The Red Rose of Anjou - Plaidy Jean - Страница 13

When she arose she was as energetic as ever and life settled down to the normal routine.

Two years passed. There was no good news from Naples. In fact there was rarely any news at all. Yolande had come to believe that Rene would never succeed. There were no longer the scares that the English might come and attempt to take the castle. The English were being turned out of France and a peace party under Cardinal Beaufort was formed in England.

‘What they will try to do is to marry the young King to one of Charles’s daughters.’

‘That would be a good way to finish the war,’ said Margaret.

‘I doubt not that is what it will come to. A French Princess for Henry. Yes, these alliances are always a good way of settling differences. I hear that he is a good young man, religious, eager to do what is best. Of course, his kind always seem to lack strength. What he needs is a strong wife, a woman to lead him and the country.’

Margaret smiled. Yolande had always believed firmly in the power of women. She had taught Margaret to believe the same.

‘We shall have to find a suitable match for you, Margaret,’ said Yolande. ‘But for your father’s exploits in Naples it would have been done long ago.’

‘I am content to wait awhile.’

‘It cannot be much longer. You are thirteen, are you not?’

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘Then it is time.’

A little while before such talk would have made Margaret uneasy. Now she was not so sure. She knew what influence Agnes Sorel had with the King; he was in some measure guided by the women about him. She knew what a power her grandmother was and so was her mother. If success came in Naples it would be due to her rather than to Rene.

Margaret sometimes dreamed of marriage and of being the wife of some man whom she would be able to lead to greatness.

That this matter occupied the thoughts of her grandmother was obvious because in spite of the fact that she was becoming increasingly tired Yolande decided that she would go to Court and take Margaret with her. It was only right, she said, that Margaret should visit her aunt and there would always be a welcome for them, she knew.

The preparations for such a visit were lengthy. Margaret must be adequately dressed, and Yolande was constantly reminding her of Court etiquette which Margaret absorbed with ease.

Her grandmother was delighted to see what a success the girl was. It was due to her upbringing and Yolande took the credit for that. Margaret was a handsome girl. A pity she was not a little taller, but she was well made and had an air of daintiness which was appealing and somehow in contrast to her sparkling intelligence which was obvious when she conversed.

Agnes was delighted to see Margaret and her aunt Queen Marie expressed her pleasure too.

‘Now that you are growing up,’ she said, ‘you must be with us more often.’

There was a great deal going on in Court circles at that time. For one thing the English Cardinal Beaufort was there.

‘He has come,’ Yolande told her, ‘to try to arrange peace. He is a wise man, this Cardinal. He knows that to continue the war can ruin his country.’

‘I am sure the King will agree with him,’ said Margaret. ‘In that case this must mean we shall soon have peace.’

‘The Cardinal unfortunately does not represent the whole of English opinion. You have heard of the Duke of Gloucester, brother to King Henry the Fifth and the Duke of Bedford. He is for continuing the war.’

‘Then he must be exceedingly foolish.’

‘I believe he is. He has done great harm to the English cause. He nearly brought about a quarrel between Burgundy and the English.’

‘That would have been a good thing.’

‘For France yes...for England disastrous. However, it is indeed good to see the Cardinal here. He is an extremely cultured man and one, I believe, who serves his country well.’

Margaret was presented to the Cardinal. He appeared to be very interested in her. She talked a little about the affairs of her country and he listened to her with the respect he would have shown to one of the King’s ministers.

He remarked afterwards that the daughter of the King of Naples was a most interesting young lady. Moreover a very good-looking one.

‘I see,’ said her aunt Marie, ‘you have captured the attention of my lord Cardinal. What did you say to him that impressed him so much?’

‘Oh, we talked a little of the war and its effects.’

‘That must have amused him...coming from one who could know very little about it.’

‘Oh, I do know something, Aunt. I have kept my ears open. In any case the Bishop seemed interested in my views.’

The Queen laughed. ‘Well, my dear Margaret, it seems that you are being a success at Court. Your parents would be proud of you, I am sure. I am going to ask your grandmother to allow you to come again soon. You are getting too old to be shut away in the country all your life.’

‘Thank you, my lady,’ said Margaret fervently.

When they returned to Angers life certainly seemed a little dull. Yolande noticed the change in Margaret and commented on it. She was not displeased. The girl was meant to take part in affairs. She had a lively brain. There must be more visits to Court and perhaps someone would be so impressed by her that he would think her a possible wife in spite of the fact that she would have no dowry to speak of.

Yes, Yolande was determined that there should be more visits to Court.

In the summer they went again. It did Yolande good too. She loved to be with Charles and she was delighted by the change in him. She spent a good deal of time with her daughter and with Agnes. The visits were stimulating.

I am glad I have lived long enough to see the coming change,’ she said. ‘France will be great again. If the English had any sense they would get out now.’

‘They would,’ said Charles, ‘if it were not for Gloucester and his faction. I believe Beaufort will succeed though. The English must be tired of paying for a war which is bringing them nothing but defeat. You’ll see. We’ll have peace soon.’

‘What think you of my granddaughter?’ asked Yolande.

‘Margaret? A beauty and she has a sharp wit, too. Do you know I think she is going to be another such as her grandmother and that is the highest compliment I can pay her.’

Yes, the visits to Court were certainly very agreeable.

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That winter was harsh. The snow came early and was piled high about the walls of the castle. It was difficult to keep warm in spite of the large fires. Yolande seemed to feel the cold more than usual. Perhaps this was because she was no longer able to move about with her usual vigour. There was no doubt that she was ailing.

At the beginning of December she took to her bed. Theophanie was in despair. ‘It is so unlike her,’ she kept saying. She made posset after posset and had them sent up to Yolande’s bedchamber. But Yolande needed more than possets. She had led a very full and energetic life and the plain truth was that it was nearing its end.

On the fourteenth of the month, completely exhausted, she died peacefully in her bed.

The youngest of her sons, the Duke of Maine, arrived at the castle and took charge of the arrangements for her funeral. She had always wanted to be buried with her husband in his tomb which was in front of the high altar in the Cathedral of Angers.

Margaret had little time to think of anything until the ceremony was over and then she had to face the fact that there would be a big change in her life.

Her uncle Charles of Maine discussed the situation with her. She was now thirteen which was considered to be of a certain maturity.

He said: ‘It will be impossible for you to remain here now that your grandmother is dead. I have sent word to your father and I have no doubt we shall soon be hearing of him.’

‘Yes,’ said Margaret. ‘Perhaps my parents will come here now.’