Michael Jecks - The Templar, the Queen and Her Lover

He couldn’t think of that again. There was too much sadness in the memory. He was a man who had been trained in fighting, who had witnessed the deaths of all his family in the wars, and yet he was still persecuted by that vicious, cruel, and above all honourable and pious damned bishop! All he had ever done was try to live a decent life, and the bishop had destroyed it for him.

Ach! No. There was no point raking over those coals again.

When he reached the town’s marketplace, he had recovered his equanimity. There was a shop with some pastries for sale, and he could see that it had been all but cleaned out already. The patissier was running about seeking fresh supplies to bake more for his regular customers, and Jean thought he might wait awhile to buy something himself. Leaning against the doorway, he watched the people gathering.

The richness of the clothing and uniforms was quite shocking here in this little town. There were some merchants who might own some moderate garments, he thought, but nothing in comparison to all this magnificence. Velvets, scarlets, silks, fine woollens, the softest pigskin gloves — these people had everything a man could hope to acquire. And they wore it with such élan , too. As the men sprang on to their great horses, they looked as elegant as kings in their own right. And then he saw the Queen.

Such beauty was blinding, he thought. A woman of some thirty years, with fine, fair hair gleaming under her headdress, seated on a horse rather than in a wagon, wearing a long cloak trimmed with ermine, she looked almost heavenly. Jean had to pull his eyes away with an effort. She was so magnificent, it almost seemed a crime to watch her, him clad in filthy leather and linen, as though he could pollute her with his glance.

‘Christ’s pains!’

He carefully sidled back into the shop’s doorway, wary and anxious at the sight of the two men standing at the opposite side of the square: le Vieux and Arnaud! They must have followed him somehow, and now they were here with this party. He must escape them again!

Thursday before the Feast of the Annunciation of Our Lady 16

Pontoise

To Simon’s eye, the buildings were growing wealthier and more splendid with every day. The last night they had spent in a little town called Beauvais, and he had been struck by the richness of all the people living there. Admittedly, everyone would have been made aware that the English queen was on her way by the arrival of the heralds sent ahead to book rooms and food, and they would have decked themselves out in their best clothing in honour of the sister of their king, but even so, looking about him now in this little town, he was almost shocked by the displays of wealth on every side. It was so blatant and unashamed. Much, he had to remind himself, like London. Except cleaner.

This place was only a few miles from Paris, he had learned. Baldwin had described the journey which they were to take before they left England, but he had hardly listened to much of it. At the time he had been concentrating on the appalling thought of climbing on to a ship again. He had seen enough of ships for his life, so far as he was concerned.

The town was pretty, though, built on the banks of the River Oise, with the steeple of the cathedral towering high overhead. There were plenty of trees and orchards, he saw, as they approached the great bridge over the river.

‘We should go to the cathedral and give thanks for arriving here in one piece,’ he muttered.

‘An excellent idea,’ Baldwin said, ‘except I rather think we’ll be expected to carry on to the castle.’

‘Why?’

‘I thought you knew already — the Queen is to be introduced to her latest sister-in-law.’

That explained all the flowers and decorations, then. Simon frowned a little. ‘She had several brothers, didn’t she?’

‘Yes, but her siblings appear to be short-lived. Her father died eleven years ago, cursed to death by the honourable Grand Master of my Order.’

Simon had heard of the Grand Master de Molay’s curse. As he burned, in agony, he called on the King to join him before the throne of God to answer for his crimes in destroying the Order of the Temple, and the King had died within the year, as had the Pope. ‘What of the others?’

‘Her oldest two brothers both died soon after taking the throne. The first, Louis X, survived only two years. Then there was poor John, his son, who lived five days after becoming king, and the throne passed to Philip V, but he died three years ago, so he was only on the throne for six years. Now we have Charles IV.’

‘And this is not his first wife.’

It was not a question. Simon remembered that he had been married already.

‘That is so. The first wife was caught in adultery, and he had the marriage annulled two or three years ago. I think he was married after that, but the lady died, and so now he is searching for a new bride.’

Simon set his head upon one side. ‘With all these deaths, could the throne come to our queen? If this king dies without children, presumably the crown must pass to one of the women in the family?’

‘I fear not. The idea that the two crowns could be joined like that has intrigued many for several years, I think, but I doubt that the French peers would allow it. They are jealous of their authority, Simon. The idea that the English queen, as they see her now, could come here and take power would make them … well, they would be happier to drink poison together than allow that to pass.’

Simon pondered this awhile as they entered the cobbled streets of the old town. It had been here for centuries, he was told, guarding the bridge over the river, and the King himself liked the town so much that there was a royal castle here. It was here where they were to meet Jeanne d’Evreux.

It was a gay occasion. Flags flew from every staff, and the number of knights about the Lady Jeanne was proof of the value the French king placed upon her. The two women walked to each other and greeted each other with gracious delight, as was obvious to all about.

‘They are first cousins,’ Baldwin answered when Simon asked. ‘Although I do not know whether they have met in the last ten years or more.’

Musicians played, and there were magicians and tumblers demonstrating their skills in one corner of the square, which gave the whole affair something of a feastday atmosphere. Certainly today at least there was nobody who appeared to have any animosity for others. French and English knights mingled and joked with each other, and even de Bouden appeared less anxious than Simon had seen him for some days. Money was always tight for the Queen, ever since her monies had been confiscated by the King, but it seemed that de Bouden had been given some form of assurance that the French king would not see his sister embarrassed by lack of funds. That would be a relief to many.

Glancing about him now, he wondered where de Bouden had gone. The comptroller was not with Baldwin or the other knights. He could see Lord Cromwell a short distance off, and he, like everyone else, had his attention fixed firmly on the Queen and her cousin. And then Simon caught sight of de Bouden’s face a little farther on, at the front of the crowds, but his eyes were not on the Queen — not all the time. No, he was watching someone at the other side of the crowd, a man who was in among the friends and guards of Lady Jeanne. A tall man with dark hair trimmed in a military cut, with broad shoulders, a powerful neck from wearing a steel helmet, and the arrogant swagger of a knight. Or perhaps more than a knight.

‘Recognise him?’ he asked, pointing.

‘Who?’

It was plain enough from the blank look on his face that Baldwin had no idea who the man was. He glanced up at Cromwell, but could tell he was too engrossed to be interested.