Madame Serpent (28 page)

No finesse. No subterfuge now. She wished only to please him.

‘Henry, I think it may be. You are pleased?’

‘Pleased! I am delighted. This, my dear, is just what I was hoping for.’

She was so happy that his irritation with her had turned to pleasure, even if this did mean her fertility released him from of visiting her instead of his mistress.

———————

The uncrowned Queen of France! Surely this was one of the most enviable

positions in the land for a practical and ambitious woman to hold. What a happy day for Diane when Francis the King had commanded her to befriend his son!

She received Henry in her apartments, which were more splendid, more

stately than those of the Queen.

‘How beautiful you are!’ he said as he knelt and kissed her hands.

She smiled, fingering the jewels at her throat. A short while ago, they

belonged to Anne
d’Etampes
, presents from Francis. Diane wished Anne could see her wearing the gems.

Regally, Diane dismissed her attendants that she might be alone with the

King. They sat together in one of the window seats, he with his arm about her.

‘Excellent news, my loved one,’ he said. ‘Catherine is
enceinte
.’

‘That is wonderful. I had thought there was a look about her of late.’

‘She all but fainted, and I guessed.’

Diane nodded. Sly Catherine had tried to withhold the news. Diane laughed.

Poor, humble little Queen. How much happier it was to be the sort of Queen she herself was! How pleasant to be able to be sorry for the real Queen of France!

Henry had no secrets from Diane. He said: ‘She tried to plead for Anne

d’Etampes
.’

Diane was immediately alert.

‘My dear, how foolish of her!’

Diane was smiling, but she was disturbed. She pictured the placid face of the Queen― the dark eyes were mild, but was the mouth inscrutable? Surely

Catherine would never dare to intrigue with Diane’s old enemy. Diane turned her face to the King and kissed him, but whilst he embraced her, her thoughts ran on. To rule a King needed more caution, more shrewdness than to rule a Dauphin. Henry was sentimental and he had promised his father on the latter’s death-bed to protect Anne
d’Etampes
. Diane recalled now with what fury she had heard the news that Henry had sent a kind message to Anne on her

retirement to Limours when Francis died; in it he had hinted that she might return to court. He had promised his father; he insisted. He was a good man, though unsubtle; but he was also a grateful lover, a man to remember his

friends. Anne de Montmorency was already back in favour, and there was a man Diane must watch lest he receive too much favour; but for the time,

Montmorency, who had his own score to settle with Anne
d’Etampes,
was Diane’s ally.

Dear, simple Henry! It was but necessary to show him how Francis’s

mistress had plotted against Henry with his Charles for him to see that he was justified in releasing himself from any death-bed promise he had made to a man ignorant of the woman’s duplicity. Anne’s property was confiscated, her

servants sent to prison; and her husband, been eager enough to profit from her relationship with Francis, now accused her of fraud, and she was herself sent to prison.

Diane felt that Anne
d’Etampes
was paying in full for those insults she had directed against the
Grande Sénéchale
of Normandy. And now― this meek little Catherine must take into her silly head to plead for the woman.

She would, of course, have to learn her lesson. She must realize that she could only be allowed to retain her position as long as she submitted to the uncrowned Queen.

‘I trust,’ said Diane later, ‘that you informed the Queen of the perfidy of Madame
d’Etampes
in conspiring with your enemies against you?’

‘I told her of this. I fancy she was distressed. She declared herself surprised.’

Well, she might,
thought Diane. She would have to be made to realize that it was solely through the clemency of the King’s mistress that his wife was

allowed to bear his children.

———————

Diane couldn’t help feeling that it was again necessary to teach Catherine a lesson. She was beginning to think that the Queen’s new standing had gone to her head. After all, reasoned Diane, the woman was but a Medici, descended from Italian tradesmen; Diane herself was a great lady of France, with royal blood in her veins. Yes, Catherine must understand that she owed her position to Diane; and, moreover, that her success in retaining it depended on Diane.

