Daughter of Silk (38 page)
Andelot rubbed his chin and tried to look as innocent and boyish as he could. “He has mentioned taking me on a visit to his père’s lands and estate at Vendôme that we might ride and hunt together, Monseigneur le Cardinal. That is all.”
Le Duc de Guise looked impatient and began pacing. He was a man of strong military bearing, and the scar on his face taken in battle made him appear more so. The glittering eyes were also restless as they seemed to give up on Andelot.
“Desist,” he told the cardinal. “He knows nothing.” He paced and then turned to the king. “Sire, men seek your life and that of the young queen.”
“Mary?” Francis turned toward him, showing concern for the first time. “Why would the Huguenots wish to harm the queen?”
“Huguenots are sworn enemies of the throne, Sire,” the duc said impatiently as if speaking to a child. “You do not think in abducting you for ransom they would spare our niece, do you?”
“Your niece, Duc, but my wife and the Queen of France,” the king said, showing strength for the first time.
“It is no secret they wish to see you dead so they can put Prince de Condé on the throne. We must protect you, Sire, and the rest of the royal family.”
Andelot decided they had forgotten him, for even the cardinal turned his attention to Francis. Andelot wondered if the council meeting with the Bourbons had been called off. But had not Gallaudet told him early this morning that Fabien had ridden toward Blois to meet the Bourbon entourage coming from Moulins to attend the meeting? Andelot decided he was either confused, or that events were skewed for some purpose favoring the Guises and the Queen Mother. And why was the Queen Mother not here for this important meeting with the king?
Andelot stood very still, hoping they would forget his presence and continue their discussion. The cardinal walked over to a crimson velvet curtain and pulled it aside, peering about inside. Andelot saw a couch and two chairs, a table and some candles on gold urns.
“We can listen from here,” he told his brother the duc. Then the car- dinal smiled at Francis, who moved uneasily. “That way, Sire, if you know your oncles are behind this drape, you will not be uneasy in the presence of the spies.”
Francis looked at him and then reached for his goblet and sipped.
Why, the cardinal is cunningly threatening the king!
Andelot was shocked.
What spies? Did they think Marquis Fabien was a spy? Or was there something else going on that was more insidious?
“Andelot, my boy,” the cardinal said, smiling again. “You are a friend of the Huguenots, are you not?”
He lifted his head high. “I am a Catholic, Monseigneur le Cardinal.
A
good
Catholic —”
“Yes, yes, no one is accusing you otherwise. Only we may need your help. Are you willing to assist your king?”
Andelot looked over at Francis who still looked uneasy and ill. He was feeling more sympathy for him by the moment.
“I will do whatever the king wishes of me.” He bowed.
“Yes, I thought we could trust you to aid us in a certain matter. You are friendly with certain of the Huguenots from Lyon. Mademoiselle
Macquinet, for instance. Non, do not look alarmed — this has nothing to do with the belle with the auburn hair . . . but other Huguenots, who are friendly with the pestilent Bourbons, enemies of our good king. These spies, we fear, are loyal to the Lyon nobles, including one Comte Arnaut Macquinet.”
Andelot’s stomach f lopped.
“We have reason to believe this Macquinet makes forbidden trips into Geneva for heretic Bibles and brings them back into France for distribu- tion to the Huguenots. These writings, as you know — ” he smiled — “as a
good
Catholic, are forbidden. Those who possess such writing or dis- tribute them receive a death sentence. For the good of all the Church, the leaven must be purged out. This, to protect the whole lump of God’s dough. So you have been chosen to help your king in this matter.”
Andelot’s heart jumped to his throat. His lips would not move.
“Ah, then.” The cardinal looked across at le Duc de Guise. “Andelot will prove useful to us. He learns well.”
Useful?
Andelot looked from the cardinal to the duc. The two men
exchanged questioning glances. At last the duc gave a brief reluctant nod, then continued his pacing.
“There are enemies in the woods,” le Duc de Guise told Francis Valois. “They must be destroyed, Sire.”
“We caught several of them,” the cardinal joined in. “Spies. They will talk to no one, Sire, but you.”
Andelot’s mind hastened to keep one step ahead. This must be part of the plot Maître Avenelle told the Queen Mother about at Chambord.
