The Royal Succession (17 page)

`Not at all, Gaucher; particularly if she has frequently abused her rights, as I think she has. The fact is that Dame Mahaut is an extremely imperious woman, and she believes that everyone was born expressly to serve her to the last farthing and the l
ast drop of sweat! I want peace
' the Regent continued, `and to achieve it
there must be an equitable settlement. We know that the townsfolk support the Countess because they are always wrangling with the nobles, while the nobles have taken up Robert's cause so as to get their wrongs righted. Find out if their demands are justified and try to satisfy them without impairing the prerogatives of the Crown; try to detach the barons from our turbulent cousin by pointing out to them that they can obtain more from us through justice than they can from him through violence.?

'You're a clever man, Monseigneur; you're certainly a clever man,' said the Constable. `I did not believe that in my latter years it would be given me to serve with such pleasure so wise a prince, who is not a third of my age.'

Meanwhile the Regent, through the Count de Forez, was asking the Pope to postpone his coronation a little. Dueze, though properly anxious to see his election quickly confirmed by coronation, agreed most politely to a delay of a fortnight.

But when the fortnight had elapsed the affairs of Artois were still far from settled; and the agreement with the Flemings could not be ratified before September 1st. Philippe therefore asked Dueze, this time through the Dauphin of Viennois, to postpone the ceremony once more, but Dueze, to the Regent's surprise, showed firmness, almost obstinacy, by fixing the date of his coronation irrevocably for September 5th.

He wished to hold it on that date for imperative reasons which he kept secret and which indeed would not have been apparent to all. The fact was that he had been consecrated Bishop of Frejus on September 5th, in the year 1300; his protector, King Robert of Naples, had been crowned in the first week of September 1309; and, though it had been by forging a royal letter, it was on September 4th, 1310, that the trick had succeeded in obtaining for him the Episcopal See of Avignon.

The new Pope's relations with the stars were excellent, and he knew how to suit the stages of his own ascension to that of the sun.

`If Monseigneur the Regent of France and Navarre, whom we love so well,' he replied, `is prevented by the duties of the realm from being at our side on that solemn day, we shall regret it much, but we shall then no longer fear causing him so long a journey, and shall go and don the tiara in the town of Avignon.'

Philippe of Poitiers signed the treaty with the Flemings on the morning of September 1st. On the 5th, at dawn, he reached
Lyons, accompanied by the Count of Valois and the Count de la Marche, whom he did not wish to leave in Paris out of his sight, as well as Louis of Evreux.

`You've made us ride as fast as a courier, Nephew,' said Valois as he dismounted.

They had barely time to put on the clothes specially prepared for the ceremony, which had been ordered by the Bursar, Geoffroy de Fleury. The Regent
wore
an open robe the colour of peach blossom, lined with two hundred skins of miniver.
25
Charles of Valois, Louis of Evreux, Charles de la Marche and Philippe of Valois, who was also present at the ceremony, had each received as a present a robe of camocas lined in the same manner.

In Lyons, which was all decked with flags, a huge crowd gathered to watch the procession.

Jacques
Dueze, preceded by the Regent of Prance, rode to the Primatial Church of Saint-Jean on horseback through a huge kneeling crowd. All the bells of the town were pealing. The reins of the Pontiff's horse, were held on one side by the Count of Evreux and on the other by the Count de la March
e. The Papacy was c
losely framed by, the French monarchy. The cardinals followed, wearing their red hats, fastened under the chin, by knotted strings above their copes. The bishops' mitres sparkled in the sun. It was Cardinal Orsini, a descendant of Roman patricians, who placed the tiara on the head of Jacques Dueze, the son of a burgess of Cahors.

Guccio, from a good place in the cathedral, was lost in admiration of his master. The little old man, with, his thin chin and narrow shoulders who, four weeks
earlier, had
been thought to be dying, bore without difficulty the heavy sacerdotal emblems with which he was laden. The Pharaonic rites of the, interminable ceremony, which raised him so much above his fellows, making of him a symbol of divinity, seemed to leave their imprint on his personality almost without his knowing it, lending his features an unexpected and impressive majesty, which became more evident as the liturgy unfolded. He could not, however, restrain a slight smile when he donned the pontifical sandals.

