Written on Silk (38 page)

“Erasmus? Oh, I . . . do not read him so.”

“He promised a more accurate Greek version of the New Testament. He went on from Oxford to Rome to study for the work.”

Andelot smiled. “Rome . . .”

“And Erasmus made a new Latin text as well, did he not?” Sebastien’s full voice came from behind them. He entered the chamber from the outer hall door.

“A Latin text to remedy the errors in Jerome’s,” Jaymin said, turning toward him.

Sebastien removed his hat, and Andelot hurried to take his wet cloak as well.

“It is beginning to rain.” Sebastien limped over to the hearth to warm himself.

Andelot kept an eye on both men as he took away the comte’s things and went to pour his small glass of wine. Sebastien was not the manner of man one would easily notice in a chamber where the strong presence of the Duc de Guise and Cardinal de Lorraine were gathered, or even the cleric, Jaymin. He was unassuming, a man of quiet speech, seldom speaking unless spoken to. Yet he was alert and shrewd and underestimated. Was this the reason Catherine de Medici had chosen him as one of her chief counselors? He no longer worked to seek personal power as the Guises and others. Sebastien worked to maintain security for those he loved, and after Amboise and the Bastille, he avoided controversy. His hair, now marked with gray, was smooth and thick, cut in a bowl shape, shaved to just above his ears, with a short fringe cut straight across his forehead. When he showed himself at Court, however, he wore a black collarbone-length wig that was intricately waved. His eyes were large, the prominent feature of an otherwise unassuming but pleasant face, with a wide jaw. When at home with Madeleine, he wore the somber, darker colors of the Huguenot leaders like Admiral Coligny and the great French theologian Theodore Beza. But at Court, as he was now, he wore clothing of finest satins, velvets, and dyed leather, embroidered with gold or silver.

“Ah, so you are acquainted also with Erasmus,” Jaymin said, joining Sebastien at the hearth and accepting the goblet that Andelot served in silence like any expert page.

“You may have forgotten, Jaymin, that Scholar Thauvet is an ami. He would become most bored with me if I did not know something of the great theological concepts to discuss with him.” He raised his goblet toward Jaymin.

Jaymin smiled and raised his goblet. “To His Majesty, King Francis II.” He drank, then sighed with satisfaction and looked into the firelight. “One wonders if the Bourbon princes will toast to the king. They will have ample opportunity.”

“They are being summoned then? The Queen Mother had not made up her mind as of this morning.”

“But the king has,” he said with a touch of superiority. “Le Duc de Guise has aided the king in drawing up a royal summons. The envoy will leave in the morning for Navarre. If Princes Louis and Antoine de Bourbon do not come to Fontainebleau, they will be in rebellion against the King of France.”

Andelot returned to his desk. From the corner of his eye he saw the book. Sebastien and Jaymin were once more discussing Thauvet and Erasmus. Andelot picked up the book to push it under a pile of manuscripts and papers.

“The cardinal will want me to report on your progress, and what you are reading, Andelot,” Jaymin said. Leaving the hearth again, he walked to the desk, hand extended for the book that Andelot held.

“I could wish, Andelot, you would remember to keep my chamber door open as I requested,” Sebastien said, unusually cross. “The warmth from the hearth needs to reach my bed. The cold is most trying upon my bones.”

Andelot, gripping the book, moved quickly away from Jaymin’s outstretched hand to do as Sebastien ordered.

He stepped toward Sebastien’s chamber doors, opening them. He hoped his face was unreadable as he started to turn back when Sebastien snatched the book from his hand and opened it.

“So!” Sebastien limped to one of the stone walls in the sitting chamber where the firelight from the torches cast weaving shadows. The wind whined, and the draft caused the fire in the hearth to sputter.

Andelot stood with his hands behind him, shoulders back, firelight sparkling on his black and white uniform.

Sebastien snapped off some questions about Erasmus while appearing to read from the book, demanding Andelot answer while Jaymin watched Andelot’s struggle with amusement.

Momentarily stunned, Andelot looked at Sebastien with the torchlight spilling down upon his graying head, his shoulders a little stooped. Something was happening between them, and all he could do was follow where Sebastien led. His respect for his unassuming oncle ascended.

All at once his Greek struggled forth to reveal what little he knew.

Sebastien scowled. “Has the duchesse hired Thauvet at much expense for naught?”

He paused as Andelot shrugged.

“Louder,” Sebastien commanded, lifting his eyes toward the ceiling as though bored. “Have you been neglecting your studies because Thauvet is not yet here?”

Andelot’s stumbling discourse burst forth in French, larded with a tint of Latin.

Sebastien groaned deeply, then snapped in Greek: “The vulgar tongue is forbidden. You shall neither pray in it, nor sing chants in it, nor quote Scripture in it. Understood?”

Andelot nodded. “Yes, Seigneur Sebastien.”

Sebastien snapped the book shut and laid it carelessly on a table. “You shall see me in my chamber first thing in the morning. Your schedule must be changed to include an extra hour of study in Greek.”

“Just so, Monseigneur.” Andelot went back to his desk, pulled out his chair, and sat down.
How could Sebastien possibly have known about the
Bible? He is shielding me.

Andelot pretended to resume his studies while watching from the corner of his eye.

They were conversing again about the Bourbon princes. Jaymin, standing by the hearth, casually reached inside his cleric robe and handed Sebastien a parchment.

“For the Queen Mother’s signature, Sebastien. Count Crussol will need it in the morning when he rides to Navarre to present it to Antoine de Bourbon. Spies have informed us that Louis and his wife are there also, visiting.”

