by Tania Bayard
‘I suppose we all should have seen it,’ Christine said. ‘He’s been acting strangely for a long time.’ She thought of something that had happened several years earlier, when the queen made her ceremonial entry into Paris. The streets were draped with crimson, green, and gold, the fronts of the houses were covered from top to bottom with magnificent tapestries, the fountains overflowed with milk and wine, and in the midst of this wondrous spectacle, the king did something truly shocking. He disguised himself as an onlooker and, together with the queen’s maître d’hôtel, galloped into the crowd on a big black stallion, shouting and scattering people in every direction. The king’s officers drove the horse back, but not before many people were knocked down and bruised. The king himself was nearly beaten by his own bodyguards, who had not been forewarned of what he’d planned to do. The king found this hilarious, but everyone else was horrified.
Alips said, ‘I used to see him at jousting matches. The fiercer the games became, the more excited he grew, until he seemed to lose control of himself. And at balls, I’d go up to the musicians’ balcony and watch him dancing, lurching around like a disjointed puppet and becoming so wild, he frightened me.’
Christine couldn’t help thinking that the king’s uncles would not be unhappy if they were secretly relieved of their burdensome nephew.
‘Did anyone else hear what the Duchess of Berry told the Duchess of Burgundy?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know. Perhaps that monk, the one from the abbey of Saint Denis who’s always around, watching and listening because he’s writing the history of the king’s reign.’
‘Brother Michel? He’s a friend of mine. My mother, too. Sometimes he comes to our house and they discuss superstitions. He always arrives just in time for dinner.’
Alips smiled. ‘I was curious about him, so I got up my courage and asked him about his chronicle. To my surprise, he was happy someone took an interest in it.’
‘You could do worse than make a friend of Brother Michel. He knows everyone and everything. Did you know that he helped me save Alix de Clairy?’
‘Of course. You could ask him to help you again. When he comes to your house for dinner.’
Christine laughed. She wondered whether Alips ever regretted not having had a mother to cook her a good dinner. Perhaps the old rag-picker had cared for her that way, but she didn’t want to ask.
The duchess was standing by the queen, who sat on the day bed showing her goddaughter the playing cards. The duchess picked up one of the cards and turned it over in her hands. ‘I’m sure these cost you a large sum.’ She looked at the dark-skinned child and sniffed. ‘You shouldn’t let her touch them.’
‘Hateful woman,’ Alips whispered.
FIFTEEN
Purchased from Guillaume Testart for the month of February: anise, candied walnuts, rose sugar, marzipan, madrean, crystalized ginger, comfit of pine nuts, and sugared almonds.
Compte de l’Hôtel de la Reine, Isabeau de Bavière, 1401
Christine left the palace knowing she would have to return the next day; she’d spent a long time talking to Alips, and she’d made little progress on the copy of the manuscript.
As she left the courtyard, she saw the Duke of Burgundy, sitting tall on a big black stallion, ride up to the king’s residence, accompanied by the Duke of Berry, bouncing along on a slender horse too small for its bulky passenger.
Neither of the dukes paid any attention to her, and she continued on her way, musing about them and the way their hold on power waxed and waned. For a long time after the old king had died, they’d been in control of the government, for Charles the Sixth was not at that time old enough to rule by himself. But when Charles was twenty, he decided he was going to take over, and he dismissed his uncles. Everyone thought this was a good idea – everyone except the uncles.
Francesca laughed about it for days. ‘Those greedy uncles are so angry, people think they will explode. I wish they would.’
The uncles were even angrier when Charles chose his own advisers – a constable they hated and a group of commoners they mockingly called marmousets, a reference to little sculptures of misshapen men and other grotesque creatures that decorated the capitals of columns and piers in the churches. Then the king had his first attack of madness. The uncles took control again, the marmousets were deposed, some even imprisoned. And, as she’d learned from Alips, the queen’s ladies-in-waiting who were wives of marmousets were also dismissed.
