The She Wolf of France (17 page)

Robert went on. `Unfortunately, or rather fortunately, the sweet Blanche, a year before Charles became King, got herself pregnant in prison by her jailer. Those daughters of Mahaut are such damned
hot pieces they'd set a bundle
of tow on fire at five yards.'

The giant was riding on the Queen's left, on the sunny side, and was mounted on a huge, dappled percheron; he cast his shadow over the Queen. She was urging her hack forward, trying to keep in the sun. Robert talked and talked, delighted to have met her again, giving rein to his naturally trivial nature, and trying at the same time, during these first leagues, to renew the links of cousinsh
ip and old friendship. Isabella
had, not seen him for eleven years; she found him less changed than she had expected. His voice was still the same, and so was that odour of a great eater of venison which his body emitted in the heat of the march and the breeze blew in
gusts about him. His hands were
red and hairy to the nails, his expression malicious even when he tried to make it amiable, and his paunch bulged over his belt as if he had swallowed a bell. But the assurance of his speech and gestures was less feigned than it had been, for it had now become part of his nature; the lines that framed his mouth were cut deeper in the fat.

`And Mahaut, my bitch of an aunt, has had to resign, herself to the annulment of her daughter's marriage. Oh, not without
a
struggle and bearing false witness b
efore the bishops! But she was
finally confounded. For once, Cousin Charles was obstinate. Because of the business with the jailer and the pregnancy. And once that weak-kneed creature sticks his toes in, about something, you can't move him. The
re were any number of questions
asked during the annulment case. They even salvaged from its dust the dispensation, granted by Clement V, allowing Charles to marry a relation but without specifying a name. But what member of our families ever married anyone but a cousin or a niece? So then, Monseigneur Jean de Marigny most cleverly turned to the question of a spiritual relationship. Was not Mahaut Charles' godmother? Of course, she denied it and said she had attended the baptism only as an assistant and unofficial godmother .
26
Then everyone, barons, stewards, valets, priests, choristers and townsmen of Creil, where the baptism took place, gave evidence that she had held the child to hand it to Charles of Valois, and that no mistake was possible in view of the fact that she was the tallest woman in the chapel, indeed taller by a head than anyone else. What a liar she is!'

Isabella compelled herself to listen, but her attention was really focused on herself and on a curious contact which, a little while before, had moved her. How surprising a man's hair felt when it was suddenly brought in touch with your fingers.

The Queen glanced up at Roger; Mortimer, who had placed himself on her right with a sort of natural authority' as if he were her protector and guardian. She looked at the thick curls emerging from under his black hat. You would never have thought his hair could be so silky to the touch.

It had happened by chance at the very first moment of their meeting. Isabella had been surprised to see Mortimer appear beside the Earl of Kent. So in France the rebel, fugitive and outlaw - for Edward had, of course, deprived him of all his rights, titles and property - rode beside the King of Engla
nd's brother and seemed even to
take precedence over him. The members of the En
glish escort had looked at each
other in astonishment.

And Mortimer had jumped from his horse and hurried over to the Queen to kiss the hem of her dress;' but the hack had moved and Roger's lips had l
ightly touched Isabella's knee,
while she had mechanically put out her hand and rested it on the bare head of the friend she had regained. And. now, as they rode along the road, its surface striped with the sh
adows of the branches overhead,
the silky contact of his hair was still with her, as perceptible as if it were enclosed within her velvet glove.

`But the most serious groun
ds
for pronouncing the marriage annulled, besides the fact that the contracting parties were not of canon age: for copulating, nor indeed physically capable of doing so, were discovered in the fact that your brother Charles, when he was married, lacked the discernment to select a wife suited to his rank, or the ability to express a preference, in view of the fact that he was incapable, simple and imbecile; and that the contract was consequently invalid. Inhabilis, simplex et imbecillus! And everyone, from your Uncle Valois to the last chambermaid, were at one in, agreeing that he was all that, and the best proof of it was that the late Queen his mother had herself thought him so stupid that she had nicknamed him "the Goose"! Forgive me, Cousin, for talking of your brother like this, but after all he's the King we've got over us. A pleasant companion, however, in other respects, and with a handsome face, but with not much spirit about him. You'll realize that one has to govern in his stead and that you mustn't expect too much of him.'

