The Crown of the Hundred Years' War

Chapter 5 Shinon's Day

The clock at Chinon Castle rang.

This bronze bell has been ringing for twenty-seven years, from the time of Charles VI to the present day, from the days when Paris was the heart of France, becoming the only thing in this castle that has never changed.

A young woman pushed open the balcony door.

The morning light streamed in, covering the hem of her skirt. She stood on the threshold, squinted at the distant river, and whistled.

Looking out from here, you can see the white walls of the town of Shinon across the river shining in the morning light.

She was about twenty-four or twenty-five years old, slender, with long, light red hair tied up, and wearing a light green dress. Her features were delicate—no, they should be described as beautiful.

She turned and walked back into the corridor.

The guard at the top of the stairs saw her, stood at attention, and his iron boots clicked on the stone slabs. She smiled back at him, without stopping.

As you walk down the stairs, the light grows dimmer, and the air begins to fill with the smells of firewood and grease. The kitchen on the ground floor is already bustling with activity.

The kitchen was the heart of the castle, and two large stoves were burning brightly early in the morning. Several cooks were chopping vegetables at a long table, while a young helper squatted in a corner peeling turnips. Several servants and soldiers sat at the dining table, and when they saw her enter, they mumbled a greeting with their mouths full of noodles.

The most conspicuous person is the one standing in front of the stove.

He was sturdy, with broad shoulders and thick arms, and an apron tied around his waist—clearly a cook. His gray hair was neatly combed, and he was currently chopping parsley with a small knife.

His name is Giuseppe da Milano. He came to France from Milan twenty years ago, worked for ten years in the kitchens of Charles VI, and then for another ten years in the kitchens of Charles VII. No one at Chinon Castle calls him by his full name; everyone calls him Old Giuseppe, or—

"Pepe!"

His hand trembled, and he almost dropped the knife on the cutting board.

He looked up and saw the girl in the green dress standing smiling in the kitchen doorway, leaning on the doorframe and tilting her head to look at him. Old Giuseppe's face flushed red. He instinctively wiped his hands on his apron, then realized it wasn't right and grabbed a clean cloth from the edge of the counter to wipe them again—

"Little Agnes!" he finally managed to say, his throat a little tight. "Why are you in the kitchen again? Next time, tell me first."

Agnes walked in, her shoes hitting the kitchen floor. She walked around the bucket of turnip husks, past the cook chopping vegetables, peeked into the pot of boiling food, and then looked away.

"What, you don't welcome me to your territory?" she said with a smile. "I've come to ask for some breakfast and to pass on a message from the Queen."

Old Giuseppe frowned slightly, but the corners of his mouth unconsciously turned up.

"A place like the kitchen isn't for a lady like you." His voice lowered. "Just have someone tell us what you want to eat, and we'll send it up to you. Does the Queen have any orders?"

Agnes had already walked to the long table and was standing on tiptoe watching a cook knead dough. The cook was embarrassed by Agnes's gaze and kneaded the dough in her hands again and again, kneading it tighter and tighter.

"It's about your undecided main course," Agnes turned around. "The Queen told me to tell you that Marshal Attil, blessed by God, encountered a herd of deer while encamped and shot several. He has already sent a strong stag over, which should arrive tonight."

Old Giuseppe's eyes lit up immediately.

He put down the cloth he was holding and tapped his fingers twice on the cutting board. "With the deer, things are much easier," he said. "The main course is decided; everything else is minor. Marshal Attil is truly a lucky charm!"

As he spoke, old Giuseppe took a piece of white bread from the flour bin beside him: it was specially reserved for him, made with the finest flour. He cut two slices and arranged them on a clean plate.

"Wait." He gestured with his chin toward Agnes, then turned and took a small piece of beef from the meat rack. As the knife sliced ​​across the meat, he spread a layer of oil in the frying pan while the fire was still burning. The aroma filled the air the moment the meat was placed in.

He flipped the meat, then used his free hand to pluck a few sage leaves and a sprig of rosemary from the herb rack and tossed them into the pan. The oil coated the herbs, swirling around the meat. Once it was crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, he took the meat out and placed it next to the bread. He then pinched a small pinch of crushed caraway seeds from the mortar and sprinkled them evenly over the meat.

Once the oil was hot, he smashed a clove of garlic and threw it into the pan. The aroma of garlic immediately filled the air. He poured the oil and garlic over the steak, then added a few drops of vinegar. He then poured a glass of wine from the wine barrel and pushed the plate of meat towards Agnes.

"Is this enough?"

Agnes carried the tray to the table next to her, sat down like a cat, and sniffed around.

"Pepe, you're truly the best chef!"

Old Giuseppe's face flushed again. "Don't call me that," he muttered, turning around to pretend to tidy up the spice jars on the cutting board. "I'm old enough to be your grandfather, you're so disrespectful."

Agnes stuck her tongue out at him, then lowered her head and began to eat in small bites.

