The Red Rose of Anjou (3 page)

So they went into the castle and the soldiers were housed and fed and later on more came, with more news, news of how René had fought bravely and it was only when most of his force had been destroyed and he himself was badly wounded by an arrow on the left side of his forehead which had half blinded him, that he had allowed himself to be taken.

But accounts of his bravery could bring little solace to his family. He was a prisoner in the hands of the enemy.

###

Isabelle was not one to sit down and accept disaster. She was not going meekly to hand over to her cousin the estates which she considered were rightly hers.

She knew what she was going to do. She was going to raise an army and she herself would lead it against the Count de Vaudémont. What of the children? She sent a messenger to her mother the Dowager Duchess Margaret, the godmother of little Margaret, and begged her to take charge of her children while she set about releasing her husband from captivity and keeping what her father had left her.

The Dowager Duchess, as strong-minded a lady as her daughter, immediately came to the rescue. She would take over the care of the children while Isabelle set about working for her husband’s release.

Isabelle had been greatly upset by the fact that it was her own cousin who had acted in this way. They had known each other as children and she was surprised, for he had always appeared to have been amiable and reasonable and she had thought would have been a good friend to her.

It suddenly occurred to her that she would see him. Perhaps she could arouse some pity in him, some sense of honour.

Her mother was uncertain whether it was wise for her to go. She was after all placing herself in the hands of the enemy. Let someone go for her, suggested the lady Margaret. But Isabelle thought that only she could shame her cousin and was determined to make the journey herself.

Her mother knew that it would be useless to attempt to dissuade her. In her daughter’s place she herself would have done the same. They were neither of them women to cower behind the might of their husbands. It had been they who had made decisions in their families, for women such as they were invariably gained the ascendancy over their men. So Isabelle set out and in a short time was confronting her cousin.

She was pleased to see that Antoine de Vaudémont was a little ashamed of himself

‘It surprises me,’ she told him, ‘that we should be facing each other as enemies.’

‘A sad affair, I grant you.’

‘And brought about by your greed,’ Isabelle reminded him. ‘You know full well that my father wished his estates to pass to me. It was always understood.’

‘My lord of Burgundy thinks otherwise.’

‘It is not the affair of the Duke of Burgundy.’

‘He believes that the affairs of Lorraine are his.’

‘I am surprised, Antoine, that you allow yourself to be his creature. He is a traitor to France.’

‘Have care what you say, cousin. If those words were to be repeated...’

‘Oh, save your fear of that man for yourself I will tell him what I think of him if I ever have the misfortune to come face to face with him. But I have come to talk of my husband René.’

‘Alas, he suffered bitter defeat. He has recovered from his wounds though. You need have no anxiety on that score.’

‘Then we will talk of my other anxieties. I want him released.’

‘That is out of the question.’

‘Why? Have you forgotten, Antoine, that we are cousins? Our fathers were brothers. There must not be this strife between us. Release René. Forget this greedy claim of yours.’

‘My dear cousin, if I wished to release René I could not. He is not my prisoner. He is in the hands of the Duke of Burgundy.’

‘Why so! Why did you hand him over to that man?’

‘René was captured by Maréchal de Toulongeon, the commander of the forces Burgundy sent to Bulgnéville.’

Isabelle felt limp with dismay.

‘Then what can I do?’

Antoine shrugged his shoulders. ‘Burgundy will make terms, I doubt not.’

‘And those terms will doubtless be that I give up my estates. Where is René?’

‘He is at Dijon. I hear he is a prisoner in the castle there.’

Isabelle covered her face with her hands and briefly gave way to her emotion. Then she faced Antoine steadily. ‘It surprises me that you can behave in this way. I am sure my father will curse you from Heaven. His great concern was for my welfare and that of my family. Think what you have brought on us, Antoine.’

Antoine said sullenly, ‘The Salic Law prevails in France.’

‘A curse on the Salic Law! My father’s estates should go where he wished them to and that was to his daughter. Antoine, your conscience must be sorely troubling you.’