From Isabella's left came Robert of Artois' inexhaustible voice
and his wild-beast odour. From her right Isabella felt Roger Mortimer's eyes resting on her with a disturbing persistence. From time to time she looked up at his flint-coloured eyes, his clean-cut features and the deep cleft in his chin, at his tall, shapely figure sitting so erect in the saddle. She was surprised she had no memory of the white scar marking his lower lip.

`Are you still as chaste as ever, my fair cousin?' Robert of Artois suddenly asked her.

Queen Isabella blushed and raised her eyes furtively to Roger Mortimer, as if the question had already made her, in some inexplicable way, feel a little guilty towards him.

`Indeed, I've been forced to be,' she replied.

`Do you remember our interview in London, Cousin?'

She blushed deeper still. Of what was he reminding her, and what would Mortimer think? It had been nothing but a moment of forlornness when saying good-bye; there had not even been so much as a kiss; she had merely leaned her forehead against a man's chest in search of refuge. Did Robert still remember it after eleven years? She felt flattered, but not in the least moved. Had he mistaken what had been but a moment of dismay for an avowal of love? Yet, perhaps, on t
hat day, but on that day only,
had she not been Queen, and had he not been in such a hurry to leave in order to denounce the Burgundy girls .. .

`Well, if you do take it into your head to change your habits
said Robert gallantly. `Whenever I think of you, I always have the feeling of
a debt I've never collected .
..'

He broke off suddenly, having met Mortimer's eyes and seen in them the glance of a man ready to draw his sword if he heard another word. The Queen saw the challenge and, to keep herself in countenance, stroked the white mane of her mare. Dear Mortimer, how noble and chivalrous he was! And how good it was to breathe the air of France, and how pretty the road was, with its alternating sunlight and shade!

There was an ironical half-smile on Robert of Artois' fat cheeks. As for the debt - he had thought the expression delicate enough - he must think no more of it. He felt sure that Mortimer loved Queen Isabella and that Isabella loved Mortimer.

Other people are generally aware of our love before we realize it ourselves.

'Ah, well,' he thought, `my good cousin will amuse herself with this Knight Templar.'

4. King Charles

I
T HAD taken about a quarter of an hour to cross the town from the gates to the Palace of the Cite. There were tears in Queen Isabella's eyes when she set foot in the courtyard of that palace she had seen her father build, and which had already begun to acquire something of the patina of time. The black stains on the stone where the gutters emptied had not been there when Isabella had set out from this very place to become Queen.

The doors were thrown open
at the top of the grand
staircase, and Isabella could not hel
p expecting to see the imposing
icy, sovereign features of King Philip the Fair. How often in the past she
had gazed
at her father standing at the top of these very stairs preparing to go down into his city!

The young man who now appeared, wearing a short tunic, his well-turned legs in neat white hose, followed by his chamberlains, much resembled the great dead monarch in figure and feature, but his person radiated neither strength not majesty. He
was but a pale copy, a plaster c
ast taken from, an effigy. And vet, because the shade of the Iron King stood behind this spiritless personage, because the Crown of France was incarnate in him, as well as the headship of the family, Isabella tried three or four times to kneel to him; and each time her brother took her by the hand, raised her, and said: `Welcome, sweet Sister, welcome.'

Having forced her to rise, and still
holding her by the hand, he led her through the galleries to the large
private apartment, where he normally sat, asking the Queen for news of her journey: had she been properly received at Boulogne by the Captain of the town?

He sent to make sure that the chamberlains
were attending to the luggage,
warning them not to drop the chests.

`Because the cloth crumples,' lie explained, `and I noticed on my last journey to Languedoc, what a state my robes got into.'

Was he trying to hide his emotion or his embarrassment by fussing over such things?

When they had sat down, Charles the Fair said: `Well, and how are things with you, my dear sister?'