Old Giuseppe ignored her and began assigning tasks. He left the kitchen, crossed the corridor, and went to the side kitchen and preparation room. He stood in the doorway like a king issuing a decree:

"Get that oven outside ready; we'll need two ovens tomorrow. The charcoal needs to be sifted again; keep the finer pieces for steaming, and use the coarser ones for baking. Grind two more bags of flour; the pie crust needs to be thick so the filling doesn't leak out—"

His voice carried from the kitchen to the bakery next door, the mill outside, and to the woodcutter's ears. Everyone sprang into action. Old Giuseppe stood there inspecting his troops, nodding with satisfaction.

He turned back to the main kitchen and found Agnes still sitting at the table. The plates were empty, and she was holding a glass, sipping grape juice from who-knows-where; the jug of grape juice was almost half empty.

"Why are you still here?" old Giuseppe asked curiously. "Aren't you going to report to the Queen or His Majesty?"

Agnes put down her cup and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "His Majesty went to the manor these past few days. Queen Mary has been feeling a little unwell and wants to rest in her room, so when I went back I just kept her company and read with her; so I actually have nothing to do today."

Old Giuseppe shook his head. He thought these were just lucky people.

He ignored her and turned to pack up several cloth bags. He then took a heavy purse from the drawer, weighed it in his hand, and stuffed it into a hidden pocket under his apron.

Agnes jumped off the chair and blocked his way: "Are you going out?"

"I'm not some lazy cat who doesn't do any work," old Giuseppe said irritably. "I'm going to town to buy ingredients. The banquet will require so many things, and the castle's supplies aren't enough."

Agnes's eyes lit up. "Can I come with you? I haven't been to Shinon Town yet since we got here."

Old Giuseppe didn't dare look at her and continued stuffing things into the bag. "A country bumpkin's town is the same everywhere. You're a lady from Paris, what's so interesting about you? Besides, if you want to go, you'll have to get permission from Reno. Old Giuseppe doesn't have the authority to bring anyone along."

After he finished speaking, he picked up the bag and walked out, his steps so fast it was as if he were running away.

He crossed the stone bridge over the inner fortress and arrived at the stable. He pulled out a flatbed cart and chose a docile old horse. As he led the cart toward the bell tower, he saw two people standing at the foot of the bell tower in the distance.

Upon closer inspection, Agnes stood at the front, hands on her hips, having changed into simpler clothes. Behind her stood a guard, looking somewhat reserved. Agnes pulled a folded piece of linen from her sleeve, unfolded it, and revealed the seal of the Grand Chamberlain.

Old Giuseppe opened his mouth, but said nothing. He silently walked over and lowered the carriage cover; Agnes, without any hesitation, climbed onto the rickety carriage, sat down on a few cloth bags, dangling her feet over the side of the carriage, and shouted excitedly:

"Set off!"

The carriage crossed the stone bridge beneath the clock tower and left the castle. Agnes sat with her back to the front, gazing at the vast royal vineyards before her. A breeze blew in from that direction, carrying the scent of earth and green leaves.

As the sun climbed to its zenith, beads of sweat appeared on the foreheads of old Giuseppe and the guards. After rounding the last bend, the town of Shinon finally came into view.

"Is this where Henry II died?" Agnes looked around curiously. "It looks much cleaner than other towns."

Old Giuseppe didn't hear clearly: "Who is Henry II? Is he some noble lady like you?"

Agnes laughed even harder: "Henry II was the ancestor of that little brat King Henry VI of England. He used to live here; he was a French nobleman."

Giuseppe's expression turned serious: "I don't understand the intricacies of aristocratic politics. But little Agnes, you certainly know a lot. I just wonder, why was the ancestor of the British emperor French? And why did they commit arson, murder, and looting in France?"

Agnes didn't laugh this time. Her voice lowered: "Yes, I'd like to know too."

Old Giuseppe noticed her mood was off and quickly changed his tune, saying, "Look, we've arrived in town."

As the carriage turned into the town's entrance, the street suddenly narrowed. Households on both sides stretched their tables, boards, and shelves onto the road, displaying various goods and hawking their wares. The carriage could barely pass, its wheels occasionally scraping the edges of a stall, drawing curses from the vendors. Old Giuseppe ignored them, gripping the reins tightly and steadily moving forward.

Old Giuseppe skillfully parked his car in front of a shop, got out, and started haggling with the owner. He picked up a piece of cheese, examined it from all angles, and then began a heated negotiation with the owner.

Agnes wanted to follow and see what was going on, but as soon as she took one step, the guards stopped her.

"Miss," he said softly, "it would be better if you stayed in the car."

She looked up and realized that most of the people on the street were staring at her, this out-of-place noblewoman. Feeling a little embarrassed, she pulled her headscarf down to cover half her face.

Old Giuseppe had already returned carrying a small bag of cheese. Agnes reached out to open it, but her hand was gently patted.

"Local cheese doesn't keep well in damp conditions. You should go back and see it all."

The carriage continued to move forward. Old Giuseppe moved as nimbly as a fish through the narrow alley, buying flour from one shop, almonds from another, and even a whole jar of honey, which he carried back in his arms. Agnes reached out to poke a finger to taste it, but her hand was slapped away.

"Keep it for tomorrow."

