by D C Young
“I do apologize,” he said. “Perhaps that was rather presumptuous of me.”
“If you do not do it again it will ruin this night forever,” she murmured.
Given that bit of encouragement, he lowered his mouth to hers again. She responded with the savagery of a woman who had not been kissed in a very long time. She might have lingered in that moment for hours, if it had not been for the light of Chateau de Malmaison coming into view along the banks.
“This, Your Majesty, is the end of our ride and the end of the most fascinating night of my existence,” Charles announced.
“Was it truly worth the risk?” Marie asked.
“It was, Perhaps we will have to try it again sometime,” he chuckled. “Perhaps on the Firth of Tay? Or would we turn into blocks of ice?”
“I think we could find a way to keep warm,” she replied.
One final kiss was the culmination of the only night of true freedom Marie had seen since she had agreed to marry James V. Charles pulled them toward the shore where Margaret was waiting just as she had promised. For fear of being found out, they kept their conversation to a minimum and their voices in a whisper. Charles slipped away into the night and Marie was escorted to the carriage.
“Well?” Margaret asked when they were inside the carriage.
“Splendid,” Marie replied.
“You can tell me all about it once we are alone later tonight.”
The carriage carried them the short distance to Chateau de Malmaison. They were greeted as expected and they entered the great house as though nothing strange had taken place.
“We must get to bed quickly,” Margaret said in hushed tones as they made their way up stairs. “Tomorrow Henry is putting on a joust in honor of Elisabeth's wedding to King Philip. He is to ride in it!”
“We can't miss that, now can we!” Marie replied giggling as she entered her room and waved good night to Margaret.
***
The day of the joust turned out to be a hot, humid one and even beneath the royal canopies in the stands, Marie and Margaret shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
AS the program finally came to a close Henry was matched against Gabriel, Count of Montgomery, and an equally talented jouster to the king The two set up at opposite ends of the run and readied their horses while steeling their nerves. Each knew the others prowess with the lance for what it was; excellence. They started their walk towards each other for the tipping of the visors, and then proceeded to walk their horses around the parade to promenade before the Royal Seats.
The crowd, though stifled by the heat of the day, held their breath as King Henry extended his lance to Diane de Poitiers for her favor instead of Catherine, his wife. A soft murmur went up from the spectators.
Marie watched as Catherine, ever noble and dignified ceremoniously leaned over and kissed her son Philip, the Dauphin, on the cheek. A cheer rose up from the crowd at the sight of the Queen's loving gesture to the prince, which greatly contrasted the response King Henry and Diane had received.
Enraged, Henry galloped to the starting end of the jousting run and as soon as the trumpet sounded he bolted down it straight at Count Montgomery, lance leveled. His opponent had to act fast to counter the charge and the outcome was devastating.
Montgomery managed to bring up his lance just as he approached Henry along the line. So frantically did he have to ready himself for the hit that the tip of his weapon went high and struck Henry square in the visor and shattered on impact.
The King tumbled from his horse while squires and knights ran to his aid. Count Montgomery dismounted and as soon as the heavy armor was unbuckled from his shoulders, he ran to Henry's side.
Meanwhile, Marie, Margaret and Antoinette were busy ushering Catherine de Medici and the royal children as quickly as possible out of the stands and back towards the palace interior. The men took Henry into his chambers and the surgeon was called to attend to him.
Someone would be sent to inform the women of any news as it arose.
Marie and Margaret took their evening meal together in Marie's rooms while the Queen and her children ate quietly together in her own chambers. After their meal, and when the children had been sent off to bed, the two joined Catherine in her salon to wait for any word about the King.
After a long uncomfortable silence, Catherine said, “It was bad luck for him to do that. The astronomers told me his bad luck would follow him to the end.”
Marie and Margaret stared at the Queen in horror, but they said nothing; agreeing silently that it must be her grief talking. Catherine was known to be both denigrating and spiteful, but she wasn't without cause for that.
She scoffed, then chuckled a little.
“I can just imagine her pacing the halls, waiting to hear of his condition, knowing full well she will be the last to know and admitted in to see him only after the very last royal present here at Place de Vosges has left Henry's rooms. I may just stay there to prolong her agony.”
Marie and Margaret knew full well Catherine was referring to Henry's long time mistress, Diane de Poitiers. Though it was inappropriate to engage in such conversation while the king lay gravely injured, they couldn't help getting in on the gossip.
“What did you mean about bad luck, Your Grace?” Margaret pressed precociously, as she was wont to do at times.
“Monsieur Nostradame foretold it,” Catherine replied. “He said Henry has been followed by bad luck since the day that witch kissed him farewell as he and Francis went to take their father's place as prisoners of the Holy Roman Emperor. He cast his lot with her when he returned and now he has reaped the consequences of his actions.”
“Hush Catherine!” Margaret said sternly. The Queen's eyebrows shot up in shock but Margaret did not back down. “Do not be caught saying things you might regret. It is completely unbecoming of you; a woman I have loved as a sister for so long. He is my brother, lest you forget. And though he is far from perfect, he has a good heart and he is a good king.”
