swear,’ said Robert, ‘that the County of Artois is mine and that I shall produce documents in evidence to establish my right to it.’
‘My fine nephew,’ cried Mahaut, ‘do you dare swear that you have ever seen or possessed such documents?’
Face to face, grey eyes staring into grey eyes, their big square chins almost touching, they defied each other.
‘Bitch,’ thought Robert, ‘so it really was you who stole them!’ And since in such circumstances decision is vital, he said in a clear voice: ‘I swear it. But do you, my fine aunt, dare swear that these documents have never existed, and that you have never had knowledge or possession of them?’
‘I swear it,’ she replied with an assurance equal to his own, and she gazed at him, returning hate for hate. Neither of them had gained any advantage over the other. The balance was in equilibrium, the false oaths they had compelled each other to take weighing equally in the opposite scales.
‘Commissioners will be appointed tomorrow to make inquiry and enlighten my justice. Whoever has lied will be punished by God, whoever has sworn the truth shall be established in his right,’ said Philippe, signing to the Bishop to take the Gospels away.
God does not need to intervene directly to punish perjury, and the heavens may remain dumb. The wicked bear within themselves the seeds of their own misfortunes.
A GREEN PEAR, STILL NO larger than a man’s thumb, was hanging from the espalier.
There were three people sitting on a stone bench: old Count de Bouville, whom the others were questioning, was in the middle, on his right was the Chevalier de Villebresme, the King’s commissioner, and on his left the notary Pierre Tesson, who was recording his deposition.
Notary Tesson was wearing a clerk’s cap on his huge domed head, and his straight hair hung down from beneath it; he had a pointed nose, a curiously long and narrow chin, and his whole profile looked rather like the moon in its first quarter.
‘Monseigneur,’ he said with great respect, ‘may I read your evidence over to you?’
‘Do so, Messire, do so,’ replied Bouville.
And his hand moved fumblingly to the little, hard green pear. ‘The gardener ought to have that branch fastened back,’ he thought.
The notary leaned over the writing-board on his knee and began reading. ‘“On the seventeenth day of the month of June in the year 1329, We, Pierre de Villebresme, Chevalier …”’
King Philippe VI had allowed no delay. Two days after the oaths had been taken in Amiens Cathedral, he had appointed a commission of inquiry; and less than a week after the Court’s return to Paris, the investigation had begun.
‘“… and We, Pierre Tesson, Notary to the King, have come to take the evidence of …”’
‘Master Tesson,’ said Bouville, ‘are you the same Tesson who was formerly attached to the household of Monseigneur of Artois?’
‘The same, Messire …’
‘And you are now Notary to the King? Splendid, splendid, I congratulate you …’
Bouville sat up a little straighter and clasped his hands across his round paunch. He was wearing a worn velvet robe, old-fashioned and rather too long, which dated from the days of Philip the Fair. He now used it in his garden.
He was twiddling his thumbs, three times one way, three times the other. It was going to be a warm, fine day, but there was still a trace of the cool of the night about the morning.
‘“… have come to take the evidence of the high and mighty Lord, Count Hugues de Bouville, and have heard it in the garden of his town house, situated not far from the Pré-aux-Clercs …”’
‘The neighbourhood has changed a great deal since my father built this house,’ said Bouville. ‘At that time, there were barely three houses between the Abbey of Saint-Germain-des Prés and Saint-André-des-Arts: the Hôtel de Nesle, on the river-bank, the Hôtel de Navarre, which stood back a little, and the house of the Counts of Artois, which they used as a country residence, since there were only fields and water-meadows round it. Look how it’s all been built up! All the new rich have come to set themselves up in the district; and now the roads have become streets. In the old days I could see nothing but trees beyond my wall; today, with such sight as is still left in me, I see nothing but roofs. And the noise! Really, the noise in this district these days! You might think you were in the heart of the Cité. Had I even a few more years to live, I’d sell this house and build another elsewhere. But in the circumstances there’s no question of that …’
And his hand reached out to the little green pear again. The time that must elapse till it grew ripe was all he could hope for now. He had been losing his sight for many months past. Trees, people, the world were visible to him only through a sort of wall of water. He had been active and important, had travelled, had sat on the Royal Council, and had taken part in great events; and now he was drawing to his end in his garden, his mind slow and his sight confused. He was lonely and almost forgotten, except when younger men needed to refer to his memories.
Master Pierre Tesson and the Chevalier de Villebresme exchanged a glance. They were bored. The old Count de Bouville was not an easy witness, for his mind wandered constantly off the point. Yet he was far too old and far too distinguished for one to be sharp with him. Tesson went on:
‘“… and he declared to us in person that which is recorded below, in particular: that when he was Chamberlain to our Sire Philip IV, before the latter became King, he had knowledge of the marriage contract between the late Monseigneur Philippe of Artois and Madame Blanche of Brittany, and that he had the said contract in his hands, and that the said contract declared in precise terms that the County of Artois would devolve by right of inheritance to the said Monseigneur Philippe of Artois and, after him, to his heirs male, the issue of the said marriage …”’
Bouville waved a hand.
‘I did not assert that. I had the contract in my hands, as I have told you, and as I told Monseigneur Robert of Artois himself, when he came to visit me the other day, but in all conscience I have no memory of having read it.’
‘But why, Monseigneur, would you have had the contract in your hands if it was not to read it?’ asked the Chevalier de Villebresme.
‘To take it to my master’s chancellor for sealing; and I very well remember