“Yes, bien sûr, I shall see to it first thing in the morning.” He walked with Jaymin to the door. “Does the Queen Mother know the Bourbons are being called to answer for Amboise?”

“Is there anything of import happening at Court that the Queen Mother does not know? She has more spies than Chantonnay,” Jaymin said of the Spanish ambassador.

Jaymin departed, and Andelot stood abruptly to face Sebastien.

Sebastien limped to the main door and locked it, then slumped into a chair by the fire, head in hand. He groaned.

“Andelot, you were a fool to bring that Bible here!”

Shocked, Andelot stared down at him. “But how is it you knew?”

“I knew from the beginning. I am the bigger fool for allowing you to keep it beneath the very nose of the Cardinal de Lorraine. I saw you reading it, and the way you were reading did not convince me you were studying Erasmus. I searched when you were out and found it. I should have burned it, but I could not.”

“Burn it!”

“Would you burn the Book — or your fleshly body? I have seen Huguenots burned — I have smelled them. There has been enough loss in this extended family. Do we need to lose you to the flames?”

Andelot stared at him, more worried now by his ashen look than about the discovery. He dropped to one knee beside the chair, feeling the heat from the fire.

“Mon oncle — Monseigneur, I beg your pardone. Not because I am sorry I read the words of God. I give God thanks daily that I have them. I am repentant because I should not have brought the Book in here, where it was possible to implicate you. I should have been more careful and kept it in the forest, even as the Huguenot pasteur did.”

Sebastien gave him intense scrutiny. “Where and how did you come by this French Bible, Andelot?”

“There were Huguenots meeting in the woods when the Dominican from Saint Catherine’s came upon them with armed men. I saw the old pasteur hide a book under some logs before fleeing. Afterward, I came back for it. I have tried to contact him, but to no avail, and so I still have it. There is naught like it, Monsieur Sebastien. To read the Scripture in one’s own tongue — to read all of the New Testament for the first time, and in understandable French — it is a great honneur.”

Sebastien blotted his pale forehead with a kerchief.

“You know the penalty that could be pronounced upon you should this be found in your possession?”

“I tell you, Monsieur Sebastien, that when Père Jaymin reached for the book — I could feel the scorching flames rising about my feet. Your quick distraction at that very moment saved me.”

“So you are one of us now. That is worthy of thanks. But to be a Huguenot will mean your life is at risk.”

“I do not know if I am of the religion. I have merely begun to learn, and to read the words . . . But to have the Bible and read it does not mean I cannot be a bonne Catholic.”

“Jaymin is suspicious. I saw the curiosity in his eyes. Why do you think he came here? Yes, to bring me the paper, but also because the cardinal is watching you.”

“I could see he remains suspicious.”

“Jaymin is shrewd. A kind man, but wholly dedicated to the cardinal.

He will grow even more suspicious now.” He began to push himself up from the chair. “We must burn the Bible. I deplore such action, but we must take no chances.”

Andelot was horrified.
Burn it?
But he had just found it. He had not even read all of the words yet.

“Monseigneur, I beg of you, give me at least time to return it under the log for the Huguenot pasteur. He may never be able to own another copy.”
Nor will I
, he thought miserably. “I will go now,” he said. “On the golden bay I can be there in a short time.”

“You do not realize how dangerous this can be for you, for us. Monsieur Jaymin may have decided to put a watcher on you.”

“Then let me hide it here in my quarters until there is a way for me to take it to the forest.”

Sebastien frowned, staring at his black-gloved hand, then studying Andelot, as though his comeliness and youth were being weighed.

“I see how much this means to you. Even so, this is dangerous, Andelot. If you will not permit the thought of burning such a treasure, you must hide it as though it were a chest of rubies and return it to the tree hollow tomorrow. For I tell you the truth, if you are caught with it, I will not be able to save you from your folly. And if it is known that I have permitted it, I will not be able to save myself this time.”

Sebastien pushed himself up from the chair. His eyes were firm. He was again the monseigneur and Andelot the page. “Conceal it as best you can.”

Inside the bedchamber, the Bible sat on the table disguised as a work of Erasmus. He would need to give it up.
There is only one way
, he thought,
to memorize the words. For my memory is secure, it cannot
be confiscated, and I can recall the words whenever I choose, even in the
company of the cardinal. Yes, perhaps the best way to carry portions of the
Scriptures about without fear of arrest is to memorize them.

S
EBASTIEN
WATCHED
ANDELOT
RETRIEVE
the Bible. His eagerness for the Word had touched Sebastien’s heart, and he could not bring himself to give the command to put it on the coals.

He put his good hand to his damp forehead. The mortifying memory of bowing on his good knee to Cardinal de Lorraine and recanting tore at his heart. Madeleine did not know he had done this; how could he ever tell her? Many other brothers had not weakened in the Bastille, nor at Amboise. They had gone on to greater suffering, to eventual release by merciful death — whereas he had accepted release through compromise.

Would God forgive him? He believed so, otherwise he would not be saved by grace alone through faith in Christ, but by his own work of enduring suffering to the end. He believed, however, that there would be a great reward in heaven for those who were martyred for the sake of Christ. Whereas he, Sebastien, though eternally secure in Christ, had lost his crown.

His sigh came very deeply.
Sebastien, you are the worst of cowards. Did you see how the fiery passion for the truth glowed in Andelot’s eyes? He
has a great hunger for the words. How could I order him to throw the Bible
in the hearth and reduce it to ashes?