Madame Serpent (38 page)

The King often attended; he looked upon it as a courteous duty, and unless he was ‘at home’ at Anet, or there was a hunting party― in which case

Catherine herself would usually be of it― he would come. Diane, of course, as first lady to the Queen, must be there. Montmorency made a point of occasional visits, although he declared that he was not at home in a lady’s apartment and came because he liked to talk to the Queen about the royal children, for whom he professed great fondness. The Guises came, and Catherine was glad to have them there, although she greatly feared them, knowing them for the ruthlessly ambitious men they were, priming their niece, Mary Stuart, in all she did and said. It horrified Catherine to think of Francis as the slave of Mary, and Mary the tool of her uncles. Pray the saints, there would be many years before Francis, with Mary, mounted the throne. The King was robust and not one of his sons equalled him in physique. Catherine often remembered that Francis the First and her own father had died of the same terrible disease. She and Henry were

healthy people, but had they escaped the taint only to pass it on to their children? Young Francis and Charles were weaklings. She smiled suddenly. But her own darling Henry should not be. She was back at an old theme.

She could now look round the members of her
cercle
with pleasure and gratification. The poets Ronsard and Joachim du Bellay argued together; one of the three Coligny brothers was talking animatedly to Henry’s sister Marguerite, for whom a husband had not yet been found, although she was advancing into her thirties; lovely Anne d’Este, the Italian woman whom Francis de Guise had married, was with the other two Colinys. All the most important personages of the court found it expedient to attend the Queen’s
cercle
.

There was one thing she could not do, and that was exclude Diane. All her triumph turned to bitterness when she looked around and saw her enemy. As she received the homage of those about her, Catherine could not prevent pictures flashing in and out of her mind: little vignettes, scenes from the chamber below hers at Saint-Germain. Engraved on her memory were the tender gestures, the passionate love-making. There were many scores to be settled with Diane.

Never would Catherine forget how, some years ago, when it had been necessary to appoint a Regent, Henry having gone in person to battle, and tradition demanding that the Regent should be the Queen, Henry had, at Diane’s

instigation, so hemmed her in with councillors that her power had been

completely nullified. Catherine had accepted that state of affairs without protest, not wishing the people to know how, at his mistress’s command, her husband would humiliate his wife. She did not forget it. She would never forget it; it was almost as bitter a memory as those that had come to her by way of the hole in the floor.

Montmorency was beside her now. He had brought a new medicine for little

Hercule, as he had heard the child was ailing.

‘Monsieur, you are too good!’ said Catherine. ‘The elephant’s tooth you

brought me proved beneficial to Charles.’

‘You dissolved it well, I hope, Madame.’

‘Indeed, yes.’

‘This is a special herb. I have tested it on my servants.’

The Constable’s eyes were on Diane, who was talking with the
Duc de

Guise
and Mary Stuart, together with the Dauphine. He and Diane were enemies, in secret, though they did distress the King by proclaiming their enmity; but Diane had never forgotten the part the Constable played in the affair of the Scottish governess.

Catherine turned to find Francis de Vendôme at her side. She smiled

warmly, for this man had a special claim to her favour.

He was handsome― indeed, he was one of the handsomest men at court―

and was of royal blood, having Bourbon connections; he had always made a

point of being very courteous to the Queen; but, most important of all, he had been cool to Diane. This had happened when she was looking for husbands for her daughters and had considered Francis de Vendôme being of royal blood, a suitable
parti
. Francis de Vendôme entitled Vidame of Chartres, had haughtily declined the alliance with the girl whom Diane afterwards succeeded in

marrying to one of the Guises. Catherine had liked the young man for that; and in his turn he had made a habit of humbly seeking her out and giving her his respectful admiration. She was pleased to see him at her
cercle
.

Montemorency moved off, and she gave the Vidame permission to sit beside

her.

