The Royal Succession (18 page)

`Really, it's going too far, Mother! You'll be asking me next to kiss your feet because you've poisoned my brother! If I had
known that this was the price of the Regency, I would never, do you hear, never have accepted it! I reprobate this murder; there is never any need to kill in order to achieve one's ends; it's a bad political method, and I order you, as long as I am your suzerain, never to use it again.'

For a moment he was tempted to take the honest course: summon the Council of Peers, denounce the crime and demand punishment. Mahaut, who guessed how his mind was working, had some unpleasant moments. But Philippe never gave way to impulse, even when it was a virtuous one. To act thus would be to bring discredit on his w
ife and on himself: And what ac
cusations might Mahaut, not make to defend herself or bring him down with her for not having defended her? It would be a splendid opportunity for reopening the question of the Regency and the succession. Philippe had already done too much for the kingdom, and thought too much about what he was going to do, to run the risk of being deprived of power. His brother Louis, all in all, had been a bad king, and a murderer into the bargain. Perhaps it was the intention of Providence to punish the assassin by assassination, and to place France in better hands.

`God will judge you,, Mother, God will judge you,' he said. `I should merely like to prevent the flames of Hell beginning to lick us all while we are still alive because of you. I must therefore pay the wages of your sin, and as I cannot put you in prison, I am compelled to support you. Your plan was well thought out. Messire Gaucher will receive new instructions the day after tomorrow. I won't conceal from you the fact that it weighs on me.'

Mahaut tried to embrace him He pushed her away.

`But mark well,' he continued, `that from now on the dishes set before me will be tasted three times and that, at the first stomach pain that causes me distress, your hours will be numbered. You had better pray for my health.'

Mahaut inclined her head.

`I will serve you so well, my son,' she said, `that you will end by giving me back your love.'

4. We must go to war

NO
ONE understood, and Gaucher de Chatillon least of all, what had caused Philippe's change of mind concerning the affairs of Artois. The Regent, suddenly disavowing his envoys, declared that the agreement they had made was unacceptable and demanded that they draw up a new one more favourable to
Mahaut.
The results were immediate. The negotiations were broken off and those, who were conducting them on the Artois side, representing the moderate elements among the nobility, at once rejoined the party of the extremists. They were very indignant; the Constable had deceived and betrayed them; from now on force was the only resource.

Count Robert was triumphant.

`Haven't I told you often enough that you can't deal with those traitors?' he told them.

He marched once more on Arras at the head of his whole army.

Gaucher, who was in the town with only a small escort, had just time to escape by the Porte de Peronne while Robert was entering by the Porte Saint-Omer with flags flying and trumpets sounding. A quarter of an hour earlier and the Constable of France would have been a prisoner. This event occurred on September 22nd. On the same day Robert wrote his aunt the following letter:

`To the most high and noble Dame Mahaut of Artois, Countess of Burgundy, from Robert of Artois, Knight. As you have wrongly obstructed my right to the County of Artois, which much angers me and weighs on me every day, which thing I will no longer continue to suffer, by this I make known to you that I will put this affair in order and recover my property as soon as I can.'

Robert was not a great letter-writer; fine shades of meaning were not his forte, and he was delighted with this epistle, because it expressed so well what it was meant to say.

The Constable, when he reached Paris, did not cut a very good figure, nor did he mince his words when he met the Count of
Poitiers. He was not intimidated by the Regent's person; he had seen the young man born and wet his clothes; he told him forthrightly that it was ill-using a good servant and a loyal relation, who had commanded the armies of the kingdom for twenty years, to send him to negotiate on assurances .which were later disavowed.

`Until this day, Monseigneur, I have always been considered a true man whose word of honour could not be doubted. You have made me play the part of a; traitor and a dastard. When I supported your rights to the Regency I thought to find in you some thing of my King, your father, whom until now you have shown signs of resembling. I see that I have been cruelly mistaken. Have y
ou fallen; so completely under
a woman's tutelage that you change your policy as you might your coat?

Philippe did his best to calm the Constable, accusing himself of having ill-judged the affair
in the first place, and of having issued mistaken instructions. There was no point in dealing
with the nobility of Artois so
long as Robert was undefeated. Robert was a danger to the kingdom and a peril to the honour of the royal family. Was he not the instigator of this campaign of slander which pointed to
Mahaut as the poisoner of Louis
X?

Gaucher shrugged, his shoulders.

`And who believes that nonsense?' he cried.'

'Not you, Gaucher, not you,' said Philippe, `but others listen to it only too happy to be able to i
njure us thereby; 'and tomorrow
they'll beg saying that I, and you, were implicated in this
death
; they wish people to believe was suspect. But Robert has just made the mistake I was awaiting. Look at what he has written to Mahaut.'

And he handed the Constable the letter of September 22nd.

'By this le
tter,' went on the Regent, 'he
rejects the judgement given by my father and Parliament in 1309. Until, now he has done no more than support the Countess' enemies; but by this he enters into rebellion against the law of the realm. You will return to Artois.'

`Oh, no, Monseigneur!' cried Gaucher. `I have, cut too poor a figure there. I had to fly from Arras like an old boar from the hounds, without even time to piss. Do me the favour of choosing someone else to handle this business.'

