The Constable De Bourbon

IV. THE COMTE DE MAULEVRIER

By the time the Constable had returned to the Château de Moulins, François had completed his preparations for the war in Italy. Bonnivet, at the head of a large force, had already crossed the Alps, and Lautrec and Lescun had been sent to defend the frontiers from the Spaniards.

Having paid a visit to the cathedral of Saint Denis, for the purpose of solemnly invoking the aid of the patron saint of France, and offered up his devotions in the Sainte Chapelle; having also publicly appointed his mother Regent of the kingdom during his absence, he set out with a large attendance, comprising the flower of the French chivalry.

His march rather resembled a journey of pleasure than a warlike expedition, inasmuch as he was accompanied by the Comtesse de Chateaubriand and several other beautiful dames. The royal cortège was preceded by the Grand-Master of France at the head of two thousand lansquenets, and followed by the Duke de Longueville, with a large troop of horse.

Proceeding by easy stages, François had reached Saint-Pierre-le-Moutier, which was within half a day’s journey of the Château de Moulins, and was passing the evening festively, as was his wont, when he was disturbed by the sudden arrival of Louis de Brézé, Comte de Maulévrier, grand senesçhal and lieutenant-general of Normandy, whom we have already mentioned as the husband of the beautiful Diane de Poitiers, daughter of the Comte de Saint-Vallier.

François at once granted him the private interview he desired, and, as soon as they were alone, Maulévrier said, “Sire, prepare yourself for bad tidings. What I have to tell you I fear will arrest your expedition to Italy. I come to warn your majesty of a most formidable conspiracy, the object of which is to deprive you of your kingdom, and perhaps of your life. Fortunately, the discovery has been made before the mine could be sprung. Fortunately, also, for the purposes of justice, the chief contriver of the plot is in your majesty’s power.”

“There is only one person in the kingdom who could contrive such a plot,” replied the king. “But I do not think the Constable de Bourbon capable of a crime so heinous.”

“The Constable de Bourbon is guilty of the blackest treason, sire,” replied Maulévrier. “He has allied himself to the Emperor and to the King of England, and while an invasion is made upon your kingdom by those two sovereigns, he designs to break out into revolt. This is no idle accusation, sire. I will give proofs of the truth of what I assert. Two young Norman seigneurs of high honour and distinction, Matignon and D’Argouges, with whose names your majesty must be familiar, met Bourbon’s confidential agent, Lurcy, by appointment at Vendôme. At this meeting Lurcy disclosed to them the whole conspiracy, and offered them the government of Normandy and other high posts, on the condition that they should assist the disembarkation of the English on our coasts. The treasonable offer filled the two loyal gentlemen with horror, and they indignantly rejected it, but, as they had been sworn to secresy, they could not reveal it. However, they confessed the conspiracy to the Bishop of Lisieux, who, appalled at its enormity, at once made it known to me, and I have not lost a moment in warning your majesty of the danger with which you and your loyal subjects are threatened. Heaven be praised, you have hitherto escaped!”

Astounded by this terrible communication, to which he would willingly have refused credit, the king remained for some time buried in reflection. At length he said:

“Comte de Maulévrier, I charge you not to let fall a word in regard to this conspiracy. I will give Bourbon a last chance. I will see him to-morrow at the Chateau de Moulins.”

Maulévrier would have remonstrated, but perceiving that the king was resolved, he said no more.

François, however, did not neglect needful precautions. Without assigning any reason for the step, he immediately despatched an order to the grand-master, who was a day in advance of the royal cavalcade, enjoining him to return at once, and he directed the Duke de Longueville to scour the country round with his cavalry.

Next day the king rode on to Moulins, where he found the grand-master awaiting him with the two thousand lansquenets. With this force, and with the troop of the Duke de Longueville, François felt no apprehension of outbreak.

After ordering the town to be invested at all points, he entered the château with a numerous guard, and demanded the keys, which were at once delivered to him by Philippe des Escures, Bourbon’s chamberlain. François then dismounted, and said, in an angry tone, “Why is not the Lord Constable here to welcome me? Bid him come to me at once.”

