Madame Serpent (32 page)

She was six years old― a little older than Francis- easy to see that in the short time she had known him she had made the boy her slave. Already he loved her. That was perhaps just as well, since he would have to marry her.

‘Welcome to France, my dear.’

In perfect French the little girl thanked the Queen for her welcome.

‘You had a comfortable journey, I trust,’ said Catherine.

‘Oh yes. Soon after we left the Clyde, though, an English squadron sighted us, but we escaped. That was most exciting!’

Her eyes sparkled. Could it be that she was only six? She seemed more than a year older than Francis. And even Elizabeth, Catherine noticed, was ready to follow her about and laugh when she laughed. She seemed to have been

educated in advance of the little Valois. Well, they would all be educated together now, for the King had given orders that Mary Stuart was to be brought up as a French princess, although in view of the exalted position she would one day hold, she would immediately take precedence of the little Valois girls.

The child chattered on in French. Yet she was a dignified little thing,

Catherine thought, a little too imperious. She seemed to be implying:
You are
the Queen, but I am the future Queen. I am the daughter of kings; and you come
from a merchant family!

But that could not be. Catherine was a little over-sensitive on that point. She had suffered so much indignity that it might be that she was too ready to look for slights.

She sent for the child’s governess who was a pretty red-headed widow; a

natural daughter of James IV of Scotland. Her name was Lady Fleming; and she declared herself to be at the service of the Queen of France.

Catherine discussed the education of the children, and explained that she herself supervised, to a large extent, the children’s education. She fancied Lady Fleming’s smile was a trifle impertinent, as though she already knew that the Queen was only allowed to do what Madame Diane permitted.
Truly,
Catherine reminded herself,
I
am over-sensitive. It was the after-effects of the humiliation
of Lyons
.

‘I shall be giving you instructions,’ she told Lady Fleming and dismissed the woman.

‘Now children,’ she said, ‘tell me what you have been doing while you have been awaiting the coming of the King and myself.’

Francis was about to speak, but Mary spoke for him. They had played games which
she
had introduced; they had read books which
she
had brought with her.

Francis’s Latin was not very good she feared; and Elizabeth scarcely knew anything at all.

‘I can see you are a very learned young person,’ said Catherine; at which the little Queen of Scotland was graciously pleased.

Catherine then asked questions about the court of Scotland, and Mary

supplied the answers, while Francis and Elizabeth watched her in delight. Every now and then, Francis would: ‘
Maman,
Mary says―’ Or: ‘Mary, tell my gracious mother of the way you ride in Scotland―’ And Elizabeth kept

murmuring Mary’s name and clutching the elder child’s gowns with her fat little fingers.

An enchanting child, thought Catherine. But one to whom it would be

necessary to teach a little humility.

.And then Henry and Diane came into the room.

The attendants dropped to their knees and little Mary Stuart gave the most charming curtsy of all.

‘Come here, little Mary, and let me look at you,’ said Henry. The lovely

blue eyes were lifted to Henry’s face with something like awe. She might be the future Queen of France, but here was the ruling King.

And how handsome is my Henry, thought Catherine; forgetting the new

arrival at the sight of him in his black velvet garments. Her eyes went to the black velvet cap with the famous letters ornamenting it in flashing diamonds.

Henry was disturbed. He was comparing the lovely girl with poor delicate

Francis. Poor boy! If he had looked sickly before; he looked ten times more so side by side with the dazzling Mary.

There was no doubt about it, Henry had a way with children. Their delight in him was spontaneous. Now he seemed to forget his dignity; he sank on to his knee and took the beautiful little face in his hands; he kissed first one smooth cheek then the other.

‘Methinks you and I shall love each other, Mary,’ he said; and she blushed happily; already she loved him.

He signed for a chair and the attendants immediately brought him that one which was kept for him here in the nursery. Henry sat down and made the little girl aware of Diane.

