The Accursed Kings Series Books 1-3: The Iron King, The Strangled Queen, The Poisoned Crown. Maurice Druon

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СКАЧАТЬ resistance gave way. She let herself fall upon a stool, the blood had drained from her face, her heart seemed to have stopped, and her head fell to one side, as if she were about to fall prostrate upon the floor. Jeanne seized her by the small of the arm and shook her to make her regain control of herself. Marguerite was mechanically twisting in her little brown hands the neck of the marionette representing Marigny, with which she had been playing but a few moments before.

      Isabella did not move. She saw the glances Marguerite and Jeanne cast upon her, looks of hatred which emphasised the role of informer she was playing, and suddenly she felt an enormous lassitude. ‘I shall play this out to the end,’ she thought.

      The brothers Aunay came in, eager, confused, almost falling over each other in their desire to make themselves useful and to show their worth.

      Without leaving the wall against which she was leaning, Isabella stretched out a hand and said only, ‘Father, these gentlemen seem to have divined your thought, since they have brought my purses attached to their belts.’

      Philip the Fair turned towards his daughters-in-law.

      ‘Can you tell me how these equerries come to be wearing the presents that your sister-in-law gave you?’

      None of them answered.

      Philippe d’Aunay looked at Isabella in astonishment, like a dog that does not understand why he is being beaten, then turned his eyes towards his elder brother, looking for protection. Gautier’s mouth was hanging open.

      ‘Guards!’ cried the King.

      His voice sent cold shivers down the spine of everyone present and echoed, strange and terrible, through the castle and the night. For more than ten years, since the battle of Mons-en-Pévèle to be exact, where he had rallied his army and forced a victory, the King had never been heard to shout. Indeed, everyone had forgotten that he might still have so powerful a voice. Moreover, it was the only word that he produced in this fashion.

      ‘Archers! Send for your captain,’ he said to the men who came running.

      There was a sound of heavy feet and Messire Alain de Pareilles appeared, bare-headed, buckling on his belt.

      ‘Messire Alain,’ said the King, ‘seize these two men. Put them in a dungeon in irons. They will have to answer at the bar of justice for their felony.’

      Philippe d’Aunay wished to rush forward.

      ‘Sire,’ he stammered, ‘Sire …’

      ‘Enough,’ said Philip the Fair. ‘It is to Messire de Nogaret that you must speak now. Messire Alain,’ he went on, ‘the Princesses will be guarded here by your men till further orders. They are forbidden to go out. No one whatever, neither servants, relations, nor even their husbands, may enter here or speak to them. You will answer to me for any breach of these orders.’

      However surprising the orders sounded, Alain heard them without flinching. The man who had arrested the Grand Master of the Templars could no longer be surprised by anything. The King’s will was his only law.

      ‘Come on, Messires,’ he said to the brothers Aunay, pointing to the door. And he ordered his archers to carry out the instructions he had received.

      As they went out, Gautier murmured to his brother, ‘Let us pray, brother, because this is the end.’

      And then their footsteps, lost amid those of the men-at-arms, sounded upon the stone flags.

      Marguerite and Blanche listened to the sound of the footsteps dying away. Their lovers, their honour, their fortune, all their lives were going with them. Jeanne wondered whether she would ever manage to exculpate herself. With a sudden movement, Marguerite threw the marionette she was holding into the fire.

      Once more Blanche was on the point of fainting.

      ‘Come, Isabella,’ said the King.

      They went out. The Queen of England had won; but she felt tired and strangely moved because her father had said, ‘Viens, Isabelle.’ It was the first time he had addressed her in the second person since she was a small child.

      Following one another, they went back the way they had come. The east wind chased huge dark clouds across the sky. Philip left Isabella at the door of her apartments and, taking up a silver candelabra, went to find his sons.

      His tall shadow and the sound of his footsteps awoke the guards in the deserted galleries. His heart felt heavy in his breast. He did not feel the drops of hot wax that fell upon his hand.

       8

       Mahaut of Burgundy

      IN THE MIDDLE OF THE night two horsemen rode away from the Castle of Maubuisson. They were Robert of Artois and his faithful, inseparable Lormet, who was at once servant, squire, travelling companion, confidant and general factotum.

      Since the day that Artois had selected him from among his peasants at Conches and attached him to his own person, Lormet had become, so to speak, his perpetual shadow. It was a marvel to see how anxiously this fat little man, already grey-haired but still hale and hearty, attended his young giant of a master on all occasions, closely following him in order to protect him. His cunning was as great and effective as his devotion. It was he who had pretended to be the ferryman for the brothers Aunay on the night of the trap.

      Dawn was breaking as the two horsemen reached the gates of Paris. They put their smoking horses into a walk and Lormet yawned a dozen times or so. At over fifty, he was still able to stand long journeys on horseback better than any young equerry, but he was inclined to suffer from lack of sleep.

      In the Place de Grève they came upon the usual assembly of workmen in search of jobs. Foremen of the King’s workshops and employers of lightermen moved among the various groups and hired assistants, dockers, and porters. Robert of Artois crossed the Place and turned into the rue Mauconseil where lived his aunt, Mahaut of Artois, Countess of Burgundy.

      ‘Listen, Lormet,’ said the giant, ‘I want this fat bitch to hear from me the extent of her disaster. Here begins one of the greatest and happiest days of my life. No beautiful girl in love with me could give me greater pleasure to see than the hideous phiz of my aunt when she hears what I have to tell her about the happenings at Maubuisson. And I want her to come to Pontoise and accelerate her own ruin by braying to the King; I hope she dies of vexation.’

      Lormet yawned hugely.

      ‘She’ll die all right, Monseigneur; she’ll die, you can be certain of that; you’re doing everything you can to bring it about,’ he said.

      They came to the splendid town-house of the Counts of Artois.

      ‘To think that it was my grandfather who built it; to think that it is I who should be living here!’ Robert went on.

      ‘You’ll live here, Monseigneur; you’ll live here all right.’

      ‘And СКАЧАТЬ