“Sire,” replied the chamberlain, “the Constable is full of grief that he cannot receive your majesty in person. He is confined to his chamber by severe illness, and cannot stir forth without imperilling his life.”

“Ha!” exclaimed the king, with an incredulous look. “I may be able to find a more efficacious remedy for his illness than his physicians have employed. Take me to his chamber.”

“Let me go with you, I pray you, sire?” said Maulévrier, who was standing near the king.

François, however, declined, and entered the château. Conducted by the chamberlain, whose looks proclaimed his alarm, he then proceeded to the duke’s chamber.

V. WHAT PASSED IN THE SICK MAN’S CHAMBER

The king was ushered into the sick man’s chamber. It was large and gloomy, wainscoted with oak as black as ebony, and the panels were adorned with portraits of the Constable’s illustrious ancestors, commencing with Robert, Comte de Clermont, sixth son of Saint Louis, and Beatrix de Bourgogne, daughter of John de Bourgogne, and heiress of Bourbon-l’Archambaud, from whom the house of Bourbon derived its name, and concluding with the father of the Constable, Gilbert de Montpensier, slain at Pozzuoli in the war against Naples by Charles VIII., and Clara de Gonzaga, the Constable’s mother, a princess remarkable for her beauty.

On a couch, at the farther end of this sombre apartment, lay the sick man, wrapped in a loose gown of quilted silk, trimmed with sable. He had a black taffeta cap on his head, and a furred velvet mantle was thrown over his knees. Beside him, on a table placed within reach, stood a crystal flagon containing a dark-coloured liquid, and several small phials. The only person with him at the moment was his principal physician, Jean de l’Hôpital.

On the entrance of the king, who was ceremoniously announced by the chamberlain, Bourbon, aided by his physician, arose, and bowing, thanked his majesty for his gracious visit.

“I am sorry to find you so unwell, cousin,” replied the king, regarding him as closely as the gloom of the chamber would permit, and coming to the conclusion that his illness was simulated.

Bourbon bore the scrutiny without embarrassment.

“The saints be praised that your majesty has come at a time when the fit has just left me,” he said, “and when I am secure from the attack lor a few hours. But I am greatly prostrated,” he added, feebly – “greatly prostrated.”

The king bade him be seated, adding, that he desired to confer with him in private, whereupon Bourbon signed to his attendants to withdraw.

Before quitting the chamber, Jean de l’Hôpital observed, in an undertone to the king, “His highness has been dangerously ill, sire, and is not yet out of danger.”

Then making an obeisance, he retired.

The chamberlain having placed a chair for the king near Bourbon’s couch, likewise bowed and withdrew.

After glancing round to make sure they were quite alone, François said,

“I will deal plainly with you, cousin. Some disclosures have been made to me respecting your practices which I would willingly not believe, and before taking any steps to ascertain the truth of the reports, I have resolved to give you an opportunity of explanation.”

“My enemies have been at work, I perceive, sire,” said Bourbon, without manifesting the slightest uneasiness. “What has been told your majesty?”

“I have been informed,” replied François, “that, forgetful of your allegiance to me, you have entered into a treasonable league with my enemies the Emperor and Henry VIII. This is what I have been told, cousin, but, as I have said, I am unwilling to believe it.”

“Sire,” replied Bourbon, “you have not been misinformed. Overtures have been made me by the Emperor and the King of England, who thought, not unnaturally, that the treatment I have experienced from your majesty must have deeply dissatisfied me.”

“They thought you were prepared to become a traitor,” cried François. “Foi de gentilhomme! I scarcely expected you to make so frank an avowal. They knew you to be ready to revolt – ha!”

“They knew I had endured wrongs enough to make me a rebel,” rejoined Bourbon. “But they were mistaken, sire – they were mistaken.”

“Then you rejected the offers?” said the king.

“I still indulged hopes that your majesty would render me justice.”