The young man was amusing; he was always ready with the latest gossip,

and she had found more than once that he soothed her wounded vanity. People glanced their way, and she knew they wondered whether this was the beginning of a love affair― although there had never been anything of this nature in the life of the Queen.

‘Your Majesty is looking charming this evening.’ The young man’s

handsome head moved closer to that of the Queen, who tried to show that the flattery did not interest her; she could not be blamed if it did, she reminded herself, since she had received so little in a lifetime of humiliations at the court of France.

‘Poor old Montmorency seems troubled tonight,’ she said.

‘It is this affair of his son’s. The old man is ambitious for the boy, and the boy, the saints preserve him, is ambitious for love.’

‘I think the boy has spirit,’ said Catherine.

‘What we would call spirit, Madame, the old Constable calls folly.’

Catherine smiled. The whole court was talking of the Montmorency affair at the moment. The King had offered his daughter, Diane of France, to the

Constable’s son, and the Constable’s son had already promised marriage to one of Catherine’s ladies. Montmorency was furious to think that the man had, by his impetuous act, spoiled his chances of linking his family with the King’s. He had had the girl whom his son wished to marry shut up in a convent, and was endeavoring to get the Pope to annul the promise of marriage.

‘Ah well,’ went on the Vidame, ‘it is a great temptation. The old Constable would rejoice to see his son make such a noble marriage. One understands.’

‘One understands the Constable’s feelings and those of his son. The latter is not the first to refuse a match that would bring him advantage.’

They exchanged smiles. Catherine was referring to the Vidame’s declining

the hand of Diane’s daughter.

‘Madame,’ whispered the Vidame, ‘there is one here who greatly enjoys the Constable’s discomfiture.’

Again they could smile together, cosily, intimately. It was very pleasant to chat with someone who had proved that he had no wish to serve Diane.

‘How well they hide their enmity from the King!’ said the Vidame.

The Queen was silent, and he wondered if he gone too far. He was

ambitious; he had not thought ageing Diane could hold her influence at court as long as this; and even now, he looked at her silver hair― though she was

beautiful in spite of it― and he felt, as all did, that she would hold the King’s attention until she died, he was sure that he had done the right thing in winning the good graces of the quiet Queen instead of those of Diane. His was a waiting policy and the Queen was comparatively young. When he had looked into those dark eyes that could seem so mild, he had seen something which others had failed to see; he had discovered that Catherine was not the insignificant person many believed her to be. He remembered the death of Dauphin Francis which had made her Queen. Ah, Madame Serpent, he thought, could you solve that

mystery? But sly she might be, subtle too, yet she was also a neglected wife; he was not rich, but his face, his breeding, his charming manners were his fortune, and he had always been a great success with women.

‘How beautiful she looks,’ said Catherine, ‘in her black-and-white. I declare it becomes that silvery hair of hers more it did the raven locks.’

‘Beautiful, yes. What health she enjoys! There must be sorcery in it. But even sorcery cannot hold off the years indefinitely.’

‘Yes; she has aged much since I first set eyes on her.’ He had come close and she moved slightly.

‘A thousand pardons, Madame,’ he said. ‘For one blessed moment, I forgot

you were the Queen.’

She looked away with a hint of impatience, but he knew that she was not

displeased. The Vidame began to wonder seriously about the possibility of a love-affair with the Queen. He was sure it would be a most profitable love affair, and the poor Bourbons with the King’s four sons standing between them and the throne, could not afford to ignore any opportunity.

Catherine, too astute not to read his thoughts and to suspect his motive, was wondering how she might use the Vidame. Diane was ageing. The King was

inclined to simplicity. He had never thought of his wife as an attractive woman.

Would it be possible to gain his attention by letting him think that one of the handsomest men at court was interested in her?

It was a thought worth considering. Therefore she allowed the Vidame to

stay at her side, and listened with apparent lightheartedness to his veiled compliments which he knew so well how to phrase.

She was watching the two lovers― Francis and Mary― on the window-seat.

