by Jean Plaidy
Angry as she was, she did not lose her self-control.
‘Monsieur de Guise,’ she said, ‘your presence is not needed here.’
Henry bowed and left the room. It was the only thing he could do. He flashed a warning glance at Margot, begging her to be calm and diplomatic.
Catherine glanced at all those assembled, and her look said clearly that it would be the worse for them all if they mentioned to any what they had seen this morning. ‘All may leave with Monsieur de Guise,’ she said. ‘His Majesty and I wish to be alone with the Princess.’
When the room was empty but for the three of them, Catherine went to the door and locked it. She signed to Charles to attack his sister, and he, nothing loth, took his stick and approached the terrified girl. Margot ran to her mother, who flung her back to the King. Charles was biting his lips so that blood mingled with the foam there.
‘We must try to beat some sense into this little fool,’ said Catherine. ‘On the very night when she meets her suitor, she keeps an assignation with her lover. Beat her. Let her learn what it costs to bring disgrace on us all.’
Catherine now unleashed her fury. Margot’s rich gown was torn in shreds and, bleeding and exhausted, she begged them to spare her. But she was not to be spared.
Margot had suffered many beatings in her lifetime, but nothing so severe as this. At length she sank unconscious to the floor. Charles kicked her as she lay there; the sight of blood always inflamed him, and a mood of frenzy had come upon him.
Catherine, looking on, considered the possibility of Margot’s death. It would not be the first time that a disobedient child had been beaten to death, but Margot’s death would be most inconvenient. Catherine’s rage had passed. Moreover, the room was light, for the day had now come.
‘Enough!’ she cried to Charles.
But it was not easy to stop Charles. He wanted to see blood flow. It was always thus when his madness was on him. He wanted to have Henry of Guise’s head off.
‘Kill him! Kill him!’ he screamed. ‘Torture him … And Margot shall see it all. Let her be there. Let her watch him, naked and sweating under the torture, and see then if she recognises her handsome lover.’
‘Silence!’ commanded Catherine.
The King’s face was distorted as he stared wildly at his mother; his lips were twitching; his glaring eyes were bloodshot; moisture trickled from his mouth. He was prancing about the unconscious body of his sister. He wanted to kick her to death, yet when he recovered his sanity he would be filled with remorse if he had hurt her.
‘My dear son,’ said Catherine, putting an arm about his twitching form, ‘have a care. You know these Guises. What if they turned the tables on you? What if you were naked … sweating, eh? Remember who is the man you wish to torture. Remember Le Balafré. Remember the Cardinal. Have a care, my son.’
‘He must die! He must die!’ panted Charles.
‘He shall die,’ soothed Catherine. ‘But my way … Mother’s way … not yours. Lie on the couch, my darling, and rest. Leave this to your mother. She knows best. She does not want them to take her darling boy … her dear little King, and torture him.’
‘They could not. They could not. I am the King.’
‘You are the King, and a wise King, because you will do what I say. Rest now, my son, and leave this to me. Am I not always right? I will see that the arrogance of Monsieur de Guise is subdued. I will see that there is no more love-making with your sister.’
Catherine led him to a couch and soothed him; she stroked back his hair and wiped his mouth with her kerchief. He lay back, his eyes closed.
Catherine then unlocked her door and called to her attendants.
‘The Princess has fainted. Bring water. We must bathe her. She has had a fall. Hurry … I command you.’
They brought the water, and she herself bathed Margot’s bruised body, adjusted her dress and helped the girl back to her apartments.
She announced: ‘The Princess will rest for a few days. See that she keeps to her apartments. I will make her excuses.’
Then Catherine went back to her bed. She appeared to be sleeping when the ceremony of the lever was about to begin, and when aroused she wore her usual calm expression.
Catherine spent much time, during the days that followed, with those creatures of hers – the Ruggieri brothers and René, the perfumer, who made such beautiful gloves and sold such exquisite jewels in his little shop on the quay opposite the Louvre.
