How the news spread through the castle, I know not; but Charles VII.
had hardly recovered from the first surprise of the intelligence when,
without waiting for permission or ceremony, all whose station
justified their admission to the presence of the prince crowded into
the little hall of Espaly. A bright and beautiful sight it presented
at that moment; for it was a court of youth and beauty, and not more
than two or three persons present had seen thirty years of age. Hope
and enthusiasm was in every countenance, and the heavy beams of the
vault rang with the cries of "Long live the king."
The bearer of the intelligence which had caused the acclamation seemed
likely to be altogether forgotten by the monarch in the gratulations
which poured upon him; but some bold, frank words of the young and
heroic lord of La Hire gave to generous Agnes Sorel an opportunity of
calling the attention of Charles to Jean Charost.
"Ay, God save the king!" cried La Hire, warmly; "and send him some
more crowns in his purse to secure the one upon his head."
Agnes whispered something to the young queen, and Marie of Anjou
turned gracefully toward De Brecy, saying, "This gentleman, my lord,
has something to tell your majesty on that score."
"He is the messenger of all good tidings, sir," urged Agnes Sorel;
"but perhaps your majesty forgets him. He was the trusted friend of
your uncle of Orleans; he was wounded and made prisoner at Azincourt,
and his first steps upon French ground after his liberation brings you
tidings of dignity, and the promise of success. Speak, Monsieur De
Brecy. Tell his majesty the good news you have in store."
Charles VII. fixed his eyes upon Jean Charost, and a shade came over
his face--not of displeasure, indeed, but of deep melancholy. It is
probable the memories awakened by the sight, as soon as he recognized
him, were very sorrowful. The bloody bridge of Monterreau, the dying
Duke of Burgundy, and all the fearful acts of a day never to be
forgotten, came back to memory; but the impression was but momentary;
and when he heard the tidings which the young gentleman bore of
present relief, and of the prospect of large future supplies, and was
made aware that he had also brought the news of his being King of
France, he smiled graciously upon him, saying, "How can we reward you,
Monsieur De Brecy? Few kings have less means than we have."
At that moment, Tanneguy du Châtel--to whose disinterested character
history, dwelling on his faults, has not done full justice--came
forward, and laid his hand upon Jean Charost's shoulder, saying, "Give
him St. Florent, sir; which we were talking of the other day. Its lord
not having appeared for fully fifteen years, the fief has clearly
fallen into the demesne of the crown."
"But I promised, Du Châtel," said Charles, turning toward him.
"Never mind that, sire," said Du Châtel, bluffly. "I do not want it.
De Brecy here has served the crown well, and suffered for his
services. So did his father before him, I have been told. He brings
you good tidings--good tidings for France also, I do hope. Give him
the fief, sir. If I had it, every one would be jealous. No one will be
jealous of him."
"Well, then, so be it," replied Charles. "The town and castle of St.
Florent, near Bourges, Monsieur De Brecy, shall be yours; but, by my
faith, you must keep them well; for the place is of importance,
commanding the supplies at Bourges. The letters of concession shall be
ready for you to-morrow, and you can do homage before you go, if you
will but stay at our court for a few days."
"I must stay here, sire or at Puy, for the arrival of Messire Jacques
C[oe]ur," replied Jean Charost. "He has many another scheme for your
majesty's service. In St. Florent I will do my duty, and I humbly
thank you much for the gift."
"Stay here, stay here," said Charles; and then he added, with a faint
and melancholy smile, "Our court is not so large as to fill even the
Castle of Espaly to overflowing. Some one see that he is well cared
for. And now, lords and ladies, other things are to be thought of. My
first thought, so help me Heaven, has been of France, and of what
benefit the event which has just happened may prove to her. But I can
not forget that I have lost a father, a kind and noble prince, whom
God has visited with long and sore afflictions, but who never lost the
love of his people or his son. I do believe, from all that I have
heard, that death was to him a blessing and relief; but still I must
mourn that so sad and joyless a life has ended without one gleam of
hope or happiness, even at the close. I had hoped that it might be
otherwise, that my sword might have freed him from the durance in
which he has been so long kept; that my care and love might have
soothed his latest hours. It has been ordered otherwise, and God's
will be done. But all to-morrow we will give up to solemn mourning,
and the next day take counsel as to instant action."
Thus saying, he took the hand of the queen in his own, and was
retiring from the room, the group around him only moving to give him
passage, except one gentleman, who sprang to open the door. Two
persons were left in the midst of the little crowd, not exactly
isolated, but in circumstances of some awkwardness. Agnes Sorel,
notwithstanding all her influence at the court, notwithstanding all
her power over the mind of the young king, felt that the bonds between
herself and those who now surrounded her were very slight, and that
there were jealousies and dislikes toward her in the bosoms of many
present. But she was relieved from a slight embarrassment by the
unvarying kindness of Marie of Anjou. Ere Charles and herself had
taken six steps through the hall, the queen turned her head, saying,
with a placid smile, "Come with us, Agnes. I shall want you."
"Marvelous, truly!" said a lady standing near Jean Charost, speaking
in a low tone, as if to herself. "Were I a queen, methinks I would
have the vengeance Heaven sends me, even if I did not seek some for
myself."
At the same moment, Tanneguy du Châtel laid his hand upon Jean
Charost's arm: "You must come with me, De Brecy," he said. "You shall
be my guest in the château. I have room enough there where I lodge.
Wait but a moment till I speak a word or two with these good lords. We
must not let the tide of good fortune ebb again unimproved. The royal
name alone is a great thing for us; but it may be made to have a
triple effect--upon our enemies, upon our friends, and upon the king
himself. By my life, this is no time to throw one card out of one's
hand."
