Chapter 56

A king is the father of all his people, the cornerstone and foundation of a nation.

The people rejoiced at the rise of a king because it gave them hope for a stable future.

After enduring such a long war, even peasants in the countryside understood firsthand just how serious the absence of a king could be.

“With the rightful king on the throne, the civil war and all this fighting must finally come to an end.”

“We need a king.”

A strong monarchy reduced the risk of rebellion and civil war while also greatly diminishing the threat of foreign invasion. The people, who had been tossed about like scarecrows in the wind, desperately felt the need for a king.

Or so it should have been…

The Dauphin’s coronation was supposed to be a joyous occasion, a day when he alone would stand in the spotlight.

Yet amid all the praise, he kept hearing something that grated on his nerves.

“Today is supposed to be the day of my coronation. So why, of all things, has news of the Saint eating cheese spread so widely?”

“I-It’s only a local sensation in Reims! Everywhere else, the people are singing Your Majesty’s praises and yours alone!”

The Saint’s cheese-eating spectacle was nothing more than a passing curiosity, easily ignored if he chose not to dwell on it. But the Dauphin was irritated nonetheless, and his brow furrowed.

“First, he took it upon himself to spare Richemont’s life. I thought he was a reasonable man, but the more I see of him, the more insolent he seems.”

Absorbing Richemont’s cavalry had certainly worked to his advantage, but that did nothing to improve his mood.

“Summon the Saint. I wish to speak with him.”

And so Maxime answered the Dauphin’s summons and entered the royal audience chamber. Given the occasion, he was dressed in simple ceremonial attire.

“I pay my respects to Your Majesty.”

Maxime bowed respectfully, as though he already regarded the Dauphin as king. Even after all his accomplishments, his manner toward the Dauphin had not changed in the slightest.

A wave of satisfaction washed over him. The sight of the Saint, revered by the masses, submitting to his authority. This was the true taste of power. The lingering unease he had felt moments earlier vanished, and a smile spread across his face. Indeed, nothing put one’s mind at ease quite like seeing a potential threat brought to heel.

“I hear you’ve become quite the topic of conversation among the citizens of Reims.”

“It’s a food that people either love or hate, so I believe word spread because they found it unusual that I enjoyed it.”

The Dauphin took the opportunity to air his other grievances.

“That’s one thing, but I distinctly ordered you to prevent Richemont from joining us. So why is he here?”

“My apologies, Your Majesty. I had no intention of defying your wishes. I simply believed that his elite troops would be a valuable addition to our forces. I brought him into our ranks under French command, fully intending to cast him aside if he failed to obey. …Regardless of the outcome, I offer my sincerest apologies once again.”

It was complete submission. Any displeasure the Dauphin had felt was already gone.

“Today is a day of celebration, so I’ll let the matter rest. You may go.”

Maxime bowed his head and departed.

As he left, a small white dog that had been waiting beside a distant pillar trotted over to join him. The unexpected sight of the four-legged creature in the distance piqued the Dauphin’s curiosity.

Is that the one I’ve heard about? The dog that follows the army around and supposedly distinguished itself in the midst of battle…?

Strictly speaking, bringing an animal into a royal audience was a breach of etiquette. Walter, however, had sensed the atmosphere and obediently waited for his master at a distance. As a result, hardly any of the courtiers had even noticed his presence.

He could prove useful.

Despite being nothing more than an animal, the dog behaved like a loyal knight. Watching him, the Dauphin felt a sudden desire to possess him.

***

Bright sunlight illuminated the interior of the cathedral. Attendance was restricted to members of the upper ranks of society. Fewer than a hundred people were present, including the kingdom’s leading nobles, regional lords, and clergy.

Three clergymen presided over the coronation: the Archbishop of Reims, Bishop Guillaume of Laon, and Bishop Jean of Saarbrücken of Châlons. Tommaso Parentucelli, being merely a priest and an outsider, had not been permitted to attend.