Would the uncles really try to kill the king? Christine asked herself. That would relieve them of the shame of having to serve a monarch, their own nephew, who was mad. She couldn’t imagine the Duke of Berry attempting murder. The power-hungry Duke of Burgundy was a more likely suspect. But if the king died, the king’s brother, the Duke of Orléans, would be regent until the dauphin came of age, and the Duke of Burgundy would have less power under him than under Charles, who was more easily influenced, especially when he was suffering from one of his ‘absences,’ as his bouts of madness were called.
She was so preoccupied with these thoughts, she almost walked past her house. Francesca, who was waiting at the door, called out to her, and she turned to find her mother waving her arms frantically.
‘What’s wrong? Christine asked.
‘Klara,’ Francesca wailed. ‘She does nothing but cause trouble. Only Georgette gets along with her, because she lets herself be ordered around.’
‘I wonder what Georgette sees in the girl.’
‘Did not your friend Marion say she could do something with her?’
Christine laughed. ‘Surely you aren’t hoping Marion will come here again.’
‘I almost wish she would. I would send Klara off with her and hope neither of them ever comes back.’
‘You’re the one who brought Klara home.’
‘Do you think I am happy about it?’
In the kitchen, Marie, Jean, and Thomas sat at the table, while Lisabetta crouched on the floor, holding Goblin. Klara stood next to Georgette, who was washing the dishes. ‘You should be careful,’ Klara said. ‘There’s water on your dress.’
Georgette laughed and flicked her hand, sending drops of water onto Klara’s hair.
‘As if that one knows anything about washing dishes,’ Thomas sneered.
‘Enfant pourri,’ Klara retorted.
‘I’m not a spoiled child,’ Thomas said, and he began to cry. Christine put her arms around him, looked at Klara, and said, ‘This has to stop.’
‘She started it,’ Jean said. He pulled his mother down on the bench beside him. ‘Where have you been?’
‘With the queen.’
Klara, who was dabbing at her hair with a dishtowel, said, ‘I’ve never seen the queen. What does she look like?’
‘She’s pretty. Not very tall, not too thin. She has black hair, probably because her mother was Italian.’
Her children had never shown much interest in what went on at the palace, but all of a sudden they wanted to know everything.
‘What does the queen do all day?’ Jean asked.
‘First she has to get dressed and have her hair arranged,’ Francesca said. ‘That must take hours.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Christine said. ‘Did you know, she has a special chair to sit on while her hair is combed? It’s covered with red velvet, and it has silk fringes and gilded nails.’
‘And then that ridiculous hairdo has to be constructed,’ Francesca said. ‘I wonder what holds it all together.’
‘Lots and lots of pins,’ Christine said, laughing. ‘Of course, they aren’t like your pins, Mama. Some of the queen’s pins have jewels on them.’
‘And the circlet she puts on top,’ Francesca continued. ‘With all that padding and all those diamonds and rubies and emeralds, it must weigh her head down.’
‘I’m sure she wears beautiful clothes,’ Klara said.
‘She does. All her ladies, too. They have gold-embroidered houppelandes made of the finest silk and velvet. T
he sleeves are lined with expensive furs, like ermine and miniver, and they’re so long, they reach the floor.’
‘I like your plain white headdress. And your old blue gown,’ Jean said.
‘You make me feel like a pauper,’ Christine said, thinking that was what she might really become.
‘After she gets dressed?’ Thomas asked impatiently.
‘I’m sure she spends time alone with her children. But when I see her, she’s sitting on her day bed, with her ladies-in-waiting perched all around her on big cushions. There are other people, too – two fools, a minstrel from Spain, and a mute. Sometimes a little Saracen girl visits; she’s the queen’s goddaughter. There are two young girls, daughters of some of the queen’s huissiers. And a dwarf. The queen is very fond of the dwarf.’
‘Dwarfs bring bad luck,’ Francesca said.
‘That’s one of your more foolish superstitions, Mama. If you could meet the dwarf, you’d be ashamed of yourself for saying that.’
Francesca sat down on the bench beside her daughter. ‘You have some strange friends, Cristina.’
