The Red Rose of Anjou - Plaidy Jean (книги онлайн полные версии бесплатно .TXT) 📗

Then there was exciting news, but not of Rene.

The King had sent word that it was long since he had seen his mother-in-law. He was, if she would receive him, thinking of paying her a visit.

Yolande was beside herself with delight; and almost immediately apprehensive. A royal visit! It must be conducted in a fitting manner and that meant that they must begin to prepare at once.

It should take place at the castle of Angers which would be more suitable than Saumur. She would see her dear daughter again but Margaret sensed that the one she really cared about was the King.

For several weeks there was no talk of anything but the coming visit. The castle was cleaned from the tallest turret to the lowest dungeon although as Theophanie grumbled it was hardly likely that the King would go there. She herself would be glad to see young Marie again, but she reckoned she had changed a lot since nursery days. All those children she had had and a Queen too. Oh, she expected to see changes in Marie.

It did her good though to see the lady Yolande so pleased with life. Just of late she had imagined that my lady was getting a Little tired, feeling her age. If she did it would be the first time in her life that she had—but that was what worried Theophanie.

There must be new clothes for them all. Margaret must stand still while rich materials were fitted on her. She had never felt so grown up in her life before.

Then came the great day.

The watchers on the tower gave the signal. The cavalcade was sighted. Everyone was to be ready now to greet them, to let them know what a great honour this was.

Yolande stood at the gates of the castle, Margaret beside her. The heralds blew their trumpets and there were the King and the Queen and a brilliant company of ladies and gentlemen.

The King dismounted. Yolande went on her knees, and Margaret did the same.

‘Rise, rise, my lady,’ said the King. ‘It does me good to see you. I have missed your company.’

And there was the Queen, Margaret’s aunt Marie. She embraced Yolande, and then Margaret was presented to her and the King.

She was too nervous to look at them closely and too busy remembering all she had been taught she must do, but she did have time to glance at the King and she thought he did not seem very much like a King. He was not very handsome. His nose fascinated her; it seemed to hang right over his mouth. However, he spoke very gently to her and she believed that in spite of his unprepossessing appearance he was kind.

And then as Yolande was about to lead them into the hall she noticed someone else. Her hand was taken and held firmly. She turned and looked up into a beautiful and half familiar face. For a moment she was unsure and then she murmured: ‘Agnes.’

‘Yes, it is Agnes. Oh Margaret, how you have grown.’

‘You have changed too.’

A strange look came over Agnes’s face. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I have, have I not?’

There was no time for more talk as they followed the party into the hall.

###

It was a visit Margaret felt that she would never forget. She had never known such entertaining at Angers before. But of course she had not. She had never known what it was like when the King came to visit. Yolande had said that there should be all the splendour of the past in Angers on the occasion of the King’s visit and she had certainly kept her word about that. The banquets, the balls, the players who were called in, the singing, the dancers, it was one spectacle after another. Yolande threw herself into the arrangements with such enthusiasm that at the end of the day she could scarcely stagger to her bed. Margaret knew this, for one night she had gone to her room to take her one of Theophanie’s possets. ‘I used to give it to the children now and then,’ the nurse said. ‘My lady will know what it is. She’s doing too much, that she is.’

Theophanie was right because when Margaret went to her grandmother’s room she found her stretched out on her bed, her eyes closed and a look of utter weariness on her face. She was not pleased with Margaret and made that clear. It was not, as she said, because it was unseemly of her to do a servant’s work, it was because she hated her granddaughter to see her exhaustion.

It was true that Yolande was feeling her age. She could tell herself that she had become too excited, had thrown herself too energetically into the task of entertaining the royal party, but a few years ago these activities would have provided nothing but stimulation.

Sixty! It was a great age. And Yolande had till now unconsciously believed herself to be immortal.

How much longer was left? There were things she would like to see before she died. Rene settled. Well, she had given up hoping for that. She knew Rene. He was greatly loved but he was somehow ineffectual. She often wondered how she could have given birth to such a son. No, she was a realist. She must not hope for the impossible. What she wanted more than anything was to see France free and she wanted Charles to bring about that happy state. Some strange instinct within her had always known that he could do it. There had been a time when that would have seemed absurd to some, but it never had to her. She had been drawn to the King when as Dauphin he had married her daughter. He had felt similarly attracted to her. It was a strange relationship having in it none of the elements which the King usually felt towards women. It was an abiding friendship, a rare devotion. If she had been younger perhaps she should have been his wife. No, it was better so. She had watched his progress from afar and she had rejoiced, and she felt that she had had some small part in the surprising advance which he had made.

She was determined to have a private talk with Agnes Sorel because she felt that she could learn a great deal from her, but first she wished to speak to her daughter.

It was not like Yolande to feel uneasy about her actions. She was almost always certain that she was right and that she had been in this case was proved. The change in Charles had been little short of miraculous and Yolande had a shrewd idea of how it had been brought about.

She was on the point of sending for her daughter when she remembered that even she did not send for the Queen of France. Instead she requested her daughter to come to her.

Marie came at once. Like her husband she had the greatest respect for Yolande.

‘Dear child, I will forget you are the Queen for a time and remember only that you are my daughter,’ said Yolande. ‘It is so rarely that I have a chance to be with you alone. Tell me, Marie, how are the children?’

‘In good health, thank you. Mother.’

‘And Louis?’

The Queen lifted her shoulders. ‘Louis will always go his own way.’

‘Something of a trial to his father,’ said Yolande.

‘Poor Charles, he has troubles enough without a rebellious Dauphin.’

‘It is a pity,’ agreed Marie; but Yolande had not brought Marie here to speak of the Dauphin’s behaviour. She went on: ‘Charles has become a different man. That gives me great pleasure.’

‘Oh yes. France is emerging victorious all over the country. We shall soon have driven the English out.’

Yolande nodded. ‘And how do you feel about...Agnes Sorel.’

Again that lift of the shoulders. ‘Charles has always had mistresses,’ said the Queen.

‘Agnes is perhaps...different.’

‘Oh yes,’ said the Queen, ‘quite different. In fact one might say the King no longer has mistresses. He has a mistress.’

‘Agnes is a good girl, Marie, do you agree?’

‘I do.’

‘And you, Marie...you are her friend.’

Marie smiled. ‘I know what you are thinking, my lady mother. You decided that Agnes should be at Court when you saw he was taken by her. And you are wondering what I his wife think of my mother who should introduce him to such a mistress. Do not forget, my dear mother, that it was you who brought me up. Life was wretched before. You know how we lived when his father gave Katherine to the King of England and promised that King his throne on his death. Charles was cast out. Even after his father’s death he was just the Dauphin when he was in truth the King. We had no money...nothing. I had to sell jewels to provide us with food. And he did not care...He went whichever way he was guided. It was humiliating. And then the Maid came. We both believed in her, did we not, and we made him believe and he did. She saved Orleans and had him crowned at Rheims and even after that he was still listless. He has never really forgiven himself for letting her be burned as a witch.’