She had made sure that she was alone in her apartment before unlocking her secret cupboard; she had dressed herself in the garments of a market-woman so that no one would recognise the majestic Queen Mother in the portly woman with the basket on her arm and the shawl which covered her head and half her face.
She left by the secret passage, which she realised must be known to a few besides herself, since it had been in existence long before she had come to France. But she used it frequently, and it provided her with a certain amount of secrecy. She certainly could not leave by the main gates of the palace, dressed in these garments.
As she made her way to the house of the Ruggieri, so conveniently near the river that it was possible to leave by a back entrance and take the boat which was moored there, she could not resist mingling with the market crowds, exchanging a word here and there, trying to get them to speak of the royal house.
‘Wars … wars … wars …’ said one woman. ‘Why should our country be bathed in blood?’
‘For the good of the Faith,’ said the stout woman in the shawl.
‘For the good of the Faith! For the good of great nobles who would snatch power from one another.’
‘Oh … we shall have a grand marriage soon in Paris,’ said Catherine.
‘The Portuguese gentleman will be getting a handful, so they say.’
Catherine laughed coarsely and came closer to the woman,
‘There are rumours about the little Princess, I believe.’
‘Have you not heard? She is madly in love with the Duke of Guise – the good God bless him! – and she has been his mistress for many years … since they were in their cradles almost. They say that our Margot is mad for him … that she is such another as our great King Francis, her grandfather. There was a man! He couldn’t look at a woman without wanting to take her to his bed. They say Margot is such another.’
‘Then it is well, is it not, that she should be married quickly?’
‘Well for her … or for him?’
Catherine passed on. So the rumours concerning Margot had already travelled beyond the palace walls!
The Ruggieri received her with the pleasure which they always expressed when she came to visit them. They took her at once into their secret apartment.
‘What I need,’ she said, ‘is a present for a gentleman. It is a gentleman of the highest rank – fastidious in his tastes. It must be very charming, and most cleverly devised for such a man.’
The brothers looked uneasily at one another, as they always did when asked to help despatch the important enemies of Catherine. They were very happy to assist in the removal of the insignificant who happened to be in their mistress’s way, but they were terrified of supplying their wares for use against the great.
‘If,’ said Catherine, ‘it will help you not to know the name of the gentleman, I will not tell it.’
But they knew. Any rumour that had left the palace walls would be sure to find its way into the Ruggieri stronghold; and every market-woman and fishwife, it seemed, was gossiping over the love affair of the Princess Margot and the Duke of Guise.
The Ruggieri brothers were not eager to assist in the removal of a man of such high rank.
Still, their fear would make them subtler; and subtlety was what was needed in such an affair.
‘I will give you twenty-four hours in which to think of something. It must be something which will not arouse suspicions. Not a book … not gloves. It must be something which has never been tried before. But it must have speedy res
ults.’
Catherine left the brothers trembling at her command. They knew they had been asked to help in the removal of the head of the most powerful family in the country. How could they escape implication? They could not shut out of their minds the sly, clever face of the Cardinal of Lorraine, the power of his family. And the Queen Mother was asking them to help her remove the handsome young Duke of Guise!
Catherine left them and came out into the streets.
She did not notice that one of the women who had been in that group with whom she had paused to chat kept a little way behind her as she made her way to René’s shop before going back to the Louvre. For the time she had forgotten that the spy system of the House of Guise and Lorraine was as efficient as her own.
She made her way to the secret passage, where she changed her garments. She came through to her own apartments, unlocked her doors and went along to see her daughter.
Margot was in bed. Fortunately, her face had suffered little damage, but the girl could not move for the cuts and bruises on her body. She lay, pale and wan – very unlike her usual vivacious self. She shrank under the bedclothes at the sight of her mother.
Catherine laid a hand on her brow.