“Justice you shall have, cousin – strict justice,” rejoined the king. “Now listen to me. I suspect – nay, I am certain – that you are engaged in a conspiracy against me, and against the state. The two young Norman seigneurs, Matignon and D’Argouges, have disclosed the treasonable proposition made to them on your part by Lurcy. You look confounded, as well you may. You see I have ample proof of your guilt, but I can obtain plenty more by arresting all your principal adherents who are now assembled in this château. Not one of them can escape me.”

“Be not too sure of that, sire,” said Bourbon.

“You fancy you can protect them,” rejoined the king. “Learn that I am master of your castle. Its courts are filled with my archers – its walls are surrounded by my troops – its keys are in my possession. I have only to give the word to cause your arrest.”

“Your majesty will never give that word,” rejoined Bourbon, calmly.

“Wherefore not?” cried François, striding towards the door, as if with the design of putting his threat into execution. “What ho, there! – who waits?”

But the door was shut, and no one answered the summons, though the king repeated it still more lustily.

“What means this?” he cried, glancing furiously at Bourbon, who had risen from his couch, and thrown off his loose robe, showing that he was armed..

“It means, sire,” replied the Constable, “that the door will not be opened save at my order. Your majesty may be assured,” he added, with stern significance, “that those who enter this chamber will not arrest me.”

“Ha, traitor! do you mean me mischief?” exclaimed the king.

“Your majesty has come hither alone. I did not invite you. But you are perfectly safe, provided you pledge your royal word that no arrests shall be made.”

François hesitated for a moment, and then returned his half-drawn sword to the scabbard.

“Let us understand each other, Bourbon,” he said. “I had no design to proceed to extremities with you. Had it been so, I should have ordered your immediate arrest on my arrival at the château. My wish, as you must have perceived, was to confer amicably with you. I do not desire your destruction – on the contrary, I am well disposed towards you – ay, well disposed. Abandon your fatal design – prove to me that you are faithful and loyal as heretofore, and you shall find me forgiving and generous. Be true to your sovereign, and we will be true to you. Whatever may be the decree of the Parliament, you shall keep your possessions. The utmost wish of your soaring ambition shall be gratified. You shall accompany me to Italy, and shall share with me the command of the army. Will this content you?”

“Sire, it is far more than I could expect,” replied Bourbon. “I thought I had entirely forfeited your favour.”,

“Ingrate! – how could you think so, when I but lately appointed you lieutenant-general of the kingdom? That appointment ought to have convinced you that, in spite of our misunderstanding, I still had the greatest regard for you. I know your merits as a leader, and am certain you will add to your renown in this campaign. You shall help me to re-conquer the Milanese, as you helped me at Marignan to win it.”

“I hope to convince your majesty that I am worthy of the distinguished honour you propose to confer upon me,” said Bourbon.

“The appointment shall be announced at once, and will set at rest all rumours to your disadvantage,” said François. “To-morrow you shall set out with me for Lyons.”

“Alas! sire, I am utterly unable to travel in my present state. I could not even enter a litter. My physicians will tell you so.”

“‘Tis a strange disorder that afflicts you, cousin,” observed François, with an incredulous look. “You appear strong enough for service in the field.”

“You must not judge me by my looks, sire. When the fit seizes me, I am utterly prostrated. But I shall be better in a few days.”

“You think so?” cried the king. “Well, then, I will wait for you at Lyons.”

“I would not have your majesty delay the expedition on my account. As soon as I am able to move, I will follow you to Italy.”

“No, no, I will not start without you,” rejoined the king, suspiciously. “You shall join me at Lyons as speedily as you can.”

At this moment a side-door was opened, and a young dame, richly attired, and of surpassing beauty, entered the chamber.

VI. DIANE DE POITIERS

On seeing the king, she would have instantly retreated, but he commanded her to stay.

“Do not let my presence alarm you, fair lady,” he said. “And do not suppose you interrupt me, for I have finished my conference with the Lord Constable.”

The young dame, who seemed much embarrassed, made a profound obeisance, but did not advance. As we have said, she was exquisitely beautiful. Her features might have been modelled by Praxiteles, and her figure was tall and admirably proportioned. She was attired in green velvet, embroidered with flowers of damask, gold, and pearls, with the sleeves puffed and quilted, and her head-dress, which was very becomingly fashioned, was ornamented with pearls and other precious stones.

