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Back First of the Tudors Save as PDF
Chapters (64)
  1. Title Page
  2. Dedication
  3. Family Tree
  4. Maps
  5. PART ONE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. PART TWO
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. PART THREE
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. PART FOUR
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. PART FIVE
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. 47
  57. GLOSSARY
  58. WELSH WORDS AND NAMES
  59. AUTHOR’S NOTES
  60. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  61. Keep Reading Tudor Trilogy
  62. About the Author
  63. Also by Joanna Hickson
  64. About the Publisher

Louis raised an eyebrow. ‘Hm. You consider yourself a match for Lord Warwick then?’

I recalled my series of contentious meetings in Anjou with the exiled Marguerite and shot him a thin smile. ‘Whether I am or not, I can assure you of one thing your grace; Queen Marguerite definitely is!’

38

Jasper

map

Chateau Angers, Anjou, France

LOCATED IN THE WEST of Northern France, close to the border with Brittany, Angers was known as the Black City due to the sombre colour of its roofs, tiled with slate from the quarries that surrounded it. It was also a city built on two thousand years of history; in its walls and cobbled streets were signs of the ancient Celts, Roman settlers and Germanic invaders, while above me loomed the legacy of the Christian missionaries, the twin spires of the cathedral of St Maurice and the massive bell-tower of the Benedictine Abbey of St Aubin. Dropping down to the banks of the River Maine, I stared up at the vast bulk of Angers Castle and could almost count the civilizations layered in the rock on which it stood. It was a fortress buttressed by no less than seventeen towers, each startlingly banded with alternating rows of black and white stone, defended by the fast-flowing river and, to landward, by a deep dry moat inhabited by a menagerie of man-eating lions and tigers. It was both spectacular and daunting, an awesome castle, not one that extended a visual welcome or the promise of comfort and luxury.

I was there at the behest of King Louis but also as a guest of Queen Marguerite’s ageing father, King René. Cynics dubbed him ‘the king with many crowns but no kingdom’, for René clung to his long-defunct ancestral claim to the kingdom of Jerusalem, and had bankrupted himself trying to regain his father’s kingdom of Naples and Sicily, lost to his rival claimant, King Alfonso of Aragon. In a way, he might be compared to my brother Henry who had also lost two kingdoms, but at least King René still presided over vast swathes of rich French territory in the form of his duchy of Anjou and his counties of Provence and Piedmont.