‘Thank you for your kindness, sir,’ I responded, making him a polite bob and pulling Alys’ sleeve to take her away. ‘Be careful,’ I hissed. ‘Boys do not smile at men! Now, let us find the kennels.’ Instinct had made me avoid giving him my name.
We eventually located the hunt quarters by following a pack of hounds returning from the day’s sport. When Luc ran out to the cistern to fill a pail, I gasped with dismay, for there was a dark bruise on the side of his face. Of course it was possible that he had received it during the course of his work – a hunt was fraught with all kinds of danger – but his doleful expression led me to suspect he had been in a fight. He was astounded when we approached.
‘Holy saints – Ma! What on earth are you doing here? And, Alys!’ he exclaimed, suddenly penetrating his sister’s disguise. ‘I would not have known you.’
‘Shh!’ we both hissed at once, glancing round nervously. I pulled him into the shadowy cover of a buttress. ‘Speak softly, Luc, and greet your brother Alain.’ I laid stress on the name, then raised my hand to touch Luc’s cheek where the skin was swollen and blue. ‘And you are hurt. What happened?’
‘It is nothing. A disagreement, that is all. Why have you come here?’ His tone was sharp with anger and concern. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Nothing serious,’ I reassured him. ‘Was this disagreement over the dauphin by any chance?’
A flush rose to meet the blue bruise on Luc’s cheek. ‘How did you know? One of the other lads was bad-mouthing him and we got into a fight. Since the reconciliation, at least we are now allowed to speak of the dauphin, but Burgundy’s men still call him “the bastard” and it angers me.’
‘You should try to bottle your anger, Luc,’ I scolded. But I was heartened by his loyalty to the dauphin, which confirmed the wisdom of part of my intention. I drew him further into the shade of the buttress and asked Luc if he knew the Seigneur du Chastel by sight.
‘Of course I do,’ he said scornfully. ‘The dauphin has been hunting all week with the Duke and du Chastel never leaves his side. He is like a black leech!’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘He needs to be! I have a letter I want delivered into Seigneur du Chastel’s hands and no one else’s. It is for his eyes only and it must be done tonight. Can you do this?’
My solemn tone of voice wiped the grin off his face. ‘I can try. What does it say?’
‘Part of it asks the seigneur to find a position for you in the dauphin’s hunt,’ I told him, watching closely for his reaction.
He looked amazed and excited all at once, as I had hoped. I hurried on, ‘But the rest of the letter concerns the princess and it must be placed into his hands, no one else’s. It must be given directly to Tanneguy du Chastel or the dauphin himself. Is that clear, Luc? It is very important. And it must be delivered tonight; the sooner the better.’
I could tell that he was becoming quite enthralled by the intrigue of the letter.
‘Well, I could try and catch him now if you like,’ he suggested. ‘I know where he is. One of the dauphin’s falcons was injured and he took it to the mews on returning from the hunt. He was very concerned about it. Shall I run now and see if he is still there?’
This was better than I could have hoped for. ‘Yes, yes. Go now. Here is the letter.’ I took a folded and sealed packet from the front of my bodice where it had been hidden away since we left Pontoise. It was a bit crumpled but still presentable. I thrust it into his hands. ‘Tuck it in your jacket immediately. Do not let anyone see it. Tell Tanneguy it is from Madame Lanière. I think he will accept it. If you cannot deliver it, bring it straight back. Come straight back anyway. Go!’
Luc stuffed the letter away and sped off across the bailey, soon becoming lost among the crowd. I gave Alys a reassuring look and put my finger to my lips. ‘I’ll tell you later,’ I said. She did not know I had been planning to contact Tanneguy du Chastel, nor did she know the content of the letter. Only I knew that. It was better that way.
I had penned the letter on the night before we left Pontoise, using some writing materials Catherine had left behind. She had taken few of her possessions to Poissy, but she had personally packed up her travelling altar with its secret compartment and she still wore the key hidden around her neck. It had taken me hours to compose my epistle to Tanneguy and as I paced about waiting impatiently for Luc to return, I went over its contents in my mind.