“I am trying to recal your features, fair lady,” said the king, approaching her, and regarding her with undisguised admiration, “but I do not think I can have seen you before. Such a lovely face as yours – such lustrous eyes – and such a form – must have made a lasting impression upon me. Yet you must have been at court.”

“No, sire, my father, the Comte de Saint-Vallier, never took me to court,” she replied.

“How?” exclaimed François, surprised. “Are you the charming Diane de Poitiers, who, by bestowing your hand upon the Comte de Maulévrier, have made him the most enviable of mortals?”

“It is my misfortune, sire, to be the wife of the Comte de Maulévrier,” she replied.

“Your misfortune! ha!” exclaimed the king. “Are you aware that your husband is here?”

“Here, sire?” exclaimed Diane, uneasily.

“Nay, be not alarmed,” replied François, smiling. “He has not come for the purpose of taking you back to the Château de Brézé. He brought me some important intelligence from Normandy.”

“‘Tis Maulévrier, then, who has revealed the plot,” mentally ejaculated Bourbon.

“I should not return with him, if he desired it,” said Diane, “Your majesty must understand that the comte and I have quarrelled.”

“Quarrelled! ah!” exclaimed François. “And so you took refuge from the husband you hate with the Duke de Bourbon – eh?”

“I do not hate my husband, sire, though he has compelled me to leave him. I came to the Château de Moulins with my father.”

“And you expected to find your father with the Constable when you entered so suddenly just now, eh?” remarked the king, dryly.

“I did, sire. I came to inform them of your arrival at the château – little expecting to find your majesty here. I trust I may infer from your gracious and kindly aspect that the Constable is restored to favour?”

“He is fully restored,” replied the king. “You will be pleased, I am sure, to learn that I have just promised him the command of half my Italian army.”

“You have done well, sire,” she rejoined. “With Bourbon in joint command with your majesty, victory will be assured. You will accompany the king?” she added to the Constable, with evident anxiety.

“I hope to do so,” he replied. “At all events, I will follow as soon as my strength will permit me.”

“Nay, I must have you with me,” said the king.

“Right, sire – do not leave him behind,” she whispered.

“I know the way to enforce obedience on the Constable’s part,” said the king. “I shall take you with me to Lyons, fair Diane. He will follow quickly then.”

“Sire!” exclaimed Bourbon, with ill-concealed vexation, “the countess is here with her father!”

“What of that? I shall not ask his consent,” replied the king. “The only person who has any right to object is Maulévrier, and he is not likely to interfere. The Comtesse de Châteaubriand and a large party of court dames are in my train,” he added to Diane. “You shall accompany them.” He then continued in a low voice: “I cannot doubt the great influence you possess over Bourbon. What you say to him he will obey. Charge him, therefore, to join me a week hence at Lyons.”

And he moved towards the other side of the chamber, as if to examine the portrait of the beautiful Clara de Gonzaga.

Diane instantly took advantage of the opportunity, and, approaching Bourbon, said, in a low voice, “You have accepted the king’s offer? You will break with the Emperor and Henry VIII., will you not?”

“It is too late,” replied the Constable, in the same tone. “I have signed the compact.”

“But consider that the king has promised to share the command of the army with you?” she urged.

“Promises made by princes under such circumstances are rarely kept,” replied Bourbon. “I can never be really restored to the king’s favour.”

“You wrong him,” she said. “He is the soul of loyalty and honour.”

“He loyal!” echoed Bourbon. “He is perfidious as his mother. I will not trust him.”

“That is your determination?”

“My fixed determination,” he rejoined.

“Then we shall never meet again – never, Charles,” she said.

Bourbon made no reply, and his head sank upon his breast. At this moment the king turned round.

“Have you prevailed upon him, fair Diane?” he asked. “Yes, yes, he will come, sire,” she answered, hastily. “You will?” she added to Bourbon, with an entreating look that ought to have been irresistible.

