Thus did he begin with very harsh words. He told us he had read, along with the Bible, numerous works that help to clarify it, but he had not in any book learnt of dominions usurped or lost when claims of truth and justice were respected. Now take heed, said Brother Hugues to his majesty. Upon your return, take heed to govern equitably that you may deserve God’s love and that so long as you live He shall not withdraw your patrimony.
Afterward I said we should try to keep Brother Hugues. King Louis said that already he had asked the friar to stay, but he would not. Then, taking me by the hand, his majesty suggested that both of us go and urge Brother Hugues to relent. This seemed a good idea. Our petition had no effect. I further beseeched him to stay with us, at least while the king was in Provence. The Franciscan took this badly.
God will love me better, he said, if I am elsewhere than the king’s court.
One day only would he stay with us. Next day he left. I have heard that he lies entombed at Marseille where his bones work miracles.
When it was time to continue our journey we descended from the castle afoot because the hill was quite steep. The king lost patience with his old squire Ponce over some trifling matter and scolded him. I thought this unwarranted. Sire, I began, you should forgive Ponce much, considering that he has served not only yourself but your father and grandfather.
Seneschal, the king replied, my grandfather Philip advised me that we should value servants according to merit. By forgiving Ponce we subject ourselves to his ineptitude. That being so, it is we who serve the servant. Further, King Philip advised me that he is not fit to rule who cannot reprove as well as praise.
And I, hearing these words, discovered I was given much to think about.
We passed through the city of Aix where the husk of Mary Magdalene is said to lie entombed. There is a cave in a rock where she lived seventeen years as an anchoress and we went to look at it. Next we proceeded to Beaucaire, at which point I took leave of his majesty. I went to see my niece, the Dauphine de Vienne. I also went to see my uncle, the Comte de Chalon. And separately, because they were much at odds, I visited his son, the Comte de Bourgogne. After that I traveled to Joinville from which I had long been absent.
Presently here came a little silver ship from her majesty, not to the value of five marks but one hundred livres. On deck stood figures of the king, the queen herself, with three children, all most wondrously fashioned of silver. So were little mariners wrought from silver, the mast, the rudder, cordage, all silver, and sails neatly sewn with silver thread. I, for my part, walked barefoot to the shrine of Saint Nicholas at Varangeville to requite his custody and saw Queen Marguerite’s ship placed in his chapel.
Some time afterward I rejoined the king at Soissons where he greeted me with such warmth that people whispered. Seeing him now among familiar vanities I thought how much was changed. He had lost his taste for beaver and squirrel fur, ermine, scarlet fabric, gilded stirrups, and the like. His garment now was gray wool, the covering of his bed lambskin or deerskin. At table he did not request special meats but ate what he was given, deprived himself of tender morsels, and did not salt his soup. Wine he tempered with water, more or less according to the wine, and drank from a glass goblet. Once on Cyprus he asked why I put no water to the wine. I said it was the physicians’ doing for they told me I had a thick head and cold belly, hence it was not in me to get drunk. He answered that my physicians deceived me. If you do not learn to water the wine until you are old, he said, you will suffer gouts and stomach complaints. Moreover, if when you are old you drink it neat you will get drunk, which is a passing foul thing.
Always he would look to see that his paupers had been fed and he sent money to distribute. If minstrels with viols came to entertain at supper he would not allow grace to be said until they finished singing. Only then did he rise and the priests stood before him to give thanks. If some Franciscan spoke of a book the king might enjoy hearing he would ask that it not be read, saying there could be nothing more satisfactory at table than good discourse.
Often at night he got up from bed to pray. Then the queen would rise and drape a cloak about his shoulders lest he catch cold. She told her confessor that the king seldom noticed. I think he discussed with her the possibility of abdication so that he might become a monk. Wisely she explained that by maintaining peace in the realm he would be more useful to God. I know that when writing privately to friends he called himself Louis of Poissy, referring to the little town where he was baptized. If some wondered that he disdained a royal signature he reminded them how kings are transitory.
Once I disputed Master Robert of Sorbon as to the qualities of a prud’homme, who is brave in body and the loyal servant of Christ. His majesty listened. At length he said he would dearly love that name. For, said he, it is so fine a thing that merely to pronounce the word prud’homme does fill up the mouth agreeably.
Bishop Guy d’Auxerre rebuked King Louis, saying that in his majesty’s hands the honor of Christendom declined because no man
