The Italian Woman

by Виктория Холт

  She would not discuss anything seriously. She wanted him at once … this moment. Never mind if they were in the gardens. Who would come to this spot? Who would dare say a word against the Princess Margot and the Duke of Guise?

  ‘My darling,’ said Henry, ‘I want you as much as you want me, but I want our marriage. I want to make sure of our union. I want it to be firm and secure … for the rest of our lives.’

  She ran her fingers through his hair. ‘But, Henry, of course it shall be.’

  ‘The Queen Mother does not love me; nor does the King.’

  ‘But you are a Prince and I am a Princess; and I will have none other but you.’

  ‘I know. I know. But caution, my darling!’

  But she was not listening. She was laughing up at Henry, and he, young and passionate as herself, could not help but find her irresistible.

  * * *

  The lovers thought their love unnoticed, but this was not the case; and one of the important people who had seen how matters stood between the Princess Margot and the young Duke of Guise was the Duke’s uncle, the Cardinal of Lorraine.

  The Cardinal was amused as well as delighted. He himself had known many erotic adventures – in fact, he was at his wit’s end nowadays to find some new diversion that could attract him. He was ready to give a good deal to any young and handsome person – man or woman – who could show him a little novelty. But regarding this affair of his nephew and the Princess he was not displeased, although Henry was being a young fool in this, and he thought it his duty to warn him.

  He asked the boy to come to his apartments and, making sure that they were unobserved and that there were no means of communication behind the hangings, he told the Duke what was in his mind.

  ‘None of the diabolical instruments of that old serpent the Queen Mother can reach us, nephew, so let us talk without reserve. I notice that you are enjoying a charming interlude with the Princess Margot.’

  Henry flushed a little. ‘If you mean that I love her, that is so.’

  The Cardinal lifted his beautiful white hand and studied the rubies and sapphires which adorned it. ‘I wish to congratulate you. What a delightful mistress she must be! You are a fortunate man.’

  Henry bowed stiffly. In view of his uncle’s reputation, he did not care to discuss Margot with him, or to contemplate those lecherous eyes and read the thoughts behind them.

  ‘I would prefer not to discuss my relationship with the Princess,’ he said.

  ‘But that is exactly what we must do. Oh, mistake me not. Do not think I wish to question you as to the most exciting experience you must be enjoying. I can imagine that it is charming – incomparable, in fact – for I doubt if there is, even at this court, a young lady who is so naturally knowledgeable in the greatest of our arts. But you are young, you are sensitive and you are in love; and you do not care to discuss your mistress with a man of my reputation. You see, nephew, I understand. I read your thoughts. Well, let us discuss the practical rather than the romantic. Nephew, I am proud of you. The House of Lorraine is proud of you. If you had made the Princess your wife instead of your mistress, we should be even more proud of you; for what we would like more than anything, dear boy, is to see the Houses of Lorraine and Valois united. The marriage would be an ideal one.’

  ‘It would indeed,’ said the young Duke. ‘And it is my earnest desire that it should be brought about.’

  ‘I wish to help you in that, but do not imagine that you can go to the King and the Queen Mother and say, “I offer my hand and fortune to the Princess Margot.” It is not so easy as that. The serpent has other plans for her loving daughter.’

  ‘I shall do everything in my power to flout them.’

  ‘Yes, yes. But reasonably, sensibly. You must not walk about the court with the Princess, both of you letting your looks and your gestures proclaim to the court what a good time you are giving each other.’

  ‘But … we have not!’

  ‘Your faces, your smiles have spoken. They tell us that Margot is a maid no longer. Margot proclaims to the world all that she has enjoyed and all that she intends to enjoy … even if you do not. This must not continue. Whether the Queen Mother knows of this yet, or whether affairs of state occupy her too closely, I cannot say; but if she did discover it, I would beg of you to watch your food and wine. Always make one of your attendants taste first. Never buy gloves, books or a garment from any but a man you are sure you can trust. Catherine and her Italians have learned more tricks in their lifetimes than we French have acquired through the centuries. Have a care, nephew. Catherine is negotiating a match for Margot with the Prince of Portugal. She would not therefore at this time be in favour of a match with our house.’

