Alys was nearly fifteen now and although quiet and gentle, she was nobody’s fool. Her very placidity meant that people often forgot she was there and consequently she heard much that she may not have been intended to hear.
I felt my stomach lurch. ‘Burgundy’s badge!’ I breathed. ‘They want him back.’
Alys nodded vigorously. ‘Yes. And it’s not just the guilds. They say the university has swung over to Burgundy as well. And there’s a rumour that the duke has rescued the queen from her imprisonment at Tours.’
‘What!’ I almost squeaked in my alarm. We were trying to keep our voices down for fear that we might be overheard, even though we had locked ourselves in my rooftop chamber, where few people came. I crossed myself and clasped my hands together. ‘Holy Mother save us, if that is true what will Catherine do? She wants her mother back, but not under Burgundy’s banner!’
‘The story being spread in the city is that the queen feigned sickness and the castellan at Tours was so frightened she would die that he allowed her a litter to take her to a local holy well to seek a cure. She must have been in secret communication with Burgundy because he appeared at the well with a large force of men and took her to Melun.’ Alys frowned. ‘They say she will return to Paris when the guilds open the gates to Burgundy. And they will, Ma, I am sure they will.’
As soon as Catherine heard the rumour, she tackled Prince Charles with it. Despite their differences, their friendship persisted and they still broke their fast frequently together after Mass.
‘I hear that the queen has finally thrown in her lot with Burgundy,’ she remarked as soon as they had washed their hands. ‘And that he has rescued her from Tours. Is this true?’
I was serving them as usual, but everything they ate had been tasted by the dauphin’s cup-bearer, a taciturn individual appointed by Tanneguy du Chastel.
‘Yes, it is true,’ Charles nodded, spearing a preserved plum with his gold-handled knife. Each fruit in the dish bore a small scar where the taster had sampled it. ‘Our beloved mother now lives under the protection of the cousin who murdered our uncle.’ He raised his gaze to meet Catherine’s. ‘What a fine family we come from and what fine people we have for parents do we not? A madman and a traitor. Do you ever wonder who you take after? I know I do.’
Catherine ignored the question. ‘You may call her a traitor, Charles, but Armagnac forced her into it, did he not? What else could she do?’
‘Throw herself off a tower perhaps. There must be plenty of them at Tours,’ Charles replied coldly.
Perched on his high-backed chair, his skinny physique encased once more in black mourning for his father-in-law, the Duke of Anjou, I could not help thinking he resembled a jackdaw on a chimney-pot. Earlier in the year, shortly after his fifteenth birthday, he and Marie of Anjou had been married, but although she shared his household, as she was not yet fourteen they had not been bedded. Surveying the Dauphin’s undeveloped frame I wondered if he had reached the necessary maturity himself. Certainly his voice showed little sign of breaking.
‘And commit herself to eternal hellfire! How can you say that?’ protested Catherine. ‘Are you suggesting that is what
I
should do if Burgundy forces his way back to the king’s side?’
Charles dipped his plum in a bowl of cream. Cows grazed the orchards of St Pol and cream was one of the few luxuries still available in the palace. ‘No, though you may wish you had,’ he replied grimly. ‘Certainly I see no future for myself under his aegis and I do not suppose the queen has much love for me either. Not since we found the gold she had stashed away at her house in the city and returned it to the Treasury.’
Catherine looked astounded. ‘What gold? When was that?’
‘Soon after she was taken to Tours. She will say it was owed to her, but we know it was stolen to bribe the guilds to admit Burgundy to the city.’
‘Well, it looks as if the butchers may admit him anyway. What will you do if they open the gates?’
‘Run for my life.’ He popped the creamy sweetmeat into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. Then he placed a hand on his sister’s arm and added earnestly. ‘Will you see that my dogs are cared for?’
She eyed him balefully. ‘I thought you advised me to throw myself off a tower. I can hardly do both.’
A rare smile creased her brother’s cheeks. ‘I said you may wish you had but I know you will not. You are too stubborn – and too devout.’
When the dauphin had gone, Catherine asked my opinion of this conversation, adding, ‘Be honest, Mette, for I know you have a low opinion of Charles.’
‘Not low, Mademoiselle,’ I denied hastily. ‘I mistrust him because he shows little concern for you. As children you were his refuge and support but now that he is your only real protector, he is more concerned for his dogs!’