The bow! The looks of respect! So Diane’s fame had travelled to Scotland, and the bright little girl knew that if she would please the King of France, it was not the Queen to whom she must do homage, but Madame Diane.

‘Welcome, Your Majesty,’ said Diane. ‘It makes me very happy to see you

and to discover that you have already won the friendship of the Dauphin.’

‘Oh yes,’ said Mary lightly. ‘He loves me. Do you not, dear Francis?’

‘Oh yes, Mary.’

‘And he would be so desolate if I went away. He has told me so.’

Francis nodded in agreement.

‘Elizabeth too!’ lisped Elizabeth; and Diane caught up the child in her arms and kissed her, while Francis climbed on to his father’s knee and patted the other, indicating that he wished Mary to use that.

Henry had an arm about each child.

‘Now you must tell me what you have been doing, my dear little ones.’

They chattered, gay and laughing. Mary, her big eyes seeming to grow

bigger, explained the perilous journey in detail, making the King laugh with her description of how they had foiled the English fleet. Diane, hugging Elizabeth, joined in their laughter; and Catherine suddenly realized that Mary Stuart was no longer a dignified little Queen; with the King and Diane she was just a six-year-old little girl.

There was no place for Catherine in that magic circle.

She crept away unnoticed, and went to the cradle in which lay little Claude.

The baby at least seemed glad to see her. She clucked and laughed as her mother bent over her. Catherine held up a finger and the baby’s eyes grew large as she stared at the jewel there. Then she reached for it, laughing.

‘You love your mother then, Baby Claude,’ murmured Catherine.

But she knew that Baby Claude would grow up soon; then she too would

turn from her mother to Diane― unless a miracle happened.

———————

The King grew more and more under the influence of Diane. He had created

her Duchesse
de Valentinois
and bestowed greater and richer estates upon her.

She was such a good Catholic that it was only right, thought the King, that the confiscated property of Protestants should be given to her, together with fines which the Jews were called upon to pay from time to time.

Brooding on her hatred, Catherine despised herself. Why did she not find

some way of killing Diane? What folly it was to love, for it was only her love for Henry which stopped her again and again from trying one of the poisons she had in her possession. Sometimes she felt that it would be worthwhile risking the perpetual hatred of Henry if she could free herself from the continual humiliation of witnessing his love for Diane.

But she knew her love for her husband was greater than her hatred for his mistress. That was the crux of her problem. While matters stood as they were, she had that period between having children when she could share her husband with Diane; at other times she lived on her imagination. But Diane dead, and her death traced to Catherine, might mean banishment― anything, in which case she would be robbed of Henry’s visits and those other intimacies which she enjoyed in her mind.

Sometimes she implored the Ruggieri to help her. They stood firm. No

matter how subtle the poison, they dared not risk it. They begged her to cling to reason. It was difficult; it was only her desire for her husband that saved Diane’s life.

Early the following year her son Louis was born, and in June of the same

year she had her coronation. The crown was placed upon her head, but it was Diane who wore the Crown jewels; and it was Diane’s head with that of the King which appeared on the medals.

Tired out by the celebrations which attended her coronation, she would lie in her bed and think yearningly of the King as she had seen him that day in his white armour covered by a tunic of cloth of silver, the scabbard of his sword encrusted with rubies and diamonds; with what dignity he had ridden his noble white charger, while over his head was held, by mounted men with frisky horses which pranced on each side of the King’s, a canopy of blue velvet embroidered with golden
fleur-de-lys
.

He had looked so noble, so kingly. No wonder people had cheered him.

Catherine clenched and unclenched her hands.
If only― I will do it. I do not
care what happens. I will not see him doting on her, all the time giving her what
belongs by right to me.

Many times during the darkness of night she poisoned Diane in her

imagination; she saw herself sprinkling powdered white poison over the

woman’s food; she saw Diane turning the book whose pages were smeared with some deadly solution that would seep into her skin; she saw her drawing on gloves that had been cunningly treated by Cosmo and Lorenzo.