“Mary and I feel like prisoners here,” Francis complained. “She wishes to go for rides in the woods.”
“Everything has changed since the masque, Sire,” the duc said. “These spies behave most suspiciously. Your life and Mary’s are heavily on my mind as your Marshal of France. Remember, the queen regent, your mother, also agrees with what we are doing.”
“Yes, Oncle. I am grateful for your loyal commitment to keeping us all safe from the rebels.”
“It is important to find out their plans, but as the cardinal has said, they will not talk to anyone but you.”
“We want you to receive these heretics, Sire,” the cardinal added. “We will tell you just what to say, so it should not be difficult . . . We know you are not feeling strong today.”
The door opened and the Queen Mother walked in. There was a cool look in her prominent eyes. Andelot marveled at her composure, at how she kept her face seemingly devoid of thought. It was an art he wished he had at the moment. They expected something from him, but what? They needed him, else he would not be permitted to witness such inner intrigue as was now in play.
She walked over to Francis.
“My son, you do not look well today. Did the banquet and masque wear you out? Let us hope you are strong enough to receive these spies.”
“Yes, Mother. I am able, but is it necessary to deceive them?”
The awkward silence that followed was soon broken by Catherine’s smile.
“Ah, my clever son, sometimes it is most necessary to keep hidden certain matters so as to learn the truth of your enemies. I assure you, the knife they would gladly plunge into your heart is concealed. You cannot trust anyone but those of us nearest you, who love and protect you and Mary.”
Andelot watched Francis. Did he believe her honey-coated lies? Maybe not, for a glimmer showed in his eyes, but there was a look of fear in his tense face. Andelot felt a surge of disgust toward those who bullied him.
“If — if they wish to see me and swear their fealty, then they wish me no harm, so why should I lie to them?”
“Ah, Francis, my poor sick boy. You have a fever, yes, your forehead is burning . . . Where is the quinine water I ordered for him?” She turned to an attendant hovering in the background. “Go and find it,” she com- manded. The guard hastened away.
Andelot knew a moment of alarm. His mind f lashed back to Prince Charles and the laboratory of the Queen Mother’s astrologer and poi- soner, Cosmo. Non, not Francis. Not her
own
son. Not even Catherine de Medici would go that far.
Their diatribe continued as they rehearsed with Francis what he was expected to say and do. The young king was to give each one of them a crown apiece and pretend to be pleased they had come to rescue him from enemies near his throne. This was to convince them he was on their side. Whereupon he would ask veiled questions of them to discover who it was who had sent them to Amboise.
“If the Bourbons are on their way here now,” the duc said, “it seems conceivable that it was Prince Condé. We have the word of Maître Avenelle that Condé and his retainer de la Renaudie were behind the plot.”
Andelot soon found himself the focus of attention. His neck grew hot under the studious dissection of the Queen Mother.
“Andelot is now in my service,” the cardinal told her. “He will enter the Corps des Pages in Paris when we return. He knows the leaders of the Huguenots in Lyon. He will identify these men. I thought it wise if he stayed with the king during his interview with them. He may help put them at ease. And if they are from Lyon we will soon know it, Your Majesty.”
Catherine did not comment on whether this pleased or displeased her. She turned to Francis.
“Remember, my son, I will be attentive to every word spoken by way of a listening tube in the wall. Your oncles, the duc and the cardinal, will be located behind that curtain should you need them.”
Andelot began to sweat. What if these spies were friends of the Macquinets? What if the cardinal already knew who they were and was testing his loyalty? He surmised this was a warning to him as well, for her eyes swerved to his before she walked from the chamber. The Guise brothers slipped behind the velvet drape. Andelot looked at the king, now pale with small beads of sweat on his forehead.
I should never want to be a king.
Francis nodded that he was ready. Andelot went to the door and ges- tured to the Swiss guards in their bright red plumes and gilded armor to bring in the prisoners.
A short time later the Huguenot messires were brought into the king’s chamber. They were humble Frenchmen, strong of face and wearing peasant clothing. Andelot felt a sickening dread. He recognized the older
man from the village near the Chateau de Silk. He remembered that he sold duck eggs on a corner near some rustling mulberry trees. He was loyal to Comte Arnaut Macquinet and no doubt helped smuggle Bibles in the French language to other areas of Lyon in his egg cart.
