The Royal Succession Read Free Page A

Queen's condition was, at this moment, the best pledge of respect and the most effective instrument of government.
    Clemence turned her head, as if to ask for help, towards a third person who was standing silently a few paces from her, his hands crossed on the hilt of a long sword, as he listened to the conversation.
    `Bouville, what should I do?' she murmured.
    Hugues de Bouville, ex-Grand Chamberlain to Philip the Fair, had been appointed Curator of the Stomach by the first Council which had followed on the death of the Hutin. This good man, now growing stout and grey, but still extremely alert, who had been an exemplary royal servant for thirty years, took his new duties mos t seriously, if not tragically. He had formed a corps of carefully picked gentlemen, who mounted guard in detachments of twenty-four over the Queen's door. He himself had donned his armour and, in the heat of June, large drops of sweat were running down under his coat of mail. The walls, the courtyards, indeed the whole perimeter of Vincennes, were stuffed with archers. Every kitch en-hand was constantly escorted by a sergeant-at-arms. Even the ladies-in-waiting were searched before entering the royal apartments. Never had a human life been guarded so closely as that which slumbered in the womb of the Queen of France.
    In theory Bouville shared his duties with the old Sire de Joinville, who had been appointed Second Curator; the latter had been selected because he happened to be in Paris where he had come to draw, as he did twice a year, with the fussy punctuality of an old man, the income from the endowments conferred on him in three successive reigns, and in particular when Saint Louis was canonized. But the Hereditary Seneschal of Champagne was now ninety-two years old; he was practically the doyen of the high French nobility. He was half blind and this last journey from his Chateau de Wassy in the Haute Marne had tired him out. He spent most of his time dozing in the company of his two white-bearded equerries, so that all the duties had to be performed by Bouville alone.
    For Queen Clemence, Bouville was linked with all her happiest memories. He had been the ambassador who had come to ask her hand in marriage and had escorted her from Naples; he was her utterly devoted confidant and probably the only true friend she had at the French Court. Bouville had perfectly understood that Clemence did not wish to leave Vincennes.
    `Monseigneur,' he said to Valois, `I can better assure the safety of the Queen in this manor with its close, surrounding walls than in the great Palace of the Cite, open to all corners. And if you are worried about the Countess Mahaut being near, I can inform you, for I am kept in touch with everything that goes on in the neighbourhood, that Madame Mahaut's wagons are at this moment being loaded for Paris.'
    Valois was considerably annoyed by the air of importance Bouville had assumed since he had become Curator, and by his insistence on remaining there, stuck to his sword, by the Queen's side.
    `Monsieur Hugues,' he said haughtily, `your duty is to watch over the stomach, not to decide where the royal family shall reside, nor to defend the whole kingdom on your own.'
    Not in the least perturbed, Bouville replied: `I must also remind you, Monseigneur, that the Queen cannot appear in public until forty days have elapsed since her bereavement.'
    `I know the custom as well as you do, my good man! Who said that the Queen would show herself in public? She shall travel in a closed coach. Really, Niece,' Valois cried, turning to Clemence, `anyone would think that I was trying to send you to the country of the Great Khan, and that Vincennes was two thousand leagues from Paris!'
    `You must understand, U ncle,' Clemence replied weakly, `that living at Vincennes is my last gift from Louis. He gave me this house, in there, and you were present' - she fluttered her hand towards the room in which Louis X had died -' that I might live in it. It