‘I’ll tell you what else the queen has in her room,’ Christine said to the children. ‘Goldfinches in a big green and white cage, a greyhound, a squirrel wearing a pearl-studded collar, and a monkey in a fur-lined robe. With the queen’s ladies-in-waiting chattering, the goldfinches chirping, the minstrel singing, the monkey hooting along with the music, and the fools laughing and dancing, it’s a noisy crowd. The greyhound gets so excited, he runs around barking at everyone.’
‘Naughty dog,’ Lisabetta said to Goblin. He licked her face.
The fire was smoking, and since it was a warm evening, Francesca went into the hall and opened the door, to let in some fresh air. Christine said, ‘At the palace, it’s hard to breathe. The windows are usually closed, and the air is filled with candle smoke. And it’s smelly, because of all the perfume the queen and her ladies wear. I don’t mind the rosewater and lavender, but there’s a special scent from the Orient that stings my nostrils. It’s delivered to the queen in little silver phials, and she uses it a lot.’
‘Stinky,’ Thomas said, holding his nose.
‘But you’d be happy there, Thomas, because the queen loves sweets. They’re brought to her on fancy silver salvers, and she and her ladies nibble on them all day.’
‘What else do they do?’ Klara wanted to know.
‘The queen likes to read. She has a lot of books. So does the king.’
‘Ugh. Books,’ said Thomas, who hated school.
‘They aren’t all dull, Thomas. Some of them have exciting stories about kings and knights and heroes. There’s even one about a magician.’
‘I wish I could read them,’ said Jean.
‘What do the queen and her ladies talk about?’ Marie asked.
‘Right now they’re excited about a set of playing cards the queen had made for the king. They have pictures of battle axes, swords, shields, things like that. And a deer.’
‘What’s a deer got to do with battle axes and swords?’ Thomas asked.
‘Someone told the king they’d seen a deer with a golden collar around its neck. The king thinks it’s a sign meant for him.’
‘A good sign,’ Francesca said.
‘You and your signs! The king’s belief in this deer only proves he’s not in his right mind.’
‘Signs are important. The king did not observe the signs, and demons took his mind away.’
‘This has nothing to do with signs,’ Christine said. ‘The doctor said the king needs amusements, and the playing cards might help.’
Thomas jumped up and down. ‘Playing cards are boring. The king should play hopscotch. Or tag. Or hide-and-seek.’ He ran around the room, tripped on the hearth, and fell.
Jean looked down at his brother and laughed. ‘Serves you right.’
Marie shook her finger at Thomas and said, ‘The king isn’t supposed to play games. He’s supposed to sit on his throne and rule.’
Thomas stood up. ‘Tell us more about the queen’s pets. Does she have horses?’
‘Yes,’ Christine said. ‘She’s a good rider. The king gave her a beautiful palfrey and a special velvet saddle bordered with gold to go with it.’
‘What’s it like at the palace, after the fire?’ Jean asked.
‘The king’s brother walks around brooding all the time,’ she said. And there’s a shadow over everyone, she thought, but she didn’t say anything to her family about that.
‘I hope you do not feel sorry for the duke,’ Francesca said. ‘He was rude to you when you were trying to find out who poisoned that knight.’
‘I do feel sorry for him. I can’t forget the good times we had together when we were children.’
‘He’s arrogant and vain,’ Marie said. ‘He should feel guilty.’
‘Have a little compassion,’ Christine said. ‘Perhaps he didn’t do it.’
But if not the king’s brother, who? she asked herself.
When Christine returned to the palace the next day, the Duke of Orléans was standing in the courtyard of the queen’s residence, talking to Henri Le Picart. She didn’t want to talk to either of them, and Henri, at least, sensed this, for he quickly took his leave of the duke, acknowledged her with a slight nod of his head, and walked away.
The duke looked embarrassed. He should be, Christine thought. He’d truly wronged her in the matter of the murder of Alix de Clairy’s husband, threatening her and continuing to believe Alix was guilty even after she’d been proven innocent. She was tempted to snub him, but she couldn’t; he was royalty.
