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Isabella Queen of England again! It was a glittering prospect.
It was necessary to convey the information to Isabella. There was a tradition that a woman who had once been married for reasons of state should be given a modicum of choice in her second marriage. Moreover Burgundy was not sure—nor were his advisers—that this match with England was the best possible at this time. If Henry were indeed incapable of ruling and was ready to be supplanted by his son, was that not an admission of weakness? If he wanted a marriage with France could that mean that he was seeking peace or at least a truce, because he feared his grasp was weakening? One country did not fight another when there was a marriage alliance between them.
The French were uncertain.
When the proposition was put to Isabella she was vehement in her denunciations of it.
*I will never go there. I will never live among the murderers of my husband. Anything ... anything but that.'
'Anything?' said the Due d'Orleans. *Dear niece, it is necessary that you marry, you know.'
*I know it,* she replied. 'But I will not marry Harry of Monmouth.'
Since Isabella was so determined and the council was so unsure, it seemed a good way out to let Isabella decide, but none knew better than she that had it been expedient to her country for her to marry Harry of Monmouth she would have been forced to do so.
It was then that her Uncle Louis spoke to her about his son Charles of Angouleme.
'He loves you dearly,' said Louis. 'It is a wish very close to my heart ... and to your mother's ... that you two should marry.'
'I do not think my mother cares very much what becomes of me,' said Isabella.
*Oh my dear dear child,' cried Louis, attempting to show deep concern, 'you must not say that. She cares for you so much ... you and your brothers and sisters.'
*I have not noticed it, sir,' replied Isabella coolly. 'My sisters are in need of new clothes. Their food is not of the best. I am told that the money is not available to feed and clothe them in a ma
Louis laughed. Tou have been listening to the ramblings of that miserable preacher. If I had my way he would be thrust into an oubliette and left there.'
*I doubt that not,' replied Isabella. 'But know this. I have no wish to marry.'
'Oh come, dear child. You are not meant to waste the years. Why, you are a beauty. You will be like your mother one day.'
'I pray not.'
'She is the most beautiful woman in France.'
Isabella was silent. A terrible fear gripped her. They would pretend for a while that they wanted her consent and when she refused it they would force her. She knew their methods.
The possibility of a match was forgotten temporarily for to the great rejoicing of Orleans and the Queen, the Duke of Burgundy fell ill. Within a short time he was dead. The new Duke of Burgundy was his son John the Fearless, Count of Nevers.
The whole of France waited in trepidation for what would happen next.
Louis was more anxious than ever now to bring about the marriage of his son and Isabella and the Queen told her daughter firmly that there must be no more delay.
'Do you want us to send you to England?' she demanded. 'That is what will happen in time, depend upon it, if you delay much longer. There are some who believe it would be good to bring about a truce with England and they would do it with this marriage. The new Duke of Burgundy is against pursuing the war. You can guess what he has in mind. There is your cousin Charles. I know he is younger than you, but that will give you a chance to mould him in the way you want him to go. Come, Isabella, do not be foolish. Marry Charles. It is what I want for you and so does your Uncle Louis.'
'And what of my father? Does he want it?'
'Your poor father alas is in one of his twilight phases. He does not know what he wants. But when he is in good mind he would agree that this is right for you. Think, child, it will
keep you with us. Do you want to go to a foreign land? Do you want to be sent back to the son of your first husband's murderer? I hear rumours of the life young Harry leads. Roystering in taverns ... choosing the lowest companions. Not the sort of husband who would suit your sensitive nature and your refined tastes. If they wanted to find you a man as different from Richard as they could they would choose no better.'
So it went on and finally she agreed.
There was great rejoicing and her mother, delighted that her daughter had promised to marry the son of her lover, set about preparing the most lavish entertainments. They were cousins of course—first cousins at that—but never mind. The Pope would not dare to raise any objection and the dispensation was a foregone conclusion. Banquets and jousting, dancing, players ... everything that could be devised was included. The Queen excelled at arranging such occasions; and Louis of course was beside her. It was the best thing that had happened since Burgundy had ousted him from his position as Regent.
Only the prospective bride was unhappy. She sat mournfully through the festivities and she could only think of Richard.
She had little feeling for the boy to whom they were marrying her, but he seemed bewildered and she tried to comfort him as well as she could.
*You need not worry,' she told him. *It will be all right.'
He clung to her hand reassured; but she could only turn away to hide the tears which she could not hold back.
So she became the Countess of Angouleme and was no longer Richard's sorrowing widow.
The wedding did not arouse a great deal of interest throughout the country. People were more concerned with the scandalous behaviour of the Queen and her paramour and the growing tension between the Duke of Burgundy and Louis of Orleans.
There was a certain relief when Burgundy showed that he was seeking to placate Orleans. In the streets of Paris they said if these two could forget their differences, it would be to the advantage of France; and Burgundy, in order to show that the fault did not lie with him, invited Orleans to dine with him.
It was a dark November evening before the day fixed for the meeting between Orleans and Burgundy. Louis had dined with the Queen and he was in very high spirits. It was eight o'clock. He would join the Queen later but now he was returning to his apartments.
He was accompanied by two of his squires riding on one horse and by four menservants who carried torches. The Duke was singing as they walked along. As they came into the Vieille Rue du Temple, a band of armed men sprang out and surrounded the party.
Luckily for the squires their horse took fright and bolted with them on its back; the servants dropped their torches and closed in round the Duke, who cried out: 'What is this? I am the Due d'Orleans. What do you want of me?*
One of the assailants cried out: 'You are just the one we want. Ready friends.*
The man who had spoken struck at the Duke with an axe and another came at him with a sword. Louis fell fainting to the ground.
One of his servants attempted to defend him and was struck down but managed to crawl away, the others seeing it was useless to try to defend themselves escaped into a nearby shop.
By this time windows were flung open for many had heard the commotion and the shouts of the assassins.
'Murder!' screamed a woman from the window of a cobbler's shop.
'Hold your tongue, strumpet,' shouted one of the murderers and shot an arrow in her direction at which she immediately disappeared from sight.
'Out with all lights,' cried the leader of the band.
Then the murderers ran. By this time people had been wakened and were coming fearfully down onto the street; and now that the murderers had gone they came to look at that night's work.