The Duke's Pawn

Chapter 2: A Duke's question

Dijon, 23rd of January 1474

Wrapped in his black houpelande, Oger Bernard stepped warily out of the inn. It was located in Red Hat Street, behind the cathedral, a few minutes' walk from the Palace, which is why he didn't bother getting his horse. The Duke had arrived early that morning, and the festivities were still ongoing.

After his formal greeting by the members of the clergy and the council, the Sovereign had paraded through the town, admiring the allegoric scenes played along his path towards the Ducal Palace. Now, far past curfew, the population still crowded the streets, drinking and dancing, eager to celebrate the Duke's long overdue visit to his place of birth and capital city.

Oger sighed. With the state of Burgundy stretching as far as the Netherlands and the Northern Sea, Charles the Bold was rarely seen in Dijon, residing most of the time in his palaces of Bruges, Bruxelles or Malines.

Upon reaching the end of Forges Street, Oger crossed himself in front of Our Lady's church, praying that this meeting with his suzerain would go well. The messenger who had met him three days ago had been vague, only specifying that Oger was to meet the Duke secretly at eleven at night that day. He was to bring all of his family with him to Dijon, the Duke had been adamant on this particular point. Rooms would be booked to accommodate them.

Oger had wondered why Monseigneur Charles would bother with such a detail. Maybe it was to act as a distraction, although, as a Councillor to the Parliament of Burgundy and advisor to the Sovereign, he didn't need any excuse to be close to his master. It was his duty.

At the top of the church, the Jacquemart hit the bell, eleven times. Oger strode briskly around the right side of the building and stopped at a small door in the high wall, giving access to the Duchess' gardens. He enounced his titles to the guard, who examined him closely in the light of a torch.

Convinced by his inspection, the guard bowed and granted him entrance. "You are expected, Messire Bernard. Please go straight to his Lordship's privy office, he is awaiting you."

"Thank you, my good man."

Oger crossed the garden and entered the main yard. Turning immediately right, he made his way through the hall and to the stairs. An uninterrupted flow of servants stretched between the kitchens, on the opposite side of the yard, and the aula on the first floor. Oger assumed that the banquet was still going on and that the meeting would be short, the Duke only leaving his guests for a moment.

He turned to the left and found the Duke's office. Nodding to the guard, he rapped on the door and slipped in.

Charles the Bold, Sovereign Duke of Burgundy, Grand Duke of the West, was no more in his prime, being already in his forty-first year and on his third wife. Highly educated, pious and fearless in battle, he was the epitome of the worthy knight, at least for those who were on his side. For his enemies, he was Charles the Ferocious, who had burnt two thousands French villages to the ground in retaliation for King Louis' accusations of treason. His temper seemed to be worsening with age, and the loss of his beloved wife Isabelle, mother of his daughter and heiress.

The Duke looked magnificent in a long robe of brocade, gold on red, with an assorted cape at his arms, lined with ermine fur. The tip of his poulaines peeked under the hem. His hair, still dark and curly, was covered by a red velvet cap, the heavy ducal crown unceremoniously discarded on the mantel of the chimney.

Oger knelt in front of his suzerain, who proffered his hand for his liegeman to kiss.

Waiting for his master to speak, Oger let his gaze wander on the family portraits covering the oak panels, the painted beams and large stone hearth. The high and narrow windows opened on the garden, away from the ruckus of the streets. Overall, the room was comfortable, yet scarcely furnished with a large sculpted table and a high back armchair with velvet cushions. There was no need for more; no one was allowed to sit in the Duke's presence.

Charles' voice resonated in the empty space. "Messire Bernard, I hear that you are having some difficulties in finding a suitable match for your last daughter. Is it true?" His tone was hesitant, nearly embarrassed.

Surprised, Oger nodded. "It is Monseigneur."

"And why is that, if I may ask?"

Oger lowered his head in shame. "It is her education Monseigneur, it is not that of a proper Damoiselle. She has excellent manners and demeanour but she is not proficient in womanly arts."

"Is that all there is? She is not ugly or deformed? What exactly is so wrong with her that it repulses all potential suitors?"

"Alienor is reasonably pretty, your Lordship, there is nothing unappealing on her person. But her education is that of a man, in a woman's body. She was born with a twin brother, who was fragile as a child and suffered from seizures. Her presence was keeping him calm, but as soon as they were separated, he was getting upset and was convulsing. So we left them together constantly, even at night, until they were twelve, and even then, they were only apart in their sleep. She followed all his lessons, including arms training."

He sighed, defeated. His daughter was a painful subject. "Alienor speaks French, English, and Latin, and she can read Greek. She has good knowledge of the law and understands politics and military tactics. She rides perfectly, astride, can use a crossbow and a Spanish or German sword properly, and she can treat a wound. But she cannot make clothes or embroider, and doesn't play music, although she can sing well. Which is why none of my peers has shown any interest in her. It is my fault, I failed her as a father, your Lordship."

"I see...And what do you plan to do with her?"

"She is to become a nun, your Lordship. We are currently searching for the most suitable convent for her. I could mayhap find her a husband by raising her dowry, but I have recently married her two sisters, and her twin brother Enguerrand will be joining your ost this spring..."

The Duke nodded, understanding his dilemma. After paying two dowries, the costly equipment of a knight, including a bespoke armour and a battle steed, could ruin even a wealthy family.

"And does Damoiselle Bernard agree with this?"

"She has no inclination for monastic life, your Lordship, but she understands and accepts her fate..."

The Duke paced on the tiled floor, thinking furiously. "My friend, I might be able to help you. You are aware of our current situation. At this moment, we have the advantage, but I am certain that my eight-legged cousin of France is spinning one of his webs of treachery and deceit around us as we speak. He has managed to spoil our English allies of their French territories, leaving them solely with the town of Calais, and he would like nothing more than to steal what is ours. I need an insight on his plans, but recently none of our spies has succeeded in staying alive long enough to transmit the information. It seems that the Universal Spider has managed to get himself a master hunter."

He paused and stared straight into Oger's eyes. "So I had an idea: what would be less suspicious than an innocent young Dame, travelling between her husband and her family? I shared my views with our English cousin, and he suggested one of his Exchequer clerks as the groom. The man is young enough, a baronet, from a respectable family. I am to provide the bride, and have been unable to find a suitable match, until someone suggested your daughter..."

Oger's brows shot up. He couldn't believe what he just heard. "You...want my daughter to become your spy, your Lordship? Isn't that dangerous? Surely she wouldn't..."

"If what you said is anywhere near the truth, she would be perfect. But I understand your reservations; which is why I demanded that you brought your family with you. Come back at first hour tomorrow, with Damoiselle Bernard. I will explain her everything, in your presence, and listen to what she has to say. If she agrees, the final decision will be yours. Should you accept, I would of course take care of her dowry and her brother's equipment; it is the least I could do. I wish you a good night, Messire Bernard."

Dismissed, Oger rose stiffly to his feet and left, his mind in disarray. He couldn't ignore the Duke's orders, and they might well cost the life of his daughter.