The man looked at Andelot now and blinked as if trying to remember where he had seen him before. He must have recalled, for a smile started to split his weathered cheeks. When Andelot quickly looked away, the man did not proceed. Now and then he glanced at him, but Andelot avoided his eyes.
The king smiled at them. “Fear not, messires,” he told them in a weak voice.
Be afraid!
Andelot wanted to shout.
The boy-king held out his hand, and they bent over it dutifully. “The Lord bless thee, O King.”
“The Lord grant you peace,” said the other. “The Lord is your Defender,” said the third.
Francis looked pained. He glanced toward the door, the curtain —
He fumbled, handing them each a crown. He asked stiff questions that sounded as rehearsed as they indeed were.
“Did you come into the king’s forest to glean a glimpse of the diver- tissement on yester’s eve?” he asked hopefully.
“Non, Sire, we do not agree with the carnal display of the f lesh that leads to corruption.”
Andelot gritted his teeth.
Non, mon ami, you waste your opportunity
to confess to only lesser offenses. This was your excuse!
Francis cleared his throat as if embarrassed. “Then what were you doing in the forest, messieurs? Hunting perhaps?”
“Oh non, Sire. We would not hunt the king’s meat. It is against the law. God’s Word tells us to obey our magistrates.”
“Do you also obey and seek my right to rule as your king?” “We do, Sire.” They placed fists to their hearts. “Vive le Roi!”
Andelot was feeling better. He smiled and looked confidently at King Francis. See? They are not your enemies, Your Majesty, he wanted to say. But from the corner of his eye he saw the curtain move a little. Francis must have noticed too. For he said sternly: “Why were you in my forest, messieurs? You are spies.”
Andelot was dumbfounded when the men smiled, and trusting the young king at face value they began to tell him everything the Guises wanted to know.
Andelot’s head ached from the pounding of his heart. Quiet! Quiet!
You are too trusting!
Yes, they had come from Geneva. Soon now, their leaders would join them in the forest.
“Sire, we are your servants and your loyal subjects. You have naught to fear from us or our leaders. Au contraire, Your Majesty, but we have come to rescue you from the domination of the House of Guise, of Spain, and of Rome. There are over forty thousand of us on the way to save you — and France.”
Andelot’s spirit groaned. He longed to tell them that the Queen Mother, le Duc de Guise, and le Cardinal de Lorraine had just heard every word.
Francis was pale and his hands were shaking as he bid them adieu. The men bowed, again promised their allegiance, and departed under the watchful eyes, and swords, of the guards.
The curtain opened and the Guise brothers stepped out. Andelot turned and faced the tall, handsome Cardinal de Guise. “Did you recognize them, Andelot?”
Andelot bowed. “Non, Monseigneur. I have never seen these men before.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Are they not allies of Comte Arnaut Macquinet who is even now in Geneva?”
“I do not think so, non.” Another moment of silence. “You are certain?”
“Oui, Monseigneur le Cardinal.” “Then you may go for now, Andelot.”
Andelot bowed, kissed the ring, and made haste to leave the king’s chamber. Guards stood in the corridor.
Andelot was thinking,
If I can escape, I can warn Fabien. If not him,
then Sebastien, or even Comte Maurice Beauvilliers to ride to Fabien, or Chevalier Julot Cazalet
. Andelot looked up, startled. He had hardly
taken a step when three guards stood shoulder to shoulder blocking his way.
“Monsieur, we are under orders to take you to your new chamber.” He studied their immobile faces. Their eyes were unreadable.
“New chamber? Ah, honored sirs, it is not necessary, I promise you.
I like my bed in the chamber of Marquis Fabien de Vendôme!”
“Come with us, Monsieur. Orders from le Cardinal de Lorraine. You are to be locked in a chamber for safekeeping for a few days.”
Andelot let out a long breath. Foiled. He walked away surrounded by the guards.
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M
Marquis Fabien and Comte Sebastien went into the Amboise council chamber with the Bourbon princes and nobles, all representing the Huguenots and their cause before the King and Queen of France. The chamber itself set a somber mood, Comte Sebastien thought. There were no windows, and lamps glimmered on the dark oak-paneled walls with rafters crossing the high ceiling. It was a chamber with much history, remaining untouched by decoration since the early years of Louis XI.
