Carefully she put out her five tightly closed fingers and requested the Lord Marshal to rise. The envoy took in his own the childish hand bedecked with heavy rings and allowed himself to be led to Isabeau by his future Queen. Isabeau was deeply moved, but more from relief than from maternal pride. The child had made an excellent impression; the English declared that their fondest expectations had been surpassed. They praised the appearance and behavior of the princess — above all, they admired her self-possession and well-chosen words. Isabeau listened to the envoys in silence, still smiling. Now that the reception, the high point of five months of negotiations and preparation, had been a success, she had achieved her goal — at least in regard to the English marriage. Isabelle seemed in every way a perfect bride for a king. So far as the signing of the marriage contract was concerned, Richard’s spokesmen would presumably raise few objections. New labors awaited them.
Isabeau withdrew; she had sent away the children with their nurses. The Englishmen set out together with the Duke and Council members to pay their respects to the King in his apartments.
In the coolness of her bedroom, Isabeau attempted to prepare herself for the meeting with her husband. During the last few days she had seen him only at state dinners. She knew that he was somewhat recovered, but strangely enough, this filled her more with apprehension than with hope. She could not identify the sickly, prematurely aged man who avoided her eyes, with the King her husband. The passion was dead which had driven her into his arms a year and a half ago; instead of pity she felt aversion, as though for a stranger. But she could not shun him, even if she wished to; she needed his co-operation. She had to bend him to her will as long as he was capable of judgment.
Isabeau, who suffered sorely from the heat — after her last confinement she had gained even more weight — allowed them to remove the high headdress and all her jewels. While her chamberwomen busied themselves about her, she stared sullenly, her lips pursed, at the potted shrubs blooming along the wall. Her brother Ludwig had arrived with news that in all its aspects required careful consideration. Isabeau knew from experience that Ludwig had a sharp nose for being on hand when important events took place; she trusted his judgment implicitly. She had heard that the German electors intended to depose the Emperor; Wenceslaus the Drunkard had in the course of years convincingly proven his ineptitude. A new candidate for the throne of the Holy Roman Empire had already appeared in the person of Ruprecht of Bavaria, Duke of Heidelberg, a member of the Wittelsbach family. Isabeau’s kinsmen were strong supporters of Ruprecht; they had never forgiven Wenceslaus for conferring the title of Duke of Milan upon their arch-enemy Gian Galeazzo. It was a matter of winning France to Ruprecht’s side. Ludwig who, with some justification, saw in his sister the strongest advocate of the Wittelsbach interests, considered that his goal was very nearly accomplished. Isabeau, on the other hand, was not quite as certain of success; many influential members of the court favored Wenceslaus — pre-eminent among them was Louis d’Orléans. Isabeau saw a possibility of influencing the court in Ruprecht’s favor only with Burgundy’s support. She considered that she might win the Duke and Duchess over to the Electors’ plan; in large measure Burgundy and Bavaria shared the same interests.
In her brother’s presence, Isabeau had already spoken to the Duchess of Burgundy; but Margaretha, always cautious, said only that she would need time to consider in tranquillity before she could respond. The Queen was positive that Burgundy would be told that same day and that the couple would act appropriately. And indeed Margaretha took advantage of the fact that Isabeau would be alone after the reception, to continue the discussion. The Duchess of Burgundy, alone of the highly-placed women of the court, entered Is-abeau’s chambers unannounced; she assumed that her role as the Queen’s right hand guaranteed her this privilege. Isabeau, who disliked the cold, all-too-shrewd Fleming, would not have allowed this presumption if she were not convinced of Margaretha’s value to her. She forced herself, therefore, to smile when the Duchess of Burgundy appeared in the doorway. Philippe’s wife considered it unwise to irritate Isabeau by showing too much self-confidence; she could hardly believe that she could enter the Queen’s presence again and again without ceremony. She entered in her slow, stately manner and curtsied deeply.
“Does it please Your Majesty to receive me?” she asked, knowing that Isabeau would acquiesce. The chamberwomen withdrew.
Margaretha politely declined the proferred chair. She remained standing at a proper distance from the Queen, her hands folded together on her breast. She spoke first of all of the successful reception; she praised the child Isabelle and wished the Queen joy in the brilliant debut.
“Yes,” Isabeau said impatiently. “Have you considered meanwhile what you will say to the Duke of Bavaria?”
Margaretha raised her brows slightly; she could not become accustomed to Isabeau’s lack of finesse.
“One cannot form a judgment on a matter of such importance in a few days, Madame,” the Duchess of Burgundy parried in respectfully gentle rebuke. “We have never been supporters of the Emperor Wenceslaus, as you know. But Your Majesty knows also that the Emperor has many friends here at court — that the Duke of Orléans your brother-in-law is well disposed toward him.” She paused and shot Isabeau an inquiring glance. “I take it that it is worth a lot to Your Majesty to win the King to your point of view.”
“I know that in all circumstances the opinion of Monseigneur of Burgundy is extremely important,” the Queen said irritably. She picked up a comb from the table and ran it through her thin hair which hung loose to her shoulders. Isabeau had had good reason to introduce the fashion of wearing elaborate headdresses which concealed the hair.
“Well, Madame,” said Margaretha softly, “my husband has heard with interest the news from Germany. Your Majesty may rest assured that he will study the matter thoroughly. I think that he may still find an opportunity to speak with the Duke of Bavaria before His Grace leaves the court.”
Isabeau nodded; she was not displeased to hear this.
“And now I should like to discuss another matter with your Majesty.” The Duchess of Burgundy voice became rather brusque. “It concerns my granddaughter, my son Jean’s oldest child. It is a year now since Monseigneur my husband spoke to the King about the possibility of a marriage between Marguerite and the Dauphin. Such an arrangement would be highly beneficial to our mutual interests, Madame. Moreover, as it happens,” she moved a few paces closer to the Queen, “my sons have sons — and Your Majesty a very few young daughters for whom, I believe, plans have not yet been made.”
Isabeau dropped the comb into her lap.
“Monseigneur d’Orléans also has two sons,” she replied, with some hauteur. “And I seem to recall that the King has already made an agreement with Orléans concerning the Dauphin.”
The Duchess of Burgundy gave a short, malicious laugh, while her cheeks flushed with anger.
“There is no assurance that Monseigneur d’Orléans will ever have a daughter. Such an agreement can have little value. I hope with all my heart that Your Majesty can convince the King to make a wiser decision, especially in the light of the news from Bavaria.”
“Yes, yes.” Isabeau sighed and threw back her head. A familiar feeling of rebellious rage swept over her. How much longer must she allow them to dictate to her? “You say I have so much influence with the King,” she burst out hotly. “Has it not been obvious in the last few months that it is not I who have influence with the King?”