The Rebel Princess

by Judith Koll Healey

  “Changed my mind?” he echoed, then shook his head with some impatience. “Christ’s blood no, the very opposite. Alaïs, listen to me. I could not leave without telling you. I know you will hear the news at first light from someone in the court.”

  “Hear what?” I leaned closer as his voice had dropped.

  “Francis is gone.”

  “Gone?” I repeated the word like a village idiot.

  “He should have been waiting for me when I returned from your chamber tonight. I had sent him his instructions before I left for St. Denis, and it is unlike him to be late. He knows my impatience. Still, I had preparations to make, so I took little note when he was not in my apartments.” He pressed his temples with his thumb and fingers, as if to erase an ache that lurked there. “When my preparations for the journey were complete and he had not appeared, I sent two of my squires to fetch him. They were back in minutes to summon me. They said I must see what they found.”

  “What they found,” I said. This time it was not a question. A cold feeling, as if I were touched by ice, began to take me over. I shivered.

  “It appears that Francis has been abducted, Alaïs.” William threw his arm across my shoulders as I began to sink backward, a sudden grayness overcoming my vision, a buzzing in my head. “I wanted to tell you myself before I left,” he added stiffly, as a soldier would give a report from the field to his captain. His words sounded hollow, as if they had traveled through a great tunnel to reach me.

  “Alaïs.” William was shaking me, now reaching around to lightly slap my cheek with his free hand. I could feel the sting.

  “Tell me what occurred,” I said with an effort. “How do you know Francis has not simply gone off to have some time on his own? Has this aught to do with your plans to take him to the south? Perhaps he does not want to go.” As the questions crowded forward I felt the cold of a moment earlier giving way to the warmth of anger. My back stiffened as I pulled away from his touch, and I could feel his arm around me loosen.

  “We don’t know exactly what has caused his disappearance,” he responded. When I said nothing in reply, he cleared his throat. “This event, coming close on the heels of the tourney this afternoon, may be a warning intended for my house. I will discover what lies behind it, and I will find young Francis. I pledge that to you.”

  “Francis was despondent over young Geoff’s death. Perhaps he needed time to think, to collect himself.” I rambled on, ignoring William’s words. I knew I was grasping at wheat stalks, but I cared not. “Or it may be that he decided to ride into the forest.”

  “In the middle of the night?” William asked, incredulous. “I think not.” His voice was firm in contrast to mine. “It would be unlike Francis to go off on his own without telling me, when he knew we were to travel at dawn. And there is more. We found signs of a struggle in his apartment, papers scattered about, his travel sac tossed in the corner. Not the sort of thing one would find if a considered journey had been undertaken.” He paused as he took a small roll from inside his clothes. He held up the item, shaking it out so I could see. “This was left, or dropped, at the scene.”

  “I can’t make it out in the dim light,” I said, feeling desperation creep over my body. In truth, my eyes would not focus on the page.

  “It’s a map of the area around Toulouse. And it is not crafted in the hand of Francis.” He drew me from the bench to stand under a torch fixed into the wall. “And look, there are several towns near Toulouse circled. There they are.” He jabbed a finger into the document. The vellum rustled in the predawn breeze. “Foix, of course. And Lavaur and Laurac. These towns must have some meaning for those who took Francis.”

  “So you think someone dropped that map accidentally as they took Francis?” I looked him full in the face as I flapped a hand dismissively in the direction of the map. The torch behind me threw his face into relief and I saw the lines in his forehead and around his mouth deepen. “I find that highly doubtful,” I muttered.

  “Why so?” He folded the map and tucked it into his doublet.

  “Because I don’t believe those who abducted Francis would be so careless as to leave behind a map showing where they intended to take him.” I announced this boldly, forcing myself to a spirited stance.

  “So you think someone left this to deceive us as to where they have gone?” William’s voice was becoming more formal, a bit crisp. I noticed his arm had now dropped from supporting me in response to my contentiousness, as if to say that I was now on my own. “I don’t think you understand how confusing an abduction scene can be.”

  “And I suppose you do know how confusing such a scene is. You have abducted men yourself, no doubt, in your role as leader of the Knights Templar in England.” I heard my baiting words but it was as if someone else were speaking them. I had no control. I only knew a fury was rising within me.

  “Alaïs, let us not quarrel now.” William’s tone indicated our conversation was at an end. He looked down on me. “I must be off on the king’s business, to tell Raymond of the theft of his chalice and to fulfill my diplomatic responsibilities while I investigate the murder of the monk at St. Denis. But I shall make the search for Francis my first task. I will not fail in this. He is as dear to me as to you.”

  I looked up to meet his gaze. “William, I must join you. If you think Francis has been taken to Toulouse, I will accompany you there and see for myself. My maid can bring clothes in an instant. Look, she stands yonder waiting.”

  He shook his head with determination.

  “Please, I must go with you.” I was ashamed to hear the pleading that entered my voice, so firm only moments before. But I was desperate to take action, any action, to find Francis. Anything would be better than dithering among the fools in the royal court whilst my son was in danger. “I must find Francis. He must know that I am his mother!”

