“I thought,” Philip muttered, turning away, “that it was the hands of the uncultured masses who fed us. But—” he turned back to Thomas, “—to return to more important matters. It is good that you are here, for you can do me a great service.”
Thomas raised his eyebrows.
“I go to ally myself with the sweet boy, Charles, but…”
“But you think there may be more worthwhile allies in the offing.”
“Aye. I was mightily impressed that the Black Prince managed to defeat John’s fifty thousand. Now he holds King John, and France, hostage. The Dauphin cannot, or will not, ever pay the ransom or accept the conditions that the Prince asks.”
“What are they exactly?”
Philip grinned. “Your Prince of Wales has balls, Tom. He shall make a great king one day. Of England, of course. Well, as to his terms. First Charles must pay a ransom of 700,000 English pounds—”
“Sweet Jesu! No king on earth commands a treasury that large!”
“—but, before the Black Prince hands the doddering idiot back to his grandson, Charles and John must both be signatories to a peace treaty that recognizes the Black Prince as John’s heir, not Charles! Thus, 700,000 pounds the richer, the Black Prince will succeed to the French throne once John dies. Which shall not be too long, considering how John looked and acted the last time I saw him.” “And Charles?”
“Charles gets his life, some pretty title and is exiled to the far south where he lives out his life in useless luxury.”
Thomas thought about it. Charles might actually agree to the terms without too much persuasion. He didn’t look much like a man with the backbone to fight the Black Prince for the throne.
But then, with Catherine there … and he was apparently prepared to fight for Paris.
Philip watched Thomas carefully, knowing the pattern of his thoughts. “Yes,” he said quietly, “Charles has shown some enterprise in managing to return to the walls of Paris with a few men at his back—”
“And that is his sister’s doing, to my mind, rather than Charles’.”
“Aha!” Philip’s eyebrows raised, considering this new piece of information.
Catherine rides with Charles? Yes, he could work with her nicely.
“Whatever,” Philip continued, “the situation has grown interesting since Poitiers, and I do not want to close the door on any possibility. I should like you to convey to the Black Prince—”
“Why would the Black Prince even want to think about negotiating with you? He and his army have just murdered the flower of French knighthood in the fields of Poitiers. Perhaps he is marching north even as we speak, and might not be many days away. Prince Edward is far more likely to want to ride straight over you than to
negotiate with you.”
“Ah, a great victory Prince Edward may indeed have won, but those of his men still on their feet must be exhausted… and winter is even closer to Paris than he is. I doubt the Black Prince has shifted out of Chauvigny, and most likely will not ride for Paris until next spring when he has rebuilt his force and the weather will be kinder.
And in that time, who knows what kind of force Catherine… ah, I mean Charles…
will command? Edward would do well to consider my offer,” “And that is?”
“Why, that I ally with him, of course, to ensure that Charles accepts his terms and hands over the cash and the throne! I can bring fresh troops to his cause, as also a large part of France. The Black Prince controls the south, I control the west, and between us we can squeeze Charles into a whimpering agreement to the Black Prince’s terms.”
Thomas bowed very slightly. “You are a true friend to the English indeed, Philip.
But— and you know how I do hate to bring this up—there must be a price you demand.”
“I am sure that the Black Prince and I can come to some mutual agreement over some of the rich southern provinces. I have always had a penchant for the vineyards of Gascony, for example.” Thomas regarded Philip carefully. He believed none of this. Not only was Philip’s offer to the Black Prince too good to be trusted, but Philip was undoubtedly aware that the Black Prince would never give up any of the rich southern provinces which the English had held since Eleanor of Aquitaine had brought them as dowry into her marriage with Henry II.
“And yet,” Thomas said, “if I do as you ask and deliver this offer to the Black Prince, I must also advise him that when I left you, you were fitting yourself out in suitable gaudery to meet with Charles himself. How should the Black Prince regard that?”
“I only parley with Charles in regard to putting Marcel out of his misery, Tom, Once Paris is back under control, then I may not be so willing to sup with the Dauphin.” Philip’s face was innocent-eyed and apparently candid, but Thomas was not fooled.
“You aspire to the French throne yourself, my friend. Why conspire with the Black Prince in order to hand it to the English?”
Philip shrugged. “You read too much into my offer. I merely ask you to carry a message, Tom. You did it for Marcel, why not for me? Besides, I am sure you cannot wait to return to your homeland—with all this battle and shining armor about you must be uncomfortable indeed. I cannot believe but that you must, somewhere, somehow, yearn for what once was.” “I am a priest now,” Thomas said. “I yearn only to do God’s work here on earth.” Philip shot him a glance heavy with cynicism, then his expression cleared, and his face assumed a genuinely puzzled expression.
“You and I are soul mates, Thomas. And blood brothers—surely you have not forgot that pact we made as boys in the meadows of my father’s estates? I… I cannot understand why you have thrown away your entire heritage for…” Philip walked over to Thomas and plucked at his robe, “for this!” “I came to regret my sins—” “Bah! You became frightened!”
Thomas’ face closed over, and he pulled away from the king. “May I rely on you
providing an escort to the English lines?”
“Believe it or not, Tom,” Philip said softly, “if you asked me, you could rely on me for your life.”
LATER THAT day Philip stood before Charles, his face wreathed in disbelief. He’d known Charles ever since he’d been an infant, and had long ago decided the man had a craven soul and would be of no use to anyone.
But here the Dauphin stood, his entire bearing radiating assurance and authority, and speaking of a girl who had come to him with the word of God.
Philip would have laughed, save he could see by the face of Catherine—whom he had also known all her life and, subsequently, knew her intelligence and courage—that this story had more than the ring of truth about it.
God had picked Charles in this battle?
Philip hastily revised his plans, and smiled and bowed to Charles. “Perhaps we can come to some arrangement,” he said, and Charles returned his cousin’s smile and nodded.
CHAPTER TEN
Twentieth Sunday after Trinity
In the fifty-first year of the reign of Edward III
(31st October 1378)
— I —
THE ROAD SOUTH from Philip’s encampment in the fields outside Paris toward Chau-vigny two hundred miles distant was fraught with danger. Tens of thousands of peasants were on the road fleeing north toward some hoped for sanctuary in order to escape a feared English drive toward Paris. They were frightened, noisy, and dangerous: many had eaten little for days, even weeks, and they took every opportunity they could to steal and grab anything that looked vaguely edible, or anything that might be bartered for food. Philip had given Thomas an escort of thirty soldiers, but that was only barely enough to keep the hungry and angry bands of peasants at bay.
Thomas wondered what Philip and Charles would do with them once they arrived at Paris.
Worse than the peasants were the soldiers. When the Black Prince’s army had defeated the French at Poitiers, those foot soldiers—pikemen, archers, and ordinary soldiers—who had survived the vengeful blades of the English fled into the surrounding countryside. Now many of them were moving north, not only to escape
the English, but also, Thomas supposed, to seek pay from the Dauphin Charles.
King John had, it seemed, forgotten in the heat and frustration of his capture to pay out wages due to his soldiers and the mercenaries he’d hired from abroad.
Now these men—German and Swiss mercenaries among the Frenchmen—were creating as much havoc and misery as the approaching English army. They stole, burned, raped and killed, moving through the countryside like a swarming cloud of vermin. Several of their bands attacked Thomas and his escort, but Philip’s soldiers were good, and battle hardened, and managed to beat them back.