###

It was on a windy March day when the embassy landed at Barfleur. Still uneasy, Suffolk congratulated himself that at least he had the King’s assurance that no charge should be brought against him if he ran into danger, which meant that he should not be blamed if this proved to be an unpopular move.

They joined the Due d’Orléans at Blois and from there sailed down the Loire to Tours where the Court was and in due course Suffolk was presented to Charles at his Château of Montils-lès-Tours.

Suffolk was amazed by the change in the King of France. Here was a shrewd and resolute monarch, and it was an astonishing fact that the change had been brought about by women. First the Maid and then his wife and his mother-in-law Yolande of Aragon; and now, it was said, Agnès Sorel.

That the new Charles was going to drive a hard bargain was apparent. He would not give Henry one of his own daughters which he could easily have done; but Margaret, he implied, was good enough for Henry. She was a French Princess and the French were no longer in the position they had been in when Katherine the present King’s sister was given to Henry the Fifth.

Charles was not inclined to agree to a peace treaty. Why should he, with everything going in his favour? He would agree to a truce, of course; but he implied that the only thing which could bring about peace was for England to give up all claim to the French crown.

René of Anjou expressed himself dubious. Could he give his daughter to one who had usurped his hereditary dominions of Anjou and Maine?

This was an indication of what terms would be demanded.

Suffolk was relieved to escape from the conference and return to his wife. He was glad he had brought Alice with him for he could talk to her as he could to no one else.

‘I like not this matter,’ he said. I can see what will happen. The French will make great demands and the King will accept them because he wants peace and Margaret. And later when it is realized what we have had to pay for her, the people will blame me.’

‘You have the King’s assurance that no blame shall be attached to you.’

‘The assurances of Kings don’t account for much in matters like this.’

‘What can you do?’

‘I cannot agree to give up Anjou and Maine, of course. I don’t know whether a truce will be acceptable when peace terms were required. I have achieved very little advantage for ourselves.’

‘And what is Margaret’s dowry to be?’

‘There again, they seem to set a high store on this young girl who has only recently acquired the status of Princess and even then her father has nothing more than a hollow title.’

‘Alas,’ said Alice, ‘it shows how low England has fallen when you remember it is only a little more than two years ago when it was England who was calling the tune.’

‘Which brings us back to the Maid of Orléans who brought about the change. Charles is a different man from the Dauphin.’

‘They say it is Agnès Sorel who has changed him.’

‘It is amazing that women should have had such an effect on men.’

‘It often happens,’ retorted Alice, ‘although less rarely so spectacularly. Perhaps it is because Charles is a king that it is so noticeable. But what will you do, William?’

‘I can see only one course of action. I shall return home and put the proposals before the council.’

‘Very wise,’ she commented. ‘Let it be their decision not yours. It is well in such matters to be only the ambassador.’

So they travelled down to the coast and set sail for England.

###

Suffolk faced the Parliament. He had already laid the proposition before the King and the Cardinal. The French were asking a great deal but the King was becoming more and more enamoured of the idea of marriage with Margaret of Anjou and the Cardinal saw it as important to peace and although the demands for Maine and Anjou had startled them at first, they were wavering and were coming to the decision that anything was acceptable which would bring about the marriage.

To make matters worse, Margaret’s dowry was to be the islands of Majorca and Minorca which were of no value at all, for although René claimed to have inherited them from his mother, Yolande had had no jurisdiction over them. In fact all René had to offer was titles. There could rarely have been a man who had so many titles and so few possessions.

The Duke of Gloucester stood up and loudly opposed the marriage.

It was humiliating, he said, for the King of England to contemplate marrying a lady without possessions whose title to Princess was suspect, who demanded everything and gave nothing. He and his party—which was quite significant— opposed the match. He would do everything in his power to prevent it. It was giving way to the French; it was playing into Charles’s hands. They could be sure their enemies were laughing at them. Forget this marriage with Anjou. Let the King take one of the daughters of the Count of Armagnac and then let them prosecute the war and win back all they had lost because of the weak policy they had followed since the death of his brother the Duke of Bedford.

The Cardinal rose to oppose Gloucester. The enmity between them which had lasted for years was as strong as ever.

The Cardinal pleaded for peace. The country needed peace. Those who thought otherwise had no knowledge of what was happening in France.

Gloucester was on his feet. He was a soldier, he reminded them, a man who had conducted campaign after campaign.

‘With considerable failure,’ commented the Cardinal.

Gloucester, red in the face, almost foaming at the mouth, spat out at his uncle, ‘And you, my lord, you man of the Church, what do you know of military campaigns?’

I know, my lord, whether they succeed or not and we cannot afford more failures. The people will not agree to go on being taxed for a war that brings us no gain.’

‘My brother the King...’

‘Your brother the King was one of the most successful generals the world has known. Alas, he is dead, and his victories have gone with him. Times have changed. The French are in the ascendant. To carry on a war in France with all the attendant difficulties of transport and supplies is impossible. We need peace. And if the French will only give us a truce let us take it.’

The Parliament had grown accustomed to listening to the Cardinal. The late King and Bedford had relied on his judgment. He was known to be a man who served the Crown well, whereas Gloucester, popular as he might be in some quarters, was renowned for his rashness.

And the King clearly wanted the marriage.

The Parliament was therefore persuaded that the marriage with Anjou would be good for the country and it was agreed that the terms for a truce would be accepted and the question of Maine and Anjou should be left open to be discussed at some later date. So Suffolk was sent back to France to arrange the marriage by proxy.

For his services in this matter he was awarded the title of Marquess.

###

Theophanie was in a state bordering between bliss and sorrow. She was going to lose her charge and yet the young girl, who had so little in possessions to offer a bridegroom, was going to make a brilliant marriage, for although she was going to marry the enemy she would be a Queen and a real Queen at that. Not like her father and mother who called themselves King and Queen and had no country to rule.

Oh, she was proud of her Margaret. So would her grandmother the lady Yolande have been if she could see her today.

Margaret herself did not seem greatly impressed.

‘You don’t seem to want to be Queen of England,’ Theophanie complained.

‘England has been our enemy, Theophanie. Have you forgotten how we used to watch out for the soldiers and how alarmed everyone was when they were near?’

‘Young ladies like you were born to end these wars. I always reckoned you did more with your pretty looks than the men did with their cannons and cross bows.’