Jean Plaidy - The Red Rose of Anjou

René was astounded. He did not know what Burgundy meant.

He expressed his bewilderment to his wife and mother-in-law. I do not understand what Burgundy is talking about,’ he said. ‘Sigismund! What has he to do with it?’

The Dowager Duchess had turned pale. She put her hand to her heart. Isabelle laid an arm about her shoulders and whispered: ‘You must not upset yourself It is bad for you. You were only trying to help. René will understand.’

Margaret shook her head. ‘It is my fault,’ she said. ‘Oh René, how can you forgive me? I could not bear to see you doing nothing and it was I who asked Sigismund to help.’

‘Ah,’ said René slowly. ‘I see now what has maddened Burgundy.’ He shrugged. ‘You must not reproach yourself, my lady. I know all you did, you did for me and Isabelle. Well, it is an end to our life here at Nancy but only for a while. All will be well in time.’

‘René,’ said Isabelle, ‘stay and fight. Let us see if we can defeat this arrogant Duke.’

‘With what?’ asked René. ‘We cannot pit ourselves against him. I must perforce go and take the boys with me.’

‘René...stay. Let us find some means...’

But he shook his head. ‘The laws of chivalry demand that I honour my commitments. I was taken in fair battle; I must therefore pay the ransom demanded or remain a prisoner.’

They could see that it was impossible—he being René—for him to take any course but the honourable one.

‘When you take the boys with you,’ said Isabelle, ‘there will only be little Margaret left to me.’

René took her face in his hands and kissed her.

‘She is a beautiful child. You will find great comfort in her.’

Within a few days Isabelle, with little Margaret on one side and the Dowager Duchess on the other, waved goodbye to René as he rode off into captivity.

* * *

It was a sorrowful household. The Dowager Duchess was wrapped in gloom. She could not forget that she had brought this about and she could not forgive herself.

‘Sometimes I think,’ she told her daughter, ‘it is better to be as René. He reviews his captivity with calm and without shame. If they will supply him with paints he will be happy.’

‘Dear Mother,’ replied Isabelle, ‘you must stop grieving. You are making yourself ill. You were right to do all you could. Who would have believed that Burgundy would be so angry that he takes his revenge in this way?’

‘I think Sigismund must have approached him without tact. I should have thought of that. But for me René would be here now and although you are poor and without the means to extricate him from this humiliating position, at least you were together.’

There was nothing Isabelle could do to comfort her mother. Each day the Dowager Duchess grew more pale, wan and listless. Her appetite had deserted her and she could not sleep at night thinking about the havoc her interference had caused.

When August came it was stiflingly hot and she was obliged to take to her bed. Within a few days Isabelle had grown really anxious. The old lady had lost that tremendous verve which had made her seem immortal and because she had lost it, Isabelle knew that she was very ill indeed.

As the month progressed she grew steadily worse and on the morning of the twenty-seventh when her women came into her bedchamber they thought she was sleeping peacefully and did not disturb her, but before the morning was out it was realized that she was dead.

Isabelle knelt at her bedside and thought of all this vital woman had done for her. She could not believe that she would never see her again. Devoted mother, great ruler, affectionate, clever...how fortunate she had been to have been born to such a woman!

I must be like her, thought Isabelle. I must be strong and particularly so since I am married to a man who is scarcely that.

Deeply she mourned her mother but there was little time for mourning. This was going to mean changes. Margaret Dowager Duchess of Lorraine would be greatly missed. She had been popular with the people and that had been of great use in the fight against Antoine de Vaudémont. Isabelle was going to have to take over much of the work her mother had continued to do until her illness overtook her. Yes, there was little time for grieving.

She must plan. Here she was, without the support of her husband and her mother. She had to get her sons back; she had to free her husband; and she had to rule over Lorraine and prevent Antoine de Vaudémont taking it from her.

Her mother had been a power throughout Lorraine. What would happen now she was dead?

