The Strangled Queen (3 page)

it
that I am protected from cold, vermin and hunger. Bersumee lowered his head.

"I have, no orders, Madam," he replied.

"I am only here because of the hatred of King Philip, and his death will change everything, went on Marguerite' with such assurance that she very nearly convinced herself. "Do you intend
to wait till you receive orders to open the prison doors before
you
show some consideration for the Queen
of France? Don't you
think you would be acting somewhat stupidly against your own interests?"

Soldiers are often indecisive by nature, which predisposes them towards obedience and causes' them to lose many a battle. Bersumee was as slow in initiative as he was prompt in obedience. He was loud-mouthed and ready with his fists towards his subordinates, but he had very little ability to make up his mind when faced with an unexpected situation.

Between the resentment of a woman
who,
so she said, would be all-powerful tomorrow, and the anger' of Monseigneur de Marigny who was all-powerful today, which risk was he to take?

"I also desire that Madame Blanche and myself," continued Marguerite, "may be allowed to go outside the fortifications for an hour or two a day, under your guardianship if you think proper, so that we may have a change of scene fr
om battlements and your archers
pikes."

She was going too fast and too far. Bersumee saw the trap. His prisoners were trying to slip through his fingers. They were therefore not so certain after all of their return to Court.

"Since you are Queen, Madam, you will understand that I owe loyalty to the service of the kingdom," he said, "and tha
t I cannot infringe the orders
I have received."

Having said this, he went out so as to avoid further argument. "He's a dog," cried Marguerite when he had left, "a guard
-
dog who is good for nothing but to bark and bite.

She had made a false move and was beside herself to find some means of communicating with the outside world, receive news, and send letters which would be unread by Marigny. She did not know that a messenger, selected from among the first lords of the kingdom, was already on his way to lay a strange proposal before her.

2. Robert of Artois

"You've got to be ready for anything
when, you're
a Queen's gaoler," said Bersumee to himself as he left the tower. He was seriously perturbed, filled with misgiving. So important an event as the King's death could not but result in a visitor to Chateau Gaillard from Paris. So Bersumee, sh
outing at the top of his voice,
made haste to make his garrison ready for ins
pection. On that count at least
he intended to
be blameless.

All day there was such commotion in the
fortre
ss
as

had not been seen since Richard Cceur-de-Lion. There was much sweeping and cleaning. Had an archer lost his quiver? Where could it have got to? And what
of those coats of mail rusted
under the armpits? Go on, take handfuls of sand, polish them till they shine!

`Should Messire de Pareilles
appear suddenly, I don't want him to find a troop of
ruffians!
" shouted Bersumee. "Make haste, get a move on there!"

The guard-house was cleaned; the chains of the drawbridge greased. The cauldrons for boiling pitch were brought out, as if the fortress were to be attacked within the hour. And bad luck to anyone who did not hurry! Private Gros-Guillaume, the same who had hoped for an extra ration of wine, got a kick on the backside. Sergeant Lalaine was worn out.

Doors were slamming everywhere; Chateau-Gaillard had an atmosphere of moving house. If the Princesses had wished to escape, this was the one day to choose among a hundred. Such was the chaos, no one would have seen them leave.

By evening Bersumee had lost his voice, and his archers slept upon the battlements. But the following day when, in the early hours of the morning, the look-outs reported a troop of horsemen, a banner at their head, advancing along the Seine from the direction of Paris, the Captain congratulated himself upon having taken the steps he had.

He rapidly donned his smartest coat of mail, his best boots, no more than five years old with spurs three inches long, and, putting on his helmet, went out into the courty
ard.
He had a few moments left in which to glance with anxious satisfaction at his still tired men, but their
arms, well polished, shone in
the pale winter light.

"Certainly no one can reprimand me, for this turn-out," he said to himself. "And it will make it easier for me to complain of the meagreness of my salary, and the arrears of money due to
me for the men's food.

Already the horsemen's trumpets were sounding under the cliff,
and the clatter of their horses
hooves could be heard upon the chalky soil.

"Raise the portcullis! Lower the drawbridge! "

The chains of the portcullis quivered in the guide-blocks and, a moment later, fifteen horsemen, bearing the royal arms and surr
ounding a red-clothed cavalier,
who sat his mount as if impersonating his own equestrian statue, passed like a whirlwind beneath the vault of the guard-house and debouched into the courtyard of Chateau-Gaillard.

"Can it be the King?" thought Bersumee, rushing forward. "Good God! Can the King have come to fetch his wife already?"