Ordinary citizens were not even allowed inside the cathedral. Nevertheless, they gathered in long lines outside, eagerly awaiting the outcome of the coronation.

“How do you suppose England will respond?”

“They’ve suffered such a severe defeat that I doubt they’ll be able to do much of anything. Once the coronation is over, we should immediately begin preparing negotiations with Burgundy.”

The nobles were more interested in politics than in praising their king.

“Did you see how the citizens reacted? What a magnificent sight it was, watching them shower the king, the Saint, and the Saintess with praise!”

“The noble hearts those two have shown are certainly worthy of admiration. Surely Heaven wouldn’t have sent them to us without good reason.”

The knights, who had been deeply moved by their glorious journey, shared the citizens’ enthusiasm.

“…Do you really think it’s a coincidence that stories about the Saint have spread so widely? Could there be some political calculation behind it?”

“Precisely. Nothing about his actions thus far suggests that he’s a fool. He may have ulterior motives, so we mustn’t let our guard down.”

“The Saintess possesses an extraordinary influence that goes far beyond mere military valor. She’s even managed to win the hearts of the people.”

A handful of powerful figures could barely conceal their discomfort at the growing excitement among the populace. In their eyes, even the stirring of public sentiment seemed like a challenge to their authority.

Their chatter ceased entirely as they entered the cathedral.

Archbishop Renaud de Chartres stepped onto the dais. The remaining murmurs in the cathedral fell silent. He was the Archbishop of Reims, a city renowned for its religious devotion, and the man responsible for officiating the coronation. He also had a longstanding connection to the Dauphin.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Before Almighty God and His Holy Church, we gather here today to honor the one chosen by Heaven.”

This was the moment a father of the nation would be born. There was a palpable sense of anticipation in the solemn atmosphere. The coronation proceeded with a grand Mass, accompanied by the choir singing sacred hymns.

“He’s coming.”

The Dauphin entered through the cathedral doors, dressed in magnificent ceremonial robes and a ceremonial breastplate. All eyes turned toward him. Before approaching the altar, he had his attendants make a final inspection of his appearance. His guards formed a procession around him.

He stopped before the altar, where the archbishop welcomed him.

Maxime and Jeanne d’Arc stood directly beside the king. They had been positioned there as symbolic figures to emphasize the divine sanctity of royal authority.

Jeanne seems… calm.

Maxime steadied himself as well.

The archbishop brought forth the Sainte Ampoule, the sacred vessel of holy oil kept by the cathedral.

He applied the holy oil to the Dauphin’s chest, shoulders, and forehead, where the crown would soon rest, proclaiming God’s blessing upon him.

“God has anointed this man as king and entrusted him with divine authority by His own hand. Heaven has chosen him, and no mortal may deny His will.

Do you acknowledge this man as the king chosen by God?”

The assembled guests answered.

“Yes!”

The archbishop placed the crown upon the bowed head of the Dauphin.

“Philip VI, founder of the House of Valois; his son, John II; his son, Charles of France; and his son, Charles VII.

I hereby proclaim our sovereign, Charles VII, King of France.”

With the crown upon his head, Charles straightened his shoulders and rose. At that moment, France had gained its rightful king.

At his waist hung a sword symbolizing justice and protection, while in his hand he held a scepter representing the authority to rule.

The assembled guests knelt before their sovereign.

“Give thanks to God, who has brought this to pass!”

“Long live the King of France!”

“Long live the king ordained by the Lord!”

“Blessings upon our king!”

“Praise Charles, our king!”

“Long live Charles!”

The Dauphin was no more. Charles VII had been crowned king.

Jeanne d’Arc, who had attended the coronation, also knelt to pay her respects.

“Your noble Majesty, we have lifted the siege of Orléans and brought you to Reims for your sacred coronation. You are the rightful king, and I believe you will lead France down the right path.”

Charles was so absorbed in the praise surrounding him that Jeanne’s words barely registered.

Please, do not forget us.