  ‘There have been so many negotiations for Margot. First Henry of Navarre, then Don Carlos, now the Prince of Portugal.’

  ‘That does not mean that one of these may not come to something.’

  ‘I shall never allow that.’

  ‘Now listen, my nephew: it is all very well to be gallant and noble in the presence of your mistress. With your old statesman uncle you must be frank. You want to marry Princess Margot. I, and all our house, will help you in this. Therefore I beg of you to go carefully. Try to hide your intentions for a time, until the moment comes when it is good policy to show them. Dear boy, you are as close to me as though you were my own son – closer, in fact, for are you not the head of our house? My brothers, your uncles, all have discussed this matter with me, and we have agreed that nothing could advance our house more than this marriage with the Princess. But you must take care. We do not wish to see you in your grave. Your brothers, Charles and Louis, have not your qualities. You must therefore take our considered advice in this matter, which is this: continue to enjoy your mistress; bind her closer to you; but act with more secrecy, and, moreover, it will be as well if you pay court to another lady to divert suspicion. That should not be difficult, for I have heard it said that there is no young man at the court of France who can compare with Henry, Duke of Guise; and there are few women who could resist him. Your success with Mademoiselle Margot, I imagine, did not demand a great effort on your part. My boy, you have charm, you have good looks, you have power and rank. In fact, you have everything. Do not dissipate these assets, but use them to good advantage. Now, the Princess of Clèves watches you, my boy, with languishing glances; she is pining for you. It would not seem amiss if you paid court to her, for she would be a good match.’

  ‘I have no intention of marrying anyone but Margot.’

  ‘Of course you do not wish to marry any but Margot; nor do we wish it. But on account of the Queen Mother and her spies, pay a little court to the Princess of Clèves. Do not let the Queen Mother think that you have hopes of Margot, for I greatly fear that if she did she would not be very pleased. My dearest Henry, it is fatal when the Queen Mother turns those cold eyes upon a man and decides he has become a nuisance to her.’

  ‘Such an affair is repulsive to me.’

  ‘Oh, come come! Are you the head of a great house or are you a love-sick boy? Explain to Margot if need be. She will not be colder, I imagine, if she thinks you look elsewhere.’ The Cardinal laid his arm about Henry’s shoulders. ‘A great destiny may be yours,’ he whispered. ‘Look at Catherine’s sons: Charles, a little madman; Henry, a pervert; Hercule, that strutting coxcomb! And then … Navarre? A lazy good-for-nothing. I have seen in him something which tells me that he will be wax in the hands of women. Condé? Condé will not live long, depend upon it. Either some battle or the Queen Mother will finish him. Ah, my lord Duke, there are many between our house and the throne, I know, but the citizens of Paris love you as they loved your father. I have heard their shouting in the streets. Paris thinks for France, decides for France.’

  Henry drew away; he could hear the shouts of the Parisians in his ears. King … King of France! And Margot his Queen!

  The Cardinal smiled at the flushed, handsome face.

  ‘Why not?’ he said. �
�A marriage with a royal Valois Princess would doubtless clinch the matter. My boy, do not, in your reckless folly, spoil that chance. Act the statesman even while you act the lover.’

  * * *

  Margot was in a fury of jealousy, and Henry found it difficult to calm her.

  How dared he look as he had looked at Catherine de Clèves? She had seen his smile; she had also seen the way the woman had answered it.

  He tried to explain: ‘Margot, I love you more than anything in the world. I want no one but you. But others have noticed our love, and this must not be.’

  ‘Who? ‘Who?’ she demanded. ‘And what do I care? They will notice that you are playing me false with that creature. I hate her. I will have her banished. I could not believe that you could treat me so.’

