given. There were always men on the watch towers to look out for the approach of the English.
Without waiting to ask permission she ran from the room and down to the courtyard. A small company of men were there and as her eyes fell on one of them she gave a shriek of delight. She could not wait for ceremony. She flung herself into her father’s arms. There was no mistaking the kindly smile, although he had aged considerably, and there was the scar livid as ever on the left side of his forehead.
‘My dearest child,’ cried René. ‘Why...a child no longer. How you have grown! What a fine lady they have made of you!’
‘Oh my father, dearest, dearest father...’
They clung together. And there was Yolande standing in the courtyard watching them.
René released his daughter and embraced his mother.
‘This is good news,’ she cried. ‘René, my son. You are free.’
‘Free...but with much to tell.’
‘Rooms must be prepared and orders given in the kitchens. How delighted I am to have you with us. You have already seen Margaret.’
Margaret could not remember anything that should be done on occasions such as this. She could only think that her beloved father was with her once more. She just stood with him, her arms encircling him, and even Yolande could not hide her emotion.
They went into the castle. There was bustle everywhere and very soon appetising smells pervaded the place.
There must be a banquet in honour of this son who, since the death of his brother, was Yolande’s eldest.
There was indeed much to tell and it did not all make good hearing. René had insisted that Margaret be with them. He could not stay long and he wanted as much time as possible with his daughter.
‘When must you go?’ asked Yolande.
‘I must not stay more than three or four days at the most.’
Yolande, to Margaret’s surprise, made no attempt to send her away so she heard all that had been happening to her father.
‘So you are really free,’ said Yolande.
‘Completely,’ replied René. ‘The ransom has been paid. Isabelle has been wonderful in raising the money.’
‘You should be grateful to your wife,’ said Yolande.
‘I am. Make no mistake about that. She is a wonderful woman...as you are, my lady mother. She has come from the same mould.’
Yolande graciously inclined her head. She never denied anything in which she believed. It was true that dear weak René had been blessed with a strong wife and a strong mother.
‘And Burgundy?’ she asked.
‘You may be sure he struck a bargain. John is betrothed to his niece Marie of Bourbon.’
‘Indeed,’ said Yolande. She was resentful that a match should have been made without consulting her.
‘Burgundy’s niece,’ said René. ‘And therefore a good connection. Besides, he was adamant. Those were his conditions.’
‘Well, at least it shows that he still thinks well enough of you to want the connection. How old is John now?’
‘Twelve years.’
‘Well, old enough I dare swear. And where is Louis?’
‘With his mother in Naples. Whither I must go with all speed. But I could not resist coming to see my mother and my daughter.’
‘My dear René, may God preserve you and give you strength.’
‘I shall need it,’ said René. ‘I know it does not go so well in Naples.’
‘How happy you must be to feel free again.’
‘To be with my family, yes, but I have been treated well during my captivity. I have been painting a great deal and it is astonishing how quickly that passes the time.’
Yolande smiled at him fondly. Painting when he should have been considering means of ruling his possessions, and first of all getting some of them into his hands.
Ineffectual René. But dear René all the same. None could help loving him.
It was a sad day when he rode off. He was longing to join Isabelle but it was clear that his heart was not in the fighting that would have to be done to gain the crown of Naples.
###
Each day Margaret waited for
Without waiting to ask permission she ran from the room and down to the courtyard. A small company of men were there and as her eyes fell on one of them she gave a shriek of delight. She could not wait for ceremony. She flung herself into her father’s arms. There was no mistaking the kindly smile, although he had aged considerably, and there was the scar livid as ever on the left side of his forehead.
‘My dearest child,’ cried René. ‘Why...a child no longer. How you have grown! What a fine lady they have made of you!’
‘Oh my father, dearest, dearest father...’
They clung together. And there was Yolande standing in the courtyard watching them.
René released his daughter and embraced his mother.
‘This is good news,’ she cried. ‘René, my son. You are free.’
‘Free...but with much to tell.’
‘Rooms must be prepared and orders given in the kitchens. How delighted I am to have you with us. You have already seen Margaret.’
Margaret could not remember anything that should be done on occasions such as this. She could only think that her beloved father was with her once more. She just stood with him, her arms encircling him, and even Yolande could not hide her emotion.
They went into the castle. There was bustle everywhere and very soon appetising smells pervaded the place.
There must be a banquet in honour of this son who, since the death of his brother, was Yolande’s eldest.
There was indeed much to tell and it did not all make good hearing. René had insisted that Margaret be with them. He could not stay long and he wanted as much time as possible with his daughter.
‘When must you go?’ asked Yolande.
‘I must not stay more than three or four days at the most.’
Yolande, to Margaret’s surprise, made no attempt to send her away so she heard all that had been happening to her father.
‘So you are really free,’ said Yolande.
‘Completely,’ replied René. ‘The ransom has been paid. Isabelle has been wonderful in raising the money.’
‘You should be grateful to your wife,’ said Yolande.
‘I am. Make no mistake about that. She is a wonderful woman...as you are, my lady mother. She has come from the same mould.’
Yolande graciously inclined her head. She never denied anything in which she believed. It was true that dear weak René had been blessed with a strong wife and a strong mother.
‘And Burgundy?’ she asked.
‘You may be sure he struck a bargain. John is betrothed to his niece Marie of Bourbon.’
‘Indeed,’ said Yolande. She was resentful that a match should have been made without consulting her.
‘Burgundy’s niece,’ said René. ‘And therefore a good connection. Besides, he was adamant. Those were his conditions.’
‘Well, at least it shows that he still thinks well enough of you to want the connection. How old is John now?’
‘Twelve years.’
‘Well, old enough I dare swear. And where is Louis?’
‘With his mother in Naples. Whither I must go with all speed. But I could not resist coming to see my mother and my daughter.’
‘My dear René, may God preserve you and give you strength.’
‘I shall need it,’ said René. ‘I know it does not go so well in Naples.’
‘How happy you must be to feel free again.’
‘To be with my family, yes, but I have been treated well during my captivity. I have been painting a great deal and it is astonishing how quickly that passes the time.’
Yolande smiled at him fondly. Painting when he should have been considering means of ruling his possessions, and first of all getting some of them into his hands.
Ineffectual René. But dear René all the same. None could help loving him.
It was a sad day when he rode off. He was longing to join Isabelle but it was clear that his heart was not in the fighting that would have to be done to gain the crown of Naples.
###
Each day Margaret waited for
Similar Books
