Читать книгу The Agincourt Bride онлайн | страница 70

However, Catherine’s response equally clearly demonstrated that her lady-in-waiting had not cornered the market in clear thinking. ‘Yes, I can see how that would benefit the queen,’ she mused, ‘as long as my enemies are her enemies.’

I could not see Bonne’s expression, but her silence was eloquent. I wondered how long it would be before this remark reached the queen’s ears.

The Grand Tournament brought Paris out en fête. It was held on Shrove Tuesday, the last permitted day before the onset of Lent brought a temporary halt to such war games. Even the palace servants were encouraged to go and watch, so Alys and I joined the throng jamming the streets leading to the royal tourney-ground beside the Seine.

It lay on flat land in the shadow of the Louvre, the ancient fortress of the old kings of France, whose towering battlements and fearsome, impregnable donjon still guarded the royal exchequer. Gaily decked pavilions had been erected along the curtain wall, ready for royal and court spectators and before them stretched the lists, two sandy gallops the width of a field-strip, divided by a stout jousting rail, while beyond the arena a series of railed-off enclosures waited to receive the common herd, and beyond these ran the river Seine with flotillas of boats and barges moored as viewing platforms for extra spectators. At one end of the ground stood the Heralds’ Gate, a painted wooden barbican fluttering with flags and banners that marked the entrance from the knights’ encampment, a field full of gaudy tents displaying the colours and devices of hundreds of participating knights who had ridden in from every corner of Europe, eager for a chance to win prize money and display their combat skills.

The day was cold and bright and under a clear blue sky the air seemed to vibrate with the sound of neighing horses, whistling grooms, rattling harness and ringing anvils. It was a number of years since Paris had hosted a spectacle of this magnitude and, except for the great festivals of the church, I had never seen such a massive gathering of people. Hawkers manned every vantage point, crying their wares; spiced ale and wine, hot pies, pardons, cures and tawdry trinkets. Bands of musicians played on street corners, their instruments screeching out of tune as each battled to be heard above the next. Hordes of students and apprentices, granted a day off to join the fun, brought their rowdy rivalries out into the squares and fights sprang up without warning. Alys and I held hands tightly so as not to lose each other as we elbowed our way through to the arena reserved for royal servants where we squeezed onto a bench which gave us a clear view both of the lists and of the royal pavilion.