Catherine would learn a lesson more thoroughly, Diane was sure, if it were given in front of others. Therefore she chose a moment when there should be many august witnesses of the Queen’s discomfiture.

It was the occasion of one of those gatherings which, as Queen, Catherine held from time to time. The King was not present; but among the distinguished company was Diane, Henry’s sister Marguerite, Montmorency, and Francis de Guise.

Diane began asking the Queen if she would at some time be kind and

gracious enough to show her the plans she had made for the alterations to the castle of Chenonceaux.

‘Why Madame!’ replied Catherine, ‘I should be delighted to show them to

you. Of course, you understand that I have not the gifts of my gracious father-in-law, and my plans, I fear, leave much room for improvement.’

‘Madame, I should be glad to see them.’

Guy de Chabot, that stupid, reckless man who had once before shown

himself to be Diane’s enemy during the scandal concerning himself and his stepmother, said: ‘Is Madame
la Sénéchale
thinking of improving on the plans of our gracious Queen?’

‘That may be so, Monsieur de Chabot,’ said Diane coldly, for the man’s

manner was insolent. He had shown himself a fool once before; she was sure that he was ready to do so again. He should realize that he was already in the King’s bad graces; he could not help himself by showing a lack of respect towards the King’s mistress.

Diane turned from him to Catherine.

Catherine said: ‘I had thought of altering the southern façade and building the nine arches which Thomas Bohier projected― was it thirty years ago?’

Catherine glowed. She could not help it. Chenonceaux was one of her

enthusiasms; it had given her so much pleasure to plan reconstructions when she had been smarting under humiliation. She was trapped, as she could be by her emotions into speaking too glowingly.

Marguerite, who was very clever and able to talk interestingly on most

subjects, joined in. There was something kind about Marguerite, and she was glad to see the in the usually pale face of the Queen. Montemorency added his judgments; but artful de Guise guessed what was coming and remained silent.

Catherine said: ‘One of these days I shall start work on Chenonceaux; I shall invite all the greatest artists to help. I shall have the gardens laid out with flower borders; and I shall have ornamented grottoes and fountains.’

Diane answered coolly, since the moment could no longer be delayed: ‘It is my sincerest hope that you will grace Chenonceaux with your presence

whenever it is your desire to do so.’

Catherine stopped to look at Diane. Only by the faintest flicker of her

eyelids did she betray her feelings. She smiled while she forced herself to hold her hands to her side and not rush forward to slap the serene and charming smile off the face of her enemy.

This was cruel, bitter humiliation. Diane had known of her love for

Chenonceaux; deliberately she had trapped her into betraying her enthusiasm, her longing to claim the claim the place as her own; then, before all these people, she had shown that her desires were as nothing beside those of the woman who was the real Queen of France.

Never,
thought Catherine,
have I hated quite as much as I do now. Not even
when I have watched her at Saint-Germain through the hole in the floor.

‘So―’ began Catherine, and hated herself because she hesitated, aware as

she was of the sly, laughing eyes of Francis de Guise, of the consternation in those of Marguerite, of the sympathy of de Chabot.

‘The King has been good enough to bestow upon me the castle of

Chenonceaux,’ said Diane. ‘The gift is in recognition of the valuable services rendered the State by my late husband.’

It was impossible not to admire the way in which Queen Catherine calmly

went on discussing Chenonceaux after congratulating Queen Diane on the

acquisition of what was, in Catherine’s mind, one of the most charming

residences in France.

Indeed, thought Diane, the Italian woman learns her lessons with grace.

Catherine was thinking:
one day, every score shall be settled. You shall
escape nothing, Madame.

———————

‘Monsieur, you are downcast today.’

Guy de Chabot found that, in this dance where one’s partners changed

continually, it was his turn briefly to dance with Queen Catherine.

He inclined his head. ‘I am,’ he answered, ‘and I hope my condition does

not give offence to Your Gracious Majesty.’

‘We would prefer to see a smile upon your lips.’

He put one there.