  “Alaïs, there is no possible way…” William’s hand came up to catch my elbow, with an iron grasp, a gesture meant to reinforce the finality of his tone.

  I shook mysef free. “Very well. If you are set upon your road, so be it. But you force me to conduct my own search, with my own methods.”

  “Princesse”—his voice was more intense than before—“I must warn you that there are sinister forces connected with this affair that you know nothing about. I have certain information…This action is intended as a warning only for me. Let me attend to it.” He paused, as if he already regretted saying too much. After a breath he continued, in a more restrained tone. “I will do everything in my power to bring your son home to you, but you must stay out of this. You would only complicate matters, and place yourself in danger doing so.”

  “I must do what?” My back straightened as I took in his final words. I stepped back slightly, tilting my head upward to meet his look. “How dare you issue orders to me, a princesse royale of the house of France!”

  “This is a matter for men, Princesse! Leave it!” William’s tone was now angry enough to draw the attention of his knights in the middle of the courtyard. The group ceased their milling and preparations for mounting, and fell silent, casting mute glances our way.

  William looked in their direction, and said, more discreetly: “Have a care, Princesse. We draw attention ourselves.”

  “I care not, Lord William, whether or no we draw attention. I tell you I will not be ordered about by anyone.” My own voice was ringing out. “And I will use every means in my power to find young Francis. Every means! Whether it is to your liking or not.”

  I turned and stalked away, flinging my final comment over my shoulder: “And when I find Francis, I will tell him the truth about his lineage. You shall not prevent me this time!” I was gone from the courtyard before he could answer. I did not look back.

  I could not know how I would come to regret my rash exit from our conversation nor how different the circumstances would be when William and I should finally meet again.

  .14.

  The King’s Council Chambers


  I pushed myself up with a stiff arm, and looked around. All seemed in order in my chamber, and I wondered if I had dreamt the noise that had awakened me. Or perhaps I had not latched the shutters closely last night, in my distress, and a gust of wind had caught them.

  I reached for the bell that sat ever at my bedside, and rang for my maid, who always slept in an alcove off my room, except on the nights when William visited. She appeared quickly, as if she had been waiting for my summons.

  “Mignonne,” I said, throwing back the furs on the bed, “help me to rise and prepare myself.

  And find a page. I would send a message to my brother.”

  “Yes, my lady.” And the young thing sped about her tasks with her usual dispatch. I held up a silvered oval to my face, and saw therein the ravages of my quarrels with William, my anger, and my sleepless night. In dismay, I tossed it aside.

  “Mignonne, as soon as you have found the page, come to my table and help me. Today, after we braid my hair, I would have you get out the pots of powder for my face.”

  “My lady?” The maid nearly stopped in midair as she was hopping about her business.

  “I know. I never use those creams and powders during the day. But this morn I must look my best. I intend to have an audience with my brother, the king, as soon as possible.” I glanced once more into the oval. “I need a boon from him. And to look at my appearance now, I couldn’t persuade a blacksmith to invite me to supper.”

  Of course the king of France could scarce deny me a visit, when I had been so helpful to him only the day before in his public audience with the monks. But still, I would take all care so that he would not stand in the way of my plan.

  So it was with a firm resolve, a slightly elevated heartbeat, and a face powdered and painted to hide the lack of sleep that I bade his guard announce my visit, waiting not at all for him to return with permission but rather following the man into the chamber.

  Philippe was closeted with several ministers when I burst in unannounced. My brother sat at the head of his long council table, parchment rolls scattered in front of him, the inevitable great seal of France near his right hand. He looked up from his intense conversation with Etienne Chastellain at the sound of my voice calling his name. He did not look pleased.

  “Sister? What brings you to my council room, unsummoned, at such an early hour?” His voice registered his irritation. He didn’t rise to greet me, as he would have done ordinarily, although his counselors did so. It was well for them, for Philippe was a stickler for court protocol. “I sent word that I would see you later, after the noon dinner hour.”

  I held out my hands in supplication, sensing he was not yet done with his tirade.

  “What is so important that you must interrupt a council on state matters?” he barked as I advanced toward him. He blinked when I came close, surprised at either the fatigue or the paint. “Are you ill?” he asked, his tone softening.

  “Brother, I have matters of grave issue to discuss with you now. Immediately. And in private.” I gave him a low courtesy and he, as I knew he would, gave me his hand and bade me rise.

  “Could this matter not wait until my council has adjourned?” He was peevish, I could tell, but coming round.

  “Your Majesty.” I made my voice firm. “There are certain items I must discuss with you that may have an impact on your future decisions. They concern matters we spoke of recently.” I cast a meaningful glance in his direction. If theft and murder were significant enough for him to send William shooting off like an arrow for Toulouse, the king most certainly should be interested in my own plans to depart for the south, for that is what I now intended. However, my absence would slow the investigation my brother had asked me to undertake. And, in any case, I did not dare leave the court without his permission.

  “Very well.” Philippe’s response was grudging. But no matter. “Counselors, wait in the antechamber. I will summon you when I am ready to resume our meeting.”

