The Nostradamus Prophecy

by Theresa Breslin

  ‘Is there no more that you can tell me?’ I asked him.

  ‘In many visions I have seen you grow taller, fuller. You are as a boy again, a minstrel, and have found favour with a royal house.’

  ‘It must be with the French court,’ I said, ‘if, in some way, I am to save the king.’

  ‘That part is obscured and unclear to me. What I do know is that now approaches the hour of my passing.’

  I looked at the paper he held in his hand and read the words written there. The prophecy I had first heard Nostradamus proclaim in the great hall of Cherboucy Palace.

  Thus the first four lines read:

  With fire and heartless hangings

  The treachery of royal line holds sway

  Deeds done by stealth will come to light and all but one consumed

  Safe from the sword, saved only by the word.

  And to this, Nostradamus had added another quatrain:

  This is your destiny, Mélisande.

  You are the one who,

  In the way known to you, can save

  The king who must be saved.

  Nostradamus handed me this last scroll and I placed it with the other two in the pocket of my apron.

  ‘Mélisande’ – he spoke gravely – ‘I appoint you most solemnly the custodian of these papers.’

  Then, as if completely exhausted by his efforts, he staggered to his day bed and fell upon it.

  ‘That is all?’ I cried out.

  ‘That is all,’ he replied. Then he said his last words to me. ‘I have written everything I know.’

  Chapter Forty-one

  I WENT DOWN the stairs, my eyes filling with tears.

  Mistress Anne was standing by her bedroom door. ‘My husband bade me wait here until he spoke with you. Has he told you all that you need to know?’

  ‘Not all of it, but as much as he was able to. The remainder I will have to discover for myself.’

  ‘He is dying?’ she asked me, tears beginning to spill from her own eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied sadly. ‘His end is very near.’

  As she made to move past me, I spoke. ‘I will say goodbye and thank you, for I may not be here in the morning.’

  ‘I know that there was a purpose in you being here, although I do not understand what it was.’ She kissed my cheek. ‘I am sorry to bid you farewell and’ – she started to sob – ‘I am heartbroken to lose so good a husband.’

  She went to the door of the family room and called her children to her. Clinging to each other, they mounted the stairs to the top floor. I went into Mistress Anne’s bedroom and, more boldly now, opened the lid of the chest and took out my boy’s clothes. In some way I must escape this house. I would invent a story for the guards and show them the pass signed by Nostradamus. The strange thunder and lightning flashes in the sky might serve to spook them enough that they would let me through. If they did not then there was nothing I could do. If they did, I would do the same at the city gate. After that I did not know where I might travel – perhaps try to reach my father’s house on the Isle of Bressay? Although apprehensive, I was assured of my purpose. I knew now that I had a sacred mission to protect King Charles.

  I gathered up my clothes and went into the family room to my bed alcove. I took my travelling cloak and unpicked the stitches from the end of the hem. Keeping aside the pass Nostradamus had given me, I rolled the other two papers very tightly and slipped them inside. I wrapped up my boy’s clothes inside my travelling cloak. I would go to the outside privy to change my clothes. I turned towards the door.

  Lord Thierry stood across the entrance.

  ‘Are you leaving?’ he enquired politely.

  ‘Master Nostradamus has given me a pass to do so.’ I said this with as much assurance as I could.

  Lord Thierry held out his hand. He read the pass and gave it back to me.

  I watched him warily. Had he seen me conceal the other papers in the hem of my cloak? Would he seize me and take them from me? But this was not the way this man worked.

  ‘I feel that I should inform you that my law governs this town so your pass is of no value here,’ said Lord Thierry.

  ‘Nevertheless, I must go.’

  He pointed to a stool standing beside the table that occupied the middle of the room. ‘Sit down!’ he commanded me.

  With trembling legs I walked to the stool and sat down.

  He came and sat on the other side of the table. The moon was up but the room was gloomy. He made a gesture of irritation and brought the candle closer.

  ‘There has been an incident in the town. This morning a priest was murdered in his church. Do you have any information about that?’

  ‘What makes you think I would know anything?’

  ‘It is impudent of you to answer my question with one of your own,’ he said tersely.

  I bent my head.

  ‘A girl of your description was seen running from the church, and this’ – he placed a small packet on the table in front of him – ‘was found beside the body of the priest.’

  It was the poultice prepared by Nostradamus for the sick child.

  ‘I know that you can read so you will be able to see the name of the pharmacy attached to this house and the name of the child for whom it was intended is writ plainly upon it.’

  I said nothing.

  ‘Do you wish me to question Mistress Anne or the Doctor Giorgio and ask them if you were sent into town this morning to deliver this?’

  Still I did not reply.

  ‘Have you nothing to say?’ he asked impatiently.

  I shook my head.

  ‘Know this then. A young man, a Huguenot, was found in the vicinity. He was arrested by the Duke of Marcy. According to the duke, the Huguenot was carrying the contents of the church poor box and an altar cloth. The duke intends to have this man hanged at dawn.’ He paused. ‘If you know anything of this matter, now is your time to speak, else this man’s death is on your conscience.’

  I kept my head down. I could not say anything, else all my history would come out and I would be prevented from undertaking my mission. But was my purpose so important that this young Huguenot had to die for it?

  ‘Place your hands on the table,’ Lord Thierry said suddenly.

  What was he up to? I brought my hands up and put them on the table.

  ‘Stretch them out where I might see them,’ he ordered.

  Reluctantly I stretched out my hands towards him.

  He moved the candle closer. His mouth twisted in a grim smile. ‘You have washed them well. But see, there upon the cuff of your dress, there is a spot of blood!’

  I jerked my wrist away.