She had hit the right note. His conscience was troubling him.

‘Isabelle,’ he said, ‘please understand that there is nothing I can do. This is in the hands of the Duke of Burgundy. But perhaps alter all there is one thing...’

‘Yes?’ she asked eagerly.

‘I could call a truce...say for six months.’

Six months’ respite! she thought. That was something.

She would accept that for she could see she could get nothing more from her cousin.

###

Isabelle returned to her family. Six months. It was a very short time and what could she hope to achieve?

But she was not the woman to sit down and brood. There must be some action she could take and when she had decided what was the best thing to do she would do it.

Then the idea came to her. René had shown friendship to King Charles. He had gone to Orléans at the time of the siege and had taken with him a troop of men to fight for the town—a small one it was true but it had been all that he could muster and Charles had known that and been grateful. He had assisted at the coronation. He had always been loyal to the King and now that the country was emerging a little from the English yoke perhaps Charles would do something for René and his family.

She would go to the King.

She called Theophanie to her and told her that she planned to make a trip to Vienne in Dauphine where the Court was at this time.

‘I shall need time to get the children ready,’ said Theophanie.

‘You are not coming, Theophanie, nor are the children...except the girls.’

Theophanie stared at Isabelle in amazement. ‘You are taking the little girls, my lady?’ she said. ‘Why my lady Margaret is only two years old.’

‘I know well her age, Theophanie, but I am taking her and Yolande and I want you to look after the boys while we are gone.’

‘Of a certainty my boys will be safe with me but have you thought, my lady, that it is no easy task to take two little girls...no more than babies...on such a long journey?’

‘I have considered and decided,’ said Isabelle coldly. She was not so much inclined to accept Theophanie’s familiarity as René was. Theophanie had not been her nurse. And, Isabelle often thought, it was time she was reminded that she was no longer René’s. But she was so good with the children and Isabelle really could trust them with her. René’s mother had said that Theophanie was an excellent nurse and it was wise to keep such people in the family.

‘The point is,’ went on Isabelle, ‘that I shall need someone to look after Yolande and Margaret and I have decided to take Agnès.’

‘Oh, Agnès is a good girl. You’ll not be disappointed in her. It’s the poor little mites I’m thinking of...going all that way...’

‘There is no need to concern yourself with them. Find Agnès and send her to me. I will tell her what preparations she should make.’

Isabelle went back to her chamber. She wondered what good it would do. It must do something. She was pinning her hopes on the King’s gentle nature and the possibility that he would be moved by the sight of Yolande and little Margaret. They were such charming children.

Agnès came to her. A beautiful graceful creature, Isabelle thought. And useful in the household, Theophanie had said.

‘Agnès,’ said Isabelle, ‘we are going on a journey. Did Theophanie tell you?’

‘She mentioned something. I was not very clear about it.’

Isabelle decided to explain to this serene and sensible girl.

‘You know the terrible plight of my lord René,’ she said. ‘He is the prisoner of the Duke of Burgundy. I am going to the King to ask him to help me.’

‘Oh, my lady. I do hope that he will.’

‘I shall talk to him and explain and try and persuade him. It is a hope...perhaps a forlorn one...but I think the sight of my two little girls without a father might move him to act. But I must hope, Agnès. Our situation here is desperate. Now I want you to come with us and help look after the children.’

‘With the greatest pleasure I will do that, my lady.’

‘I thought so, Agnès. Now you must make your preparations.’

Agnès listened. So she was to go to Court. She would perhaps see the King and Queen. She had thought so much about Charles at the time of the coronation and how the Maid had been so loyally devoted to him. She could not believe he was really as unattractive and as helpless as people represented him to be.

At last she would see for herself.

‘You’re dreaming, Agnès,’ said Isabelle sharply. ‘I suppose like most girls you want to go to Court. I can tell you ours will be a somewhat sombre visit and I doubt that even now the Court will be the least bit what you imagine it will be.’