  The six counselors had remained standing throughout this exchange, Chastellain shifting from foot to foot with scarcely disguised impatience. Even as Philippe spoke the others began picking up scrolls and quills from the table and packing smaller papers into leather sacs brought for that purpose.

  Only Etienne Chastellain dallied. We had not seen each other since our irascible parting at the previous day’s tournament, after the chief minister had pressed me to intervene on behalf of the monks with my brother. Now he spoke, his hands moving in that nervous, washing motion he employed when addressing the king: “Your Majesty, do you wish me to remain and record?”

  Impudent rascal. We stood on either side of the table, the king seated between us. My gaze met the chief minister’s. His was the more wary, and he looked away quickly. He wondered what my business with the king was. He had every right to worry.

  But this was no time for me to address the issue of Chastellain’s loyalty.

  “Your Grace,” I said smoothly to the king, “my audience with you is on private matters. They do not concern the court or the chief minister.” As I uttered this, I detected a slight flicker of relief crossing that man’s face. “And I do not think you will need a record of proceedings from our meeting.”

  “Very well,” the king said, making a brushing motion with his hand. “Wait in the antechamber, Etienne, with the others.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Chastellain was now gathering up a stack of his papers and shuffling them into the case. “Your Grace.” He bowed stiffly to me, then raised his head and confronted my gaze directly. I returned his brazen stare in kind. He turned and left without a word.

  “Now, Sister, what is so important?” Philippe waved me into a chair. His demeanor was abrupt. “Have you news of Constance and her strange activities?”

  “I know that I promised I would investigate the strange activities of our aunt Constance,” I began carefully.

  “But you may not know,” he interrupted. “I have some disconcerting news on that score.” He riffled the papers in front of him, and pulled out a small, folded square of parchment.

  “What is it, Brother?” I was impatient to make the request for my journey, but the king must not be rushed.

  “Constance has abruptly left our court.” Philippe was tapping his quill on a blank piece of parchment, watching my face. “Do you know anything about this?”

  “She has left court?” I had had little sleep the night before, with all the dramatic events, and so felt I had not heard correctly. “No, I had expected to meet with her tomorrow. She gave the invitation only last evening at dinner.”

  “Well, if you want to meet with her, you’ll have to ride like the devil to catch up. She is gone, left early this morning, with only a note to my royal self. She says she is going to visit our half-sister Marie, in Troyes.”

  “You say that as if you don’t believe it.” I folded my arms on the table, leaning toward him. “I must admit I am puzzled that she left without sending me word after inviting a rendezvous. But why Troyes?”

  The king shrugged. “It does seem passing strange that she chose Troyes. She dislikes the count, who also has just left for his home. If she were joining his family for a visit, why did she not ride with his party? And you know she and the Countess Marie do not have a cordial relationship.” He shook his head. “So I had her followed. The two men assigned to her came back with interesting news. She took the road south after she crossed the Seine, not the road to the east.”

  “Are your men still tracking her?” I asked.

  Philippe shook his head. “No. My instructions were only to discover the route she took, south or east.” He smiled cannily. “If she is going south, there is no doubt she intends to join her son in Toulouse. But why lie about it to me?”

  Suddenly the king frowned, as he recalled his interrupted council meeting. “But what is the reason for your demand on my time this morn? I sense the subject was not to be Constance.”

  I took a deep breath. “I must leave court, Brother. I b
eg your permission to do so. And I must go now. Today.”

  “Leave court? For what purpose? Where would you go?” My brother was rubbing his palm on his cheek, and it occurred to me that his tooth was giving him little rest. But I had no time for sympathy with his infirmities at the moment. Yet I dared not interrupt him as he produced a catalog of complaints in a rising voice laced with irritation.

  “We don’t want you to leave court. We need you here to assist us. We made that clear in our last meeting. We are no longer certain whom to trust. There is a new riddle now, a treasure stolen and a murdered monk. And Constance is gone. We need to know what mischief she wrought here, and whether she is part of the treason with John of England. And anyway,” he added as an afterthought, “you still haven’t told me why you want to leave.”

  I didn’t point out that he had not given me an opportunity to respond. I merely took a deep breath. “Brother, all of those items notwithstanding, I tell you I must depart now for the south. William left last night on your orders and I have decided to accompany him, to follow him, to overtake him.”

  “Oh, he would like that not, Sister,” Philippe said with surety, shaking his head. He picked up the royal seal and tapped it on the table nervously as he spoke. “William is on a dangerous mission. He must work for peace. He has orders from the holy father, and Raymond’s situation is worsening. And William has an urgent assignment from me as well, to report the loss of the chalice Raymond entrusted to me. We believe the chalice theft is related to the Cathars and we want to prevent Raymond from doing something rash to make the situation more volatile.”

  “What could Raymond do to make things worse than they are?” I was nonplussed.

  “He could publicly accuse the Cathars of the theft of the chalice and the murder of its guardian. The new sect feels persecuted enough now. Any challenge could promote open hostility and roil the land further. There may be war in spite of Raymond’s promises at Blois.” The king had taken to thumbing through his papers, as though searching for something that may or may not have relevance to our discussion.