“Long live the King,” Marie said solemnly.
“Long live the King,” Margaret and Catherine replied in unison.
Marie got up from her chair and pulled three pieces of needlepoint from a sewing chest so they could pass the time more productively than with gossip. After another three hours without any news, the two women left the queen and retired to Marie's rooms again.
Over the following week and a half, circumstances at the palace became increasingly tragic. Henry's condition was not improving despite the continuous administrations of the royal surgeon. The splinters from the lance had entered his brain through his eye and the wounds would not close.
Henry ordered that Margaret should get herself prepared and her affairs in order so she could marry the Duke of Savoy immediately. He wanted her wed before he would no longer be able to see about her well being.
The news hit Marie and Margaret very hard. It was evident that Henry knew he was dying.
The following night Margaret put on her wedding dress and joined Emmanuel at midnight in Saint Paul's, a small church not far from the palace where Henry lay on his death bed. Catherine sat by herself crying uncontrollably and left before it was over.
The ceremony was a solemn, subdued event and the small party returned to Place de Vosges immediately after. They had barely made their way through the doors before a messenger came scurrying up the hall.
“I must speak to the Duchess of Berry and Queen Marie,” he announced loudly.
“I am Queen Marie,” Marie responded.
“The two of you are to come with me to the Royal Suite immediately.”
Upon arrival at Henry's door they were taken immediately to the distraught Queen Catherine.
“It's Henry,” she said. “He's very near the end.”
The two picked up their skirts and ran through the halls, beside themselves with anguish. The courtiers who saw them going past stopped dead in their tracks and lowered their heads solemnly. They knew that nothing good could
have caused the two noblewomen to behave as such. Despite their hurry, Henry had breathed his last breath before Marie and Margaret were able to join him at bedside.
Margaret fell to the floor clinging desperately to her dead brother's hand, wailing uncontrollably.
Marie remained standing, stone faced on the other side of the bed.
Death, Death everywhere I turn. Everywhere I look. Always Death, Marie thought.
The despair in the room was as thick as English treacle as she clutched Henry's hand in hers. His flesh had already begun to cool.
I will escape it, she vowed silently. By any means, I will not be a part of this sick joke of God's. I will abstain from this part of it all.
With that thought, she swept out of the king's bedchamber and headed straight back to her own rooms. Antoinette was the only person who could help her now.
All of the Queen Regent's resolve to rule well, to continue the good fight, to die an honorable death protecting her homeland of France and her new land of Scotland seemed to be slowly melting away. Soon Mary and Francis would be the rulers of both countries and then she and Catherine could perhaps finally step back and breathe.
“Antoinette!” Marie called as she entered the room.
“Your Grace?”
“Who was that astrologer Catherine spoke of the other night?”
“The treasonous wretch who foreshadowed the King with his evil talk?”
“Come now, Antoinette,” Marie admonished calmly, “Henry was as spiteful in his disregard for Catherine as he was prideful of his favor toward de Poitiers. It was unbecoming of his station.”
Antoinette said nothing in response. Marie knew that was her way of agreeing with her on a controversial issue without having to form the words herself.
“The man's name was Nostradame.”
“So it was,” Marie replied. “Summon him to me tomorrow afternoon. I would like to consult on my future with him.”
Chapter Eight
“Where is that place?” Kullervo asked Bathory as Sam tried to revive Alison. He was pointing to the building Allison had sketched roughly on the floor.
“It looks like Ratilly to me.”
Kullervo couldn't help himself. He burst out laughing, shocking everyone in the room. When he realized there was a room full of upset women staring at him, he attempted to explain.
“If it is indeed the Chateau de Ratilly, you can see the irony can't you Bathory?”
She smiled ruefully. “I can indeed, my old friend.”
“As much as I'd like to get in on the joke, could I have a little help here please?” Sam said.
“Oh, yes. Of course, of course,” Kullervo replied hefting Allison over his shoulder and leading the way out into the hall.
Sam and Elisabeth said their goodbyes to the Sorginak witches, who had other work to do on the dark side of midnight, and left the chateau.
Outside in the cool night air, Alison began to come around.
“Are you okay?” Sam asked concerned.
“I would be better if I wasn't upside down over this hulk's shoulder.”
Kullervo laughed and set her down on a stone wall to catch her breath. When she was suitably revived, the four walked back across the street to the Relais de Chambord. They sat at the small cafe in the lobby and ordered coffee and pastries to pass the time while they waited for a taxi.
“So what's the deal with this Ratilly place that made you laugh like that Kullervo?” Sam asked, unable to turn off her detective's instinct to question.
“Well, based purely on the history of the place it's clear that Antoinette's captor either have a complete ignorance of French medieval history or a clear sense for irony. You see, quite fittingly, Chateau de Ratily has been a haven for wrong doers since the Hundred Years War. No one really knows when the original owners sold or abandoned it because its legacy has been under constant mar since the 1300's.”
