to aid him “in reinstating the king in his freedom
and lordship, and the realm in its freedom and just
rights.” The Count of Armagnac was no more
tender with the court than with the populace of Paris.
He suspected, not without reason, that the queen,
Isabel of Bavaria, was in secret communication with
and gave information to Duke John. Moreover,
she was leading a scandalously licentious life at
Vincennes; and one of her favorites, Louis de Bosredon,
a nobleman of Auvergne and her steward, meeting the
king one day on the road, greeted the king cavalierly
and hastily went his way. Charles VI. was plainly
offended. The Count of Armagnac seized the opportunity;
and not only did he foment the king’s ill-humor,
but talked to him of all the irregularities of which
the queen was the centre, and in which Louis de Bosredon
was, he said, at that time her principal accomplice.
Charles, in spite of the cloud upon his mind, could
hardly have been completely ignorant cf such facts;
but it is not necessary to be a king to experience
extreme displeasure on learning that offensive scandals
are almost public, and on hearing the whole tale of
them. The king, carried away by his anger, went
straight to Vincennes, had a violent scene with his
wife, and caused Bosredon to be arrested, imprisoned,
and put to the question; and he, on his own confession
it is said, was thrown into the Seine, sewn up in
a leathern sack, on which were inscribed the words,
“Let the king’s justice run its course!”
Charles VI. and Armagnac did not stop there.
Queen Isabel was first of all removed from the council
and stripped of all authority, and then banished to
Tours, where commissioners were appointed to watch
over her conduct, and not to let her even write a
letter without their seeing it. But royal personages
can easily elude such strictness. A few months
after her banishment, whilst the despotism of Armagnac
and the war between the king and the Duke of Burgundy
were still going on, Queen Isabel managed to send
to the duke, through one of her servants, her golden
seal, which John the Fearless well knew, with a message
to the effect that she would go with him if he would
come to fetch her. On the night of November
1, 1417, the Duke of Burgundy hurriedly raised the
siege of Corbeil, advanced with a body of troops to
a position within two leagues from Tours, and sent
the queen notice that he was awaiting her. Isabel
ordered her three custodians to go with her to mass
at the Convent of Marmoutier, outside the city.
Scarcely was she within the church when a Burgundian
captain, Hector de Saveuse, presented himself with
sixty men at the door. “Look to your safety,
madame,” said her custodians to Isabel; “here
is a large company of Burgundians or English.”
“Keep close to me,” replied the queen.
Hector de Saveuse at that moment entered and saluted
the queen on behalf of the Duke of Burgundy.
“Where is he?” asked the queen.
“He will not be long coming.” Isabel
ordered the captain to arrest her three custodians;