‘Ah, my daughter, you are a little better, I think. Let me see how you hurt yourself when you fell in my apartments.’ She drew back the bedclothes and pulled up Margot’s nightgown. ‘Poor child! A pity to spoil your beauty, for you are very lovely, daughter. Is she not?’ Catherine turned to the attendants who stood by, and looked from them to Margot, cowering in the bed.
‘There is no lady at court more beautiful than the Princess,’ they agreed.
‘I will send my own special unguents for these wounds. I do not think there is any serious damage done. She will be healed in a week or so.’
Catherine pulled up the bedclothes and tucked them in with the solicitude of a fond mother.
Then she went back to be dressed for the ball which was to take place that night.
Her thoughts were busy while her women dressed her hair and arranged her jewels. She must keep a sharp eye on Charles. He was impetuous. He might easily expose the fact that there was a plot afoot to remove the Duke of Guise. Her beloved Henry, fortunately, had good sense, and he would show the right sort of friendship to Henry of Guise – just enough to allay his fears, and not so much that it would confirm his suspicions. But she could expect no such cleverness from her little madman, Charles.
She went to the King’s apartment and, dismissing all his attendants, spoke warningly to him.
‘I beg of you, when you see Guise to-night, do nothing rash.’
‘No, Mother. But I hate him. He is trying to take my throne. I am sure there will never be peace in this realm while the Guises are so powerful.’
‘That is true; but we must take every care. Promise me that you will not shout at him when you see him. For the love of the Virgin, do not let him see that you are thirsting for his blood.’
‘Nay, my mother. I am not such a fool as you think.’
‘Of course you are not. You are my clever little King.’
‘All the same,’ said Charles, ‘I shall not rest until he has been punished for what he has done to Margot.’
‘Rather let him be punished for what he may do to you and your brother, my darling.’
But what was the good of talking to Charles! He was hopeless. He was mad.
And in the magnificent ballroom, when Henry of Guise was announced, Catherine watched with dismay the angry colour flood the face of the King. Before she could prevent him, he was at the door, barring the way of the Duke.
‘Whither are you going, sir?’ demanded Charles in a high voice which could be heard all over the ballroom, for all had stopped talking to listen.
‘Sire,’ replied Guise, with excellent restraint, ‘I am here to serve your gracious Majesty.’
‘Monsieur,’ said Charles, with what he thought to be admirable calm, ‘I have no need of your services, so you may depart.’
Henry of Guise bowed low and immediately left the palace.
He knew now that he was in imminent danger, and Catherine felt that it would be as well to prepare potions – not only for the dangerous Duke of Guise, seducer of her daughter, but for that little fool who was known as the King of France.
In the hotel which was the stronghold of the family of Guise in Paris there was an immediate conference that night.
The Cardinal of Lorraine was there with his brothers, Louis the Cardinal of Guise, Claud the Duke of Aumale, Francis the Grand Prior, and René the Duke of Elbuf. There were also the young Duke’s brothers and sister – Charles, Louis and Catherine; his widowed mother would not move from the side of her son, whom she regarded continually with an expression alternating between adoration and fear.
It was rarely that the entire family was assembled together in this way; but they had come hastily to Paris, summoned thither by the Cardinal of Lorraine, whose spies had informed him that for some time the Queen Mother had marked down Duke Henry as one of her victims.
The Cardinal of Lorraine was speaking. ‘At any moment now the blow may be struck. Henry, my nephew, if you have ever been in danger, you are in danger now.’
‘I can protect myself,’ said Henry.
‘You would protect yourself on the field of battle, my boy. You would meet any, I know, in combat, and emerge the victor. But when the serpent slyly coils about you – so quietly that you do not know your body is encircled – what can you do? Take your sword and strike off its head? Do not think of such a foolish thing! The fangs are inserted, and only in the last agonies of death do you see the slimy snake uncoil itself and quietly slip away.’
