The Agincourt Bride (40 page)

There in the centre, like two ill-matched birds of prey, sat the Duke of Burgundy and Prince Charles. Burgundy, considerably the broader and taller of the two, resembled a great sea eagle in his black houppelande gown, edged with gleaming sable and embellished in silver with a pattern of his personal emblem of carpenter’s planes. At his throat the white linen of his chemise showed like the snowy feathers of the eagle’s breast. Beside him, in a slate-grey doublet with apricot-coloured dagging at the shoulders, the dauphin put me in mind of the merlin that Catherine had sometimes carried to the hunt. Small and restless on his gilded throne as if constantly poised for flight, Charles’ eyes roamed the room. The only visual similarity between the two men was the hawk-like beak which both possessed, displaying the high bridge and distinctive Valois hook at the nostrils. For two royal princes who had just struck a peace deal together, they seemed to have very little to say to each other and most of what was said came from the lips of the duke, with Prince Charles looking surly and uncomfortable, eating little and drinking less. It made me think, optimistically, that perhaps he was having second thoughts about the bargain he had apparently made.

When my gaze slid away to the other high-table diners, I immediately spotted the pale, lean-cheeked profile of Tanneguy du Chastel. Garbed in his habitual plain black gown, he was seated in the shadows beyond the canopy, less than an arm’s length from the young prince’s shoulder. Behind him, to his left, was an arch fitted with iron-studded double doors and guarded by two sturdy pike-men in fleur-de-lis livery. I concluded that this must be the entrance to the royal apartments. It looked quite accessible and so it seemed that all we had to do was wait until the dauphin quitted the table before approaching the guards. In the meanwhile we kept an eye out for passing platters of fruits and sweetmeats and settled back to enjoy the spectacle. My fingers began tapping out the rhythm of Ivo’s merry viol music.

‘Curse you, clumsy fool! Mind what you do. Men have stomached steel for less.’ A cold, hard voice rang out over the ambient noise.

A tumbler had mistimed his cartwheel and cannoned into one of a number of Burgundian retainers who were patrolling the packed hall to keep order. Nothing unusual in such crowded circumstances, except that the voice made my blood turn suddenly to ice. It belonged unmistakably to Catherine’s treacherous
amour-faux
, Guy de Mussy. In horror I turned to find the squire standing on the other side of the trestle, his handsome face distorted by an angry scowl. His hand was on his dagger, but several of the mummers saw the ruckus and gathered to rescue their quaking friend and hustle him out of trouble. Taking advantage of this distraction, I grabbed Alys and Luc and we all dived down behind the diners in front of us. I hoped that de Mussy had not seen us, but when I cautiously raised my head to check, he was staring straight at me.

From Catherine, Princess Royal of France to Madame Guillaumette Laniere,

Greetings to my beloved Mette,

I cannot tell you how much I miss you so I will have to resort to writing you a letter, even though I know I cannot have it delivered since I am held without communication as part of my penitence, as my mother calls it. But I cannot help wondering what you would have to say about an incident which occurred just before I left Pontoise. I had not realised until I was starved of them, how highly I valued our regular tête-à-têtes.

I was permitted to visit the king in order to bid him farewell and I found him unusually buoyant. If it were not
lèse majésté
, I would even say he was quite ‘perky’ – but it is only to you I would say that! However, he called me Isabelle, which as you know was my late sister’s name and so when he mentioned Charles I thought at the time that he meant the other dauphin, Charles, the one who died the year I was born. But now I cannot be sure. He actually came up and kissed me on the cheek – the first time he has ever done so – and then he whispered in my ear, ‘Tell Charles not to come. It is dangerous.’

What would you make of it, I wonder? Did he mean the first Dauphin Charles or did he mean the present one? And, if so, was it a warning he was trying to convey through me without Burgundy knowing? One assumes that the king is constantly weak-minded, but perhaps he is sometimes cleverer than we think. There were tears in his eyes, Mette, when I kissed him back. I was so moved I could hardly see my way out of the room. Is there still a spark of royal vigour there in the poor shell that is my father? I do hope and pray that there is and yet perhaps it is better if he does not understand the humiliation of his present sad condition. I fear that while I am gone no one will ensure that his needs are met with proper respect and due honour.

I am keeping well, if a little tired of broth and bread, which diet is another aspect of my ‘penitence’. My sister Marie is kind but remote. We have only met twice in the ten days I have been here; once so that she could read me the terms of my enclosure and once so that she could inform me that our sister Michele has written giving her intention to visit the abbey. Is she coming specifically to see me? And will she fill me full of the glory of Burgundy? I admit I am apprehensive.

Meanwhile, I keep the Rule of St Dominic and the hours of a novice in his order. The regime is arduous but the best part is that I do not have to fear any further assaults from the Duke of Burgundy. Incidentally, he is regarded here with the honour and respect due to a wealthy patron of the abbey! Clearly the devil duke is attempting to buy his way into heaven. I trust in God and His Saints to see that he fails.

I pray for you daily, dear Mette, so if my prayers are heard you will find an eternal seat close to the Mother of God. But please not yet, for I long to see your dimpled cheeks again in this world.

I am your loving daughter of the breast,

Catherine

Written at the Royal Abbey of Poissy this day Wednesday July 13
^th
, 1419.