“You have said it,” he rejoined.

“That is well,” observed the king. “I knew you could not resist her persuasion.”

Just then the door opened, and Jean de l’Hôpital entered the room.

“I crave your majesty’s pardon for this interruption,” he said, “but I am compelled to attend to my illustrious patient. It is necessary that his highness should take the draught prepared for him.”

“I applaud your zeal, sir,” replied François, “and I enjoin you to use all your art to restore the prince your master to health as quickly as may be. Think you he will be able to set out for Lyons in three days’ time?”

“I will not answer for it, sire,” replied Jean de l’Hôpital, consulting Bourbon by a look.

“In a week, then?” demanded the king.

“Perchance in a week, sire,” replied the physician. “But he must travel slowly, for even then he will be very feeble.”

“Come hither, sir,” said the king, taking Jean de l’Hôpital aside. “Answer me truly, as you value your life. What ails the Constable?”

“His highness is labouring under a severe quotidian ague, caught at Montbrison,” replied the physician. “The fever has proved of singular obstinacy, and will not yield to ordinary remedies. We are under great apprehensions,” he added, lowering his voice, “that it may be followed by some mortal ailment, as consumption, or the black jaundice. His state is exceedingly critical, and demands the utmost care. Were he to take cold, I would not answer for his life.”

“Hark ye, sir,” said the king. “I know you can speedily cure him, if you will. Within a week I expect to see him at Lyons.”

“I cannot perform impossibilities, sire,” replied the physician; “but if it be in the power of medical skill to further your majesty’s desires, you shall behold him at the time appointed.”

Apparently satisfied, François then turned towards the Constable, and said:

“Adieu, cousin. I commend you to the care of your physician. But as I shall naturally be anxious to hear how you progress, I will leave behind me the Seigneur Perot de Warthy, who will send me daily tidings of you.”

“That is needless, sire,” said Bourbon, impatiently.

“Since you are pleased to express so much anxiety about me, I will despatch frequent messengers to you with the reports of my physicians.”

“I prefer leaving Warthy,” rejoined the king. “I can depend on him. Once more adieu, cousin. We shall meet again at Lyons.”

And, offering his hand to Diane, he led her out of the room.

VII. PEROT DE WARTHY

Scarcely were they gone, when Bourbon sprang to his feet, and gave vent to an outburst of rage.

“By Heaven! I have had enough to do to play my part!” he exclaimed.

“I pray your highness to calm yourself!” cried Jean de l’Hopital. “His majesty may return.”

“I wish he would return!” exclaimed Bourbon. “I was a fool to allow him to depart. But I must take instant counsel with my friends.”

So saying, he thrice struck a small bell placed upon the table.

At the summons, a secret door opened, and a dozen young seigneurs, all of whom were armed, issued from a closet where they had been concealed. These persons were Bourbon’s most devoted partisans, and comprised the Seigneurs Pomperant, François du Peloux, Tansannes, Espinat, Sainte-Bonnet, Desguières, Brion, and five others. “We have been impatiently awaiting the signal to come forth,” said Pomperant. “But it seems our services were not required. I am sorry your highness allowed the king to depart.”

“You shall hear what has occurred, and judge whether I have acted wisely,” rejoined Bourbon.

And he then proceeded to relate what had passed between him and the monarch.

“I would not trust him!” exclaimed Tansannes. “His promises are worthless. How say you, messeigneurs?” he added to the others. “Are you not of my opinion?” There was a unanimous reply in the affirmative.

“It is not too late,” said Pomperant. “We may yet secure his person. Entrust the matter to me. We have force enough to overpower the royal guard.”

“The opportunity is tempting, I own,” said Bourbon. “But the plan is too hazardous. It occurred to me while the king stood before me – but I rejected it.”

“You did well, prince,” remarked Saint-Vallier, who had entered the chamber by the same door that had admitted his daughter. “If you had seized the king, your own doom would have been certain.”

“Who would have pronounced the sentence?” remarked Pomperant, sternly. “I repeat, it is not too late to secure the king. Your highness has but to say the word, and it shall be done.”