Viper's Blood by David Gilman

Author:David Gilman [Gilman, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781784974459
Publisher: Head of Zeus

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Simon Bucy stood with the Dauphin, who tugged his robes tighter around his neck against the chilled air.

‘Sire, these men fight for the glory of France in your name. If you and members of the court were to accompany me to the walls they would be cheered by your presence. And it would be a grand gesture of defiance.’

The Dauphin shuddered. ‘They fight for their own glory, Simon. We gave our permission; let that be enough. The people do not need to see us; they know we are here. If Paris falls we all fall. Let them take heart from the knights who ride out.’

Bucy knew it was hopeless trying to budge the Prince Regent from the comfort of the room that looked out beyond the Grand-Pont into the city. The coolness of the day and the clear sky would make the blazons and colours of those who fought beyond the walls more vivid. The pageantry would stir men’s hearts, but the Dauphin’s refusal was to be expected. The Pope’s prelates were still trying to negotiate a peace settlement and if the city could hold out long enough then the English would be forced to make concessions and scale back their claim to vast territories. The Pope’s prelates were scuttling back and forth between Paris and King Edward. France, the Dauphin knew, could not endure the great tribulation and poverty that would follow should Edward’s demands be met. Clerks had committed his thoughts to parchment and sent them to the prelates. A final appeal for a treaty had been sent. It acknowledged the older treaty, made before Edward had increased his demands. The King of France, desperate to return from captivity, had signed France away, but his son had resisted. And the English army baying at the gates was the result.

‘Then I shall bear witness to their bravery,’ said Bucy.

The Dauphin was deep in thought, gazing across the city, and made no reply.

‘Highness?’ said Bucy. ‘With your permission?’

‘What? Yes. Yes, do as you please.’

Bucy bowed and left the chamber, walking quickly to where the captain of the guard, de Chauliac, and his escort waited. ‘Where are they?’ he demanded.

‘The English have surrounded the city and have thirty knights waiting beyond the gates at Porte Saint-Victor,’ said the captain.

A thousand yards from the palace, less in some places to the walls, where the English host were gathered. Bucy felt a tinge of anxiety mingled with anticipation. If the French knights did not succumb it would be a futile victory but might prove an important morale boost to the people of the city. Bucy and his escort’s horses clattered across the Petit-Pont that connected the Île de la Cité with the south bank. By the time they dismounted and went up onto the walls the bugles and trumpets from the English were reverberating again. It was an act of intimidation. Bucy looked to where the French armoured knights waited impatiently behind the gates. Their visors were still raised, but their swords were held ready and shields tucked close.

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