It was on a Sunday in September that John, with his queen, Joan of Boulogne, was invested with the symbols of royalty in that cathedral which had witnessed the baptism of Clovis, and anointed with that oil which, according to tradition, was brought down from heaven in the holy ampulla to the good St. Remy of Rheims, when he was about to consecrate the conquering Frank, who, moved by the persuasions of his Christian wife, Clotilda, turned from the worship of Odin, and became "the eldest son of the Church." Nothing could have exceeded the grandeur of the coronation ceremony, nothing the magnificence of the feasts which John gave when he returned to Paris, and took up his residence in the Hôtel de Nesle. Impoverished as was the royal treasury, no expense was spared; and John really seemed to be mocking the claims of his dead father's conqueror by the display and noise which he made in assuming those regal honours of which, had he been a wiser man, he would have said, "I scarcely call these things mine."
Nor, at that time, could the danger be deemed so far distant as to encourage even the most credulous to indulge feelings of security. Doubtless there was a truce between England and France; but it was, to say the least, very brittle, and likely soon to be broken, and its existence did not prevent men from undertaking enterprises calculated to bring about a renewal of the war of which, so far, France had had so much the worse. Among others who had made themselves conspicuous in this way, Geoffrey de Chargny had highly distinguished himself.
It seems that Aymery de Pavie, after his unfortunate secret treaty for the sale of Calais, retired to Fretun, his castle in the neighbourhood, and there, with Eleanor de Gubium as his guest, lived at his ease. Fancying that the French had forgotten him, and deeming himself perfectly safe, he took no more precaution than if he had been in London or at Westminster. He lived long enough to rue his recklessness, but not much longer.
In fact, Geoffrey de Chargny, who, after the failure of his project in Calais, was carried prisoner to England, but subsequently ransomed and restored to his own country, never for a moment forgot the trick which Aymery de Pavie had played, and never for a moment gave up the idea of inflicting a severe punishment. Hearing, on his return to France, that the Lombard was living at ease in the castle of Fretun, Chargny, who had been reinstated in his post at St. Omer, did not let the matter sleep; but, collecting a band of men-at-arms, he left St. Omer one evening, and, reaching Fretun about daybreak, surrounded the place, and, passing the ditch, prepared to enter by force.
"Now," said Chargny to his comrades, "no plunder. Remember the truce. All we want is the perfidious Lombard."
Aymery de Pavie, who had stretched himself to rest with a feeling of absolute security, and with no idea that his perfidy was remembered to his disadvantage, was sound asleep, when he was awoke by one of his servants, who entered the chamber pale with fright.
"My lord," said he, "rise instantly; the castle is surrounded by armed men, who are attempting to enter."
"Enter my castle, and in time of truce!" exclaimed the Lombard, astonished. "By my faith, they shall repent their hardihood!"
Much alarmed, Aymery de Pavie sprang up and hastily armed himself; but it was vain. Ere he was ready even to strike a blow the toils were upon him, and, looking out, he perceived that the courtyard was filled with armed men. Escape was impossible; resistance was vain; he found himself roughly seized; and, after struggling for a moment as a cony struggles in a net, he yielded to fate, and was led forth a captive.
Highly gratified at the prospect of a speedy revenge, De Chargny conducted the Lombard and his fair companion to St. Omer, and resolved at once to strike the decisive blow. Immediately the knights and the people of the country were assembled; and the captive, having been led to the market-place, was put to death with much cruelty, amid the jeers of the crowd.