person who denies the existence of light because he doesn’t see it. Light is a great mystery, for the blind!

There now … I could preach that on Sunday, in Sens. As I will have the homily to give. I am archdeacon of the cathedral. That is why I am compelled to make this detour. We would have shortened our journey by heading straight for Troyes, but I am obliged to inspect the Chapter of Sens.

The fact remains that I would have been most pleased to prolong my stay a little in Auxerre. These two days have gone by too quickly … Saint-Étienne, Saint-Germain, Saint-Eusèbe, all of those beautiful churches where I have celebrated Mass, weddings and Communions … You know that Auxerre,
Autissidurum
, is one of the oldest Christian cities in the kingdom, that it was an Episcopal See two hundred years before Clovis, who by the way ravaged it almost as much as Attila, and that a council was held there before the year 600 … My greatest worry, all the time I spent at the head of that diocese, was to discharge the debts left behind by my predecessor, Bishop Pierre. And I couldn’t complain; he had just been created cardinal! Indeed, a good See, which serves as antechamber to the Curia … My various benefices as well as our family’s fortune helped me to fill in the financial holes. My successors were to find the situation much improved. And the current bishop is accompanying us today. He is a fine prelate, this new Monseigneur of Auxerre … But I sent Monseigneur of Bourges back … to Bourges. He had come once again to tug at my robes so that I would grant him a third notary. Oh! It didn’t take me long. I told him: ‘Monseigneur, if you really need so many lawyers, then your episcopal affairs must be very muddled. I urge you to go back forthwith and put your house in order. With my blessing.’ And we will do without his office in Metz. The Bishop of Auxerre will replace him most favourably … I informed the dauphin of this by the way. The messenger I sent him yesterday should be back tomorrow, or at the latest, the day after tomorrow. We will therefore have news of Paris before leaving Sens … He will not give in, the dauphin; in spite of all the manoeuvring and pressure brought to bear upon him, he has kept the King of Navarre in prison …

What did our people of France do after the affair of Rouen? First of all the king chose to stay there a few days, living in the keep of Bouvreuil while sending his son to stay in another of the castle’s towers and having Navarre under guard in a third tower. He considered that he had numerous affairs to investigate, matters pending he must conduct enquiries into. Firstly, put Fricamps to the question. ‘Friquet is going to be fried alive.’
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This
bon mot
was told by Mitton le Fol, I believe. There was no need to heat up the fire very much, nor to get out the huge pincers. No sooner had Perrinet le Buffle and four other sergeants dragged Fricamps into the vault and manipulated a few instruments before his eyes than the Governor of Caen showed himself to be of an extreme goodwill. He talked and talked and talked, turning his bag of words upside down to shake out every last crumb. Apparently. But how can one doubt he revealed all when his teeth chattered so and he showed so much zeal for the truth?

And what did he in fact avow? The names of those who took part in the murder of Charles of Spain? They had been known for quite some time, and he added no new guilty party to the list of those who had received letters of remission further to the Treaty of Mantes. But his account took up the entire morning. Secret negotiations, in Flanders and Avignon, between Charles of Navarre and the Duke of Lancaster? There was not a single European court that remained unaware of them; and that Fricamps himself took part didn’t add a great deal to our knowledge of their content. The aid in war that the kings of England and of Navarre promised each other? The least astute of people could have worked it out for themselves, the previous summer, seeing Charles the Bad turn up in the Cotentin and the Prince of Wales in the Bordelais at almost the same time. Ah! Of course there was the secret treaty in which Navarre recognized King Edward as rightful King of France, and in which they divided up the kingdom amongst themselves! Fricamps did indeed confess that such an agreement had been drawn up, which gave substance to the accusations of John of Artois. But only the preliminary exchanges, the treaty hadn’t been signed. King John, when this part of Friquet’s statement was related to him, shouted out: ‘The traitor, the traitor! Wasn’t I right?’

The dauphin pointed out to him: ‘My father, these plans were prior to the Treaty of Valognes that Charles signed with you, and which states the exact opposite. The one that Charles betrayed is therefore the King of England rather than yourself.’

And as the king screamed that his son-in-law betrayed everyone: ‘Most certainly, my father,’ retorted the dauphin, ‘and I am beginning to believe it myself. But you would be wrong to accuse him of treason specifically intended to harm you alone.’

On the subject of the expedition to Germany, that Navarre and the dauphin had not accomplished, Friquet of Fricamps was unstoppable. The names of the conspirators, the rallying point, and who had gone and said what to whom, and what they had to do … But the dauphin had already made all of that known to his father.