But with each morning, caution came hand in hand with common sense, and

although she could not part with an idea which was an obsession and belonged to her life as much as did her love for her husband and her hatred for his mistress, she knew that the time was not yet ripe.

———————

Contemplating the gaiety of the life at court, it seemed to Catherine that a colourfully embroidered cloth had been laid across something that was horrible, for the wars of religion were taking on a deep significance throughout the land.

The
Chambre Ardente
― a special chamber to deal with Huguenots― had been created by Parliament. Henry was less cruel than many about him and he did not wish to have his subjects tortured and burned at the stake, even though he was convinced that their misguided religious views might merit this punishment; but he was hemmed in by strong men and women who demanded punishment for

the heretic. These were the wily de Guises, grown more powerful since their niece, Mary Stuart, had arrived in France, the cruel Montmorency, and Diane herself.

Calvin was flourishing, and Protestantism was growing everywhere; there

were even some towns where the Reformers were in a majority; and where they were, as Diane did not hesitate to point out to the King, they did not refrain from persecuting Catholics. A firm hand was needed, said the Catholic party.

Protestantism must be ruthlessly suppressed.

Catherine, concerned with her own obsession, felt aloof from the

conflagration. She would state no opinions and favor none unless it were

beneficial to her to show favour. If the Protestants could help Catherine de’

Medici in her fight against Diane, then they should have her help; but if the Catholics could prove advantageous in the same cause, then Catherine was all for the Catholics.

Watch and wait for an opportunity to defeat Diane, should be her motto.

An opportunity did come her way, and she seized on it.

Henry was disturbed. It was all very well for his friends to tell him that the burning and torturing of heretics was a necessary duty. Even though Diane insisted on this, he could not feel happy about it. He would, he declared in unguarded moment, be prepared to hear what an ambassador from the Reformed party had to tell him. The man could come to him and have no fear, on the King’s honour, of being victimized for anything he might say on this occasion.

This announcement of the King’s threw Diane and her friends into a state of uneasiness. There were intelligence in the Reformed party; and the fact that the King had, without first consulting Diane, declared his willingness to hear their side of the case was in itself disconcerting.

Catherine was delighted. Could this mean a lessening of Diane’s power, an inclination in the King to think for himself? She was alert, wondering if there was any small way in which she could turn this matter to her advantage.

There were several prisoners awaiting torture and execution, the King had said; and he was agreeable that one of them should be sent to him that he might state his case.

A prisoner, thought Catherine. She guessed that Diane suggested that. Why, the King should have sent for Calvin or some such exalted member of the party.

But a prisoner. There was no doubt that the King was as much under the

influence of his Catholic mistress as ever.

So Diane, with her new relations, the de Guises, brought their man before the King. He was to be questioned in the presence of others besides Henry; indeed, there was a good gathering of ladies and gentlemen of the court seated about the King.

Catherine watched the wretched man who had been selected for cross-

examination. He was a poor tailor, a man of no education; but as Catherine cunningly surveyed him, it began to occur to her that Diane her friends had not been so clever

She felt that mad racing of her heart that was the only indication of her excitement. This tailor was a man of ideals; there was no mistaking the burning zeal in his eyes; he stood before them unafraid, so sure that he was right and they were wrong. She was reminded at once of Montecuccoli and how such men could be used by others whose zeal was not for a cause but for their own power and the fulfillment of their desires. Such men as Montecuccoli and this poor tailor were made to be used by such as herself, the de Guises, Diane. But in this case, she was cleverer than Diane and the de Guises. Had she been in their place, she would not have brought a fanatic and an idealist to speak against them.

The tailor looked wretched in his ragged clothes, the more so because of the brilliant colours and the jewel-studded garments of the court. It was foolish to imagine such a man would be over-awed by splendid surroundings and costly jewels. To him there was no splendour but that of Heaven, to be attained only through what he believed to be the true religion.