The duke approached her, looking wretched even though he wore an elegant purple jacket and red hat topped with a large peacock feather. He said, ‘We’ve had our misunderstandings, Christine, and I apologize. Besides, I want to tell you, as I tell everyone, I accept blame for the fire at the wedding ball. To make amends, I will have a chapel built in the church of the Celestines, and prayers of atonement are to be said there daily.’ Tears ran down his cheeks.
‘I understand, Monseigneur.’ She pitied him, and in spite of the way he’d treated her in the past, she longed to tell him she didn’t believe he’d been responsible for the tragic fire. But she couldn’t do that until she knew who the real culprit was, so she simply made her obeisance and walked away.
Then she saw Brother Michel from the abbey of Saint Denis hurrying toward her, his black habit swirling around his feet. Without greeting her, he said, ‘I want to talk to you, Christine, but not here.’
Wondering why he couldn’t talk in the courtyard, she followed him to the palace gardens, where they sat on a bench under the twisted branches of an apple tree. The sun beamed down, and she turned her face to it, imagining she could smell the lilies and roses that would soon be blooming there. She closed her eyes and forgot her problems.
Her moment of peace was short-lived. ‘I know you are copying a manuscript for the queen,’ the monk said, his voice stern.
She opened her eyes. His pale blue eyes blinked furiously, and the fierce expression on his round face alarmed her.
‘These are perilous times at the palace, Christine. Very perilous. Do your copying, but otherwise do not come here.’ He waved his hand, as if to shoo her away.
She thought perhaps he was worried because he knew there was a murderer lurking about. ‘Do you think the king is in danger?’ she asked.
‘The king is always in danger. His doctors are doing him great harm.’
‘I thought he had a famous physician treating him.’
‘Guillaume de Harselly did as much as he could. But he is old, and he had to go home. There are other doctors now, and to my mind, they are all quacks. They claim they have miraculous cures, such as incisions bored into his skull and potions made of powdered pearls. It’s all useless, and it could be dangerous.’
‘But they aren’t trying to kill him, are they?’
‘Of course not! They truly believe their cures will work.’
; ‘But what if someone really is trying to kill the king?’
‘I suppose you mean the king’s brother.’
‘Do you believe Louis started the fire at the masquerade?’
‘He says he didn’t do it on purpose, but, yes, it was his fault.’
‘I’m not sure it was. The queen’s dwarf says she saw someone throw a lighted torch from the musicians’ balcony. It might have been meant for the king.’
He slapped his hand on the bench and said angrily, ‘Alips has a vivid imagination. Give no credence to what she says.’
She was shocked. Her usually mild-mannered friend was glaring at her, and she had to look away.
On another side of the garden, she saw an elegantly dressed woman strolling along a path. It was Valentina Visconti, the Duke of Orléans’s wife. Michel was watching her, too, and he said, ‘There is an example of what I mean when I say there are many dangers here at the court. The Duchess of Burgundy has started a rumor that Valentina is a sorceress. She’s telling people Valentina cast a spell on the king, causing him to lose his mind.’
‘Who would believe such a thing!’
‘Not many people, I hope. But Valentina’s family has a propensity for evil doings. That doesn’t mean Valentina is that way.’
He shifted on the bench and tucked his hands into the wide sleeves of his habit. ‘The duchess’s false accusation about Valentina is just one example of how grievous things are here, now that the king is ill. There are many dangers, Christine, many dangers.’ He shifted on the bench, looked at her intently, and said in a harsh voice, ‘You must extricate yourself from the court, and especially from the queen.’
‘Why?’
‘Don’t you see how the Duchess of Burgundy watches over her? The duchess craves power, and she will make trouble for anyone she thinks might thwart her. If she sees you are friendly with the queen, she will suspect you of plotting something against her. She might even start a rumor like the one about Valentina, because you come from Italy, too. You will be in a perilous position, a very perilous position indeed if the Duchess of Burgundy becomes your enemy.’