'Scarpinelli! They called me Scarpinelli, Cardinal Little Shoes,' he thought. `They said I was the son of a cobbler. But now I'm wearing the little shoes! Lord, I have nothing further to wish for. I have but to rule well.'

That very day he got the Regent to confer a patent of nobility on his brother Pierre Dueze, before proceeding, during the
course of the next two years, to make five of his own nephews cardinals.

If the patent of nobility which Philippe of Poitiers dictated himself after the ceremony was intended to honour the Holy Father through his brother, it nevertheless showed an astonishing aspect of the young Prince's mind. `It is not family wealth,' he wrote, `nor individual wealth, nor the other favours of fortune, which carry weight in the combination of moral qualities and meritorious actions. These are things which blind chance bestows on the deserving as on the undeserving, and which may happen equally to the worthy as to the unworthy ... On the other hand, every man establishes himself as the inheritor of his own actions and his own merits, while it is of no importance from whence we come, if indeed we even know from whom we come ...'

But the Regent had not journeyed so far or given the new Pope such marks of his esteem to obtain nothing in return. Between these two men, separated in age by half a century - `You are the rising sun, Monseigneur, and I am the setting sun,' Dueze was accustomed to say to Philippe - there existed, since their first meeting, a secret affinity and an enduring understanding. John XXII did not forget the promises of Jacques Dueze, nor the Regent those of the Count of Poitiers. Hardly had the Regent broached the subject of the ecclesiastical benefices, whose first year's income was to be paid to the Treasury, than the new Pope told him that the documents were ready for signing. But, before the seals were affixed, Philippe had a private conversation with Charles of Valois.

`Uncle,' he said, `have you anything to complain of in me?'

`Most assuredly not, Nephew,' said the ex-Emperor of Constantinople.

How can one tell someone to his face that the only complaint one has against him is the fact that he exists!

`Then, Uncle, if you have no complaint against me, why do you work against me? I assured you, when you handed over to me the keys of the Treasury, that you would not be asked to render an account, and I have kept my word. You have sworn me homage and loyalty, but you have not kept faith, Uncle, for you are supporting Robert of Artois' cause.'

Valois made a gesture of denial.

`You are making a bad bet, Uncle,' Philippe went on, `for Robert will cost you dear. He has no money; he has no other resources than the income paid him by the Treasury, which I
have just cut off. It is, therefore, to you that he will turn for subsidies. Where will you find them, since you no long
er control the finances of the kingdom? Now,
don't be angry, don't go scarlet in the face, or give way to insults which you will later regret, for I want nothing but your good. Give me your word not to help Robert, and I, on my side, will ask the Holy Father that the annates of Valois and Maine be paid direct to you, rather than to the Treasury.'

For a moment the Count of Valois was torn between hatred and cupidity.

`How much do the annates amount to?' he asked.

`From ten to thirteen thousand livres a year, Uncle, for the sums which were not collected during the last years of my father's and the whole of Louis' reign must be included.'

For Valois, who was always in debt and yet lived regally, who had promised huge dowries to his daughters so as to marry them the better, ten or thirteen thousand livres a year presented, if not permanent salvation, at least a temporary one.

`You are a good nephew who understands my needs,' he replied.

The news from Gaucher de Chatillon being , satisfactory, Philippe returned home by short stages, attending to a variety of business' on the way, and making a, last stop at Vincennes, to bring Clemence the blessing of the new Pope.;

I am glad
,' said the Queen,
'that our dear Dueze has taken the name of Jean, because it is the one I have chosen for my child, in accordance with the vow I took, during the storm, in the ship which brought me to France.'

She seemed still as much a stranger as ever to the problems of power and concerned solely with the memories of her married life and the anxieties of motherhood. Living at Vincennes seemed to suit her health; she had regained her looks, and, seven months gone as she was, seemed to be enjoying that respite which occurs sometimes towards the end of a difficult pregnancy.

`Jean is no name for a King of France,' said the Regent. `We have never had a Jean.'

`Brother, I tell you it was an oath I made.''

`In that case we shall respect it. If it's a boy, he will be called Jean I.'