From emotion
his breath came in short gasps, and it took him a moment to recognize the man
in the blood-red
cloak who, slipping from his horse, colossal in mantle, furs, leather and silver, was forcing
a way towards him through the
surrounding horsemen.

"On the King's service," said the huge cavalier, fluttering a parchment with dependent seal under Bersumee's nose, but giving him no time to read it. "I am Count Robert of Artois."

The salutations were cut short. Monseigneur Robert of Artois
slapped Bersumee on the shoulder to show that he was not haughty and made him wince; then asked for mulled wine for himself and his escort in a voice that made the watchmen turn about upon their towers. He created a hurricane about him as he paced to and fro.

Bersumee, the night before, had decided to shine whoever his visitor might be,
had determined not to be caught
napping, to appear the perfect captain of an impeccable fortress, to make an, impression that
would not be forgotten. He had
a speech ready but it was never delivered.

Almost at once Bersumee found himself `being invited to
drink
the wine he had been ordered to produce, heard
himself stuttering servile flattery, saw the four
rooms of
his lodging, which was attached
to the keep, reduced to absurd proportions by the immense size of his visitor, was aware of nervously, spilling the contents of his goblet,
and then of finding himself in
the prisoners' tower, following in the wake of the Count of Artois, who was racing up the dark staircase at i
ncredible
speed. Until that day Bersumee had always
considered himself a tall man,
now he felt a dwarf.

Artois had only asked one question concerning the Princesses "How are they?"

And Be
rsumee cursing himself for his
stupidity
had
replied,

"They are very well, thank you, Monseigneur."

At a sign Sergeant
Lalaine unlocked the door with trembling hands.

Marguerite and Blanche were wai
ting, standing in the middle of the round chamber.
They were both pale and, with the opening of the door, with a single, instinctive impulse for mutual, support, reached for each other's hands.

Artois looked them up and down. His eyes blinked. He had halted in the doorway, completely filling it.

"You, Cousin!
" said Marguerite.

And, as he did not reply, gazing intently at these two women to whose distress he had so greatly contributed, she went on in a voice grown quickly firmer, "Look at us, yes, look at us! See the misery to which we are reduced. It must offer
a
fine contrast
the spectacle presented by the Court, and to the memory you had of us. We have no linen. No dresses. No food. And no chair to offer so great a lord as you! "

"Do they know? " Artois wondered
as he, went slowly; forward. Had they learnt the part he had played in their disaster, out of revenge, ou
t of hate for Blanche's mother,
that he had helped the Queen of England to lay the trap into which they had fallen?'

"Robert, are you bringing us our freedom?"

It was Blanche who said this and now went towards the, Count,
her hands extended before
her, her eyes bright with hope.

"No, they, know nothing," he thought. "It will make my mission the easier."

He did not reply and turned; upon his heel. "Bersumee," he said, -"is there no fire here?" "No, Monseigneur; the orders I received . . . " "Light one! And is there no furnitur
e?" "No, Monseigneur, but I .. "

"Bring furniture!
Take away this pallet! Bring a b
ed, chairs to sit on, hangings,
torches. Don't tell me you haven't them! I saw everything necessary in your lodging. Fetch them at once! "

He took the Captain of the
Fortress by the arm and pushed
him out of the room as if he were a servant.

"And something to eat, said Marguerite. "You might also t
ell our good gaoler, who daily gives
us food that pigs would leave at the bottom of their trough, to give us a proper meal for once."

"And food, of course, Madam!-" said Artois. "Bring, pastries and roasts. Fresh vegetables. Good winter pears and, preserves.' And wine, Bersumee, plenty of wine! "

"But, Monseigneur . .
"
groaned, the Captain.

"Don't you dare talk to me,' s
h
outed Artois. "Your breath stinks like a horse ! "

He threw him out, and banged the door shut with a kick of his boot.

"My good Cousins," went on Artois, "I was expecting the worst indeed; but I see with relief that this sad time has not marked the two most beautiful faces in France."

It was only now that he took off his hat and bowed low.

"We still manage to wash," said Marguerite. "Provided we break the ice on the basins they bring us, we have sufficient water."

Artois sat down on the bench and continued to ga
ze at them. "Well, my girls," h
e murmured to himself, "that's what comes of trying to carve yourselves the destinies of queens from the inheritance of Robert of Artois!" He tried to guess whether, beneath the rough serge of their dresses, the two young women's bodies had lost the soft curves of the past. He was like a great cat making ready to play with caged mice.

" How is your hair, Marguerite? " he asked. "Has it grown properly?"

