‘Vengeance for the death of Orléans.’
The Duke turned and saw the axe a second before it struck him.
‘A trap,’ he murmured as he sank to the ground. ‘Betrayal …’
They were standing over him, their swords drawn. There were many who wanted to avenge the murder of the Duke of Orléans. It was twelve years since it happened but it had rankled ever since. It had been at the very heart of the hatred of the Orléans faction for that of Burgundy. Now the man who had instigated that murder had become a victim himself.
When the news was brought to Philip he was stunned. His great and powerful father done to death on a bridge after having been lured to a meeting with the Dauphin, and there foully murdered.
He listened to the account of what had happened with black hatred in his heart.
‘They stripped him of his garments, my lord,’ he was told, ‘and planned to throw his body into the river.’
Philip clenched his fists in anger. They should pay for this. Curse the Armagnacs! Curse the Orléanists! Curse the Dauphin!
‘They were stopped doing this, my lord Duke,’ he was told. ‘One of the citizens of Montereau intervened. He put on the Duke’s shirt and breeches and took him to the church at Notre Dame.’
‘Curse, curse, curse them!’ cried the Duke.
The only way in which he could bear his sorrow was by feeding his anger.
Michelle, hearing the messenger leave and realising that he had brought ill news, went to her husband.
She stared at him in horror and he burst out: ‘Your brother has killed my father.’
‘No.’ Her hand went to her lips. She was trembling.
‘He lured him to his death. They were to talk of peace and when my father arrived they fell on him and murdered him.’
‘Charles … not Charles,’ she murmured.
‘Yes, Charles, our poor ineffectual Dauphin … All he is fit for is to stab brave men in the back.’
She turned away and buried her face in her hands.
He laid his hand on her shoulders. ‘Michelle,’ he said, ‘I hate your brother. Strange that I should love his sister.’
‘But this …’ she said.
He drew her to him and held her tightly. ‘Even this … makes no difference. I despise your father. I hate your brother … but I love you, Michelle.’
‘Then,’ she said, ‘we can face whatever is coming.’
He nodded. He held her against him that she might not see the desire for revenge in his eyes.
The Dauphin must not be allowed to think that he could treat Burgundy thus. Oh, Burgundy had murdered Orléans, yes. He knew. Burgundy had removed that lecherous cheat who leaped into the Queen’s bed as soon as the King was sent to the Hôtel de St Pol, who diverted the King’s exchequer into his own coffers, who made no effort to rule though he had been made Regent at the request of the Queen on whom at that time the King doted. It had been an act of service to the state to remove Orléans. Orléans and his mistress the Queen had put the children away in the Hôtel de St Pol where they lived like denizens of the stews of Paris … his own gentle Michelle, Katherine Queen of England and Marie now in her convent. Oh yes, his father had done his duty to the nation when he had caused Orléans to be removed.
It was different to call the mighty Duke of Burgundy to a meeting with the Dauphin and there murder him in cold blood.
When Michelle’s sister Katherine married the conqueror, when Henry declared that he would be King of France after the death of the mad old King, the new Duke of Burgundy decided that anyone who was the enemy of the Dauphin was his friend.
Thus a closer bond with the English was possible.
Now that King Henry was dead Bedford would proclaim Henry VI King of France and England. It was inevitable and well might the wretched Dauphin seek to raise forces against the English. His skirmishes were laughable. Bedford was a great soldier – not quite what his brother had been, it was true, but formidable. He would not make it too obvious to
The Duke turned and saw the axe a second before it struck him.
‘A trap,’ he murmured as he sank to the ground. ‘Betrayal …’
They were standing over him, their swords drawn. There were many who wanted to avenge the murder of the Duke of Orléans. It was twelve years since it happened but it had rankled ever since. It had been at the very heart of the hatred of the Orléans faction for that of Burgundy. Now the man who had instigated that murder had become a victim himself.
When the news was brought to Philip he was stunned. His great and powerful father done to death on a bridge after having been lured to a meeting with the Dauphin, and there foully murdered.
He listened to the account of what had happened with black hatred in his heart.
‘They stripped him of his garments, my lord,’ he was told, ‘and planned to throw his body into the river.’
Philip clenched his fists in anger. They should pay for this. Curse the Armagnacs! Curse the Orléanists! Curse the Dauphin!
‘They were stopped doing this, my lord Duke,’ he was told. ‘One of the citizens of Montereau intervened. He put on the Duke’s shirt and breeches and took him to the church at Notre Dame.’
‘Curse, curse, curse them!’ cried the Duke.
The only way in which he could bear his sorrow was by feeding his anger.
Michelle, hearing the messenger leave and realising that he had brought ill news, went to her husband.
She stared at him in horror and he burst out: ‘Your brother has killed my father.’
‘No.’ Her hand went to her lips. She was trembling.
‘He lured him to his death. They were to talk of peace and when my father arrived they fell on him and murdered him.’
‘Charles … not Charles,’ she murmured.
‘Yes, Charles, our poor ineffectual Dauphin … All he is fit for is to stab brave men in the back.’
She turned away and buried her face in her hands.
He laid his hand on her shoulders. ‘Michelle,’ he said, ‘I hate your brother. Strange that I should love his sister.’
‘But this …’ she said.
He drew her to him and held her tightly. ‘Even this … makes no difference. I despise your father. I hate your brother … but I love you, Michelle.’
‘Then,’ she said, ‘we can face whatever is coming.’
He nodded. He held her against him that she might not see the desire for revenge in his eyes.
The Dauphin must not be allowed to think that he could treat Burgundy thus. Oh, Burgundy had murdered Orléans, yes. He knew. Burgundy had removed that lecherous cheat who leaped into the Queen’s bed as soon as the King was sent to the Hôtel de St Pol, who diverted the King’s exchequer into his own coffers, who made no effort to rule though he had been made Regent at the request of the Queen on whom at that time the King doted. It had been an act of service to the state to remove Orléans. Orléans and his mistress the Queen had put the children away in the Hôtel de St Pol where they lived like denizens of the stews of Paris … his own gentle Michelle, Katherine Queen of England and Marie now in her convent. Oh yes, his father had done his duty to the nation when he had caused Orléans to be removed.
It was different to call the mighty Duke of Burgundy to a meeting with the Dauphin and there murder him in cold blood.
When Michelle’s sister Katherine married the conqueror, when Henry declared that he would be King of France after the death of the mad old King, the new Duke of Burgundy decided that anyone who was the enemy of the Dauphin was his friend.
Thus a closer bond with the English was possible.
Now that King Henry was dead Bedford would proclaim Henry VI King of France and England. It was inevitable and well might the wretched Dauphin seek to raise forces against the English. His skirmishes were laughable. Bedford was a great soldier – not quite what his brother had been, it was true, but formidable. He would not make it too obvious to
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