The Crown of the Hundred Years' War

Chapter 10 The Palace of Pleasure

Rouen, as the capital of Normandy and the administrative capital of the Lancastrian dynasty in France, naturally celebrated Christmas as well.

Huge tapestries hung from the towering turrets, and the Lancaster coat of arms swayed gently in the winter breeze. Candles were lit everywhere in the streets, and lush holly trees, adorned with colorful ribbons, stood along the roadsides and in the squares.

But none of this could compare to the enormous palace beside the city walls. A grand feast was being held inside, and the spacious gardens were filled with people feasting and laughing. Large blocks of tallow candles illuminated the entire palace, making one almost forget that the moon was almost overhead.

A troop of cavalry escorted the carriage towards the heart of the celebrations. The attendants at the gate immediately sounded their horns. Soon after, the steward arrived with a large entourage. The carriage came to a stop, and a man and a woman alighted. The steward bowed deeply, placed his right hand on his chest, and proclaimed loudly, "Welcome back to the Duke and Duchess! May the Lord bless this joyous festival!"

The man at the head of the group raised his hand. "No need for formalities. This is a joyous day, and you should all join in. It is thanks to God's grace that we can enjoy this wonderful festival." The crowd cheered and thanked him. The woman took his arm.

"My dear, although the palaces in Paris are much larger than this, the 'Palace of Pleasures' is far superior." The woman gazed at the brightly lit hall, her tone light. "Look at Paris, the streets are full of gloomy people, and the banquets are even more lifeless."

The man took her hand and led her into the palace: "Anne, you can't be too harsh on the citizens of Paris. Unlike Rouen, they weren't protected by us from the start. Now there are bandits in the suburbs, and I've heard there are even wolves. When we went to provide relief to the disaster victims, the procession stretched as far as the eye could see. Although the Tourner Palace is more magnificent than this 'Palace of Joy,' without happy people, there will naturally be no smiles."

The butler pushed open the main door ahead of everyone. The banquet inside had reached its climax. Countless delicacies were scattered across the long tables, which the guests helped themselves to. In the center of the dance floor, a dozen or so couples, hand in hand, were dancing a lively dance, with tall men playing male roles. The men formed a circle, whistling and tapping their wine glasses as accompaniment.

Duchess Anne was getting restless. Bedford released his grip and gestured with his chin toward the dance floor. She kissed him happily on the cheek and eagerly joined the dance.

Bedford's gaze swept across the hall, spotting a crowd gathered at the other end, seemingly cheering for something. He walked over with his attendants and saw a "king" holding a scepter and wearing a crown standing in the center of the hall, issuing orders to a knight. The knight stood still, fidgeting and refusing to move amidst the commotion.

Bedford burst into laughter: "Talbot, this is the 'King's' order, why don't you obey it?"

Talbot and the others turned around, saw the newcomer, and bowed in unison. The "king" also quickly put down his scepter and bowed in apology.

"Lord Bedford, we didn't know you were back and were unable to greet you," Talbot said, and the others echoed him.

Bedford chuckled and waved his hand. "I just got back from Paris today. I rushed here as soon as I entered the city. Where are you going to greet me?" He then changed the subject, patting Talbot on the shoulder. "But you, don't try to fool me. What orders did they give you that you dare disobey the 'King'?"

Talbot blushed and stammered, "He...he ordered me to dance with Thomas."

Bedford followed his gaze and burst into laughter, almost choking on his own laughter—Thomas was dressed as a shepherdess, wearing a linen dress and a headscarf.

With the help of his attendants, he managed to stand up straight and joked with the "shepherdess," "Good heavens, Thomas, you've been my adjutant for so many years, how come I never knew you could look so good dressed as a woman?"

Thomas suppressed a laugh, spun around a few times, drawing cheers from those around her, and then replied in a high-pitched voice, "Thank you for the compliment, Your Grace. But I don't know why, this shepherdess from Norfolk can't catch Sir Talbot's eye."

Talbot's face turned even redder. Bedford walked up to him and patted him on the shoulder. "You're usually so serious, I haven't even made you wear a skirt. What's wrong with dancing? If you're really shy, how about wearing a mask?" As soon as he finished speaking, several masks were handed over from the crowd. Bedford glanced at them, picked out a donkey-face mask, and handed it to Talbot.

