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Agnes Sorel

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<h4>CHAPTER XL.</h4> How the news spread through the castle, I know not; but Charles VII. had hardly recovered from the first surprise of the intelligence when, without waiting for permission or ceremony, all whose station justified their admission to the presence of the prince crowded into the little hall of Espaly. A bright and beautiful sight it presented at that moment; for it was a court of youth and beauty, and not more than two or three persons present had seen thirty years of age. Hope and enthusiasm was in every countenance, and the heavy beams of the vault rang with the cries of "Long live the king." The bearer of the intelligence which had caused the acclamation seemed likely to be altogether forgotten by the monarch in the gratulations which poured upon him; but some bold, frank words of the young and heroic lord of La Hire gave to generous Agnes Sorel an opportunity of calling the attention of Charles to Jean Charost. "Ay, God save the king!" cried La Hire, warmly; "and send him some more crowns in his purse to secure the one upon his head." Agnes whispered something to the young queen, and Marie of Anjou turned gracefully toward De Brecy, saying, "This gentleman, my lord, has something to tell your majesty on that score." "He is the messenger of all good tidings, sir," urged Agnes Sorel; "but perhaps your majesty forgets him. He was the trusted friend of your uncle of Orleans; he was wounded and made prisoner at Azincourt, and his first steps upon French ground after his liberation brings you tidings of dignity, and the promise of success. Speak, Monsieur De Brecy. Tell his majesty the good news you have in store." Charles VII. fixed his eyes upon Jean Charost, and a shade came over his face--not of displeasure, indeed, but of deep melancholy. It is probable the memories awakened by the sight, as soon as he recognized him, were very sorrowful. The bloody bridge of Monterreau, the dying Duke of Burgundy, and all the fearful acts of a day never to be forgotten, came back to memory; but the impression was but momentary; and when he heard the tidings which the young gentleman bore of present relief, and of the prospect of large future supplies, and was made aware that he had also brought the news of his being King of France, he smiled graciously upon him, saying, "How can we reward you, Monsieur De Brecy? Few kings have less means than we have." At that moment, Tanneguy du Châtel--to whose disinterested character history, dwelling on his faults, has not done full justice--came forward, and laid his hand upon Jean Charost's shoulder, saying, "Give him St. Florent, sir; which we were talking of the other day. Its lord not having appeared for fully fifteen years, the fief has clearly fallen into the demesne of the crown." "But I promised, Du Châtel," said Charles, turning toward him. "Never mind that, sire," said Du Châtel, bluffly. "I do not want it. De Brecy here has served the crown well, and suffered for his services. So did his father before him, I have been told. He brings you good tidings--good tidings for France also, I do hope. Give him the fief, sir. If I had it, every one would be jealous. No one will be jealous of him." "Well, then, so be it," replied Charles. "The town and castle of St. Florent, near Bourges, Monsieur De Brecy, shall be yours; but, by my faith, you must keep them well; for the place is of importance, commanding the supplies at Bourges. The letters of concession shall be ready for you to-morrow, and you can do homage before you go, if you will but stay at our court for a few days." "I must stay here, sire or at Puy, for the arrival of Messire Jacques Cœur," replied Jean Charost. "He has many another scheme for your majesty's service. In St. Florent I will do my duty, and I humbly thank you much for the gift." "Stay here, stay here," said Charles; and then he added, with a faint and melancholy smile, "Our court is not so large as to fill even the Castle of Espaly to overflowing. Some one see that he is well cared for. And now, lords and ladies, other things are to be thought of. My first thought, so help me Heaven, has been of France, and of what benefit the event which has just happened may prove to her. But I can not forget that I have lost a father, a kind and noble prince, whom God has visited with long and sore afflictions, but who never lost the love of his people or his son. I do believe, from all that I have heard, that death was to him a blessing and relief; but still I must mourn that so sad and joyless a life has ended without one gleam of hope or happiness, even at the close. I had hoped that it might be otherwise, that my sword might have freed him from the durance in which he has been so long kept; that my care and love might have soothed his latest hours. It has been ordered otherwise, and God's will be done. But all to-morrow we will give up to solemn mourning, and the next day take counsel as to instant action." Thus saying, he took the hand of the queen in his own, and was retiring from the room, the group around him only moving to give him passage, except one gentleman, who sprang to open the door. Two persons were left in the midst of the little crowd, not exactly isolated, but in circumstances of some awkwardness. Agnes Sorel, notwithstanding all her influence at the court, notwithstanding all her power over the mind of the young king, felt that the bonds between herself and those who now surrounded her were very slight, and that there were jealousies and dislikes toward her in the bosoms of many present. But she was relieved from a slight embarrassment by the unvarying kindness of Marie of Anjou. Ere Charles and herself had taken six steps through the hall, the queen turned her head, saying, with a placid smile, "Come with us, Agnes. I shall want you." "Marvelous, truly!" said a lady standing near Jean Charost, speaking in a low tone, as if to herself. "Were I a queen, methinks I would have the vengeance Heaven sends me, even if I did not seek some for myself." At the same moment, Tanneguy du Châtel laid his hand upon Jean Charost's arm: "You must come with me, De Brecy," he said. "You shall be my guest in the château. I have room enough there where I lodge. Wait but a moment till I speak a word or two with these good lords. We must not let the tide of good fortune ebb again unimproved. The royal name alone is a great thing for us; but it may be made to have a triple effect--upon our enemies, upon our friends, and upon the king himself. By my life, this is no time to throw one card out of one's hand." He then spoke for several minutes in a low tone with Dunois, La Hire, Louvet, and others, and, returning to the side of Jean Charost, led