  It was necessary to make ardent love to her, to soothe her, to assure her a hundred times of his devotion to her alone. Then when she lay quiet beside him he decided to explain.

  ‘My uncle, the Cardinal, knows what is between us.’

  ‘That lecher! That man of God!’ she cried.

  ‘I know, my darling. But he has great wisdom. He says it is unsafe for us to show our love.’

  ‘Unsafe? He is a coward. He wears a suit of mail under his church robes. He fears someone may stab him, as he deserves to be stabbed.’

  ‘We must be wise, my Princess, my love. Our hearts would be broken if aught came between us.’

  She wept and clung to him.

  ‘Swear to me that you do not love her.’

  ‘I love no one but you, Margot. I must pay some court to her, because to some we have made our love known. We must think of the future. We must marry, but at the moment everything would be against us. Your mother is negotiating for the Prince of Portugal. What do you think would happen if it were known that you and I have already been what we have been to one another?’

  ‘I do not know and I do not care. I only care that we should continue to be that to one another. I am afraid of my mother … oh, so terribly afraid. There is something in her that frightens me. But I would brave her anger; I would brave anything for this, Henry.’

  He could only caress her, murmur endearments, undying fidelity, let himself be drawn into more passionate lovemaking.

  ‘Margot,’ he said at length, ‘understand me. Our whole future depends on this. When you see me smile at the Princess of Clèves, remember that my heart belongs to the Princess Margot.’

  ‘For every smile you give her, you must give me two. If you ever kiss her hands, you must pay twenty kisses to make up for that.’

  She clasped her arms about his neck and strained herself against him. ‘Henry, my love, I adore you.’

  ‘And you will understand? You will know that every thing I do is to make our future secure, that I have no thought, no wish beyond my union with you?’

  She drew his face down to hers, and her kisses, tender at first, grew warmer and more wild.

  ‘Oh, Margot, Margot,’ said the Duke of Guise, ‘there was never one like you in the whole of the world.’

  She laughed. ‘If all women were like me there would be no wars, no politics. There would be no time for anything but love-making. But then, all men would have to be like you to make the women desire them so much – and there is no one in the world like you, my beloved.’

  It was difficult to be wise with such a woman; when he was with Margot, Henry forgot that vision of a crown which, by sagacious diplomacy, might be his one day.

  * * *

  Margot, deep in her love affair, had completely forgotten that other Henry, her brother, for whom she had promised to play the spy.

  Henry, returning from the wars, found her changed, and he, like the Cardinal of Lorraine, knew the meaning of the change in her. He was angry that she should have forgotten her promises to him, but when he discovered who her lover was, his anger increased to a fury.

  Henry was clever enough to understand his sister’s nature. Margot made a good spy, but Margot was born to love men. Her lover would be all-important to her; she would betray anything or anybody – even her own brother – for the sake of the man she loved. Henry of Guise was probably already in possession of any secret he cared to know. Margot was the sort who would hold nothing back from the object of her passion.

  It was perfectly simple to see what Guise was after. He wanted more than Margot; he wanted alliance with the Royal House. And Margot, the little fool, did not realise that the greatest enemy to the House of Valois was the House of Guise and Lorraine.

  Henry sought out his sister.

  ‘You little fool!’ he cried. ‘You traitress! What is all this of you and Henry of Guise?’

  Margot opened her lovely dark eyes very wide and looked at her brother in astonishment. Her lover had made it clear that, as they hoped for their marriage, they must at the moment keep their intentions secret. ‘I do not understand you,’ said Margot.

  Henry took her by the shoulders and shook her.

  ‘You and he have been together …’

  ‘What makes you say so, Monsieur? And take your hands from me. Do not bring your camp manners to court.’

  Henry was furious; Margot was to have been his creature. Now she was entirely Henry of Guise’s.

  ‘You have ignored my interests,’ he accused.

  ‘Indeed, there was nothing to report.’

  ‘You were too busy looking into the eyes of Henry of Guise.’

