The news spread throughout Paris like wild fire: Orléans and the Queen had tried to lead the child into an ambush, but thanks to the speedy appearance of Jean Sans Peur, the good and valiant hero, the Dauphin was now healthy and unscathed in the Louvre. The Rector of the University proceeded there with a company of learned gentlemen to give public thanks to Jean of Burgundy for his loyalty and devotion to the King’s welfare.
Under these circumstances, the people, gathered into crowds in the streets, shouting with jubilation and excitement, were only too quickly disposed to lend an ear to those men who, here and there standing on a cask, a stone, the steps of a house, cursed Orléans and praised Burgundy to the skies. A few days later, in the name of the King and Council, orders were given to the city to begin to prepare itself for attack; from the storage rooms of the Chátelet iron chains were brought which could block the streets and wall off the districts. Meanwhile, Burgundy’s allies and vassals, the Lords ofLiége, Limburg and Cleves and their men, marched in great numbers into the city.
Jean of Burgundy was far from displeased with this state of affairs; but he felt compelled to justify his frenzied behavior, to give the appearance of well-considered action to his fit of rage. He sent to Parlement a declaration of protest, signed by him and his two brothers, expressing their indignation at the King’s neglected condition, the irresponsible levying of taxes, the disorderly management of the royal domains and the corruption in the courts of justice. With real, inimitable skill, he knew precisely how to present himself as the accuser, the man who could lay his finger on the sore spot. Swift as an arrow this perception of him caused him to rise in public favor.
Meanwhile Louis d’Orléans and Isabeau were at Melun. The Queen was assailed by doubt and anxiety: in the long run her publicly flaunted rapprochement with Louis might damage her interests more than it helped them. Burgundy seemed very sure of himself and he had, if the news from Paris were to be believed, public opinion with him. No matter how she wracked her brains, she could think of no way she could return in dignity to the city unless it was under Burgundy’s protection or together with Orléans at the head of a triumphant army of troops. While Isabeau brooded in her apartments in the castle of Melun, Louis d’Orléans spent his time as profitably as possible, gathering his strength.
He summoned his vassals from all parts of his domains and sent couriers to his allies at home and abroad. To Melun came the Dukes of Lorraine and Alençon with 1,400 nobles and an army of men. All these soldiers had to find lodgings in the environs of Melun, to the considerable concern of the peasants and burghers. Orléans’ messengers hurried to get to the cities throughout the Kingdom before Burgundy’s messengers did; letters were delivered and placards posted warning against the scandalous libel which would soon reach from Paris to the farthest corners of France. The Duke of Orléans vowed that he would take suitable action to lay all these rumors to rest; until then he was counting on the loyalty of the people.
While he busied himself with these and similar matters, a delegation from the University was announced. Louis received them in a frame of mind that was anything but humble. The learned doctors, who had expected to find him cast-down and intimidated by Burgundy’s actions, quickly realized their mistake. Considerably sobered, they recited their petition, taking care to greatly soften its lofty and peremptory tone.
“The University hopes with all its heart,” said the spokesman in a low voice, with downcast eyes, “hopes with all its heart that peace will prevail in the Kingdom. In short, it desires nothing so ardendy as a reconciliation between Monseigneur and the Duke of Burgundy.”
Louis, who had listened impassively, let them wait before he answered. Finally, looking over their heads, he said coldly, “In my opinion it was not wise of you to express so openly your approval of the conduct of my cousin of Burgundy. You know that he acts against me. I do not need, surely, to remind you that I am the King’s brother, and that in view of the state of his health and the Dauphin’s extreme youth, it is I whom you must obey. It seems to me that you would do well to restrict yourselves to intellectual and spiritual concerns; you can safely leave the administration of the government to members of the royal House and the Council.”
He paused and snapped his fingers impatiently. The learned doctors of the Sorbonne remained motionless, staring at the floor. They felt it expedient to assume a chastened demeanor.
“And as for a reconciliation between my lord of Burgundy and me … I was not aware that my cousin and I were at war. Where there is no war, gentlemen, there is nothing to reconcile. You have my permission to withdraw.”
He waited, his face averted, until the delegation had left the room. Then he set out for Isabeau’s apartments, to tell her his plans. He intended to return with her to Paris the following Saturday, accompanied by his entourage of allies and vassals amounting to more than a thousand men.
Isabeau, who suffered in warm weather from swollen, painful limbs, sat before the open window while her maid Femmette massaged her feet. Louis had become accustomed over the course of the year to being admitted to the Queen’s presence without ceremony; he was struck now by Isabeau’s obvious embarrassment, by the haste with which the maid straightened her mistress’s garments. While he stood on the threshold of the chamber making gallant littie jokes to put Isabeau at her ease, a thought struck him, swift and blinding as a flash of lightning.
He had treated the Queen with the familiarity, the camaraderie, of a kinsman; with a gallantry that was perhaps not always brotherly or simply friendly, but quite natural between a man and a woman of their age. Louis had noticed with some satisfaction how the Queen had revived in his company, he rejoiced with her over the return of her enjoyment of life and profited from it himself. He had known in advance that their friendship would be blown out of all proportion; given the facts of court life, a love affair between the Queen and him would seem only too credible. He knew that Isabeau was extremely offended by this slander, but he considered her sensible enough to put up with a little annoyance if her self-interest was involved.
However now, on entering the Queen’s chambers in Melun, Louis suddenly realized the real reasons for the Queen’s contentment as well as for her rages — her blush, her glance, something indefinable about the way she quickly concealed her large swollen feet under the hem of her dress — these told him, more plainly than words. The discovery filled him with horror; he knew only too well what the consequences would be if he wanted to continue in her good graces. Nothing is more dangerous than the disappointment of a woman who thinks that she is in love, especially when her nature is essentially hard and wilful. Burgundy was waiting with Isabeau’s brother in the fortified city of Paris; the Queen’s inner uncertainty, moreover, was evident. If Orléans did not manage to bind her to him, he would drive her irrevocably into the camp of the enemy; he knew her too well not to fear the ease with which she could leap from one extreme to the other.
He thought of the King his brother, a defenseless invalid; of Valentine, to whom he had been faithful since the death of Manette de Cany. While he moved slowly into the room he stared at Isabeau: at her greedy mouth, her soft hands which would release only re-luctandy anything that came into their grasp. Stifling the great despondent sigh which welled up in him, he bowed deeply before the Queen, whose smiles could no longer be misconstrued.