him down to the outer court, on his way to that part of the building which he himself inhabited. There, patiently waiting by the side of the mule, they found the son of the landlord at Puy. The boy was dismissed speedily, well satisfied, with directions to send up the young gentleman's horse to the castle the next morning; and the rest of the evening was spent by Jean Charost and Tanneguy du Châtel almost alone. It was not an evening of calm, however; for the excitable spirit of the prévôt; was much moved with all that had passed, and with his prompt and eager impetuosity he commented, not alone upon the news that had been received, but upon all their probable consequences. Often he would start up and pace the room in a deep revery, and often he would question his young companion upon details into which the king himself had forgotten to inquire. "The happy moment must not be lost," he said. "The happy moment must not be lost. The young king's mind must be kept up to the tone which it has received by this intelligence. Would to Heaven I could insure half an hour's conversation with the fair Agnes, just to show her all the consequences of the first great step. But I do not like to ask it; and, after all, she needs no prompting. She is a glorious creature, De Brecy. Heart and soul, with her, are given to France." "Yet there be some," said Jean Charost; "some, even in this court, who seem not very well disposed toward her. Did you hear what was said by a lady near me just now?" "Oh, Joan of Vendôme," cried Tanneguy, with a laugh; "she is a prescribed railer at our fair friend. She came to Poictiers two years ago, fancying herself a perfect paragon of beauty, and making up her mind to become the dauphin's mistress; but he would have naught to say to her faded charms--not even out of courtesy to her husband; so the poor thing is full of spleen, and would kill the beautiful Agnes, if she dared. She is too cowardly for that, however: at least I trust so." Jean Charost meditated deeply over his companion's words, and whither his thoughts had led him might be perceived by what he next said. "Strange," he murmured, "very strange, the conduct of the queen!" "Ay, strange enough," answered Du Châtel. "We have here, within this little château of Espaly, De Brecy, two women such as the world has rarely ever seen, both young, both beautiful, both gentle. The one has all the courage, the intellect, the vigor of a man; and yet, as we see, a woman's weakness. The other is tender, timid, kind, and loving, and yet without one touch of that selfishness which prompts to what we call jealousy. By the Lord, De Brecy, it has often puzzled me, this conduct of Marie of Anjou. I do believe I could, as readily as any man, sacrifice myself to the happiness of one I love;[3] but I could not make a friend of my wife's lover. There are things too much for nature--for human nature, at least. But this girl--her majesty, I mean--seems to me quite an angel; and the other does, I will say, all that a fallen and repentant angel could to retain the friendship which she fears she may have forfeited. All that deference, and reverence, and humble, firm attachment can effect to wash away her offense, she uses toward the queen; and I do believe, from my very heart, that no counsel ever given by Agnes Sorel to Marie of Anjou has any other object upon earth but Marie's happiness. Still, it is all very strange, and the less we say about it the better." Jean Charost thought so likewise; but that conversation brought upon him fits of thought which lasted, with more or less interruption, during the whole evening. Society, in almost every country, has its infancy, its youth, its maturity, and its old age. At least, such has been the case hitherto. These several acts of life are of longer or shorter duration, according to circumstances, but the several epochs are usually sufficiently marked The age in which Jean Charost spoke was not one of that fine, moralizing tendency which belongs to the maturity of life; but it was one of passion and of action, of youth, activity, and indiscretion. Nevertheless, feeling often supplied a guide where reason failed, and from some cause Jean Charost felt pained that he could not find one character among those who surrounded him sufficiently pure and high to command and obtain his whole esteem. He asked himself that painful question which so often recurs to us ere we have obtained from experience, as well as reason, a knowledge of man's mixed nature, "Is there such a thing as virtue, and truth, and honor upon earth?" The next day was passed as a day of mourning; but on the following morning early, all the nobles in the castle of Espaly met together in the great hall, and some eager consultations went on among them. There were smiles, and gay looks, and many a lively jest, and lances were brought in, and bucklers examined, as if for a tournament. Jean Charost asked his companion, Du Châtel, the meaning of all that they beheld; and the other replied, with a grave smile, "Merely a boy's frolic; but one which may have important consequences." A moment after, the young king himself, habited in scarlet, entered the hall, followed by a number of the ladies and gentlemen of the court, and received gracefully and graciously the greetings of his subjects. But an instant after, La Hire and two or three others surrounded and pressed upon him so closely, that Jean Charost thought they were showing scanty reverence toward the king, when suddenly a voice exclaimed, "Pardon us, sire;" and in an instant spears were crossed, a shield cast down upon them, and the young monarch lifted to a throne which might have befitted one of the predecessors of Charlemagne. Dunois seized a banner embroidered with the arms of France, and moving on through the doors of the hall into the chapel, the banner was waved three times in the air, and the voices of all present made the roof ring with the shout of, "Long live King Charles the Seventh!" Almost at the same time, another personage was added to the group around the altar, and Jacques Cœur himself repeated heartily the cry, adding, "I have brought with me, sire--at least, so I trust--the means to make you King of France, indeed. It is here in this château, and all safe." "Thanks, thanks, my good friend," said the young king. "We must take counsel together how it may be used to the best advantage; and our deep gratitude shall follow the service, whatever be the result of the use we make of it. And now, lords and ladies, to Poictiers immediately--ay, to-morrow morning, to be solemnly crowned in the Cathedral there. That city, at least, we can call our own, and there we will deliberate how to recover others." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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