Francis de Guise and the Cardinal of Lorraine were still with them; the wily pair were talking merrily, and the children were going off into fits of laughter at their presumably witty conversation. Young Francis was staring up at the scarred face of Francis de Guise with adoration. Of what was the
Duc de Guise
speaking? Of Metz, where he had routed Spaniards? Of his entry into Paris, where the people adore him even as young Francis was preparing to do? Even that terrible scar on his right cheek which had earned for him the name of
le Balafé
― hideous though it was― he had turned to advantage. The terrible
Duc de Guise
, the greatest soldier in France, the idol of Paris, the most scheming of a scheming family, the uncle of her who might one day be Queen! In that event it would be the Guise brothers who would become the power behind the throne. Now, as he talked, he was drawing others to him; and his brother, the Cardinal of Lorraine, was there to help him.

The Cardinal was the cruellest of men, the most cunning, the most witty, the most ambitious and immoral man who ever strove for his own ends under the sanctifying robes of the Church. He was as ready with a quotation from the Bible or the classics as he was with a risqué story; he was completely

unscrupulous. And this man, with Francis de Guise, stood behind the Scots Queen and the boy Francis awaiting the death of the King, that they, through these children, might rule France. And on whom did these men turn their

flattery― on the pale-faced, delicate boy Dauphin or the girl with that shining mass of hair and the most charming smile in France? The wily uncles would direct their niece, for she adored them, and the girl in turn would rule the Dauphin since he was passionately in love with her.

Catherine stood up suddenly; she was determined to break-up the conference by the window.

‘Let us play a game,’ she said. ‘Let it be Pall-Mall.’

The ladies and gentlemen could all join in this, and better to have them

playing than engaging in dangerous conversation.

Mary Stuart’s eyes met those of the woman who was to be her mother-in-

law, and the girl’s mouth hardened. She knew that the merry conversation she was enjoying had been deliberately broken up.

So! thought Mary.
She is jealous. I and the Dauphin surround ourselves
with all the most important people in the land, and that makes her angry. The
daughter of tradesmen is afraid that she will lose what little dignity she has!

Catherine noted the girl’s pout, and laughed inwardly. Silly little Mary

Stuart! She thought it was for her charming beauty that those uncles of hers flattered her. She did not realize that even to such rakes as the Guise brothers there were more important matters than beautiful women.

The King joined in the game of Pall-Mall, playing with enthusiasm which he gave to all games, and with that fine sportsmanship which made a game he

played in as informal as any played without him.

How noble he looked at play! thought the Queen, and wondered when and if

old age would ever ease her longing for him.

She passed among the players, and in doing so could not help but hear an ill-timed remark of Mary Stuart’s:

‘She likes not to see you gentlemen more interested in Francis and me than in herself. Is not that what one would expect from a daughter of tradesmen?’

Catherine’s face was impassive. Let the insult pass for the moment; it would not be forgotten.

But, watching the King, she had little thought to spare for the girl. She could not live without the hope of one day luring him from Diane.

Would it be possible to kindle a spark of jealousy? And if so, not might not slumbering passion be awakened?

Her speculative eyes sought the tall, handsome figure of the Vidame of

Chartres.

———————

In Catherine’s apartments her women were robing her for the wedding of

her eldest son. She could hear the bells ringing out the city and the people were already shouting in the streets.

As they slipped her jewel-studded gown over her head, she thought of the

events which had befallen this land thick and fast in the last few months —

events which had culminated in marriage which neither she nor Diane and the King had wished to take place so soon. Francis and Mary were children only fourteen and fifteen. They were madly in love― at least Francis was, and Mary was ready to pet him and love him because of the eagerness with which he did everything she of asked him.

In these last months, those uncles of Mary Stuart had grown in importance.

The idol of Paris had become almost the King of Paris. Even Diane, who had once worked steadily to advance them, was appalled by their rising power, and had even sunk her differences with Montmorency to work against their further rise.