In the year 1444 there reigned in Brittany, one of the fairest fiefs of France, François II., son of the great Duke, Jean V. and Jeanne of France, daughter of the unfortunate Charles VI.
He came to the throne in a time of peace. Between him and his two brothers was perfect friendship, and the wars that tore France did not disturb Brittany, unmolested by foreigners, strong and respected at home.
From the hand of François himself came the glint of the sword that brightening smote the country into factions, the little quarrels that spread into civil war, the little whispers that grew into foul slanders, the petty jealousies and intrigues that became heartbreaks and miseries.
And the beginning of this was the coming to the court of Rennes, of Guy de Montauban, a penniless Breton noble.
That was five years ago and for those five years had his influence spread and his power grown, till the Duke was a mere puppet in his hands and Brittany, delivered to him, slipping fast into a state of weakness and internal disorders.
Men wondered what gave to Montauban his great power over the Duke. For Guy de Montauban was in every sense an ordinary man. He had neither charm, gaiety, splendour, nor brilliant talents to attract the senses; neither affection, honesty, devotion nor truth to attach the heart.
Born in Italy, of an Italian mother, educated in Padua with all the elegance of the time (a training that, while it gave him neither wit nor talents, yet gave him a certain power of concealing lack of ability, and a finish in his manner, a gravity and dignity in his demeanor, his indolent, narrow mind was far from confirming)—Guy de Montauban, by the mere chance infatuation of the Duke, found himself at the age of thirty-five in a position to dictate to a reigning Prince and to use a whole country, if he willed, for his sport.