Philippe put his hands' to his mouth. 'If you knew, Gaucher,' he thought, `if you only knew how painful it is to me to deceive you! But if I told you the truth, you would despise me still more!' He went on obstinately: `You will go back to Artois, Gaucher, for love of me, and because I ask you to do so. You will take with you your brother-in-law, Messire Mille, and this time a good band of knights and also some of the commonalty, enlisting reinforcements in Picardy; and you will summon Robert to appear before Parliament to render an account of his conduct. At the same time you will supply money and men-at-arms to the burgesses of the towns which have remained loyal. And if Robert will not submit, I will take other steps to make him. A prince is like anyone else, Gaucher,' Philippe went on, taking the Constable by the shoulders, `he may make an error at the start, but it would be a still greater error to continue in it. The royal trade has to be learned like any other, and I have still
much to learn.
Forgive me for forcing you to appear in such a bad light.'

Nothing moves an older man more than a confession of inexperience from a younger, particularly if the latter be his social superior. Beneath their saurian lids Gaucher's eyes dimmed a little.

`Oh, I forgot,' went on Philippe. `I have decided that you shall be tutor to the future child of Madame Clemence - our King, if God so wills that it be a boy - and his second godfather, immediately after myself.'
26

`Monseigneur, Monseigneur Philippe .. said the Constable, much moved.

And he embraced the Regent, as if it had been he who had been at fault.

`As for godmother,' said Philippe, `we have decided with Madame Clemence that i
t shall be the Countess Mahaut,
so as to still the gossip.'

Eight days later the Constable set out once more.

Robert of Artois, as might
have been foreseen, refused to submit to the summons and continued to rage at the head of his horde of knights. But the month of October was not a lucky one for him. If he was a valiant warrior, he was n
ot a great strategist.
he sent out forays without plan, one day to the north, the next to the south, at the mere whim of the moment. A reiter before reiters, a condottiere before condottieri, he was more suited to taking service with others as a great fighting man - as he was indeed to do, fifteen years later, in the service of England - than to command on his own behalf. In this county, which he considered his own, he behaved as if he were in enemy territory, leading the wild, dangerous and exciting life he loved. He rejoiced in the terror created by his approach, but did not see the hate he left in his wake. His passage was marked by too many
bodies hanging from the branches of trees, too many headless corpses, too many victims buried alive amid gusts of cruel laughter, too many women raped, their flesh bearing the marks of mailed coats, and too many acts of arson. Mothers threatened their naughty children with calling Monseigneur Robert; but if he was said to be in the neighbourhood they hid their brats in their skirts and ran for the nearest forest.

The towns barricaded themselves; artisans, following the example of the Flemish towns, sharpened their knives, and the aldermen kept contact with Gaucher's emissaries. Robert liked open warfare; he hated a war of siege. The burgesses of Saint
Omer or of Calais would shut their gates in his face; he would shrug his shoulders and say: `I'll come back another day and kill the lot of you!'

And he would go off to frolic elsewhere.

But money was
beginning to run short. Valois no longer answered his demands, and his rare messages contained only good advice and exhortations to wisdom. Tolomei, his dear banker Tolomei, also turned a deaf ear. He was away; his clerks had no orders. The Pope himself took a hand in the affair; he wrote personally to Robert and to several of the Artois barons to recall them to their duty.

Then, one morning towards the end of October, the Regent, as he sat in Council, declared with that extraordinary calm which was the accompaniment to his decisions: `Our Cousin Robert has too long made mock of our power. Since we must resolve to go to war, we will take the oriflamme at Saint-Denis against him on the last day of this month and, since Messire Gaucher is absent,
the
army, which I shall lead myself, will be under the command of our uncle ...

Everyone looked at Charles of Valois, but Philippe went on, `... our uncle, Monseigneur of Evreux. We would willingly have confided this
duty
to Monseigneur of Valois, who has given proof of being a great leader in war, if he had not to go to his territories of Maine in order to receive the annates of the Church.'

`I thank you, Nephew,' replied Valois, `for you know that I dearly love Robert, and that, though I disapprove his re
bellion which is a piece of pig
-headed foolishness, I should not like to take up arms against him.'

The ainay which the Regent gathered to go into Artois bore no resemblance to the enormous host his brother, sixteen months earlier, had engulfed in the mud of Flanders. The army for
Artois consisted of permanent troops and levies made in the royal domain. Its pay was high: thirty sols a day for a knight banneret, fifteen sols for a knight, three sols for a foot-soldier. Not only were nobles called up, but also commoners. The two marshals, Jean de Corbeil and Jean de Beaumont, called the Derame, Lord of Clichy, assembled the banners. Pierre de Galard's crossbowmen were already in commission. Geoffroy Coquatrix had secretly received instructions a fortnight earlier to organize transport and supplies.

On October 30th Philippe of Poitiers took the oriflamme at Saint-Denis. On November 4th he was at Amiens, whence he immediately sent his second chamberlain, Robert de Gamaches, escorted by a few equerries, to carry a last summons to the Count of Artois.

5. The Regent's Army takes a prisoner

THE STUBBLE from the already distant harvest was grey and rotting in the bare muddy fields. Heavy dark clouds were moving across the autumn sky and one might have thought that the world ended at the edge of the plateau. The sharp wind, blowing in short gusts, carried with it an underlying smell of smoke.

Near the village of Bouquemaison, at the very place where, three months before, Count Robert had entered Artois, the Regent's army was drawn up in battle array, pennants flying at lance-heads along more than a mile of front.

Philippe of Poitiers, surrounded by his principal officers, was at the centre, a few yards from the road. He had crossed his gauntleted hands on the pommel of his saddle; his head was bare. Behind him an equerry was carrying his helm.

`It was here he told you that he would come and surrender? the Regent asked Robert de Gamaches, who had returned from his mission that morning.

`Yes, here, Monseigneur,' replied the Second Chamberlain. 'He chose the place. "In the field by the stone with a cross on it," he said. And he assured me that he would be here at the hour of

tierce.,