The Agincourt Bride

‘Do not worry about Mette,’ Catherine told him hurriedly. ‘She is my oldest and most trusted friend – and yours too. Perhaps you recognise her, Louis.’

Snatching the flagon from my hand, the dauphin endeavoured to take a deep draught of the wine while keeping his porcine gaze fixed on my face. Remembering the correct deference, I sank to my knees, glad to avert my eyes as the ruby liquid dribbled down his numerous chins. At length he smacked his lips and flicked the wine carelessly off his jowls with the back of his hand. ‘We had a nursemaid once called Mette,’ he remarked, lowering the flagon.

‘Yes,’ nodded Catherine. ‘This is she.’

But Louis’ attention was distracted by the platter I held before me. ‘Ah, food! I am famished!’ Grabbing the dish, he flung himself down in Catherine’s canopied chair and I winced inwardly as he splashed wine carelessly over the delicate silk cushions. His great thighs in their tautly stretched hose were heavily mired from his hectic ride, further sullying the brocade. I smothered a rueful sigh and rose to move a table within his reach. As he put the platter of cakes down on it and selected one, I inadvertently caught his eye and ducked my head again, my colour rising.

‘I remember you, Mette!’ he cried, spitting crumbs. ‘You used to bring us pies and pastries from your father’s bake house. They were the only things that kept us from starving. So now you are my sister’s trusted maidservant. Good. Even so, I would rather you were not here. Leave us.’

Behind the dauphin’s back Catherine jerked her head in the direction of the guarderobe arch, which was covered with a heavy curtain. She made a downward motion with her hand and her eyes rolled upwards and I understood from this dumb show that she wanted me to stay close by, wary perhaps of her brother’s unpredictable temper. Behind the curtain I hugged the inner wall inside the arch and strained to listen, trying not to think what the dauphin might do to me should I be caught eavesdropping.

‘I cannot stay long, Louis,’ I heard Catherine say. ‘I am due to attend Mass with the king.’

‘Why have you not gone with the queen to Melun?’ he asked.

‘I have not been well. She took your wife with her for company.’

‘Bah!’ I heard Louis spit loudly and hoped he was not expelling food but expressing an opinion. ‘They deserve each other, my wife and my mother, for both serve the same cause.’

‘What cause is that?’ asked Catherine.

‘Why Burgundy’s of course,’ growled Louis. ‘Surely you have been at court long enough now to realise that our mother is a two-faced Janus who is diverting royal funds to Burgundy’s agents in the city. I have sent men to seize treasure and coin she has hidden in various houses around Paris, waiting for Burgundy’s arrival. She plots to bring him back because she thinks he will share power with her and block me out. She is wrong, of course, because he is even more treacherous than she is. Anyway, she will find it is all to no avail because I have decided to pre-empt them both – and all the scheming princes of the blood. While they are at Melun, I intend to disband the Council and declare my sole regency. Edicts will go out in the king’s name ordering all the princes to retire to their estates. The queen I shall order to remain at Melun and I shall escort my wife back to her nunnery at St Germain-en-Laye. If I split them all up it will bring an end to their tiresome conspiracies and let me get on with ruling the country.’

After these momentous announcements there was a prolonged silence. My heart skipped a beat as the dauphin’s heavy tread creaked on the wooden boards close to my hiding place, then faded away as he prowled back across the room.

‘Why do you say nothing, Catherine?’ he demanded. ‘Do you doubt my motives or my powers?’

‘Neither,’ she assured him. ‘But will the princes do as you say? Why should Anjou and Berry and Bourbon not join forces and advance on Paris?’

‘Because they know I have the right!’ Louis’ voice grew strident. ‘I am the dauphin. Besides, those posturing princes cannot agree with each other long enough to raise a flag, let alone an army. Constable D’Albrêt commands the royal guard and he is loyal to the throne and therefore to me. From now on, none of our vassals will enter Paris or approach the king without his or my permission. Let them go to their neglected estates and order their affairs there. Come – do you not agree with me, Catherine?’

‘You know you have my total support,’ responded Catherine faintly.

As if she had any other choice, I thought, cowering behind my curtain. Did her brother forget that at her age he was still in the schoolroom?

‘That gives me great satisfaction,’ declared Louis approvingly. ‘And you are to remain here with me in Paris, not go to the queen, even if she asks for you.’

In the guarderobe I put my hands to my head in despair. Poor Catherine! Less than three months out of the convent she had become a hapless pawn in the power-struggle between her brother, her mother, her uncles and her cousins. It would not have surprised me if she had fled back to Poissy in despair but then, thinking about it, how could she even do that?

For once, the squabbling princes did as they were told. Perhaps they were tired of all the arguments; I know I would have been. Burgundy, of course, was already in Flanders, but the Duke of Orleans took his new duchess and her parents to his castle at Blois, the Duke of Berry went to Bourges, the Duke of Bourbon to Bourbon and the Duke of Anjou to Angers. Many lesser nobles followed their overlords’ example and with them went their families, baggage, servants and retainers. Jean-Michel reported that driving the regular supply-train back from the royal estates had been a nightmare because all the roads out of Paris were jammed with long columns of horsemen, carts and litters going in the opposite direction.

In the absence of the queen, Catherine relaxed noticeably. Most of her ladies-in-waiting had retreated with their families, leaving only Agnes and a couple of low-ranked baronet’s daughters to attend her. So since she was no longer obliged to spend long, tedious hours attending court, she could occupy herself however she chose. For the first time in years, the countryside was relatively peaceful and, with the dauphin’s authority, Catherine was able to command horses and escorts to make excursions beyond the walls of Paris. She liked the exercise of riding, but on the first day of May she insisted that Alys, Luc and I should join her on a trip to the Bois de Vincennes and that Jean-Michel should drive us there in one of the royal supply wagons.

‘It will be a May Day holiday, Mette,’ she said excitedly. ‘You can organise a picnic for us.’

The castle of Vincennes was a royal hunting lodge surrounded by forest outside the east wall of Paris where the king often went to pursue deer and boar when he was well enough. Hunting was one adult activity he could still enjoy; although Jean-Michel said the Master of Horse only mounted him on a pony these days, rather than one of the spirited coursers on which he had galloped after prey as a young and healthy man. For me it was like a taste of paradise to wander through groves of great oaks where bluebells carpeted the clearings and to do it in the company of all the people that I loved most in the world. It was perfect spring weather and when the sun had climbed to its highest, we gathered in the dappled shade on the bank of a stream and ate cold capon and May Day sweetmeats and afterwards Catherine and her young ladies took off their shoes and hose and ran barefoot through the lush green grass, hitching up their silken skirts like harvest-maids. When she grew breathless, Catherine ran to sit beside me on a fallen log where I was watching Alys and Luc laughing and splashing in the gravel shallows.

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