Marguerite of Burgundy started as if she had been pricked with a needle. Her cheeks grew pale.

"Get up, Monseigneur of Artois!" she cried furiously. "However reduced you may find me here, I will still not tolerate that a man should be seated in my presence when I am
standing!"

He leapt to hi
s feet, and for a moment their
eyes confronted each other. She did not flinch.

In the pale light from the window he was better able to see this new face of Marguerite's, the face of a prisoner. The features had preserved their beauty, but all their sweetness had gone. The nose was sharper, the eyes more sunken. The dimples, which only last spring had shown at the, corners of her amber cheeks, had become little wrinkles. "So," Artois said to himself, "she can still defend herself. All the better, it will be
the more amusing." He liked a
battle, having to fight to gain, his ends.

"Cousin," he said to Marguerite with feigned good-humour, "I had no intention of insulting you; you have misunderstood me. I merely wanted to know if your hair had grown sufficiently to allow, of your appearing in public.

Distrustful as she was, Marguerite could not prevent herself giving a start of joy.

Appear in public?
- This must mean that she was to go free. Had she been pardoned? Was he bringing her a throne? No, it could not be that, he would have announced it at once.

Her thoughts raced on. She felt herself weakening. She could not prevent tears coming to her eyes.

"Robert," she said, "don't keep me in suspense. I know it's a characteristic of yours. But don't be cruel. What have you come to say
to me
? "

"Cousin, I have come to deliver you ..."

Blanche uttered a cry and Robert thought that she was going to swoon. He, had left his sentence suspended; he was playing the two women like a
couple of fish
at the end of a line.

. . a message," he finished.

It
pleased him to see their shoulders sag, to hear their sighs of disappointment.

"A message from whom?" asked Marguerite.

"From Louis, your husband, our King from now on. And
from our good cousin Monseigneur of Valois. But I may only
speak to you alone. Perhaps Blanche would leave us?"

"Yes, yes," s
aid Blanche submissively" I will retire. But
before
I go, Cousin, tell me: what of Charles, my husband?"

"He has been much distressed by his father's death." "And what does h
e think of me? Does he speak of
me?"

"I think he regrets you, in spite of the suffering you have
caused him. Since Pontoise he has never been seen to show his
old gaiety."

Blanche burst into tears.

"Do you think," she asked, "that he has forgiven me?" "That depends a great deal upon your cousin," replied Artois mysteriously, indicating Marguerite.

And he led Blanche to the door, closing it behind her..

Then, returning to Marguerite, he said, "To start with, my dear, there are a few things I must tell you. During these last days, when King Philip was dying, Louis your husband has seemed utterly confused. To wake up King, when one
went to sleep a prince, is a
matter for some surprise. He occupied his throne of Navarre only in name, and had no hand in governing. You will remember that he is twenty-five years old,
and at that
age one is able to reign; but you know as well as I do that, without being unkind, judgment is not his most outstanding quality.

Thus, in these first days, Monseigneur of Valois, his uncle, stands behind him in everything, directing affairs with Monseigneur de Marigny. The trouble is that these two powerful minds dislike each other because they are too similar, hardly listening to what they say to each other. It is even thought that very soon they will, no longer listen to each other at all, which, if it continued, would be most unfortunate, since a kingdom cannot' be governed by two deaf men."

Artois had completely changed his tone. He was speaking with sense and precision, giving the impression that his turbulent entrances were largely made for effect.

"As far as I am concerned, as you know very well," he went on, - "I don't care at all for Messire de Marigny, who has
so often
stood in my way, and I hope with all my heart that, my cousin; Valois, whose friend and ally I am, will come out on top."

Marquerite did her best to understand the intrigues which were everyday matters to Artois, and into which he was so abruptly plunging her once more. She was no longer in touch with affairs, and it seemed to her that she was awakening from a long slumber of the mind.

From the courtyard, blanketed to some extent by the walls, came the shouts of Bersumee, who was busy having his lodging emptied by the soldiers.

"Louis still hates me, doesn't he?" she said.

"Oh, as for that, I won't conceal from you that he hates you very well! You must admit that he has reason to," replied Artois. "To have decorated him with a
cuckold's horns is an embarrass
ment when they must be worn above the crown o
f France! Had you done, as much
to me, Cousin, I should not have made such a clamour throughout the kingdom. I should have given you such a beating that you would never have desired to-do, the like again, or else ..."

He looked so steadily at Marguerite that she was frightened.

". . . or else I should have acted in such a way that I could feign the preservation of my honour. However, the late King, your father-in-law, clearly judged otherwise and things are as they are."