`Poorly, Brother,' she replied.

`And what is the reason for your journey?'

Isabella could not help looking painfully surprised. Did her brother really not know what was going on? Robert of Artois, who had entered the palace with the leaders of the escort, making his spurs ring on the flagstones as if he were at home, gave Isabella a look which implied: `What did I tell you?'

`Brother, I have come to negotiate a treaty with you, which must be ratified if our two kingdoms are to stop harming one another.'

Charles the Fair looked
thoughtful for a moment, as if he were taking time to reflect. In fact he: was thinking of nothing in, particular. As during the audiences he had granted Mortimer, or indeed anyone else for that matter, he asked questions and paid no attention to the answers.

`The treaty,' he said at last; `yes, I'm prepared to receive, homage from your husband, Edward. You'll discuss it with our, Uncle Charles, t
o whom I've given authority to
deal with the matter. Were you seasick? Do you know, I've never been on the sea? It has always seemed to me a most impressive expanse of water.'

They had to wait till he had uttered a few more trivialities of this order before they could present the Bishop of Norwich, who was to conduct the negotiations, and Lord de Cromwell, who commanded the English escort. He greeted them with courtesy but clearly would never remember who they were.

Charles IV was doubtless little stupider than thousands of men of his age in the kingdom, who harrowed their fields the wrong way, broke the shuttles of their looms, or perpetrated errors in their accounts when selling wax and tallow. What was so unfortunate was that he was the King and had so very few of the right qualities.

`I have also come, Brother,' said Isabella, 'to request your help and to place myself under your protection, for all my possessions have been taken from me, even the County of Cornwall, which was settled on me by England in my-marriage contract.'

'You will explain your grievances to our Uncle Charles; he is a wise counsellor, and I shall approve anything he decides for your advantage, Sister. I will take you to your rooms.'

Charles IV left the assembly to show his sister the apartments that had been set aside for her: a suite of five rooms with a private staircase.

`Form the ordinary comings and goings of your household,' he thought it proper to explain.

He drew her attention to the fact that the furniture had been
refurnished, that he had placed various objects in the rooms that had belonged to their parents, in particular a reliquary which their mother, Queen Jeanne of Navarre, had always kept by her bed; it contained a tooth of Saint Louis in a sort of miniature cathedral of silver-gilt. The figured tapestries with which the walls were hung were new, and he drew her attention to them. He showed all the cares of -a good housewife; he fingered the material of the counterpane and besought his sister not to hesitate to ask for all the embers she might need to warm her bed. No one could have been more attentive or more affable.

`As for the lodgings of your suite, Messire de Mortimer will arrange matters with my chamberlains. I want everyone to be comfortable.'

He had uttered Mortimer's name without any particular intention, merely because, when English affairs were in question, his name was frequently mentioned to him. It seemed to him, therefore, quite natu
ral that Mortimer should be in
charge of the Queen of England's household. He had quite clearly forgotten that the King of England was asking for his head.

He went on with his tour of the apartments, straightening the fold of a hanging here, checking the inside fastening of a shutter t
here. And then, suddenly coming
to a halt, he leaned forward, clasped his hands behind his back, and said: `We have not been very happy in our marriages, Sister. I had hoped to be better served by God in the person of my dear Marie of Luxe
mburg than I was with Blanche ..
.'

From the brief glance he gave her, Isabella realized he still felt a vague
resentment at the part she, had
played in bringing to light the misconduct of his first wife.

`And then death took Marie from me, together with the heir
to the throne she was about to
bring into the world. After that, they made me marry our cousin of Evreux whom you will see Presently. she is an amiable wife who loves me well, I think. But we were married in July last; and now we're in March, and she shows no sign of being pregnant. I must talk to you of matters which one can only mention to a sister. Even with that wicked husband of yours, who has no liking for your sex, you have nevertheless had four children. Whereas I, with my three wives ... And yet, I assure you, I perform my conjugal duties most frequently, and take pleasure in them. What then, Sister? Do you believe in this curse my people say hangs over our race and our house?'