To the Seigneur du Chastel, Secretary and Counsellor to the Dauphin Charles,
Greetings, Most Honoured Seigneur,
I hope you will remember me as the Princess Catherine’s faithful nurse.
As you will be aware, owing to the malady of her father the king, the princess has lately been living under the protection of the Duke of Burgundy and I feel it imperative to inform you that he has subjected her to appalling and dishonourable treatment. In recent months, by coercion and terror, he has forced her into acts of unspeakable depravity. To speak plainly, he has robbed her of her innocence and wickedly destroyed her honour and the honour of the Crown of France
I beg you to reveal this situation to the dauphin alone and I am confident that when you acquaint him with it, His Royal Highness will be moved to redress the dreadful wrongs done to his sister. I also know that, in view of the abuse she has suffered at Burgundy’s hands, Princess Catherine would urge her royal brother to spurn all the duke’s spurious offers of friendship and to reject any treaty of reconciliation into which he might be tempted to enter. The dauphin is the one remaining kinsman she feels she can trust, but only as long as he remains free of the terrible power of Burgundy.
This letter is carried by my son, Luc, who is a servant of the king’s hunt. He was honoured to care for the dauphin’s favourite deerhounds in the years before you and he were forced to flee the Hôtel de St Pol, and if I could beg it as a favour, my lord, he would be honoured to serve him again.
I remain always a loyal and humble servant of the King and earnestly pray for my lord Dauphin’s health and success.
Signed: Guillaumette Lanière
Woman of the Bedchamber to the princess royal
We waited near the cistern and it seemed an age before Luc returned, but when he did he was jubilant.
‘I did it, Ma!’ he exclaimed. ‘The Seigneur du Chastel took the letter from me but he did not read it. I said who it was from and he tucked it in the purse on his belt and told me to tell you to come to the dauphin’s apartments after the feast. He will tell the guards to admit you.’
I stared at him aghast. ‘But, Luc, where are the royal apartments? How will I even get into the keep?’
‘You and Alys could come to the feast,’ suggested Luc. ‘There are so many extra servants drafted in from the town that you would not be noticed. And you might even get something to eat.’
Alys piped up eagerly. ‘That is a good idea, little brother. I am hungry!’
Luc tweaked the sleeve of her grubby jacket. ‘It serves you right for wearing my côte! Come on. People are gathering already. We will have to fight for a place.’
The great hall at Corbeil castle was crowded to bursting point, resounding with the clamour of merriment. Those lucky enough to rate a seat at the trestles were busy supping from wine jugs and grabbing portions of meat from heaped platters placed at intervals on the boards by perspiring varlets, who had to fight their way through the throng to perform the service. Those without places piled trenchers of bread with roasted meats and wolfed it where they could, leaning against the walls, propped back to back on the benches or even tucked away under the trestles with the dogs
By dint of some skilful pushing and shoving, Luc acquired three thick trenchers of bread from a service table and we scrambled to lift dripping slices of roast boar from a fresh platter carried past us by a staggering porter. The trenchers absorbed the meat juices and spicy sauce and the smell was mouth-watering. Luc managed to purloin a jug of wine from some fellow-huntsmen and we all drank deeply from it. Before long, he handed it back empty, gr
inning cheekily at the loud protests, which diminished when a passing server bent to re-charge it from the large wine-skin he carried on his back.
Reeling a little from the strong drink on our empty stomachs, and struggling to prevent our trenchers from tumbling into the rushes, we pushed our way to a position by the wall from where we could view the tumblers and jugglers over the heads of the seated diners. I saw Ivo, the viol-player, bowing away in the centre of the hall, accompanying his fellow entertainers with dramatic flourishes as they displayed their various skills and acknowledged ribald comments and sporadic bursts of applause. Having satisfied my gnawing hunger, I flung the crust of my trencher to the dogs which roamed under the trestles, wiped my fingers surreptitiously on my underskirt and lifted my eyes to the row of figures seated behind the garlanded table on the dais.
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 13th, 1419.
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‘We 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 angr
y 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.
The Agincourt Bride Page 30