‘And not a forced one,’ she said.

Now they must come closer in the dance and she took advantage of this to

whisper to him: To not be downcast. There is a way out, Monsieur.’

Guy de Chabot looked straight into the eyes of the Queen, and he felt that he had never really looked at Catherine before.

Her lips were smiling, her eyes serene; and yet, he thought, there is

something about her― something lurking there, something as yet not fully

developed, something of the serpent―

But what a fool I am. Anxiety, fear of death is making me fanciful.

He did not understand her meaning and his blank expression told herself.

‘You fear de Vivonne,’ she whispered. ‘Do not. There is a way out.’

Now they were not so close, and it was impossible to whisper. De Chabot’s heart beat faster. It was true that he was afraid. He was not a coward, but he supposed that any man seeing death staring him in the face, feared it. He must face de Vivonne in mortal combat, for he had been challenged and had given the consent which King Francis, for the sake of Anne
d’Etampes,
had denied. De Vivonne was the best swordsmen in France and to fight him was to fight with death.

There were times when one could swagger, pretend one did not know the

meaning of fear; but this quiet Queen caught something in his face which he did not realize he had shown.

I am young
, he thought;
I do not wish to die.

What a gay adventure it had seemed, loving the King’s mistress, as many

had before him, and some after. And now she, so beautiful, completely

desirable, was languishing in prison and he was challenged to a duel which meant certain death.

And suddenly, unexpectedly, here was the Queen to him that she knew a

way out. But what way out little Catherine show him? It was the wish of the King, and King’s powerful favourite that he should die. How Queen save him?

The Queen had very little more power than he had. Why, only a short while ago he had seen Madame Diane humiliate her cruelly over this matter of

Chononceaux. And yet, suddenly, he had been made aware of the power of the Queen. He could not help it, but it made him shiver slightly, even while it filled him with hope. It was like being suddenly in a dark place by someone he had not known was near him. It was the Queen who had spoken to him; yet it was not the Queen’s mild eyes that looked at him but the of a serpent, calm, patiently waiting for the moment poisonous fangs could be plunged into an enemy.

He had no opportunity of speaking to her for a while. He must continue in the dance, and now he had another saucy-eyed girl who regarded him with

favour. He was very handsome, this de Chabot; and the fact that all believed he was not long for this world seemed to add to his purely physical charm. But just now he could think of nothing but the Queen.

He had wondered at her meekness over the affair of Chenoniceaux. He

remembered now how unnatural he had thought it, for a wife and Queen, to

accept insult so mildly. But was she so mild? He felt that for a moment she had lifted a veil and shown him some secret part of Queen Catherine. He understood it; it was perfectly clear. The King and Madame Diane had decided he should die. He had been the lover of their old enemy; he had given the King, when he was Dauphin, some uneasy moments; he had swaggered about the court

challenging him who had dared cast a slur on his honour and that of his

stepmother, knowing full well that those who had done so were Dauphin Henry and his mistress. Now he was asked to pay for that folly. But what if, contrary to expectation, it were not de Vivonne who was victor in the combat, but de

Chabot. What a surprise for the crowd who would come to see him die. What embarrassment for the King and his mistress. Diane had been prime mover in this affair. Might it not be that the King be so discomfited that he would feel resentment against her on whom he now doted? Yes, de Chabot could see how the Queen’s mind worked. And if she could turn defeat into life, what joy!

He did not see her in the dance again, but later that evening he had occasion to pass close to her. He looked at her pleadingly and he did not look in vain.

‘Tomorrow evening. Masked. The house of the Ruggieri on the river.’

He inclined his head.

It was with apprehension and hope that he went to keep his appointment. It was difficult not to run through the streets of Paris. It was necessary to wrap himself in a sombre cloak that would cover his extravagant court garments; he would doubtless return after dark, and he had no wish to encounter a party of rogues. Moreover, she had said, ‘Masked’. It would not do for any to discover that de Chabot was meeting the Queen at the house of her astrologers.