A new plot hatched by Monseigneur of Navarre with the intention of seizing the King of France and slaying him? No, Friquet hadn’t heard the slightest word nor detected the smallest indication of it. Admittedly the Count of Harcourt … in charging a dead man the suspect takes no risk at all; it is a known fact of law … The Count of Harcourt was most incensed these last few months, and had pronounced threatening words; but he alone, and speaking only for himself.

How can one not believe a man, I repeat, as obliging with his interrogators, who spoke six hours straight, without even leaving the secretaries the time to sharpen their quills? A wily one, that Friquet, very much his master’s apprentice, drowning all around him in a flood of words and playing the garrulous one all the better to conceal what was most important for him to keep quiet! Anyway, in order to use his confession in a trial, it would be necessary to start his interrogation all over again in Paris, before a properly constituted commission of enquiry, as this one wasn’t properly constituted in the slightest. All in all, a big net had been cast, and very few fish had been caught.

During these same days, King John busied himself going about seizing the properties and goods of the traitors, and he dispatched his Viscount of Rouen, Thomas Coupeverge, to get his hands on the Harcourts’ possessions, whilst he sent the Marshal of Audrehem to invest Évreux. But everywhere Coupeverge came across unwelcoming occupants, and the seizure remained somewhat nominal. He would have had to leave a garrison in each castle, but he hadn’t taken with him enough men-at-arms. On the other hand the huge headless body of John of Harcourt didn’t remain exposed long on the gallows of Rouen. During the second night it was taken down secretly by good Normans who gave him a Christian burial, at the same time enjoying the pleasure of deriding the king.

As for the town of Évreux, the marshal had to lay it to siege. But it was not the only fief of the Évreux-Navarre clan. From Valognes to Meulan, from Longueville to Conches and from Pontoise to Coutances a threatening climate reigned in the towns, and the hedgerows along the sides of the road quivered suspiciously.

King John didn’t feel at all safe in Rouen. He had come with troops enough to assail a banquet, but not to withstand a revolt. He avoided leaving the castle. His most loyal servants, including John of Artois himself, advised him to withdraw. His presence aroused anger.

A king who is reduced to fearing his own people is a poor sire whose reign is very likely to be cut short.

So John II decided to regain Paris; but he wanted the dauphin to accompany him. ‘You will not hold out, Charles, should there be tumult in your duchy.’ He feared most of all that his son proved too accommodating with the Navarrese party.

The dauphin gave way, demanding only that they travel by water. ‘My father, I am accustomed to going from Rouen to Paris via the Seine. Should I do otherwise it might appear that I was fleeing. Furthermore, in moving at the slow speed of a boat, news can more easily reach us, and if I am required to return, that too will be more convenient.’

So there we have the king embarked on the great barge
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that the Duke of Normandy ordered specially for his own travel, since, just as I told you, he hates to ride. A large flat-bottomed boat, highly decorated, adorned and gilded, bearing the banners of France, Normandy and Dauphiny, and manoeuvred by sail and oar. The forecastle is fitted out like a veritable residence, with a fine chamber furnished with carpets and chests. The dauphin enjoys conversing there with his advisors, playing chess or draughts, or gazing at the country of France which displays much beauty all along that great river. But the king was seething with impatience at such a subdued pace. What a foolish idea it was to follow every bend of the Seine, which tripled the length of the journey, when there are routes that cut straight across the country! This confined space was unbearable to him; as far as it allowed he paced up and down as he dictated a letter, a single one, always the same one that he went over and rewrote again and again. And, at any moment, on impulse, mooring the boat, wading through the mud of the landing stage, wiping his boots in the daisies, ordering his horse brought to him, which followed with the escort along the riverbanks, to go and visit, for no particular reason, a castle he had caught a glimpse of through the poplars. ‘And may the letter be copied out for my return.’ His letter was to the pope, in which he would explain the causes and grounds for the King of Navarre’s arrest. Was there any other business in the kingdom? One wouldn’t have thought so. In any case, none that required his attention. The poor levels of aid revenues collected, the need to devalue the currency once again, the tax on cloth that had provoked the anger of the trade, the necessary repair work to the fortresses under threat from the English; he brushed these worries aside. Didn’t he have a chancellor, a governor of finance, a master of the royal household, masters of requests and presidents at Parliament to deal with such things? May Nicolas Braque, who had left for Paris, go about his business, and likewise Simon of Bucy or Robert of Lorris. And indeed they did, swelling their fortunes, speculating on the price of coinage, hushing up accusations against relatives, permanently upsetting various merchant companies, towns or dioceses that would never forgive the king for the treatment received.