He then spoke for several minutes in a low tone with Dunois, La Hire,
Louvet, and others, and, returning to the side of Jean Charost, led
him down to the outer court, on his way to that part of the building
which he himself inhabited. There, patiently waiting by the side of
the mule, they found the son of the landlord at Puy. The boy was
dismissed speedily, well satisfied, with directions to send up the
young gentleman's horse to the castle the next morning; and the rest
of the evening was spent by Jean Charost and Tanneguy du Châtel almost
alone. It was not an evening of calm, however; for the excitable
spirit of the _prévôt_ was much moved with all that had passed, and
with his prompt and eager impetuosity he commented, not alone upon the
news that had been received, but upon all their probable consequences.
Often he would start up and pace the room in a deep revery, and often
he would question his young companion upon details into which the king
himself had forgotten to inquire.
"The happy moment must not be lost," he said. "The happy moment must
not be lost. The young king's mind must be kept up to the tone which
it has received by this intelligence. Would to Heaven I could insure
half an hour's conversation with the fair Agnes, just to show her all
the consequences of the first great step. But I do not like to ask it;
and, after all, she needs no prompting. She is a glorious creature, De
Brecy. Heart and soul, with her, are given to France."
"Yet there be some," said Jean Charost; "some, even in this court, who
seem not very well disposed toward her. Did you hear what was said by
a lady near me just now?"
"Oh, Joan of Vendôme," cried Tanneguy, with a laugh; "she is a
prescribed railer at our fair friend. She came to Poictiers two years
ago, fancying herself a perfect paragon of beauty, and making up her
mind to become the dauphin's mistress; but he would have naught to say
to her faded charms--not even out of courtesy to her husband; so the
poor thing is full of spleen, and would kill the beautiful Agnes, if
she dared. She is too cowardly for that, however: at least I trust
so."
Jean Charost meditated deeply over his companion's words, and whither
his thoughts had led him might be perceived by what he next said.
"Strange," he murmured, "very strange, the conduct of the queen!"
"Ay, strange enough," answered Du Châtel. "We have here, within this
little château of Espaly, De Brecy, two women such as the world has
rarely ever seen, both young, both beautiful, both gentle. The one has
all the courage, the intellect, the vigor of a man; and yet, as we
see, a woman's weakness. The other is tender, timid, kind, and loving,
and yet without one touch of that selfishness which prompts to what we
call jealousy. By the Lord, De Brecy, it has often puzzled me, this
conduct of Marie of Anjou. I do believe I could, as readily as any
man, sacrifice myself to the happiness of one I love;[3] but I could
not make a friend of my wife's lover. There are things too much for
nature--for human nature, at least. But this girl--her majesty, I
mean--seems to me quite an angel; and the other does, I will say, all
that a fallen and repentant angel could to retain the friendship which
she fears she may have forfeited. All that deference, and reverence,
and humble, firm attachment can effect to wash away her offense, she
uses toward the queen; and I do believe, from my very heart, that no
counsel ever given by Agnes Sorel to Marie of Anjou has any other
object upon earth but Marie's happiness. Still, it is all very
strange, and the less we say about it the better."
Jean Charost thought so likewise; but that conversation brought upon
him fits of thought which lasted, with more or less interruption,
during the whole evening.
Society, in almost every country, has its infancy, its youth, its
maturity, and its old age. At least, such has been the case hitherto.
These several acts of life are of longer or shorter duration,
according to circumstances, but the several epochs are usually
sufficiently marked The age in which Jean Charost spoke was not one of
that fine, moralizing tendency which belongs to the maturity of life;
but it was one of passion and of action, of youth, activity, and
indiscretion. Nevertheless, feeling often supplied a guide where
reason failed, and from some cause Jean Charost felt pained that he
could not find one character among those who surrounded him
sufficiently pure and high to command and obtain his whole esteem. He
asked himself that painful question which so often recurs to us ere we
have obtained from experience, as well as reason, a knowledge of man's
mixed nature, "Is there such a thing as virtue, and truth, and honor
upon earth?"
The next day was passed as a day of mourning; but on the following
morning early, all the nobles in the castle of Espaly met together in
the great hall, and some eager consultations went on among them. There
were smiles, and gay looks, and many a lively jest, and lances were
brought in, and bucklers examined, as if for a tournament.
Jean Charost asked his companion, Du Châtel, the meaning of all that
they beheld; and the other replied, with a grave smile, "Merely a
boy's frolic; but one which may have important consequences."
A moment after, the young king himself, habited in scarlet, entered
the hall, followed by a number of the ladies and gentlemen of the
court, and received gracefully and graciously the greetings of his
subjects. But an instant after, La Hire and two or three others
surrounded and pressed upon him so closely, that Jean Charost thought
they were showing scanty reverence toward the king, when suddenly a
voice exclaimed, "Pardon us, sire;" and in an instant spears were
crossed, a shield cast down upon them, and the young monarch lifted to
a throne which might have befitted one of the predecessors of
Charlemagne. Dunois seized a banner embroidered with the arms of
France, and moving on through the doors of the hall into the chapel,
the banner was waved three times in the air, and the voices of all
present made the roof ring with the shout of, "Long live King Charles
the Seventh!"
Almost at the same time, another personage was added to the group
around the altar, and Jacques C[oe]ur himself repeated heartily the
cry, adding, "I have brought with me, sire--at least, so I trust--the
means to make you King of France, indeed. It is here in this château,
and all safe."
"Thanks, thanks, my good friend," said the young king. "We must take
counsel together how it may be used to the best advantage; and our
deep gratitude shall follow the service, whatever be the result of the
use we make of it. And now, lords and ladies, to Poictiers
immediately--ay, to-morrow morning, to be solemnly crowned in the
Cathedral there. That city, at least, we can call our own, and there
we will deliberate how to recover others."