To Serve a King
Praise for
THE SECRET OF THE GLASS
“Celebrates the eternal charms of Venice, Murano glass, and Galileo, with the story of a courageous 17th-century woman glassmaker.”
—
Publishers Weekly
“One of the best written novels of Venice I have ever read.”
—
Historical Novel Review
“Five stars. Outstanding Pick for 2010. Absolutely superb!”
—
Book Illuminations
“A beautiful story by [a] master storyteller.”
—
CataNetwork Reviews
“Elegant prose, alluring style.”
—
Historical-fiction.com
“This is 5-star historical fiction.”
—Alex McGilvery,
Armchair Interviews
“History comes to life as Morin re-creates the lush and dangerous world of the Murano glassmakers. Like the brilliant glass, her story swirls together colors of political and religious intrigue, murder, and romance.”
—
RT Book Reviews
Praise for
THE COURTIER’S SECRET
Finalist: National Readers’ Choice Award 2010
“Morin debuts with a novel as opulent and sparkling as Louis XIV’s court and as filled with intrigue, passion and excitement as a novel by Dumas. [A] feast for the senses.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Morin fills her tale with maidens, mistresses and musketeers mired in intrigue.”
—
Publishers Weekly
“Absolutely enchanting. Obviously a very talented writer, Donna Russo Morin has created magnificent characters that you cannot help but fall in love with; they are so vibrant and full of life.”
—
Front Street Reviews
“A wonderfully spun gem of a story.”
—Jenny Salyers,
Armchair Interviews
“I couldn’t put it down.”
—
Historical-fiction.com
B
OOKS BY
D
ONNA
R
USSO
M
ORIN
The Courtier’s Secret
The Secret of the Glass
To Serve a King
T
O
S
ERVE A
K
ING
DONNA RUSSO MORIN
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Copyright © 2011 by Donna Russo Morin
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eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-6808-2
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First Kensington Trade Paperback Printing: February 2011
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Printed in the United States of America
To my sons, Devon and Dylan
If the only steps to take would be the same—
to hear your voice,
and speak your name—
Then I would take them again and again,
… and again.
Contents
Praise for
THE SECRET OF THE GLASS
*denotes historical character
*
François I (1494–1547):
King of France 1515–1547.
*
Anne de Montmorency (Monty) (1493–1567):
Lifelong companion of François I. Soldier, statesman, diplomat; marshal of France 1522; Constable of France 1538.
*
Philippe de Chabot, seigneur de Brion (1492–1543):
Lifelong companion of François I. Soldier; Admiral of France 1526.
*
Henry VIII (1491–1547):
King of England 1509–1547.
*
Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk (1484–1545):
Lifelong companion and brother-in-law to Henry VIII; lord president of the council.
Geneviève de Hainaut Gravois (b. 1518):
Niece of Madame de Montlhéry; Maid of Honor to the duchesse d’Étampes.
*
Anne de Pisseleu d’Heilly, duchesse d’Étampes (1508–1580):
Maid of Honor to Louise de Savoy, mother of François I; titular mistress to François I 1526–1547; married to Jean IV de Brosse; created duchesse d’Étampes 1533.
Arabelle d’Aiguillon (b. 1520), Béatrice d’Azelleures (b. 1512), Sybille de Laval (b. 1514), Jecelyn du Fabiole (b. 1519):
Maids of Honor to the duchesse d’Étampes.
Sebastien du Lac (b. 1512):
Soldier, Scottish Guard to the court of France.
*
Henri (1519–1559):
Oldest surviving son of François I; Dauphin of France.
*
Diane de Poitiers (1499–1566):
Daughter of the seigneur de Saint Vallier; widow of the duc de Brézé (1531); assumed title of
grand sénéschal
of Normandy upon his death; lifelong mistress to Henri.
*
Charles V (1500–1558):
King of Spain 1516; Holy Roman Emperor 1519.
Readers, friends, if you turn these pages
Put your prejudice aside,
For, really, there’s nothing here that’s outrageous,
Nothing sick, or bad—or contagious.
—François Rabelais (c. 1494–1553)
It is the little victories,
That bring us the big ones.
—Ignatius de Loyola (1491–1556)
1520
B
eneath an unmerciful sun, the squire dropped the flag with a flourish. Riders kicked at glistening flanks; horses charged forward with little between them save the narrow wooden poles of the lists. Hooves thundered upon the jousting field; the pounding boomed in the ears. Dirt clumps flew up into the air as if tossed in celebration. Weighted and encased in full armor, plumes on helmets bobbing with every gallop, the combatants raised their lances with steely determination, eyes locked upon the impending opponent as they cradled their weapons in the crook between bicep and chest.
Nobleman, courtier, commoner, and peasant jumped to their feet in the overflowing, banner-festooned stands, holding their breath as the two kings bore down upon each other. The impact, when it came, burst out like two worlds colliding. Lance met armor, snapping with a riotous crash and a splintering of wood, and the air ruptured with gasps and cheers. Each competitor had broken his lance upon the other; yet both had kept their saddle. The match was a draw, again.
François quit his black steed with deft agility, tugging off the
cumbersome helmet with agitation. Beneath it, his thick chestnut hair lay matted with sweat to his face and jawbone.
“Well done, Your Majesty,” Montmorency called out as he approached, raising his voice above the unabated cheering. Beside him, a slight man brandished a satisfied sneer as he scissored his short legs, hurrying to keep up.
With a sidelong look of annoyance, the young king of France scoffed, struggling to remove his gauntlets.
“Do not patronize me, Monty.” Finally relieved of them, Fran-çois threw the thick, padded leather gloves to the ground, words slithering out between grinding teeth. “Damn it all, I cannot best the man.”
“That is true,” Philippe de Chabot said as he picked up the gloves and slapped them together to dislodge the fresh mud. “But neither can he best you. There are worse ways to spend a day of sport.”
In the bright sunlight, François squinted slanted eyes at his companions, his valued friends since childhood, his closest advisers since becoming king five years ago, and felt the heat of his ire cool. Perhaps there
were
other ways to triumph over this adversary yet.
In Henry VIII, François found everything he detested in a king—a hedonist obsessed with the quest for power and plea-sure—and yet a part of him strove to imitate this nemesis whom he would never admit respecting, though respect Henry he did. The faults François railed against in his archrival were ones others attributed to François himself. How disgusted he would be to know it.
“Besides,” Chabot continued with a shrug of his small shoulders, “you are much better looking.”
Monty barked a laugh as François snickered, cuffing Chabot in the arm.
“You must pay your respects to your opponent.” The gruff, aged voice doused the conviviality of the young men. Chancellor Duprat
approached, skinny legs waddling under a rotund body. “King Henry awaits your hand, Sire.”
“Of course.” François accepted the intrusion and instruction without argument. Accompanied by his triumvirate of men, he stalked across the rutted tourney field.
“Well ridden, Your Majesty,” he called as he approached his challenger, outstretched hand in the lead.
With a devilish smile upon his plump, freckled face, Henry accepted the hand thus offered. “And you, Your Highness.”
Cardinal Wolsey, rotund form looming in red cassock and mozzetta, hovered by Henry’s side as always, as did the dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk.
These two rivals politely embraced, between them a pull of genuine affection, more potent after the last few days together, yet sharp with the edge of competition, like two loving brothers forever bent on besting the other.
