Peace
I was taken to the English camp and showed inside a lavish tent. A large group of armoured men stood arranged in a half-circle with a seated grandee in the middle. This great lord was clad in steel with surcoat in the English colours with some large lions depicted climbing up his body. He didn’t bother to stand. “I am Thomas, Duke of Clarence and uncle to King Henry. And you are?”
“Raphael de Coucy, Baron of Montargis, your grace,” I said struggling not to show emotions. Of all the English army commanders in the world why did I have to be captured by the last living brother of Henry V?
“Ah yes, Seneschal to the fallen Duke Charles of Orleans and not to forget, the murderer of Duke Jean of Burgundy.”
“I did not murder Duke Jean,” I said heatedly. “He died of a natural decease. Just ask your man Sir John, my capturerer, he was there!”
“I know he was, but Sir John isn’t the most trustworthy chap in my entourage.”
I shrugged. “If you say so. I don’t know the men you surround yourself with, but as long as he stayed with us, Sir John was the very embodiment of a true knight.”
The Duke of Clarence grimaced. “Hmmm. Now then, you will have to be my guest for awhile, until matters are sorted out. Sir John, take the prisoner to the castle of Caen and hold him there until further notice.”
“What about Duke Charles?” I cried.
“He’s under treatment with the surgeons and the blacksmiths. I don’t expect he will live through the night – so don’t keep your hopes up.”
“Blacksmiths?”
“To remove the armour – it was badly dented.”
“Oh, I see…anyway, I want to see him.”
“No.”
“But…”
“I said no…Guards! – show him to his cell.”
* * * * *
When the news of the disaster reached Orleans, a panic broke out in the city and the city guards had problems controlling the masses. A full-scale riot was soon underway. The nervous guards sealed the ducal palace locking every noble not away with the army inside.
“Bad news from the front father! Connétable de Monet dead; Seneschal de Coucy captured; Duke Charles and Antoine de Melun are missing in action.... what we will do?” Lord Blackmamuth asked in the ducal palace of Orleans nearly crying.
“Shut up! Wait until we have more news; but my son you may need to ask our men to get ready... he he, I bet you curse the day you acknowledged Duke Charles as your master... I warned you about being too impulsive. Look what you have done to our family! I curse the day I asked you to take the control of the family... if I was 20 years younger.... “ Comte de Chambord replied.
* * * *
“Sir John,” I said. “Please try and find Duke Charles and Antoine – and anyone else you can find – and see if they are…eh…”
He nodded. “I understand. You?”
“No, I’m fine,” I said and looked around the dark, damp cell I was about to be locked into. Water ran down one side , a small window too far up another let in a little light. The floor was littered with dirty straws and rags. I even saw some rats looking at me with their pink eyes. I shuddered. “Yeah, I’m fine – for now.”
Sir John immediately exited the castle and went outside Caen to the battlefield looking for survivors he knew. All he found were dead and dying soldiers mostly from Orleans. A small mountain of men in the middle of the battlefield peaked his interest. He got a few of the cleaners to help him remove the bodies. In the middle of it he found Antoine grievously wounded but alive.
Gently lifting him up, Sir John carried Antoine to the field hospital dreading the result. A coarse man with a bloody apron looked Antoine briefly over, and said to Sir John to dump the body outside. This tent was for the important nobles that had a chance of surviving.
“You listen here, knave,” Sir John said angrily. “This man is the second most important noble in Orleans after Duke Charles now that his father is dead. His name is Antoine, Comte de Monet and acting Connétable d’Orléans. You will save him or else…”
“And you are?” The surgeon asked scornfully. “Another frog-eater I guess…”
“I am Sir John, baron of…”
The surgeon blanched. “The killer of the old Lord Chancellor?”
Sir John nodded. “The same.”
“What did he do?” The surgeon asked nervously while looking a little more attentively at Antoine.
“He refused to listen…”
* * * * *
Two days later, I was taken up from the dungeon taken to the courtroom of the palace where now the Duke of Clarence held court. Without being able to clean up, I presented a sorry sight to this glittering assembly.
“Well, good morning, Seneschal,” the Duke of Clarence said sarcastically. “Your master still lives and as such presents us with a problem.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. It’s now two days since the battle, and if he continues to live for a little while longer, we might be wrongly accused of killing him when does die – which he surely will – not unlike you and Duke Jean…”
“You recognise the truth…”
“I do nothing of the sort…where was I? Ah, yes. Had Duke Charles died the same day everything would had been fine. Or if he had not been mortally wounded – that too would have been fine. As it is – I’m pretty sure he will die and the surgeons in my employment have all ensured it is so – leaving me with a problem. I don’t want him anymore – for the risks we have discussed. You together with Duke Charles and whoever still lives of your men, can depart peacefully today – provided we get some assurance we had nothing to do with his subsequent death – whenever that happens.”
“What do you want?”
“Your signature – on behalf of the Duchy of Orleans – countersigned by Duke Charles if he ever recovers or his heir if not – on this Peace Treaty.”
“Which says what?”
“The short version – for a minimum of Five Years we will not go to war against one another. And I want 2,500 livres for being so nice.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes. Provided you leave today and hurry to Orleans so that Duke Charles will die at home and not here. Sir John will escort you to the border.”
I thought about it…and then bowed slightly. “I’ll sign it, your grace.”
* * * * *
Sir John met me in the courtyard of the palace with a dozen or so horse-drawn carriages. He escorted me around and showed whom he had managed to find and rescue. It wasn’t many. The last carriage held Duke Charles and Antoine. Both looked deathly ill, but Sir John assured me the actually looked worse than in reality – on purpose apparently.
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say we should be out of here and safely inside Orleans, before the Duke of Clarence starts to wonder why so many surgeons has left his pay. You owe me a large debt, Seneschal, or rather the Duchy of Orleans does.”
I stopped and looked speechless at Sir John. “Why?”
“You are my friends.”
“And our countries are at war…were at war I mean.”
He shrugged. “Friendship is more important – and you all treated me honourable during my period of disgrace. Let’s just say it was payback time. We are even now.”
* * * * *
OOC: the auto notes
1 February 1428 : Orleans accepted peace with England on the following terms : Orleans pays 25$ in indemnities.
(WE ARE AT PEACE!)