Just then the taxi up outside the lobby door and the driver tooted its horn once. They all piled in and settled down for the long drive back to Paris.
The next morning, Elisabeth Bathory bid them all good bye in the hotel's restaurant after breakfast. She had to return to Csejte Castle and the pressing business of the Eastern Watch. Kullervo rolled his eyes at the excuse. The truth was that she was bored of the city and possibly even a little out of her element in the crowded metropolis.
“I would ask that you stay in Paris until the ladies return from their investigations in Burgundy, Kullervo,” she said as she was waiting for her train to arrive on the platform. “There could be trouble and if that turns out to be the case, you will be a link between the girls, the Council and civilization. Things can get quite weedy in the countryside as you well know.”
“I agree, Elisabeth. I will stay in the city until they return.
“Thank you, Old Friend. Perhaps I will see you in the mountains of Romania soon?”
“I doubt it, Bathory. There's not enough forest in those parts for my liking.”
The two kissed each other on the cheek and Elisabeth Bathory boarded her train.
When the locomotive was out of sight, the giant werewolf turned from the platform and walked back across the Place de la Concorde to Sam and Allison's hotel.
***
By the time Sam and Allison arrived in Triegny, Burgundy the next day, it was clear they had both underestimated the situation.
The chateau was open for tours and despite many attempts to explore the private regions of the house, Sam and Allison found their efforts thwarted at every turn. The two decided to wait the day out in the garden and at 5pm when the crowds dissipated, they snuck in behind the last tour guide Sam silenced her cell phone and told Allison to do the same so they wouldn't be discovered at the tone of an email notification. They managed to hide in a stairwell until the place was closed up for the evening.
When the chateau was decidedly silent, they emerged and began searching for the cellar door.
“It's got to be somewhere off towards the rear of the house, Sam,” Allison advised. “Back in those days, the kitchen areas were located either outside or in the lower levels of the house. Think Downton Abbey. That's a medieval building if I'm not wrong.”
Sam thought about that for a moment. She wasn't a huge fan of the television show, she referred reserving her TV time for Judge Judy but she did know someone who was fanatical about the PBS Masterpiece Theatre series… her sister, Mary Lou.
“Highclere Castle isn't that old but the premise wouldn't have changed much from medieval times. Brits aren't the biggest fan of change.”
“If it ain't broke...”
“Exactly!”
They headed to the rear of the building and weren't surprised to find stairs leading downwards. It didn't take them long to get to the kitchen and staff floor and that was when all hell broke loose. The air in the kitchen was thick with psychic energy. How it was being contained was a mystery to them both and an immediate concern.
“This might be the key to the centuries of woe that have plagued this place, Sam,” Allison whispered.
“You could be right. Something in the earth is holding all this energy below ground. It's like the chateau is sitting on a cosmic black hole.”
“Whatever it is, I don't like it. There's spirits everywhere and they can't find a way out.”
“I'll make you a deal,” Sam conceded. “After we find Antoinette and neutralize whatever forces have kept her here for all these years, we'll see about leading these lost souls out of here.”
“Okay. But don't forget, Antoinette said there were others being kept here too other than herself.”
“Yes, but we don't know if she was referring to people, vampires or spirits so let's tackle one problem at a time, okay?”
Allison nodded and softly asked the spirits to quiet down. Then she asked them if they knew where the living ones were being kept. They all looked down at their invisible feet except for two children. They nodded silently then pointed to a wall in uni
son.
“Over there, Sam,” Allison said also pointing and the two rushed to the wall.
It seemed solid but also cooler than the rest of the room and the surrounding wall. Sam felt around the coolest spots with her hands.
“There must be a touchstone or a secret release of sorts,” she murmured as she searched the surface diligently.
“Let me,” Allison said, motioning for Sam to step back.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on the seemingly solid wall before them and after a few minutes she opened her eyes and approached the wall again. She reached out and pressed firmly on a stone. Instantly, the two could hear a series of pulleys and locks engaging and they watched in amazement as the wall rolled forward on hidden hinges and a rolling track. Sam and Allison stood amazed, staring into the opening at a four foot wide staircase that led even further down into the foundations of the chateau.
“What's this then?” a voice suddenly boomed from behind them.
When the two whipped around to see who had spoken, they immediately realized they had been caught. They were surrounded by a group of young vampires who, from their dress, Sam figured had been made immortal during the height of the Goth punk era of The Clash's London Calling and U2's Bloody Sunday.
Their gaunt appearance and twitching muscles and limbs seemed strange to Sam but she also knows it's something she's seen before.
“Looks like we've got us a couple of intruders,” one of the females said.
“Really, Annie? That's not obvious at all,” another commented sarcastically as he unceremoniously kicked her in the shin. The female fell to the floor in agony, waling as she shuffled to a corner and rubbed at her leg, which seemed broken.
“Whatever the case,” the one who looked most in charge said. “They're ours now. Fresh food tonight.”
Chapter Nine
Marie de Guise knew better than to tarry at Palace des Vosges in Paris while news of continued unrest came constantly from Scotland.