‘W
e have got to hide somewhere!’ I shouted into Luc’s ear as we shoved our way through the crowd, trying to get as far from Guy de Mussy as possible. We could not approach Tanneguy while he was still in such an exposed position at the high table, but I knew that Guy would report having seen me to the duke at the first opportunity. He would be wondering what on earth I was doing in Corbeil and when the duke found out about it, the conclusions he might come to spelled danger for all of us.

‘You and Alys go back outside and I will come and get you when the dauphin and the duke leave the hall. That squire does not know me from the next huntsman so I will be fine.’ Luc yelled back.

‘Very well, but keep away from him,’ I warned. ‘He may have noticed you and, believe me, he is dangerous!’

Darkness had fallen completely before Luc found us huddled together in the kitchen yard, hiding behind a barrel. Although the evening was far from cold, we were both shivering with anxiety.

‘You have been ages,’ Alys accused her brother. ‘We thought something had happened to you.’

‘I found out that the Duke of Burgundy was leaving Corbeil tonight, riding to his castle of Brie Comte Robert, so I hung around outside the hall while they were mounting up,’ said Luc. ‘It is all right they did not notice me, but I overheard that squire de Mussy talking to the duke. It was about you, Ma! He said he had seen you and the duke seemed really angry about it. He said you were dangerous and ordered the squire to find you at all costs and bring you to him.’ I could see moonlight glinting off the whites of Luc’s eyes. ‘What does it mean, Ma? Why would the duke call you dangerous?’

‘Something to do with the princess,’ I said grimly. ‘But I have no intention of being found. What is happening in the hall now, Luc?’

‘The dauphin has left the feast and the hall was starting to clear, but I expect there are quite a few drunks still there, settling down to sleep it off. Shall we go now?’

We took the precaution of approaching the great hall via the kitchen stair and peering cautiously around the servery screen. All the trestles had been stacked away and the great chamber lay open to us, but the entrance to the royal apartments was at the other end and we would have to make our way through two score and more of household servants, male and female, who were settling down on the floor for the night, full of food and drink. To my surprise, wandering among them was Ivo the viol player with two of the tumblers in their garish coloured costumes. They were collecting discarded balls and other pieces of equipment left behind when they had made their exit earlier. They did not pose a problem, but another group definitely did. Moving from person to person and shining a sputtering torch in each face were three men-at-arms wearing the cross of St Andrew. One of them was Guy de Mussy.

‘How are we going to get past him, Ma?’ muttered Luc glumly. ‘We’ll have to wait for him to leave, but then he might come this way.’

Seeing a ball under the servery table, I picked it up and waited for one of the entertainers to move closer to us before rolling it across the floor. It was Ivo who approached where we hid, and as he bent to search under a stack of trestles close to the screen, he noticed the rolling ball and strolled across to peer into the servery. Fortunately he did not seem very bothered when a random woman suddenly pulled him close and whispered in his ear, ‘I am the one who asked you why the bells were ringing, remember?’ The player nodded, his teeth gleaming in the beam of his lantern and I spun him my not-entirely-fictitious yarn. ‘Good sir, I need your help. I have an assignation with the guard on the royal apartments, but I do not wish to meet the squire with the lantern. There is a denier for you if you can get me there without him noticing.’ I had reached into my hidden purse for the silver coin and now I slipped it into his palm.

‘Consider it done.’ Ivo made me his best showman’s bow. ‘On my signal you run up the hall along the wall and at the same time I will cause a distraction – or rather my boys will. Here, lads, I have work for you.’ The two tumblers, who I guessed were his sons, had followed him into the servery out of curiosity and he went into a huddle with them, issuing swift instructions.

They were still wearing their tumbling costumes and eagerly leaped around the screen one after the other, the second one shouting, ‘Give it back, it is my coin, I saw it first!’

‘Come and get it then – if you can!’ yelled the first boy, clenching the silver denier between his grinning teeth and immediately starting to climb the intricately carved screen, nimbly hauling himself from one projection to another on the way up to the minstrel’s gallery on the top. His brother followed close behind, still protesting his ownership of the coin.

We did not stop to watch them, but everyone else in the hall did, turning to face the action and away from the entrance to the royal apartments, while Alys, Luc and I ducked along the wall in the dark shadows, speeding as fast as we could towards the studded doors where the guards stood with their pikes crossed.

‘My name … is Madame Lanière,’ I panted as I halted before them. ‘The Seigneur du Chastel has told you to admit me and my children.’ I felt Alys and Luc rush up behind me.

Tanneguy had been as good as his word and the message had obviously been received. Nodding at each other the guards drew back their pikes and pulled the double doors open. I heaved a sigh of relief and smiled my thanks. Alys and Luc immediately ran through like bolts from a crossbow. As I followed them, I heard a shout but I also heard the intensely welcome sound of the doors slamming shut behind us. If it was Guy de Mussy who had shouted, he would have to convince the guards to open the door again before he could pursue us.

‘Quick!’ I urged the children, glancing feverishly around. ‘We have to find the dauphin’s chambers.’

We were in a vestibule where a carved arch framed an impressively wide staircase leading upwards. Exchanging nods, we charged up the stairs two at a time, stumbling out into a wide passage at the top. The sound of raised voices reached us from below, spurring us down the passage to a set of massive double doors flanked by yet more liveried guards, who instantly crossed their long pikes against us as we ran towards them. ‘Stop them!’ At the sound of de Mussy’s voice yelling and the ominous thud of footsteps on the staircase, I covered the distance faster than I ever thought I could.