Talbot took a deep breath, put on his mask, and made a stiff, awkward gesture of invitation to Thomas. Thomas, without hesitation, grabbed his hand and pulled him into a dance. Amid cheers from the crowd, the two actually made it to the second round. Accompanied by their somewhat uncoordinated dance steps, the melodious tolling of bells drifted slowly from afar—a new day had arrived; it was Epiphany.

The "king" walked up to Bedford, knelt on one knee, removed his crown, and presented it to him along with his scepter. Bedford straightened his collar and solemnly accepted it. The surrounding crowd cheered. Bedford lifted the "king" up, patted him on the shoulder, and announced the end of the twelve-day feast.

The crowd gradually dispersed. Bedford instructed Anne to return to the inner chambers to rest, while he himself walked towards the council chamber, sat down in the main seat, and waited quietly. A short while later, the butler led in a dozen or so people with his attendants. Some tried to bow, but Bedford stopped them, only gesturing for them to sit. Once everyone was seated, they waited for about fifteen minutes before hurried footsteps sounded outside the door.

A tall, imposing soldier entered through the door. A dark gray wool coat covered his chainmail, his steps were steady, and his gaze was fixed solely on Bedford, seated at the head of the table, without glancing at anyone else. The attendant closed the door behind him, and the only sound in the council chamber was the breathing of the members.

"My lords, I apologize." His voice was crisp and his pace slow. "I just finished attending Mass at the church and was patrolling the military camp. It took my servant a while to find me."

Bedford nodded, gesturing for him to sit down beside him, before speaking: "I apologize for calling on you all to discuss matters during this festive season. But since you're all here, and I've just returned from Paris, there are a few things I'd like to finalize first."

He raised his head, his gaze sweeping over everyone present. "On my trip to Paris, I found even more bandits than before. There isn't a single intact village left in the entire Paris area; several towns have even been plundered." Several men lowered their heads. "I've said it before, the purpose of the looting is to destroy the French economy, not ours. Normandy and Paris are now His Majesty's lands, and those villagers are our subjects. I don't want to see anyone plunder our villages again—if they want to plunder, go south!"

He turned to the soldier beside him: "Salisbury, I've confirmed it with people in Paris and Burgundy. Paris is indeed short of food; they won't even be able to feed the city's inhabitants next year, so it's impossible for them to provide us with supplies."

Salbersley raised his head: "My lord, in that case, we will still set out from Normandy next year and march along the Loire River. Although I have swept away seventy or eighty percent of the strongholds on the north bank this year, we still suffered several defeats last year. We lost quite a few men—how many men can the country send next year?"

Bedford thought for a moment: "My new agreement with the country is to send two thousand men, plus some local mercenaries, which should make up for this year's shortfall. If we still want to attack the city as you suggest, I can transfer a company from Caen, and leave only my guards and half of my men in Rouen. That way, we can gather a maximum of eight thousand men."

Salisbury pondered for a moment, then gestured for his servants to light several more candles. He took a parchment map from his robes and unfolded it on the table. "My lord," he said, "look," he continued, "there's not much we can do with the entire Loire River. This year, our attempts to control one or two bridges or a fortress across the river ended in disastrous defeat—because we brought too few men, and they were too scattered. Next year, if we attack again, we can't afford to disperse our forces, but we also can't send thousands of men to seize a single wooden bridge." He tapped the map twice with his finger. "Our target—can only be Angers or Orléans."

Bedford nodded. "We've discussed this a few times before. Which side is the focus? The east or the west?"

Salisbury took a charcoal pencil and drew a line on the map: "Sir, you see. Because Paris has no food reserves, our supply line is actually still starting from Normandy." He then drew a few small circles north of Orléans. "Although we suffered a minor defeat at Montargis, the Orléans defenses are riddled with holes. And while the route from Angers north to Le Mans is unobstructed, we are still quite far away. So my opinion remains: attack Orléans first."

Bedford shook his head: "Salisbury, while Paris is important, Burgundy is still there to help. Protecting Normandy is key. Besides, Dinois sent a secret letter wanting to sign a secret agreement with me; we might be able to take Orléans through political means. Angers should be our priority."

Salisbury nodded and said, "Sir, if we choose Angers, we must act quickly. We need to assemble as soon as spring arrives, taking advantage of our ability to avoid the spring planting season to gain the upper hand."

