He talked earnestly with Isabelle of the change in his fortunes.
‘I may now be able to do a little towards helping Charles,’ he said.
Isabelle nodded. Like everyone in France she was looking to the future with a great deal of hope. What had happened at Orléans had indeed seemed like a miracle. Isabelle was not sure that she believed in the special powers of the peasant girl who had been guided by Voices from Heaven. The fact remained that this girl had marched into Orléans and somehow defeated the English, thus saving the city and as a result Charles was now going to be crowned at Rheims.
It would not have seemed possible a few months ago. But the fortunes of France had really changed and strangely enough so had those of the family. René was a man of some importance
now. He would have the means to raise men and arms; and naturally he wanted to place himself beside his brother-in-law and help him to regain all that had been lost to the English.
He had proclaimed himself an Armagnac supporter—which of course the Dauphin was—and this meant that he was the enemy of the Duke of Burgundy, whose actions in allying himself with the English must be deplored by all true Frenchmen.
‘I can only hope that we do not antagonize Burgundy too strongly,’ said Isabelle.
‘Burgundy would consider us beneath his notice,’ René reassured her.
‘Let us hope so, but it is my belief that he is aware of every Armagnac and regards him as an enemy.’
‘Burgundy will be changing his tune ere long; it would not surprise me. Things have changed, Isabelle. Changed most miraculously.’
‘René, you have become bemused by this Maid like so many others.’
‘You would be impressed if you saw her, Isabelle. They jeered at first but gradually they began to see her in a different light. I trust my mother’s judgment. She at first was skeptical but when she examined the Maid she changed her mind and persuaded my sister to do the same—not that Marie needed much persuasion. She too began to believe in the Maid.’
‘And the King’s wife and mother-in-law persuaded him’
‘Yes, but he too quickly realized that she had some power within her...something divine...and you see it worked. She frightened the English... there is no other way of describing it. And although defeat was staring us in the face at Orléans we turned it into victory.’
‘I can only rejoice. And now Charles is to be crowned. I am glad of that. After the ceremony he will no longer be known merely as our Dauphin but our King.’
‘Life will be different, you will see, for France...for us...’
‘Perhaps it will mean that you can be with us more. Perhaps when this war is over people will be able to settle down with their families. But it is not over yet, René. The breaking of the siege of Orléans and the crowning of the King do not mean that the war is over.’
‘Indeed not,’ agreed René. ‘But who would have believed a few months ago that we should have achieved such success.’
It was true. But Isabelle was more realistic than her husband and she knew that the English would not be driven out just because of one French victory—spectacular though it was.
There was bustle throughout the castle as René made his preparations to leave for Rheims. Even the children were aware of it and young John wanted to know why his father was with them.
‘He’ll not be here for long, my lord,’ Theophanie told him. ‘He’ll be off again soon. He’s going now to put a golden crown on the King’s head.’
‘Why?’ asked John.
‘Because he’s the King of course.’
‘I want a golden crown.’
‘You can’t have one, my little master, and that’s flat, and I can’t say I’m sorry about that. Crowns,’ muttered Theophanie more to herself than the child, ‘they never brought much good to anyone as far as I can see.’
John was inclined to whimper until Agnès took him into her lap and explained to him that crowns could be heavy things that sometimes hurt the head that carried them. He should not crave for one. Those who had them had to wear them and sometimes did not very much enjoy it.
John went to sleep and as she sat holding him Agnès wondered about the King. What she had heard of him had not been very flattering. He had made a bad impression on the people and few had any hope in him except the strange peasant girl who was supposed to have had instructions from Heaven to have him crowned and to win France back for him.
‘His father was mad,’ people said. And yet there were some who said he was a bastard and no son of the mad King after all. He was now about twenty-six years old. ‘But he looks all of forty,’ was another comment. ‘It’s the life he lives. They say the ladies of the Court won’t look at him—Dauphin though he is and true King you might say—so he contents himself with serving-maids who welcome him to their beds for the sake of the royalty he brings with him.’
Agnès was wise enough to realize that these stories must be exaggerated—and on the other hand there was possibly a grain of truth in them.
‘His mother told him he was a bastard...not the King’s true son. They say that has upset him more than the loss of his kingdom.’
Poor Charles, thought Agnès.
He was a husband though and a father. Surely he found some comfort in his family.
‘His lips are thick and he has hardly any brows and lashes; he was born with an exaggerated Valois nose which is bulbous and most disfiguring in his blubbery face...’
Oh no, thought Agnès, he cannot be as bad as all that. The Lord René was fond of him, and extremely happy because he was going to his coronation. Perhaps I shall see him one day and judge for myself, and as I am prepared for a monster I might have an agreeable surprise.
Theophanie came in and took the sleeping John from her. ‘A crown indeed. God preserve you from that, my precious,’ said Theophanie kissing the sleeping face.
René was ready to leave and the whole household was in the courtyard to wish him godspeed on his journey to Rheims.
Theophanie was there beside him—the specially privileged nurse who remembered the days when she held him in her lap and taught him his first tottering steps.
‘Now you take care, my lord René, and don’t you get caught up in any of these troubles. Keep well away from those Burgundians...a nasty lot them...going against their own country. And tell Marie I’m thinking of her and not to forget to keep her temper. Tell her she’s a Queen now...in very truth. Tell her that Theophanie wants to be proud of her.’
René smiled at her and kissed her hand. Dear René, the best of the bunch—always so kind and courteous, a real gallant knight. She only hoped he would be able to look after himself if he came into contact with those wicked Burgundians or the even more wicked English.
Two years had passed since René went riding to Rheims to assist at the coronation of Charles the Seventh. The war was not over as so many people had optimistically prophesied it would be. The Maid had been captured by the Burgundians and sold to the English who had burned her in the square at Rouen. That brief glory was over—but not quite. Joan had made her impact. The fortunes of France had changed and although there were still English in France—and in dominant positions—Orléans had been saved, several towns had been recaptured by the French and there was a crowned King of France. The English had wanted to bring the little King of England over to crown him and they had done so, but not at Rheims. Oh, no, that was still in the hands of the French. They had had to be content with
Paris and everyone knew that a crowning at Paris was not the same as one in Rheims.