The Agincourt Bride (45 page)

Catherine rose to kiss her cheek. ‘I will remember that, sister,’ she murmured. ‘And so, I am sure, will Madame Lanière. God protect you on your journey.’

S
hrewdly, Catherine had appointed six new ladies-in-waiting by the time Michele returned from Dijon. They were all younger than herself and the daughters of lesser knights and barons; girls who would do as they were told without causing any ripples. ‘Now, if Michele brings someone forward to act as her spy in my camp, I can legitimately say there is no room for her.’

Michele did indeed produce not one but two candidates, the sisters of one of her husband’s close friends and advisers, and she was much irritated when Catherine sweetly thanked her and told her that the six companions she had already selected were quite enough.

‘But they are all so young!’ exclaimed an exasperated duchess. ‘You will never manage a decent conversation with any of those bubble-brains and I do not suppose they have any skills with a hairbrush or a needle.’

‘I do not need those skills for I have them already in Agnes and Guillaumette,’ Catherine pointed out, smiling at us both as we sat quietly with our embroidery. ‘My girls can dance and sing and play games. They entertain me. What could be better than that?’

‘These are frivolous reasons for choosing your maids of honour,’ Michele observed. ‘You do not have a good history in this, Catherine. The commoner, Madame Lanière, for example; you have let her get much too close to you. I am sure that will not go well with King Henry.’

Catherine frowned and gestured in my direction. ‘Madame Lanière is sitting over there, sister. Is it good manners to talk about her without acknowledging her presence? As for King Henry, he personally told me at Meulan how he has introduced English as his official language. He is of the opinion that as many commoners as possible should be able to read and understand their laws and ordinances. How many commoners does Philippe have among his advisers? I know that King Henry encourages likely young men who show intelligence and ability, whatever their birth.’

Michele looked affronted. ‘I do not need a lecture from you about my husband’s court,’ she said. ‘Although, for your information, Philippe intends that it will be the most culturally advanced in Europe. He has already attracted artists and scholars of all classes and nationalities to work in Flanders. However, what is most important here and now is your preparation for marriage and I feel bound to point out that packing your household with commoners and dizzy daughters of minor nobles is not building the right image as a consort for a king. Besides, what am I to say to the brother of my two ladies, who is one of Philippe’s closest councilors?’

‘I should tell him to hasten the peace negotiations,’ suggested Catherine. ‘In the last month King Henry’s forces have overrun every Seine stronghold up to the gates of Paris. Even Poissy fell last week. If they had arrived there a fortnight earlier, King Henry might have claimed conqueror’s rights and swept me to the altar in Poissy Abbey without need of any treaty! Philippe needs to arrange a ceasefire quickly or the St Germain gate will open to the English just as it did to your father-in-law last year. The Paris guilds are notoriously fickle. They cannot be relied on to continue supporting Burgundy.’

Michele’s lip curled. ‘Do not pretend that you know anything about these matters, Catherine,’ she retorted. ‘All those towns and castles on the Seine are – or were – royal garrisons. Our Burgundian strongholds remain solid.’

‘Oh, I see,’ cooed Catherine, feigning enlightenment. ‘So the Burgundian allegiance to the crown does not include help in relieving beleaguered royal garrisons? Nothing has changed then since Jean the Fearless failed to turn up at Agincourt. Like father, like son.’

For a moment it looked as if Michele was going to explode with anger, but her immense powers of self-control held good and she merely closed her eyes and put both hands to her temples, rubbing gently as if to ease a sudden headache. Then she said slowly, ‘I think if you and I are going to spend our time pleasantly together, Catherine, we had better avoid certain topics. What have you been reading lately?’

It was a great relief to us all when, in mid-December, Michele set off for Flanders to spend Christmas with her husband.

From Catherine, Princess Royal of France to Charles, Dauphin of Vienne,

My dearly beloved brother,

It is nearly Christmas and the season of rejoicing. I hope you will be making merry at your court, wherever it is – Bourges or Tours or Chartres? – and with people who love you. I often wonder how you do with Marie and whether you two have been blessed and bedded yet. Perhaps you will spend the festive season in Anjou with her family.

Sadly I do not believe we shall ever spend Christmas together again. I do not yet know exactly how things stand between the English and Burgundian negotiators, but it is probable there will eventually be a marriage between me and King Henry. After Montereau there will be no goodwill towards you, my brother. Therefore it is inevitable that you and I must become enemies. How I wish it were not this way, but so it is.

Would that we could have remained children, ignorant of and unaffected by all these political differences! Do you have any memories of Michele? You were very young when the queen spirited her out of the Hôtel de St Pol, but let me tell you that she and I do not find each other easy to love!

It has been made abundantly clear to me that royal offspring are never really children at all, being rather ‘assets of the kingdom’. What an uncomfortable state that is!

Nevertheless, in so far as I can, I remain your loving sister,

Catherine

Written at the Palace of the Counts, Troyes, this day Tuesday the 20
^th
December 1419.

Christmas at court was a subdued affair. Mourning prevailed ,and most of the major courtiers were anyway involved in treaty negotiations, busy travelling between Troyes, the Burgundian court in Arras and the English king at Mantes. King Charles and Queen Isabeau were unable or unwilling to undertake the planning of seasonal celebrations, so it was left to Catherine and her ladies to arrange what entertainment they could. For my own part I heard Mass at the Church of St Jean with Alys and Jacques, and shared a celebration meal in the workshop in the Rue de l’Aiguille. At the end of January I moved back there to await the birth of Alys’ baby.