Bedford didn't look at him, but instead swept his gaze across the assembled crowd: "Did you all hear that? Salisbury's meaning is my meaning. Next year, all of you, please remember this: defeating the false king's army and forcing the false king to surrender is our most important task right now. Reiterate this point to the others at the council after the holiday. Does anyone have any further objections?"

The group exchanged bewildered glances. Talbot spoke up, "Your Grace, will the raiding continue after next spring's planting season? Or will it be discontinued?"

Bedford sighed. "We must continue. I want you to restrain your men and prevent them from harassing our land—they can go to the south bank, or to the northwest. But when ordered, they must graze towards Salisbury and support his siege. Any further questions?"

No one spoke. Bedford adjourned the meeting. Everyone rose and headed for the door. Bedford's gaze swept through the crowd and landed on Fastov, who was leaving at the very back.

"Fastov," he called, "you stay behind."

Fastov stopped and stepped back. Once only the two of them were left in the council chamber, Bedford spoke, "Fastov, do you know why I appointed you 'King of the Riots' for this festival?"

Fastov seemed somewhat puzzled: "Lord Bedford, isn't the 'King of the Riots' decided by drawing lots? I just... had a lucky draw."

Bedford laughed. "Fastoff, you're a truly clever man. But there aren't many 'surprises' in my court. Would I let Talbot be the 'King of the Rebellion'? My appointment of you as this year's 'King of the Rebellion' is both punishment and protection. Do you know why?"

Fastov lowered his head and replied in a muffled voice, "Forgive my ignorance, Your Grace. I think... it's probably all because of Sir Guy? Are you punishing me for not helping him then?"

“You’re not stupid, you just don’t understand politics.” Bedford stood up and sat down next to Fastov. “You didn’t abandon Guy—his recklessness killed him before you even arrived. But you shouldn’t have just retreated. Why didn’t you burn the bridge? Or send a few dozen men to harass it?”

He saw Fastov about to speak and raised his hand to stop him: "I'm not talking to you about military matters. Anyone would have made the same choice—that kid Atil is cunning, and if you're too slow, you might fall into a trap. But others can do it, you can't."

Bedford reached out and took Fastoff's hand: "You are the son of a country gentleman, and the only one here who is not a knight. You are my steward, you are my Knight of the Garter. Your actions will make people doubt our unity."

Fastov raised his head, looked at Bedford, and remained silent for a long time before slowly saying, "But sir, I am your servant. I must do my best to preserve your troops, not abandon them in those places. Besides, under your command, everyone will be loyal to you."

Bedford gripped his hand tightly. "Yes, you have always been my most loyal knight. Others are also loyal to me and the King. But loyalty doesn't mean they'll obey orders. Guy was with you, but what did he do? Our troops even looted our own territory. That's where you did right—only by protecting them will the French be loyal to us. But why wouldn't you even try to burn the bridge that day?"

Fastov was utterly bewildered: "Sir, I don't quite understand. Didn't you just say you wanted the French to be loyal to us? Then why should I burn a bridge that's meaningless to us now?"

"Because we also need to instill fear in the French!" Bedford's hand clenched tightly, drawing blood from Fastov's left hand. "You know, there are nearly four million people in Normandy and the area around Paris alone, more than the entire population of England! Even if we keep winning, we can never wear down that prince. We must make their army fear us to win this war! And once their morale returns to what it was before Agincourt, we will never be able to defeat them again!"

He saw that Fastov's face was contorted from being strangled, so he loosened his grip and turned around.

"Fastov, you are a smart man. But you haven't studied history and you don't understand politics—that's your weakness. Although you are loyal, reliable, and trustworthy, this time I intend to put you in charge of logistics, leading your company to guard Salisbury's rear. This is your punishment, but if we can take Angers next year, I want you to be the first governor."

Fastov finally raised his head and looked at Bedford's retreating figure. After a long silence, he said softly, "Yes, Your Highness."

Bedford pushed open the door, and the Christmas carols being sung throughout the palace drifted in.

-----------------

The Duke of Bedford roared:

"As the Minister in charge of French affairs,

This is my inescapable duty.

I want to get rid of these undignified mourning clothes.

Put on my military uniform,

I will fight to defend our territory in France!

I want to inflict more eye-like wounds on the bodies of the French.

So that they may mourn their endless calamities with tears and blood!

-

Henry VI by William Shakespeare