Maxime also celebrated the birth of the new king.

***

The Dauphin was no longer a crown prince. Nobles and commoners alike began addressing him by his official title, Charles VII.

And Charles was not the only one to rise in status that day.

“Gilles de Rais has been appointed Marshal of France…”

“I didn’t expect them to announce it publicly right after the coronation.”

“Is France going to be all right? It’s not that Gilles de Rais is incompetent, but…”

Georges had played a major role in securing Gilles de Rais’s promotion to marshal. He still believed Gilles was his loyal subordinate.

“Hahaha! I’ve tucked the royal seal safely inside my armor.”

As Marshal of France, Gilles had the authority to requisition supplies by royal decree. He could also administer summary punishment to soldiers who violated military discipline.

Gilles himself, however, was most pleased with his increased salary.

Charles VII’s first official royal decree was an order to convene a council to discuss their future strategy. Court nobles and generals gathered in response.

“We must move quickly to take Paris. We cannot give the English time to recover.”

“The enemy is already reeling from defeat. We must not let this opportunity slip away.”

Jeanne d’Arc and the generals argued that they should launch an offensive against Paris in the near future.

Georges’s faction immediately objected.

“Absolutely out of the question! The famous city of Paris is renowned for its formidable defenses. We’ve already endured a long march to reach Reims for the coronation. If we launch a hasty assault, we could suffer heavy casualties!”

“Your Majesty, I suggest we focus on winning Burgundy over to our side, as originally planned.”

By “heavy casualties”, they meant financial losses. Georges’s faction argued that they had already achieved their objectives and should avoid taking unnecessary risks. Instead, they wanted to postpone further military operations until they could bring the Burgundians over to their side.

“If their defenses are so formidable, isn’t that all the more reason to attack now? And what does winning over Burgundy have to do with retaking Paris? Surely we can pursue both objectives separately.”

“What an ignorant thing to say! What do you intend to do if England and Burgundy join forces and attack us while we’re assaulting Paris?!”

The military commanders, including the Duke of Alençon, clashed with Georges’s faction. Charles VII refrained from making a hasty decision, instead watching as the dispute dragged on. The council continued without reaching a conclusion.

Then, in the midst of the debate, welcome news arrived.

“…Your Majesty, a delegation from Burgundy has arrived.”

They were close associates of the Duke of Burgundy. The arguments that had filled the chamber abruptly ceased. Under the knights’ fierce, watchful gazes, the delegation’s representative knelt on one knee.

“What brings you before me?”

The assembled nobles fell completely silent, waiting for the representative to speak.

“Duke Philip has proposed a fifteen-day truce.”

“Why, those bast—”

Just as the generals were about to erupt in anger, an enticing offer came from the envoy’s lips.

“In addition to the truce, His Grace has expressed his willingness to hand Paris over to France.”

“Is that true?”

“Here is a letter written by the duke himself.”

“…So it is true.”

***

Paris was the city that had executed Jeanne d’Arc.

“The Armagnacs have used a witch to put an illegitimate king on the throne!”

“Reims? Then… what about our king?!”

Every time news reached Paris of the Armagnacs’ growing success under the leadership of the Saint and Saintess, the citizens grew increasingly anxious.

“If they take Paris at this rate… they’ll take revenge on us for cooperating with England and Burgundy!!”

Political reprisals were commonplace. Recognizing this fear among the populace, the Duke of Bedford quickly seized upon it and, demonstrating his abilities as a capable regent, swiftly brought public opinion under his control.

“Hold a ceremony at Notre-Dame Cathedral where the people will swear their loyalty to us. And appoint a lord supported by the citizens of Paris as commander of the garrison.”

He also dismissed every officer he suspected might betray England.

And the good news did not end there.

“We’ve received word from the Duke of Burgundy. He says he will cooperate with us militarily, just as planned.”

“Kuku…”

The Duke of Bedford let out a low chuckle.

The groundwork for a comeback had been laid.