Queen Of Four Kingdoms, The (39 page)

Many months pass before the regent, the Duke of Bedford, delivers the sentence: Jeanne d’Arc is to be burnt at the stake at Rouen on 30 May 1431.

Immediately she hears the news, Yolande sends a messenger to Pierre de Brézé in his home town. ‘Pierre, use whatever influence you have and spend whatever you need to arrange for Jeanne to be given a strong draught she can take before they collect her from the prison, so that she will feel almost nothing.’ She knows Pierre does her bidding and that Jeanne receives the medicine – but will she take it? Pierre remains in Rouen on Yolande’s instructions in case there is something, anything, that can be done.

Following Jeanne d’Arc’s execution, Pierre de Brézé’s feels duty bound to come to Tarascon and tell Yolande the details himself.

‘Pierre – you surprise me! But in view of the news, how glad I am that you have come – I was expecting a letter . . . but I can see from your distress you want to tell me yourself – am I right? And I know it won’t be easy. Come, dear young friend. Sit with me here and I will send for refreshment.’ Pierre sighs his gratitude and gratefully sits, the weight of injustice and his sense of failure weighing down on his hunched shoulders. It was a long ride from Rouen but at least he stopped this time to freshen himself before calling on his patroness.

‘Madame, my gracious Lady,’ he begins, his voice sad and solemn, ‘yes, I felt I should tell you all in person.’ And she takes his hand for a moment to reassure him. ‘Just as you instructed, I did send Jeanne a draught – made by a very reliable man I know – who assured me that some minutes after drinking it, she could still walk but would feel no pain, nothing. However, to judge from the way she walked – firm, straight, almost determined – from the prison, I doubt she had taken it. As she was being led to the square with the post to which she was to be chained, the local citizens cried out repeatedly that she could not be a girl, that they had been tricked and that the Maid was really a boy. The executioner had his instructions, and lit the pyre. Her hair and her clothes had burnt from her body – also the ropes they had used to tie her to the stake – and there she lay, quite naked.’ At first there was some jeering. Then – silence – and I was aware of the crowd’s surprise as all could see she was indeed a girl.

‘Poor Jeanne,’ Yolande cries, her tears bitter. ‘How shaming to be so exposed, even in death.’ Drying her eyes, she continues to listen to Pierre’s account:

‘Then the executioner piled back the logs and burnt her to ashes, which were gathered and thrown into the Seine. By royal command there were to be no relics left of Jeanne d’Arc, who many believe to be a saint, not a sorceress.’

‘By royal command,’ repeated Yolande almost in disbelief. ‘Was that Charles? Surely not, more likely the Archbishop of Rheims,’ she says quietly to herself.

‘Madame, I will never forget that day – 30 May 1431 is forever engraved on my conscience – nor the knowledge that I failed you – and her.’

‘Pierre – no, don’t blame yourself. We are all guilty – all right-minded people who know she was not a witch, are guilty. You did all you could. If anyone is to blame, then I am. Knowing the king and the court as I do, I came south for my work and left her to her fate.’ Pierre adds forlornly: ‘I am certain she did not take the draught I sent.’

‘At my request, Jeanne d’Arc came to Chinon aged seventeen, to begin her remarkable odyssey, and rightly, she became the country’s heroine, saviour, to some, even a saint. At nineteen, after completing her holy mission to “save France”, the judges of the Church’s Inquisition condemned her as a witch, and sentenced her to burn at the stake,’ Yolande almost whispers, shaking her head in disbelief.

‘Madame – the courtiers just say “
war is pitiless”
, often with a shrug; that Jeanne d’Arc had outlived her usefulness. Even if this was true in a military sense, she should never have met such a terrible and undeserved end. Of course, once she had been condemned as a witch by the Elders of the Church, who were the people, or even the king’s men, to deny the word of God’s representatives on Earth?’

‘No one would dare, my friend,’ and with that sad verdict, Yolande puts her arm around Pierre’s shaking shoulders, as he sobs out his frustration and sense of failure.