Isabelle was going to need all her resources to keep hold of what she had until René and her sons returned.

Messages came from René’s mother, the redoubtable Yolande of Aragon. She understood the predicament in which her daughter-in-law found herself; she admired Isabelle, seeing in her a strong woman such as she was herself. The only kind for a man of René’s gentle nature, and she was grateful to her daughter-in-law.

Now she wrote to her:

‘You have a great task before you. The only child left in your care is Margaret. She will be five years old now. If you would agree to send her to me I should be glad to take charge of her education. Theophanie could bring her back. I promise you I would do my duty by the child.’

Isabelle was greatly relieved to receive the letter. She had been wondering what she was going to do about Margaret. With her father gone and herself unable to give much time to the child, she had been anxious. Moreover Margaret must have sorely missed her brothers after having lost her sister some time before.

It was a good plan.

Little Margaret was alarmed when she heard she was to go to five with her paternal grandmother but Theophanie was delighted.

‘It will be like going home again,’ she said. ‘We’ll be in that very nursery where I nursed your father and his brothers and sisters.’

There was no doubt of Theophanie’s pleasure and it made Margaret feel less apprehensive.

Margaret quickly became absorbed in the life of the castle where her grandmother reigned supreme. The child had become accustomed to feminine dominance. Her mother had been far more important than her father in Nancy; and here of course all the men of the household bowed to the will of her indomitable grandmother.

Yolande, handsome, young for her years – she was in her fifties – was a woman who could command immediate obedience, and for good reason. Under her rule the Duchy of Anjou prospered as well as any state could with the constant threat of invasion. It was true that the French were gradually winning back territory which the English had wrested from them, but the English were still a danger and there must be constant surveillance lest they should come raiding the country.

Yolande had watchers at every point and was constantly on the alert.

She received her little granddaughter with affection restrained by dignity and tempered by a certain sternness. Margaret was to be brought up to become as strong a woman as her grandmother. Yolande had no patience with those ladies who remained ignorant of everything outside the domestic needs of a household and who were merely objects of ornament. Women should be able to rule when the need arose and Yolande was of the opinion that very often they made a better job of it than the men.

At the same time her granddaughter must be brought up to enjoy the arts and to practice them if she had any ability to do so. Secretly she hoped she would not have too much talent, as her father had. Yolande often sighed over René. René had taken to his artistic instruction with greater enthusiasm than he had to training in outdoor accomplishments. René had too many talents in the artistic fields. He could paint like the finest artist; he could write poetry and music to compare with any troubadour. Oh yes, René had been talented in many directions, except the one which he most needed to hold his estates together in these troublous times.

So she was very anxious that René’s daughter should be brought up in a fitting manner. The best teachers should be provided for her and she could trust faithful old Theophanie to be a good nurse to her.

During her first week at the castle Margaret had two interviews with her grandmother. They were more like audiences and were conducted with a certain amount of ceremony.

During them Yolande stressed the importance of Margaret’s absorbing all she would be taught. She must learn to appreciate fine arts which was what her father would wish. She must at the same time give due attention to her academic studies. She must practise obedience. She must in fact grow up to be worthy of her grandmother.

Five-year-old Margaret, bewildered after being taken from her family, still mourning the loss of her brothers and above all her kind father, tried to understand all that her grandmother endeavoured to impress upon her. She looked upon Yolande —who seemed very, very old to her—as a goddess in her temple, all powerful, all seeing, all knowing, one who must never be offended and always obeyed. Everyone in the household paid the greatest deference to her and Theophanie spoke her name in that special hushed voice which she used when speaking of the Virgin Mary.

Yolande thought it well that the child should understand the true state of affairs, young as she was.

‘Your father is a captive of the Duke of Burgundy,’ she explained, ‘and you are his fourth child. As the Duke of Bar and Marquis of Pont-à-Mousson he would have had little standing in the country even if he were free. He is deeply in debt and there is a ransom to be paid. So you see your position is not a very glorious one.’