Agnès was thoughtful. ‘I shall be prepared for anything,’ she answered.

###

So they set out.

It was an exhausting journey, but the children, under Agnès’s supervision, were too excited by the novelty of everything to complain.

In due course they reached the Court and Isabelle had no difficulty in gaining an audience with the King. Charles was depressed. He was recognized as the King at last after that miraculous crowning at Rheims, but events had not moved very fast since then.

He was so tired of everything. He almost wished he were a country nobleman and could retire to his estates and have done with all the troubles which surrounded him.

Joan of Arc was on his conscience, and often that strange episode would intrude on his thoughts and try as he might he could not forget her. Luxembourg, Burgundy’s man, had captured her and had sold her to the English. It was the English who had burned her as a witch but his remorse must be as great if not greater than theirs—for he had done nothing to save her. He should have fought with all his might... and he had turned away. He had rejected her; he had tried to tell himself that she was after all some sort of witch.

He hated war. Bloodshed was revolting. He had to admit it brought gain to some. He thought of Harry of England at Agincourt. But where was Harry of England now? And if the war had brought misery to France how had England fared? They were still struggling for the crown of France. They were groaning under taxation to pay for the war and there was many a widow in England mourning her husband, and children grieving for a father who had gone to France and would never return.

Oh for peace! thought Charles.

And now here was Isabelle of Anjou come to ask something from him. He was sorry for René. He liked René. He was especially fond of René’s mother who was his own mother-in-law. She was one of the most enlightened and interesting women he knew. He found pleasure in her society and regarded her advice with a greater respect than that which he felt for many of his ministers. Yes, he would like to have helped Isabelle. But how could he, against Burgundy? How he hated Burgundy. Burgundy was the bogey of his life.

Her little girls were adorable. Isabelle was a beautiful woman and she pleaded most eloquently, but as he had told his mother-in-law Yolande, there was nothing he could do against Burgundy. The Duke’s resources were far greater than his own; and much as he would like to he could hardly involve even what he had in a private quarrel between two families.

He was desperately sorry. He would have liked to help. Yolande understood. Isabelle must.

Oh, what a wearying business it was being King of a country that was in such a dire state as France was at this time!

He liked to walk alone in the gardens about the castle. One day as he sat down under a tree brooding in his melancholy way, he saw a girl. She was walking through the gardens and stopping now and then to admire the flowers. He watched her for a few moments before she was aware of him. She was unlike any other girl he had known. She was of the Court he supposed but he had never seen her before. He would have remembered if he had, because there was something so distinctive about her.

He called: ‘Well a day, my lady. Are you enjoying the gardens as I am?’

She paused and smiled at him.

‘They are very beautiful, my lord.’

It occurred to him that she could not know who he was because she showed no sign of the great honour he did her by speaking to her.

‘Would you care to sit awhile and talk?’ he said.

She came and sat beside him. The purity of her features startled him. He admired beauty, he admired women. He guessed by her clothes that she was not a lady of high rank. She could not be for if she was he would surely know her. She was not a serving-woman either. His adventures with women had been many. He had never hesitated to indulge himself, and because of that sense of inferiority which his mother had inspired in him those of the lowly kind attracted him. With them he had been able to feel superior. He despised himself and often wished he did not know himself so well. This was different though. He admired her beauty but had no desire for a quick seduction this day and to forget her by tomorrow.

‘I have not seen you at the Court before,’ he said.

‘It is not surprising since I am lately come,’ she answered.

‘And what think you of it?’

‘It is a sad Court in a way. The threat of the English invaders hangs over it still.’

‘Ah yes,’ he sighed. ‘But it has improved has it not? In the last two years there has been change.’

‘A slow change,’ said Agnès.

‘And you think it should be quicker?’

‘But of course, my lord.’

‘The King should bestir himself, you think?’

‘Aye, that he should. He should rid himself of ministers who impede him, and act for himself.’