‘You must leave Paris at once,’ said the frightened Duchess. ‘My darling, you must take horse and fly to Lorraine. I will come with you. I cannot bear that you should leave my sight.’
But Aumale and his brothers shook their heads.
‘Flight is no good,’ said the Grand Prior. ‘Doubtless she has her creatures in Lorraine.’
‘What then?’ cried the Duchess. ‘Would you have him stay here?’
The Cardinal of Lorraine straightened his rich robes.
‘No. There is one way out of this and one way only. I must have been inspired when I advised my nephew to pay court to Madame de Clèves. The Queen Mother, the crazy King and his brothers are terrified. They are afraid that Margot will marry Henry in spite of them all. That is why they are determined to remove the cause of their fear. We must show them that their fears are groundless. Show them that, and Henry is no more in danger than he ever was, than any of us are continually. It is very simple. Henry must with all speed relinquish his plan to marry the Princess. He must show he is sincere in this by an immediate marriage with the Princess of Clèves.’
‘That I will not do!’ cried Henry. ‘I have promised to marry Margot, and I stand by my word.’
‘Very fine and noble!’ said the Cardinal of Lorraine. ‘But do we want Margot to marry a corpse? You see, my dear family, how very wise I was in selecting the Princess of Clèves. She is worthy to marry into our family. A marriage with Marguerite de Valois would have been more desirable, but there is only one way now to save our beloved Henry, and that is by his immediate marriage to the lady of Clèves.’
‘It is quite impossible,’ said Henry. ‘I prefer to face any danger than do that.’
‘Nonsense! If you do not, you face certain death.’
‘I prefer it to dishonour.’
‘Oh, come, foolish boy. You are too romantic. The family of the Princess of Clèves will agree to this marriage as eagerly as the lady herself. As for our Princess Margot, well, you will no doubt be able to take your pleasure with her after she has forgiven you.’
‘You do not understand, my uncle, what you suggest. You do not know.’
‘I have been in love, my boy. I was once young and romantic, even as you are. But love palls; it is like rich fruit, delicious while it is ripe; but it cannot last for e
ver. But the good of a great and noble house is the most important thing in the life of its members. My boy, it is not of yourself and your love that you must think now, but of your family’s honour. We must show the Queen Mother and her sons that she cannot destroy members of our house. We know when to take a step backwards; we know when we must adjust our policy; but we will have no more assassinations. We must not let them think that when we displease them it is easy to dispose of us.’
‘I am pledged to the Princess Margot,’ said the young Duke. ‘I will take none other.’
The Cardinal of Lorraine shrugged his shoulders; the Duchess wept; the Duke’s brothers pleaded with him; his sister implored him to save his life; and his uncles called him a fool.
All night they argued with him; and in the early hours of the morning, the gibes of the Cardinal of Lorraine, the good sense of his family, and most of all the passionate tears of his mother, caused the young Duke to give way.
Once he had given his consent, the Cardinal of Lorraine lost no time in presenting himself at the Louvre and asking for an audience with the Queen Mother.
‘I have come,’ said the Cardinal, ‘to ask your Majesty’s most gracious consent to the marriage of my nephew Henry, Duke of Guise, to Catherine, Princess of Clèves.’
Catherine did not allow her expression to change in the smallest degree.
‘Well, Monsieur le Cardinal, that seems a very satisfactory match. The House of Clèves, I think, is worthy – or as worthy as any could be – of the House of Guise and Lorraine. I am sure my son, the King, will have nothing to say against such a match.’
‘Then I have your consent? He may make his arrangements with the lady?’
‘With all speed, Monsieur le Cardinal. With all speed.’
The Cardinal bowed low.
Catherine went on: ‘Let the wedding take place at once. I wish to honour our visiting royalty with as many ceremonies as we can give him. I think that the marriage of the Duke of Guise and the Princess of Clèves should provide us with an excellent occasion for making merry.’