Is the King of France guilty of Jeanne d’Arc’s death? Not alone, not solely, susceptible as he is to any silver tongue, especially as the verdict came from a jury of clergymen. This is not an excuse, but Yolande offers it as an explanation, even if she feels her own guilt heavily in her heart. The time she spends in her chapel in Tarascon brings her a measure of comfort in prayer. Her adult life has been spent following her beloved husband’s wish – to work for the salvation of the king and the kingdom – and she believes sincerely she has done all she could in this regard.

Yolande, the proud Princess of Aragon, the Queen of Four Kingdoms, who has never considered failure, whose self-belief has always been firm, secure, strong, must now face the fact that, despite all her efforts with Charles, they have not been enough. For that she can only blame herself – she shaped him.
He was her clay, and the result is no work of art.

W
ith each birthday, Yolande reflects on the previous year as well as on her life in general; it is something her mother taught her as a child, a habit she cannot break. This year, 1431, she has turned forty-nine, and is, say some, still in possession of her famed ‘imperious beauty’. It does not concern her, but the strength and reach of her power, and that of her family members, most certainly does. Earlier in this tragic year of Jeanne d’Arc’s death, her beloved son René, Duke of Bar, also became Duke of Lorraine when Isabelle’s father died peacefully in his sleep. With a nursery full of children at Nancy, it seemed to Yolande that their life, at least, was settled. She knew of their plans for improving their united duchies, and looked forward to her next visit to them and their latest child, a little girl they named Marguerite.

Her own darling eldest, Louis, writes regularly with his news from his kingdom – always with sketches and amusing anecdotes – and the inevitable list of requirements for his army to be sent to him from Marseilles. Of her two youngest, Yolande is gentle, pretty and harkens to her, and Charles has become a great favourite of the king’s and is enjoying his new elevation and coronation bequest. But she worries about Marie who has still not filled her nursery with playmates for her little Louis. And there is more.

From her agents she hears that it would seem as if Jeanne d’Arc’s remarkable achievements on the king’s behalf – and her tragic end – have not swayed him away from his life of pleasure for long. How is it possible that Charles, newly crowned and consecrated, has returned so quickly to his old ways? Following that extraordinary and deeply religious ceremony at Rheims, Yolande thought the king would become responsible at last. Most unruly young people become serious when they acquire great responsibility, after all. Marie is quietly desperate, and tells her mother that following the execution of the Maid, something left the spirit of the king. He recognized a life force in Jeanne d’Arc that seemed to flow into him and helped him really become a king at Rheims. With her death, condemned by the Church and burned at the stake as a sorceress, Charles has lost himself again. Was he wrong to believe in the Maid? Or was he bewitched by her? In his confusion, he puts up no resistance to the bad influences around him.

As soon as Yolande heard of René’s elevation as Duke of Lorraine, her first thought was that this territory would henceforth be added to the regions loyal to the king. According to the written and verbal testament of the late duke, René and Isabelle would now become the duchy’s joint rulers. But her joy is short-lived.

Isabelle is greatly distressed by her father’s death, but instead of being able to mourn him quietly, she finds that their inheritance is not as clear as the old duke planned. Her uncle, Antoine de Vaudémont, her father’s nearest relative in the male line, also claims the throne of Lorraine. René is indignant. His father-in-law made his wishes clear for many years, and this was known by all his kin. With his mother’s blessing and his wife’s agreement, René will fight for Isabelle’s rights.

Thus it is that at the same time as she finally hears of the execution at Rouen, Yolande receives more terrible news.

René’s scouts had come in early to tell him that Vaudémont was gathering his troops to engage René’s army at Bulgnéville, a part of Lorraine he knew well. Since his troops had won their last two engagements, René was not anxious; he had no doubt they would do the same again that day. The two armies met on a large field backed by forest, and their combat could not be described as much more than a skirmish. To René’s shame, however, his horse put its foot in a hole and he fell heavily on the hard ground. Before he could get up, awkward in his armour, a knight held a sword at his throat and captured him. At first René did not realize who his captor was, and surrendering his own sword said merrily: ‘Go ahead and claim a big reward for me, you deserve it.’ Then, to his misery, he saw that it was Vaudémont himself who had taken him prisoner.

