The whole energy of the widowed Queen was now devoted to the education of her only child. Her widowhood weighed lightly upon her; her buoyant, happy nature soon shook off her grief and mourning. She was now perfectly free to cultivate her tastes. If the “little Queen” was not to be Queen of Aragon, she should succeed herself as “Queen of Hearts and Troubadours.” Accordingly she moved her residence to Barcelona, the sunny and the gay, and there at once set up a “Court of Love.” Catalonia was times out of mind the rival of Provence in romance and minstrelsy; her marts had quite as many merry troubadours as serious merchants. The corridas de toros—bullfights—of Barcelona were the most brilliant in Spain, whilst the people were as independent and as unconventional as they were cultured and industrious. The two Queens very soon became expert aficionadas of the royal sport.
Queen Yolanda never for a moment lost sight of the future of her daughter, and preparations for her marriage to Louis d’Anjou occupied very much of her busy, merry, useful life. Queens’ trousseaux were something more than nine days’ wonders; besides, the ambition of the mother-Queen knew no bounds to her daughter’s horizon. She must go forth at least as richly clothed and dowered as any of her predecessors. Goldsmiths, glass-blowers, cabinet-makers, saddlers, silk-weavers, and potters,—none more accomplished and famous in Europe than the artificers of Barcelona and Valencia,—were set to work to fill the immense walnut marriage-chests of the bride-to-be. Her jewels were superb,—no richer gold was known than the red gold of Aragon,—the royal gems were unique, of Moorish origin, uncut. Years passed quickly along, and Princess Yolanda kept her eighteenth birthday with her mother in Barcelona. She was on the threshold of a new life.
II.
One glorious autumn morning in the good year 1399,—“good” because “the next before a brand-new century,” as said the gossips of the time,—a gallant cavalcade deployed down the battlemented approach to the grim old castle of Angers. At its head, mounted upon a prancing white Anjou charger, rode as comely a young knight as ever hoisted pennoned lance to stirrup-lock. He was dressed in semi-armour,—the armour of the “Lists.” His errand was not warlike, for knotted in his harness were Cupid’s love-ribbons: he was a royal bridegroom-elect speeding off to bring gaily home from distant Aragon his fair betrothed. He had been knighted ten years before by his uncle, Charles VI., at his coronation in Nôtre Dame in Paris, at which solemnity he had,—a slim lad of twelve,—held proudly the stirrup of the Sovereign.
Louis II. d’Anjou, born at the Castle of Toulouse on October 7, 1377, succeeded his father, Louis I., in 1389, and, like him, bore many titles of sovereignty: King of Naples, Sicily, and Jerusalem; Duke of Anjou, Calabria, Touraine, and Pouille; Grand Peer of France; Prince of Capua; Count of Provence, Maine, Forcalquier, and Piemont; Lord of Montpellier; and Governor of Languedoc and Guienne. His grandfather was the brave but unfortunate King John “the Good” of France; his grandmother, the beautiful but sorrowful Queen Bonne of Luxembourg and Bohemia.
The boy-King carrouselled through the lumbering gates of Angers that brilliant October morning between two trusty knights of his household,—loyal lieges of their late King now devoted to the service of the son. As valiant in deeds of war as discreet in affairs of State were Raymond d’Agout and Jehan de Morien. All three bore the proud cognizance of Sicily-Anjou,—the golden flying eagle,—and their silken bannerets were sewn with the white lilies of the royal house of France. A goodly retinue of mounted men followed the young King, guarding the person and the costly bridal gifts which accompanied the royal lover’s cortège.
Queen-Duchess Marie, his mother, had kept as Regent unweariedly her long ten years’ watch, not only over the business of the State, but also over the passions and the actions of her lusty, well-grown son. Many a maid,—royal, noble, and simple,—had attracted the comely youth’s regard, and had flushed her face and his. Women and girls of his time were, as an appreciative chronicler has noted, “franches, désintéressés, capable d’amours, épidémentés, elles restent naïve très longtemps, parceque les vices étrangères n’ont point pénetrés dans les familles.”[A] Louis had responded affectionately and loyally to his mother’s solicitude; he was famed as the St. Sebastian of his time, whose chastity and good report had no sharp shaft of scandal pierced.
[A] “Natural, open-hearted, amorous, and accessible, they are always unspoiled because odious foreign manners have never marred their home.”
The royal cavalcade pranced its way warily over the wide-rolling plains and across the gently cresting hill-country of Central France, making for the Spanish frontier. The whole of that smiling land was ravaged by foreign foes and overrun by native ne’er-do-wells, but, happily, no thrilling adventures have been recorded of that lengthy progress. Near upon the eve of St. Luke, King Louis II. and his suite were cordially welcomed in his royal castle of Montpellier, which the two mother-Queens, Marie and Yolanda, had indicated as the trysting-place. There the royal Court was established, whilst d’Agout and de Morien were despatched, with a lordly following, to Perpignan and across the frontier of Aragon to greet, at the Castle of Gerona, the two Yolandas—who were already on their way from Barcelona—and thence escort them to their Sovereign’s presence.
The young “Queen” was quite as anxious to meet her affianced husband as he was to embrace her, and no undue delay hindered the resumption of the queenly progress. It was a notable cortège, for Queen Yolanda, holding as she did tenaciously that her daughter was, at least, titular Queen of Aragon, Catalonia, and Valencia, travelled in extravagant royal state. Besides the great chariot, with its tapestries and furniture of richest Hispano-Moorish origin, were others almost as sumptuous for the lords and ladies of the suite. All these had their guards of honour—trusty veterans of King Juan’s time, and devoted to their “Queen.” Great tumbrils, laden with costly products of Zaragoza, Barcelona, and Valencia,—the royal trousseau and magnificent offerings for King Louis and his widowed mother,—accompanied by well-mounted cavalry, rolled heavily along the ancient Roman road to France.