‘Oh but, Mette, he says he does not remember our childhood,’ objected Catherine. ‘And although he is the dauphin, he is still only a boy. If you think about it, he and I have only each other to rely on. All our other brothers and sisters are either dead or allied elsewhere. I am sure that,
in extremis
, Charles would not let me down.’
I bowed my head to hide the doubt in my eyes. ‘If you say so, Mademoiselle. He did not offer to take you with him if he flees, however.’
She acknowledged that, but still refused to condemn her brother. ‘I would be quite a hindrance, would I not? He truly believes he would be fleeing for his life. He is the last dauphin, and with him out of the way Burgundy could declare himself Heir of France. Poor Charles, he has much to contend with.’
‘So do you, Mademoiselle,’ I reminded her. ‘Have you forgotten the cruelty of the Black Duke?’ I fingered the scar on my cheek. ‘The Count of Armagnac has always left you alone. I doubt if Burgundy would do the same.’
She lifted her chin. ‘Burgundy frightened me when I was a child, but I am a woman now and the queen will protect me. I have nothing to fear.’
Brave words, I thought, but I spied the doubt in her eyes.
Easter came and went and nothing happened. The city was eerily quiet. There were none of the usual spring parades when guild members carried the effigies of their patron saints through the streets singing carols and dancing. Even the students, who normally went crazy on Mayday, remained diligently at their desks. Then, at the end of the month, on the feast of St Germain, monks and students dropped their pens and craftsmen and apprentices downed tools to escort the effigy of Paris’ patron saint to the Hôtel de Ville, where priests prayed long and loud, imploring the saint to preserve the city from tyranny and strife. It was all too evident whose tyranny they meant, for Armagnac’s guards trained crossbows on the crowd from the battlements of the Châtelet. Mercifully none was fired.
All the Lanière men, Jean-Michel’s father and three brothers, attended the gathering and at the end of the day, Alys hurried off to the harness shop for news. Darkness had fallen before her return and as the Compline bell rang from the Celestine Abbey, I grew desperately anxious for her safety.
‘You need not have worried, Ma,’ she chided, at last slipping into our chamber from the moonlit wall-walk. ‘Grandpère came with me to the palace gates and he whispered something very odd as he left me.
“Sleep behind locked doors tonight, Mignonne,”
he said. What do you think he meant?’
My blood froze. Mignonne was her grandfather’s pet name for Alys and there was no doubt that this was some kind of warning – as far as he dared go to protect his beloved granddaughter. Taking her hand, I pulled her after me down the spiral stair towards Catherine’s salon. ‘I do not know precisely what he meant,’ I muttered grimly, ‘but I do know we must tell Mademoiselle immediately.’
Catherine and her ladies were in light-hearted mood, laughing over some remark one of them had made and she did not look pleased at our interruption.
‘I am not nearly ready to retire yet, Guillaumette.’ Her use of my full name was always a sign of irritation. ‘I will call you when I am.’
I bent my knee and felt Alys do the same behind me. ‘With your permission, Mademoiselle, we must speak with you. Alys has urgent news.’
I suspect that the desperate wringing of my hands told her more than my words, for she rose instantly, asking her ladies to leave. When the three of us were alone, she became less formal. ‘What is it, Mette? Is there danger?’
When Alys told her what her grandfather had said, Catherine’s cheeks blanched. ‘Something is planned for tonight then? But what?’
I lifted my shoulders. ‘We do not know. Perhaps the old man is right. We should all lock our doors and pray.’
Catherine made an impatient noise. ‘No. First we must warn the king and the dauphin. I will go to the king. He will not understand, but at least his grand master can take precautions. Mette, can you go to Charles?’
‘Of course, Mademoiselle, at once.’ As I made for the door, I heard Alys at my heels and turned back to stop her. ‘If the dauphin is not in his chamber, I will have to go searching for him. There is no point in us both risking danger.’
Catherine spoke up at once. ‘No indeed. Alys can stay here with my ladies. We will all go to the king’s hall. I am sure my father will not be harmed, whatever happens.’
Alys looked mutinous, but I kissed her quickly on the cheek and bade her obey the princess. ‘Thank you, Mademoiselle,’ I said gratefully. ‘God be with you.’
