The Red Rose of Anjou by Jean Plaidy Read Free Book Online Page A

up to be worthy of her grandmother.
    Five-year-old Margaret, bewildered after being taken from her family, still mourning the loss of her brothers and above all her kind father, tried to understand all that her grandmother endeavoured to impress upon her. She looked upon Yolande —who seemed very, very old to her—as a goddess in her temple, all powerful, all seeing, all knowing, one who must never be offended and always obeyed. Everyone in the household paid the greatest deference to her and Theophanie spoke her name in that special hushed voice which she used when speaking of the Virgin Mary.
    Yolande thought it well that the child should understand the true state of affairs, young as she was.
    ‘Your father is a captive of the Duke of Burgundy,’ she explained, ‘and you are his fourth child. As the Duke of Bar and Marquis of Pont-à-Mousson he would have had little standing in the country even if he were free. He is deeply in debt and there is a ransom to be paid. So you see your position is not a very glorious one.’
    Yolande was determined that the child should learn humility. She must not think because she was the granddaughter of Yolande that in herself she was important. She had been taken into the household as an act of charity because her mother was so busily engaged in trying to hold together her father’s impoverished possessions that someone else must take charge of her daughter.
    Margaret looked suitably ashamed and Yolande went on: ‘Never forget that you are my granddaughter. We do not know what lies in store for you. It may be that one day you will be called upon to govern as I have been, and as your mother has been. You must be ready for it.’
    Margaret said that she would do her best.
    Yolande dismissed her and was thoughtful for a while. Poor child, she thought, what hope will there be of a grand marriage for her. René will never regain his estates and if he did would he be able to hold them?
    If Margaret had not been so young she would have explained to her that she, Yolande, was the Regent of Anjou because her eldest son, Margaret’s uncle Louis, was away in Naples trying to make good his claim to that crown. She was a woman who had much to occupy her for she was also on excellent terms with the King himself who was her son-in-law. She had little time to spare for bringing up a child—and the youngest daughter of a second son at that. Still, she had done right in bringing her here. Isabelle, capable as she was, would be too deeply caught up with holding René’s estates and trying to get his ransom together. These were difficult times.
    Theophanie was in a state of delight, much as she missed Margaret’s brothers. She often talked of little Yolande and hoped the Vaudémonts were good to her.
    ‘She will have forgotten about us by now, I doubt not,’ she said to Margaret, fearing and half hoping that she would. Poor little mite, to be torn from her home.
    Theophanie hoped they would not be making a match for Margaret...just to settle some of their differences.
    ‘You’ve let them take the others. Lord,’ she reproached. ‘At least let them leave me this little one.’
    The days began to pass slowly at first and then not so slowly as Margaret grew more and more accustomed to living at Saumur.
    She began to develop a taste for music and poetry. She read the works of Boccaccio with great delight; her teachers discovered that she had an aptitude for learning; she was becoming pretty and her long lustrous blondish hair with a hint of red in it was her greatest attraction.
    She missed her home, most of all her father; but she was remembering him even less with the passing of every day. She liked excitement and was even glad on those days when the castle was in a state of alert because there were English in the neighbourhood. Her grandmother had everything in readiness in case they should be besieged.
    One day she was summoned to her grandmother’s presence. These summonses were rare and