“Sire!” Charles leapt up, astonished to the bottom of his heart. “I don’t know what I can say…”
He detected for the first time a semblance of a smile in the King’s sad pale blue eyes, and something else which he could not explain. Struck by a sensation of unpleasantness, he lowered his eyes and sat down again.
“Say nothing, cousin,” the King said softly and calmly, “but do me a favor and return to your estates. You are settled in Blois, aren’t you? A beautiful region. I can think of no place preferable to the banks of the Loire. I envy you.” He sighed; his eye slid to the curtain which had been stirring when Charles entered. “It’s a great pleasure to linger amidst fields and forests in the company of…of one who is dear to us. Thank God, cousin, that you have been vouchsafed this pleasure. It will, I hope, cost you little trouble to sever the bonds which hold you to certain lords? You acted only as a mediator. Besides, the congress is ended. I have been busy answering each petition separately, a long and boring occupation, I can tell you that. As for the Duke of Burgundy, what prevents him from reciting his grievances to me personally? Does he need a group of men who have no connection with the treaty of Arras to promote his interests? I’m ready to receive Burgundy or his spokesmen. Perhaps you can arrange this in due time, cousin.”
The King stood up and walked slowly, somewhat stiffly, to the wide open window, past which pigeons, flapping their wings, flew continually back and forth, as though they were being fed at a neighboring window. The King, still smiling, stared outside, lost in thought. But suddenly his attention appeared to be caught by the noise of returning hunters in the inner court. He leaned forward and frowned; a line of pain ran around his large coarse mouth. Charles, who had followed him to the window recess, looked in his turn at the bustle below, at the nobles who stood talking together loudly in the center of the paved court, while servants and grooms led the horses away and collected the still-excited dogs. In this group a young man stood out because of his odd demeanor and slovenly dress. He had a sallow, sharp-featured face, lanky drooping hair and large hands. He stood with his shoulders slightly bent, his riding whip curved between his hands like a bow and glanced sardonically from one speaker to the other. Finally he said something in a low voice; the knights around him burst into loud, forced laughter which rang in Charles’ ears.
“My son Louis,” said the King, not without bitterness. “The thorn in my flesh, as they say. Your future King, cousin. Those who now turn against me and choose him as the pivot for these rebellions do not realize what they are doing. They think to use him, but believe me, he uses them all. The spider sucks his prey and leaves the shrivelled creature hanging in his web — one may take warning from that image.”
The King sighed again and stepped back from the window. He glanced at Charles’ surprised face and went on.
“The machinations of Monseigneur my son are not unknown to me, cousin. I know that he has corresponded secretly with Burgundy, that he repeatedly talks with feudal lords. I know that he encourages their oppositon to me. He does this only to upset me, although God knows that he hates no one in the world as much as he hates me. He has his own plans, he pursues his own path. Believe me, this treason within my own camp would be difficult to bear if trusted friends did not stand beside me. It is extremely important for me, cousin, to have good friends. It is worthwhile to be faithful to me.”
Charles bowed again. In the quiet, dim reception room, face to face with the King, whose tremulous smile sorted oddly with his calm self-assurance, he was overcome by a feeling of oppressive uneasiness. The King’s face seemed more enigmatic than ever. Charles did not know whether he should feel pity or aversion, suspicion or respect.
This man with his penetrating but timid sidelong glance had once been a sickly, nervous youth who bit his nails at receptions and chose to hide from all eyes; a weakling ruled by ambitious adventurers. Charles was conscious of a strong curiosity about the people who now stood behind the King. Unquestionably, the secret of his composure, his self-confidence, must lie in the nature of his support. Charles knew all too well that clever councillors and able magistrates could, by inducing a king to sign decrees and resolutions, give the impression that he was an authoritative and independent administrator. But which of these men behind the throne could point the way to self-discipline and self-control, the development of his own gifts, to an ailing, fearful prince? Jacques Coeur, perhaps, the banker, the King’s councillor and moneylender, a well-travelled man, nearly as rich and powerful as a prince himself? De Brezé, Dammartin, Bureau? All these patricians whom he had heard mentioned — until now — only in disparagement? But he doubted that they could succeed where even Dunois and Richmont had once failed. There were many who believed that the King’s mother-in-law, the skillful Yolande d’Anjou, had succeeded in bringing about the gradual transformation.
While Charles stared pensively at the figures on the tapestries before him, he thought he heard once more light rustling on the other side of the curtain. He recognized the sound: women now wore long trailing sleeves which rustled at every step and each movement. Between the folds of the curtain appeared the hesitant fingertips of a small hand. The King, who saw it at the same time, said quickly, “Worthy cousin, I regret to learn that you can be my guest for a short while only.”
The fingers slid back behind the curtain. Charles knew that, deceived by the silence in the room, whoever stood there had assumed the King was once more alone. He smiled and looked away.
Later at dinner he looked attentively at the ladies of the court; wives of lords from the retinues of the King and the Dauphin. The Queen, with whom the King, it was well-known, rarely remained under one roof, was elsewhere. The ladies who sat quietly with downcast eyes amid even less cheerful courtiers — the taste in the King’s court was for dull sobriety — seemed to Charles to possess about as much spirit as beautiful dressed-up dolls. It was not until the last day of his visit to Limoges that he found the answer to the question which preoccupied him. He was strolling, accompanied by a few lords from the royal retinue, in the gardens. The Dauphin Louis, who seemed to have gone out of his way to avoid him over the last few days, joined him now and lingered at his side between the hedgerows, the beds of clipped grass and flowering shrubs. He said little, but Charles felt his sharp, somewhat mocking gaze fixed constantly upon him. The King’s words flashed through his mind: a spider indeed, who while apparently busy spinning his web, does not take his eyes from his prey.
“Greet your son-in-law Monseigneur d’Alençon on my behalf, if you should see him soon,” said the Prince at last. “Tell him, if you will, that I look forward impatiently to news from him.”
Charles looked into his dark, sparkling eyes.
“I was not aware that you knew my son-in-law so well, Monseigneur.”
“We are actually very good friends.” The Dauphin laughed shortly. “We can hardly do without each other.”
A disagreeable sensation crept over Charles. Were they trying to lure him again into the dangerous world of intrigue? Was he supposed to recognize some sort of signal in the Dauphin’s words? Was he perhaps being put to a test? He was seized by annoyance and distrust of Alençon: a man ambitious and even unprincipled enough to become involved, if necessary, in the most repulsive conspiracies. Charles was at the point of making his distance apparent to the Dauphin when the latter clutched him rudely by the sleeve with curved fingers. Charles looked up, surprised and displeased; with a nod of his head the Prince indicated a side path. Under the linden boughs some women approached, carrying armfuls of roses. She who walked ahead was dressed like a queen; a veil, delicate as a cobweb, covered only a part of the luster of headdress and necklace. When she saw Charles and the Dauphin, she stopped and curtsied deeply; then she walked slowly past with lowered eyes. She had a young round white face and a very small mouth. Charles glanced at her hands. He knew for a certainty that this was the woman who had waited behind the curtain.