Then came the goose. A large white goose, its feet bound, hung upside down on the carriage floor, flapping its wings frantically and nearly pecking Agnes's skirt. She screamed and recoiled, and the guards, suppressing their laughter, moved the goose to the back of the carriage.

The carriage then turned onto the dock. Old Giuseppe got off, spoke a few words to the fishermen on the boat, handed them a few copper coins, and returned empty-handed.

Agnes asked curiously, "Where are your fish?"

Old Giuseppe smiled smugly: "Our lady has never been to the kitchen, has she? Fish can only be eaten fresh. This is a reliable man; I'll have him deliver it directly to the castle the day after tomorrow morning, and we'll process it on the spot."

Agnes nodded. The carriage started moving again, heading towards the most imposing stone buildings in the center of town. She asked curiously, "What are we going to buy in the center of town? That should be the merchants' guild; they only exchange money and buy gold and silver there."

Old Giuseppe laughed: "We're going to buy gold."

The carriage stopped at the entrance of the Merchants' Guild. The gatekeeper recognized old Giuseppe, and simply had Agnes get out of the carriage, had a servant from the guild watch over it, and then let them in.

Old Giuseppe didn't go into the hall; instead, he turned into a corridor and walked to a small room at the very end. A bronze scale hung by the door, and an inscription in Italian was carved on the doorframe. He pushed the door open and went inside.

The room was small, with shelves on three walls, neatly arranged with pottery jars and wooden boxes. Behind the counter sat a thin, hook-nosed man in his fifties with long, slender fingers.

He greeted old Giuseppe in Italian. Old Giuseppe, without further ado, pointed to a wooden box on the shelf: "Pepper. One pound."

The shopkeeper took down the wooden box and opened it, releasing a pungent aroma of dark brown peppercorns. A brass balance was placed on the ground, the weights not small, and it weighed one pound.

"Cinnamon." The shopkeeper took out another roll of light brown cinnamon. Old Giuseppe smelled it and nodded. "One pound." The weight was a size smaller.

"Cloves." The shopkeeper reached into the deepest part of the cabinet and pulled out a tin can, using tweezers to pick out a few dark brown seeds. Old Giuseppe put them in his mouth and chewed; they weren't bitter. "One ounce." The weight was changed to the size of a bean.

"Saffron." The shopkeeper took a small wooden box from the shelf, inside which were slender, bright red stigmas. He carefully picked out a few with tweezers: "From Spain, this year's fresh stock." Old Giuseppe picked one up and placed it on his tongue; the stigma melted, staining his tongue red. He nodded. The weight became as thin as paper, as light as a fallen leaf.

Old Giuseppe sorted the spices and stuffed them into the hidden pocket of his apron. The shopkeeper fiddled with his abacus for a while, then gave a number. He counted out forty gold coins from his purse and pushed them over.

The guard stood at the door, his eyes wide. Forty francs! That was his four years' worth of military pay; the gold coins piled on the counter weighed more than the small packets of spices combined.

When they came out, the sun was already setting. The carriage swayed back, its deck piled high with goods. Old Giuseppe was in a good mood, humming an Italian tune.

Back at the castle, Agnes immediately spotted another carriage parked beneath the clock tower. She jumped down, ran over, glanced at it, and then leaped up: "It's that deer!"

Old Giuseppe went over too. It was a beautiful stag. There were no obvious external wounds; only upon close inspection could one see the arrow hole under its ribs. He reached out and pressed the stag's belly, then bent down and sniffed it, his expression suddenly changing.

Agnes noticed: "What's wrong? Is there something wrong with this deer?"

Old Giuseppe's voice sounded as if his bones had been removed: "Lord Atil and the others forgot to bleed him. They didn't remove the internal organs either. It's June—the whole deer is spoiled. Even if it's roasted tomorrow and served the day after, the meat is absolutely inedible."

Agnes's expression changed as well: "Could we change to a different main course? Like wild boar or fish or something?"

Old Giuseppe shook his head: "It's too late. Even the best hunters can't guarantee a big catch in a day. I was planning to ask today, but it's too late now. Even if I get it first thing tomorrow morning, there won't be enough time to process it. As for the fish, whether it's big fish from Normandy or Brittany, they need to be ordered well in advance. Given the current situation, there's a high probability they won't be able to get them."

Agnes's face was ashen. She stood there, biting her lip, her brows furrowed.

Just then, a flock of wild ducks flew in from nowhere, skimming across the Vienne River with a flapping sound, their wings beating the water with a particularly crisp quality in the twilight.

Agnes paused for a moment, then suddenly laughed.

"I've got it!" she said, her eyes shining like lamps. "I'm a genius!"

Old Giuseppe and the guards looked at her with suspicion.

Just then, the sun had set. The bell rang again, its deep sound pouring down from the top of the bell tower, over the stone walls of the castle, the treetops of the gardens, the shallows of the Vienne River, and all the way to the vineyards across the river.

It knows everything, yet says nothing.

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

I was baptized by the name Marie-Javier.

Those who shaped me into form also endowed me with spirit.

Anyone who wishes to remove me from my holy position,

They will be forever consumed by regret.

—An inscription on the Marie-Javier clock at Chinon Castle; this clock is still functioning properly today.