A Flight of Arrows A.J. MacKenzie (black authors fiction TXT) 📖

‘I am Tiphaine, the Demoiselle de Tesson, your Grace. The daughter of the Sire de la Roche Tesson. I would speak with you alone, if I may.’

Jeanne turned to her tirewoman. ‘Go. Tell the monk to give you the keys and send him away. Stand watch over the door.’

The door closed behind the servant. ‘You escaped from prison in Carentan and joined the English,’ Jeanne said. ‘Did you know there is a price on your head?’

‘It does not matter. Your Grace, I am here to warn you.’

‘Against what?’

‘King Edward has sent messengers to find you. He wants you to join him and lead a new Norman revolt against King Philippe. Your Grace, you must not do so. Not yet.’

Jeanne took her time about answering. ‘I am a loyal subject of France. I have no intention of rebelling against my king.’

‘Of course not, your Grace,’ Tiphaine said. ‘But King Edward will continue to press you. The time may come when you must choose between England and France.’

‘Indeed. It would seem you have already made your choice. Like Godefroi d’Harcourt and Raoul of Eu, you have opted for England.’

‘No,’ Tiphaine said. ‘I have not. My heart and my soul belong to Normandy, and always will. I will do whatever it takes to free my country from the French yoke.’

Silence fell for a moment. Jeanne took off her riding gloves and dropped them on the table, flexing her long fingers. ‘You say this, but then you advise me against rebellion. Why?’

‘Because the time is not right, and because Edward of England is an unreliable ally. He is domesticating the Norman lords. Harcourt is his already. He will turn Eu into his servant as well, and desires to do the same to you. His intention is that the three of you will rule Normandy as English puppets, exchanging one master for another. But without you, his plan will fall apart.’

‘And we will go merrily on as before,’ Jeanne said. ‘Normandy is ruled by Philippe and his idiot son and their corrupt councillors and huissiers and greffiers, who rob and plunder us at will. What I said earlier was wrong. I think I might prefer Edward as my master.’

‘But if you fight France now, you will be betrayed,’ Tiphaine said emphatically. ‘Just like Harcourt. The French received word of his intentions months ago. Did Jean de Fierville work for you?’

‘…Yes.’

‘Fierville was also reporting to Robert Bertrand. Now Harcourt’s friends are dead and his power is broken. He can remain as Edward’s lapdog, or he can return and make his peace with Philippe; those are his only choices. Eu tried to make a secret deal with England, abandoning Caen and allowing himself to be captured. But the enemy know about this too, or they will very soon. Someone is working to undermine us, and has been for years. If you rebel now, death or exile will be your fate.’

Jeanne stared at the ragged figure before her. ‘You know a great deal, for one so young.’

‘I learned much while I was in prison, and more since I have been with the English army. There are many plots and conspiracies, your Grace. Against us, against King Philippe and against King Edward. They are all connected and guided by a single hand. Is Rollond de Brus still in your service?’

In the back of Jeanne’s mind an alarm bell began to ring. ‘What do you know about Brus?’

‘I used to know him well,’ Tiphaine said. ‘He was your servitor then, or pretended to be. Where is he now?’

‘He is in Rouen,’ Jeanne said. ‘He has taken service with the king’s brother, the Count of Alençon.’

Tiphaine’s eyes opened wide. ‘Of course. Alençon is conspiring to overthrow the king, and Brus is your link to him.’ Jeanne said nothing. ‘If you join them, they will betray you,’ Tiphaine went on. ‘Alençon has no more intention of allowing a free Normandy than the king has. This is the season of danger, your Grace. Your best hope is to lie low and let it pass.’

The Queen of Navarre stood for a long time staring at the candle flame, lost in thought. ‘Your father was a wise man,’ she said eventually. ‘I see he bred some of his wisdom into his daughter.’

Tiphaine’s mouth twisted. ‘His wisdom did not prevent him from being killed. Or mine from following in his footsteps.’

‘What do you intend to do?’

‘Philippe must not succeed,’ said Tiphaine. ‘But neither must the conspirators. I intend to stop them both. Then it will be your time. Then is the moment to come out of hiding and strike.’

17

Duranville, 4th of August, 1346

Evening

The army had remained for a day at Lisieux, camped in the smoky fields outside the town while the king and the cardinals discussed the peace proposals. It was a farce, of course, and everyone knew it. ‘Do I really have to go through with this nonsense?’ the king had asked before the talks started.

‘Your Grace must decide that for himself,’ Merrivale said. ‘But I believe Étienne Aubert is playing some game of his own. It might be useful to listen to him and try to discern what it is.’

‘I agree,’ said the Bishop of Durham. ‘His Eminence is an influential man. It would not be wise to offend him.’

That was not what Merrivale meant and the king knew it. He looked at Rowton. ‘What do you think, Eustace?’

‘Talk to them, sire,’ Rowton said. ‘A day will make very little difference.’

So they engaged in talks. Politely and with great courtesy, Cardinal Aubert laid out the papal peace terms, and with equal politeness and courtesy the king tore them to shreds. Vidal, sitting behind his master, looked at Merrivale and rolled his eyes. Another banquet followed, during which the cardinals and their entourage were reunited with their stolen baggage and horses, and in the morning they departed, jogging away towards Rouen to report the failure of their mission to King Philippe.

Even before they were out of sight, the English troops were