The Accursed Kings 04: The Royal Succession by Maurice Druon

Author:Maurice Druon
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Historical Fiction
ISBN: 0099539403
Published: 1958-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

1. A wet-nurse for the King

JEAN I, King of France, posthumous son of Louis X, the Hutin, and of Queen Clemence of Hungary, was born during the night of November 13th to 14th, 1316, in the Chateau of Vincennes.

The news was proclaimed at once and the lords put on their silken robes. In the taverns the idlers and drunkards, for whom every event was an opportunity for a drink, began getting drunk and brawling by midday. And the traders in rich and rare goods, goldsmiths, silk merchants, weavers of fine cloth and makers of lace, sellers of spices, rare fishes and produce from overseas, rubbed their hands as they calculated the money that would be spent on the rejoicings.

The streets were a gay scene. People shouted to each other: `Well, my friend, so we've got a king!'

The people of Paris felt enlivened, and the prostitutes with their yellow hair had plenty of business that day, in spite of the cold north wind which blew through the sordid alleys behind Notre-Dame, to which an edict of Saint Louis had confined them.

In the hospice of the Convent of the Clarisses, Marie de Cressay had given birth four days earlier to a boy who weighed his full eight pounds, gave promise of being fair like his mother, and sucked, his eyes tight shut, like a voracious young puppy.

The novices, in their white hoods, were continually entering Marie's cell to watch her dress her baby, gaze at her radiant face as she fed him at her pink, abundant, expansive breast, while they who were destined to perpetual virginity admired the miracle of motherhood outside a painted figure in a window.

For if it sometimes happened that a nun sinned, this did not occur as frequently as the public rhymesters stated in their songs, and a newborn child in a convent of the Clarisses was not a very frequent occurrence.

There was great excitement, on this particular day, for the chaplain had announced the birth of a king; the joy of the town penetrated even to the cloister.

`The King is called Jean, like my baby,' said Marie.

In this she saw a good augury. A whole generation would be born to whom the King's Christian name would be given, and it was all the more striking because it was new to the monarchy. To all the little Philippes, to all the little Louis, would succeed an infinity of little Jeans throughout the kingdom. `Mine is the first,' thought Marie.

The short twilight of autumn was beginning to fall when a young nun entered the cell.

`Dame Marie,' she said, `the Mother Abbess is asking for you in the parlour. There is someone to see you,' `Who is it?'

`I don't know, I didn't see: But I think you are going to leave.'

The blood flowed to Marie's cheeks.

`It's Guccio. It's Guccio! It's his father,' she explained to the novices. `It's my husband come to take us away, I'm sure.'

She closed the opening: of her bodice, quickly did her hair, gazing into the

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