‘God be with
you
, Mette,’ said Catherine earnestly. ‘If anyone stops you, just say you are on an errand for me. It might be unwise to mention the dauphin.’
I took the route so often used by Jean-Michel and Luc – through the door at the top of the tower and along the wall-walk to the kitchen gate where steps led down to the rear of the Dauphin’s House, now the home of Prince Charles and Marie of Anjou and their household of retainers and officials. No one stopped me for I was a familiar figure to the sentries on the battlements and even in darkness the pale gleam of my coif and apron easily identified me. Between the crenellations of the parapet I caught glimpses of bright moonlight shining off the river and heard the gentle slap of water far below against the curtain wall. It was a luminous May evening and the scene was one of peaceful calm. Only the sound of the sentries’ boots stamping out their beat broke the tranquility. As I hurried along, I anxiously considered the possibility that I might have triggered a false alarm.
A
s soon as I stepped through the archway at the base of the kitchen gate, I knew it was no false alarm; during the minute it took me to descend the stair from the battlements, the peace of the night had been shattered. Raucous shouts and heavy thuds were now echoing over the rooftops and the sentries could be heard running towards the main gatehouse, their studded boots scrunching on the pavement of the wall-walk. The atmosphere had soured as fast as milk in a thunderstorm and a sense of approaching menace filled the air.
Heart pounding, I sped across the cobbled court to the king’s cloister, at the far end of which a rear entrance led into the undercroft of the Dauphin’s House. The stout, iron-bound door stood open, but the guard was lounging inside, deaf to the sounds that should have alerted him to trouble.
‘Bar the door!’ I ordered with as much authority as I could muster. ‘And go and tell the guards at the front to do the same. Strangers are at the gates.’
Perhaps it was the urgency of my tone, perhaps he recognised me as the princess royal’s nurse or perhaps he could see no harm in taking precautions even though the warning came from a bossy female in an apron. For whatever reason he took the requested action, sliding the heavy wooden beam into metal brackets on either side of the door. I picked up my skirt and raced up the spiral stairs ahead of me, which I assumed must lead to the upper apartments.
At the top I found myself in a vaulted vestibule from which several doors and archways led. I hesitated, trying to decide which to follow but none appeared more likely than another. Torches set into sconces emitted a weak flickering light, casting deep shadows which set my skin prickling. Instinct told me that time was too short to waste on futile searching, so I resorted to the quickest way of locating my quarry, yelling at the top of my voice. ‘Attention! My lord dauphin! Danger!’
Almost instantly I heard the sound of running footsteps and Tanneguy du Chastel appeared panting from an archway just as several liveried men arrived from another, all brandishing naked blades. To my relief, Maître Tanneguy immediately called the others off, sheathed his own fearsome-looking poignard and grabbed me by the elbow. ‘I know you,’ he growled, peering close to identify me in the dim light. ‘It is Madame Lanière. What is this danger? Tell me as we go.’
I explained as quickly as I could, despite the pain of his vice-like grip on my arm as he hauled me up a wider stairway at breakneck speed. ‘I believe the guilds have opened the city to Burgundy’s men, Monseigneur,’ I panted. ‘From the noises outside they are already at the palace gates. My father-in-law is a member of the butchers’ guild and he warned my daughter to expect trouble tonight. Princess Catherine has gone to the king and she sent me to warn her brother.’
‘Bravo to the princess and bravo to you!’ Reaching an upper floor, Maître Tanneguy swept me through a door and into the chamber beyond, where we were greeted by alarming snarls and the bared teeth of the dauphin’s hounds.
‘Back Clovis! Down Cloud! Maître Tanneguy, in the name of God what is it? What is happening?’ Scrambling down from his magnificent curtained bed, Prince Charles looked ashen-faced but his voice rang out surprisingly forcefully, sending the dogs into a snarling crouch. My own heart was thudding like a barge-master’s drum.
Tanneguy’s immediate action on entering had been to unlock a heavy, iron-bound chest and extract a small leather pouch. It must have held something very precious for he buttoned it swiftly and carefully into the front of his doublet. ‘Burgundy’s men are at the gates, my lord,’ he replied. ‘We must leave instantly.’ As he finished speaking, he began racing around the room collecting necessities – a sword and belt, a pair of boots, a fur-lined heuque.