Her labour started in freezing weather in the middle of February and by the afternoon of the following day I was becoming extremely concerned, for although I could tell from the writhing of her body and the agony in her eyes that the birth pangs were fierce, her cries of pain seemed to be growing weaker. The midwife, a normally cheerful and positive soul called Grizelde, took me out of the chamber and confided that the baby seemed to be stuck.

‘We must pray to the Virgin and St Margaret that she and the child be saved.’

I stared at her aghast. ‘She has been so well during her pregnancy,’ I protested. ‘She is strong. I am sure she will manage to push the baby out eventually.’

‘Alas it is not a case of how strong she is, but whether she opens to release the baby. Your daughter is young. Sometimes a young mother’s body is not ready to stretch and, so far, my ointment of comfrey and yarrow has had no effect.’

My voice rose in panic. ‘But are there no old methods, no ancient lore to guide us? I beg you to use anything you can to help her!’ I saw hesitation in the wise woman’s eyes and I clasped her hand eagerly in both of mine. ‘Please, Grizelde! You do know of something. I can see you do. Tell me!’

‘Sometimes a mother is responsive to the house being opened up around her. Every door, every shutter, every drawer, every knot should be untied, every lace undone. And – well, there is also the power of jasper. Even the smallest piece of that stone can be effective, but I do not know where any is to be found.’

‘Jasper? A magic stone? What does it look like?’

‘The most powerful type is a gemstone, coloured deep red. Some call it bloodstone. .’

‘I know of one set in a ring! I can get it. Go back to Alys,’ I told the midwife. ‘Tell her I will be away for a short time but when I come back I will have relief for her pain. Oh – and open everything, Grizelde – all the things you said – and tell Alys why you are doing it.’

In the workshop Jacques was sitting at his tailor’s table but his needle was lying loose on the cloth and his lips were moving in silent prayer. Another heart-rending cry of pain sounded from above and his face turned a paler shade of white.

‘You can help as well as pray, Jacques,’ I said, my sharp tone making him jump. ‘Open the shutters and the doors, even the cupboards. Pull out all the drawers, untie every knot or remove it from the house. Everything must be opened to free the baby’s way into the world. There is something important I need to fetch for Alys.’ I took down my cloak from a peg near the door and departed hastily.

Having attended Catherine almost every day for the past five years, I was very familiar with the contents of her jewellery casket and had been in possession of the keys, which I had consigned to the care of Agnes while I was away.

When I gained admittance to Catherine’s chamber, half running down the room, I dropped to my knees at her chair. ‘What is it, Mette? What has happened? Have you news of Alys?’

‘Yes, but all is not well, Mademoiselle. May I beg your highness’ leave for a word in private?’

A brisk word and a wave of Catherine’s hand sent the ladies scampering to the door. I tried to speak calmly, but anxiety made my words tumble over each other. ‘The baby is stuck. Alys grows weaker and weaker. It is torture to watch her. We have prayed for a miracle but time is running out. Our last resort may not be acceptable to the Church and so you may not like it but I must beg your help nevertheless.’

I kept my gaze fixed on Catherine’s face, hoping that I would not see doubt reflected there.

‘I cannot know what to think until I hear what it is you want, Mette,’ she prompted gently.

‘The midwife says there is power in a certain gemstone called jasper that can draw babies from the womb when all else fails. The practice might be considered sorcery by the Church, but I am desperate. Mademoiselle, there is a ring in your jewellery chest that you seldom wear which is set with that stone and I beseech you to let me take it to Alys so that we may try this ancient cure. Of course I will return it straight away, whatever the result.’

My heart gave a jolt when I saw Catherine frown and I feared she was about to refuse, but the frown was one of perplexity. ‘I do not know of such a ring, Mette. Are you sure I have one?’

‘Oh yes, Mademoiselle. The stone is a large red one, a cabochon set in gold, but you may know it as bloodstone.’

Her face cleared. ‘Oh yes, I know the one you mean. Of course you may take it to Alys. I understand your concern about Church opinion, but the stone may be the vehicle through which God answers our prayers. Bring the chest here, Mette. The sooner you take the ring, the sooner God can begin to work his miracle. And, meanwhile, I will be praying for her constantly. I will not stop until I hear that she is safely delivered.’

As I retraced my steps through the town, the ring was in a small leather pouch tucked into the bodice of my robe. Approaching the house I heard Alys cry out and paradoxically the agonised wail gave me comfort since it confirmed that her strength had not failed her completely.

Jacques pounced on me as soon as I entered. ‘The midwife will not let me in!’ he complained bitterly. ‘Alys is likely to die and the hag will not let me say my farewells! She says it is bad luck for a man to enter the birthing chamber.’

I thought of Queen Isabeau’s gilded labours, surrounded by fur-trimmed noblemen and mitered bishops and wondered at this latest Troyan superstition. Then I silently scolded myself for inconsistency – I was desperate to try Grizelde’s bloodstone remedy and yet I was ready to sneer at her fear of men tainting a birth. I hastened to reassure poor Jacques. ‘Alys is not going to die,’ I told him firmly. ‘Have faith and keep praying and I will call you as soon as the baby is born.’