In the Palace of the Cite Philippe found his wife perfectly happy, dandling the little Louis-Philippe who was bawling with all the strength of his eight weeks.

But the Countess Mahaut, when she heard that her son-in-law
had returned. arrived like
a fury from the Hotel d'Artois with her sleeves rolled up.

`I've been betrayed, my son, since you've been away! Do you know what your fool of a Gaucher has been doing in Artois?'

`Gaucher is the Constable, Mother, and but a little while ago you did not think him foolish at all. What has he done to you?'

`He has declared me wrong!' cried Mahaut. `He has condemned me on all points. Your envoys are hand in glove with my vassals; they have taken it on themselves to order that I may not go into Artois! You hear what I say, that I, Mahaut, am to be forbidden to go into my own county, until I have sealed this wicked peace which I refused to Louis last December? And they order me to make restitution of I don't know what amount of taxes that, so they say, I have received wrongfully! '

`I have no doubt this is all perfectly just. My envoys have faithfully carried out my orders,' Philippe replied calmly.

For a moment Mahaut was taken aback with surprise. She stood there with her mouth open and her eyes staring. Then she went on, shouting louder than ever, `Just, to pillage my castles, hang my sergeants-at-arms, ravage my harvest! And it's on your orders, is it, that my enemies are supported? Your orders! That's a fine way to pay me back for all I have done for you!'

A thick purple vein swelled on her forehead and Philippe thought that she would need to be bled that night.

`Except for giving me your daughter,' he replied, `I do not see that you have done so much for me that I should let injury be done to my subjects and compromise the whole peace of the realm for your advantage.'

For a second Mahaut hesitated between prudence and anger. But the phrase her son-in-law had used, `my subjects', a king's phrase, won the day.

Advancing towards him, she cried, `Is to have killed your brother nothing?'

Ten weeks of deeply preserved secrecy had come to an end at a single blow.

Philippe neither started nor exclaimed, he simply rushed to the doors to make sure with his short-sighted eyes that there was no one near who could have ove
rheard. He locked the doors, re
moved the keys and put them in his belt. Mahaut was suddenly afraid, and still more so when she saw his expression as he returned towards her.

`So it was you,' he said in a low voice, `and what has been whispered throughout the kingdom is true.'

Mahaut stood up to him since it was natural to her to attack.

`And who else should it be, Son-in-law? To whom else do you think you owe it that you are Regent and possibly, one day, may seize the crown? Don't pretend to be so ingenuous. Your brother confiscated Artois from me; Valois was turning it against me; and you were in Lyons busy with the Papa
cy. The Papacy is always linked
to my affairs as March to Lent! Don't be so sanctimonious as to tell
me
that you blame me! You had no love for Louis, and you're
delighted that I've
made it possible for you to take his place by putting a little seasoning in his sweets; but I did not expect to find that you were worse than he was.'

Philippe sat down, crossed his legs, and considered.

'This was bound to happen one day or another,' thought Mahaut. `In one
sense
it may be just as well; I have a hold over
him now.'

'Does Jeanne know?' Philippe asked suddenly,

'She knows nothing. These are
not women's matters.'

`Who knows besides yourself?'

Beatrice, my lady-in-waiting.'

`Too many,' said Philippe.

`Oh, don't you touch her!' cried Mahaut. `She has a powerful family!
'

'Indeed yes,
a family who have made you greatly beloved in Artois! And b
esides Beatrice? Who furnished
you with the seasoning, as you call it?'

`A witch of Arras, whom I have never seen,, but whom Beatrice knows. I pretended to want to rid myself of the deer which infested my park and
I took
care to kill a number of them.'

`This woman must be found,' said Philippe.

`Do you now understand,' went on Mahaut, `that you cannot abandon me? If it is thought that you are no longer supporting me, my enemies, will take courage, libels will spread ...
'

`Slanders, Mother, slanders,' Philippe corrected.

`And if I am accused, the weight of the accusation will fall on you, for it will be said that I did it for your advantage, if not on your orders even.'

`I know, Mother, I know. I've already thought of all that.'

`You must remember, Philippe, that I have risked the salvation of my soul in this action. Do not be ungrateful'

This was one of the very rare
occasions in Philippe's life when he lost his temper.