As an ally of the Duke of Burgundy – the one man in France with whom the Anjou family have a personal problem despite their political truce – René knew at once that Vaudémont would hand him over to Philippe. There could be no possible worse scenario for him, just as he was about to accede to Isabelle’s birthright. As the prisoner of Duke Philippe, Isabelle will be left alone to be threatened by her cousin Vaudémont, just when she needs René by her side more than ever. And what would be his future in the hands of this ruler of Burgundy?

In all their time spent amiably negotiating together, Yolande and Philippe have been acting on behalf of the kingdom. The question of René’s imprisonment, however, is personal. Philippe will use René to settle the old family score – that of the Anjou family returning his sister unwed, to die a year later. This new Duke of Burgundy may be different to his loathsome father, but he will not listen to Yolande in the case of her son. The insult inflicted on the House of Burgundy by that of Anjou still burns deep inside him, and he refuses to release René.

Yolande writes at once to her daughter-in-law. ‘Isabelle – heed my words and act quickly! You have two tasks. First you must summon the council of Lorraine immediately. Dress in deepest mourning, gather your children about you, convene your army and meet with your vassals in the Great Hall at Nancy. Once they have willingly sworn loyalty to you, set out for Chinon to plead with the king. I shall be there and will prepare him.’ Charles VII likes Isabelle and Yolande knows he can be swayed by a beautiful lady in distress.

Accompanied by her children, Isabelle arrives at Chinon. Tall and slender in her long court dress and train of black velvet, she looks ethereal and frail. Her golden hair is piled on her head and tied up with pearls. With her two blonde little ones, also in black velvet, clinging to her skirts, she makes a great impression on the king – and on Yolande. How adorable the children are, with their blue eyes gazing wide open at the king, and how tragically beautiful is their mother! Isabelle does not need to act out her pain and agony – it is real, and Charles can feel it. Charles is also particularly fond of René, and aware how his capture must be affecting his
bonne mère
. For once he does not disappoint her. As a result of her discussions with the king, Isabelle achieves a truce with Vaudémont regarding her right to rule Lorraine – but René remains a prisoner of the Duke of Burgundy, which tears at his mother’s heart.

It comes as a small relief when René is given permission to write to his family – at least they can exchange their news. When they were very young, Yolande taught her brood a code for secret letter-writing developed by her husband, and René has taught this to Isabelle. They can receive and send information between one another that cannot be read by others. Apart from that small concession, René has very little compensation for the loss of his freedom. For some weeks since his capture he has heard nothing from the duke and has no idea about his eventual ransom. But at least it is some consolation to Yolande and to Isabelle that they hear regularly from him and how he occupies himself. He writes of his imprisonment in as light a vein as he can conjure: how for the first time in his life he has time to ponder; when the duke finally deigns to visit him, how their meetings progress; and how, in spite of his intransigence on the matter of Rene’s freedom, their relationship is completely cordial. Philippe has allowed him paints, and he has struck up a friendship with a visiting artist, Jan van Eyck, nephew of Philippe’s court painter. Painting is Rene’s new passion – as well as reading and writing in earnest, inspired by the legends and romances of his childhood: the tales of Arthur, the Romance of the Rose, Tristan and Iseult. Yolande knows he makes light of the strictures of his freedom, concealing the disappointment below, but she treasures them the more for that.

Her replies are as cordial and light-hearted as his; how can she make this dearest son of hers feel better but by words of encouragement and assurances that she will continue with her negotiations for his release?

T
he court is at Chinon. It is the early spring of 1435, and Yolande is walking dreamily in the garden among the flower beds, admiring the fresh green leaves beginning to appear on the fruit trees, when a messenger brings her a long-awaited packet from Naples. It has finally reached her, having been sent to Tarascon and then to Angers. How she delights in receiving letters with news of Louis’ activities, her ‘golden boy’, as she has always thought of him. They are always well written and amusing, and sometimes he encloses pencil sketches of a building or scenery, every little event turned into an adventure for her pleasure – how well he writes – another gift inherited from his father, as well as his looks and goodness of heart.

Yolande is quite alone in this part of the garden, and she settles on a comfortable seat to open the letter. This 4 April is warm, but with a slight fresh breeze, bringing her the scent of early-blooming flowers and bulbs. There is not a cloud to be seen, a gentle sun shining, birds singing, and she sits to open her letter full of anticipated pleasure.