  ‘And you, my lord, have been listening to idle gossip.’

  Henry left her and went to his mother.

  ‘You know of this affair between Margot and Guise?’

  Catherine knew. She had, through her tubes, heard certain conversations between the lovers. The shamelessness of Margot made her laugh. Her spies had been secreted in certain places and had given her details of what had taken place between those two. It seemed to Catherine that she had a wanton for a daughter, a reckless, passionate girl who pursued Henry of Guise with complete lack of shame, just as she always had done since she was a child.

  ‘My dear son, Sebastian of Portugal will soon be here, and he will be made your sister’s husband.’

  ‘And in the meantime you allow her to behave as she does with Guise?’

  ‘It is too late to stop that now.’

  ‘The scandal …’

  ‘There will always be scandal concerning Margot. Besides, she goes into a new country where this scandal will not be known. I have made it clear to all those who have spoken of the matter to me that it would be better to remain silent on the subject.’

  ‘So meanwhile our lovers continue to enjoy each other.’

  ‘And never did two enjoy each other more!’ Catherine burst into coarse laughter. ‘And, my darling, you are back, and it is good to see you.’

  ‘Mother, she should be working for me.’

  ‘My darling, have you not learned yet that there is only one who works for you?’

  ‘I know it.’ He kissed her hand and, kneeling, let her fondle his hair. He was thinking of a very charming young man who had come to his notice recently: De Guast. What beauty! What elegance! He wanted nothing so much as to be with his new friend. It was irritating to find that Margot had betrayed him, to have to endure this very possessive love of his mother’s.

  ‘Mother,’ he said, ‘you do not take this affair of Margot’s in any great seriousness. Why? The Guises are our enemies. They are too powerful, too ambitious. Duke Henry is Duke Francis all over again.’

  ‘I am watching everything, my dear one. I shall let nothing injure you. I have them watched. When necessary, Monsieur de Guise shall receive his congé.’

  ‘For my sake,’ said the enraged Henry, ‘I beg of you to speed up my sister’s marriage with the Prince of Portugal.’

  ‘For your sake, my darling, I would lie down and die.’

  He kissed her cheeks. She was happy, as she always was when he gave her a caress for which she had not asked. She smiled at him yearningly. This was how she had felt towards t
hat other Henry who had humiliated her so shamefully with Diane de Poitiers. Loving a son was, she decided, a happier affair than loving a husband. She drew him to her and kissed him fondly. ‘Oh, my darling,’ she said, ‘it makes me happy to have you home.’

  ‘I am happy to be with you, Mother dear … And you will speed on the arrangements with Portugal?’

  ‘I will, my son.’

  * * *

  Margot was angry, but she did not believe for a moment that the marriage with Portugal would come to anything. Henry would not allow it. Henry and his powerful family wanted their marriage, and the Guises rarely failed in anything they undertook.

  Her family were against her. Her brother Henry had now played on the emotions of her brother Charles; and in spite of the fact that she despised Charles, she had to remember that he was the King. It was always easy to work on Charles by telling him he was in danger of assassination. Brother Henry had told Charles some story about Henry of Guise’s ambitions to marry their sister and that, being a Guise – the son of Le Balafré – he already imagined he had some right to the throne of France. What a King he would make! thought Margot. And what a Queen she would be! The very thought made her clench and unclench her hands with the longing for him. The citizens of Paris adored him. Who would not adore him? All her loyalty was for him. If he wished to snatch the crown from her brother – well, then she would do everything within her power to help him. There was no loyalty for Margot but to her lover. No one else in the world mattered. If she could help to bring him the crown of France for a wedding present, she would be happy, even if, to do it, she had to see her brothers lying dead. It would be but a small reward for all the pleasure he had given her.

  Her brothers hated her now. Charles had screamed at her; Henry had been sarcastic about her. What did she care? They could not touch her love.

  Charles had cried: ‘I tell you I will not have that spy at court. I’ll have him killed. I am the King, am I not?’