The Iron King (The Accursed Kings, Book 1) by Druon Maurice

Author:Druon, Maurice [Druon, Maurice]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2013-03-25T16:00:00+00:00

6

The Road to Clermont

THREE WEEKS LATER, the little town of Clermont-de-l’Oise was the scene of extraordinary excitement. From the castle to the gates, from the church to the town hall, the streets were crowded. There was joyful animation as people jostled each other in the alleys and taverns. Since morning, hangings had hung from the windows; the town-criers had announced that Monseigneur Philippe, Count of Poitiers, the King’s second son, and his uncle, Monseigneur of Valois, had come in the King’s name to meet their sister and niece, Queen Isabella of England.

The Queen, having disembarked upon the soil of France two days before, was making her way across Picardy. She had left Amiens that morning and, if all went well, she would arrive at Clermont in the late afternoon. She would sleep there and, next day, her English escort reinforced by that of France, would proceed to Pontoise where her father, Philip the Fair, was awaiting her at the Castle of Maubuisson.

Shortly after vespers, the arrival of the Princes having been announced, the Provost, the Captain of the Guard and the Aldermen went out of the Porte de Paris to present the keys. Philippe of Poitiers, riding in the lead, received their welcome and was the first to enter Clermont.

Behind him, amid a great cloud of dust raised by the horses, followed more than a hundred gentlemen, equerries, valets and men-at-arms, who formed his and Charles of Valois’s suite.

One head overtopped all others, that of the huge Robert of Artois, whose progress attracted every eye. It is true that this lord, mounted upon a huge dappled percheron – a gigantic horse for a gigantic horseman – wearing red boots and cloak and a surcoat of red velvet, was most impressive in appearance. Though many of the horsemen appeared tired, he remained as upright in the saddle as if he had only just mounted.

Indeed, since leaving Pontoise, Robert of Artois had had a feeling of acute triumph to sustain and refresh him. He alone knew the real object of the young Queen of England’s journey; he alone knew how events, put in train by himself to appease his longing for revenge, were about to shake the Court of France. Already he felt a secret, bitter joy.

During the whole journey he had unceasingly watched Gautier and Philippe d’Aunay, who formed part of the retinue, the first as equerry to the Count of Poitiers, the second as equerry to Charles of Valois. The two young men were delighted with the journey and the whole royal train. In their innocence and vanity, the better to shine, they had fastened the handsome purses given them by their mistresses upon their smartest clothes. Seeing the purses at their belts, Robert of Artois had felt a cruel and passionate joy in his heart. He had scarcely been able to prevent himself laughing aloud. ‘Well my young bucks, my young cocks, fools that you are,’ he said to himself, ‘you may well smile in thinking of your mistresses’ beautiful breasts.

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