  Our eyes met. He dropped the candle and raised his hands to his face as if scorched by a flame. I reached out and righted the candle as he jumped to his feet and began to pace around the room.

  I examined my dress cuffs. There was no spot of blood. He had tricked me. By acting in a guilty fashion I had proved to him that I had been in the church with the murdered priest.

  ‘You must tell me what happened.’ He said this strictly, but his voice shook.

  ‘I cannot.’

  He continued his pacing of the room, then he said, ‘I sense that you are very frightened, of something, or someone, and that prevents you from confiding in me. Let me ask you a series of questions. But before I do I will tell you what I will not ask you. I will not ask who you are or where you come from or where you intend to go. I will only ask what relates directly to this dishonourable murder. Agreed?

  I gave my head a quick nod.

  Lord Thierry sat down opposite me. ‘Were you in the town today?’

  ‘Yes,’ I whispered.

  ‘Were you in the church?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you see the priest murdered?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Understanding seemed to come upon him and he asked me, ‘Was the priest trying to protect you when he was killed?’

  I nodded and slow tear
s edged from my eyes.

  ‘Ah,’ Lord Thierry breathed. ‘Now I begin to see. Did you see the person who murdered the priest?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Name the man.’

  ‘The Duke of Marcy.’

  Lord Thierry swore and struck his fist upon the table.

  ‘I had the poultice to deliver most urgently for the sick child and I crossed the Penitents’ Procession.’ Now that my silence was broken I wanted the story out as fast as I could tell it. ‘The duke’s henchman, Bertrand, saw me and tried to take me away for questioning as a heretic. He called for the duke and I ran into the church for sanctuary. They would not respect the holy place and began to assault me. The priest came to help me. I do not think the duke meant to kill the priest. He meant to strike him to drive him away, but . . .’

  ‘Yes, yes, but it is murder nonetheless and sacrilege in a holy place. This is why the duke wants the Huguenot hung quickly. Then the affair is settled and done with.’ Lord Thierry paused. ‘Except for one annoying detail. There remains a witness to dispose of.’ He regarded me seriously. ‘You are in the gravest of danger.’

  ‘I know,’ I replied. ‘That is why you should allow me to leave.’

  He laughed harshly. ‘If you left on your own you would not reach the next street before being cut down.’ He cocked an eyebrow at my bundle of clothes. ‘No matter what disguise you affected. The town is infested with Marcy’s spies and informers. You are safer to remain where you are. Although I cannot keep soldiers posted here indefinitely on the pretext of my visiting Master Nostradamus.’

  ‘Master Nostradamus is dying,’ I said. ‘He will be dead before morning.’

  ‘What!’ Lord Thierry stood up. ‘That changes everything. Where is Mistress Anne?’

  ‘She has taken the children to be with him as his end approaches.’

  ‘You must be removed at once to a place of safety. The funeral of Master Nostradamus will be an enormous public occasion. Crowds of people will come to the town. In a situation like that you would be vulnerable to the assassin’s dagger. And with you dead and the Huguenot hanged the matter of the murdered priest would be closed.’

  ‘But you know the Huguenot did not do this,’ I said. ‘You cannot hang him.’

  ‘The Duke of Marcy will hang the man. It will be a popular decision as he is the only person under suspicion of the murder. If I try to prevent it without producing another culprit then he will have the populace turn against me.’

  ‘You must stop it!’ I cried. ‘The man is innocent.’

  ‘How much you have to learn about the ways of the world,’ said Lord Thierry. ‘I will try to stop this execution. Not just to spare the poor fellow’s life, but for the fact that if a Huguenot hangs, then the ensuing violence will consume the town. This is what Marcy wants so that he can move in and replace me. He will take power as the man who has a more firm hand over our Protestant brethren.’ He stood up. ‘That is a problem for the morning. For now’ – he moved quickly across the room and lifted me bodily from the stool – ‘I am taking you to Valbonnes.’

  ‘No!’ I struggled against him.

  ‘You must come with me.’ Lord Thierry swung off his cloak and wrapped it round me. ‘While it is dark we will go through the town gates and get away. Keep your face concealed until I say otherwise.’

  He hustled me downstairs and out of the back door of the house. My state of mind was such that it was not until much later that I remembered and grieved for the loss of my beloved mandolin. One of his men brought his horse round and Lord Thierry hefted me, clutching my bundle of clothes, onto the front of the saddle before him. Surrounded by a tight escort, we cantered off.

  I heard him speak to his sergeant at the Pélisanne Gate. ‘Inform the Duke of Marcy that I have made an arrest of the person who murdered the priest. I will appear tomorrow at noon in the castle forecourt to hold trial. He is to bring the Huguenot and I will produce my prisoner with the evidence, and all will see who is guilty.’

  I heard the sergeant repeat his orders.

  ‘Now I must ride out to Valbonnes secretly,’ said Lord Thierry in a low voice. ‘My escort are to return and guard the house of Nostradamus. Open the gate and let me through.’

  ‘Sir,’ replied his sergeant. ‘You cannot go alone.’

  ‘I will. I must. Speed and silence is what we need tonight.’

  Chapter Forty-two

  AS WE TROTTED through the town gate Lord Thierry bent his head and spoke in my ear. ‘Hold tight to that saddle pommel as though your life depends upon it, for in truth it does.’

  I gripped the leather with both hands as he spurred his horse to a hard gallop. We rode along the highway that led away from the town and turned south-east towards Aix. But he soon left this road and veered west towards a dense forest and I thought that he was leaving a confusing trail for anyone who might try to follow us.

  The rain which came after the thunderstorm had made the path less clear; stones and scrub hampered our passage. The horse ploughed on. For an hour or more we rode at the same relentless pace in a westerly direction towards Arles. The terrain changed, from forest to plain, then rocky escarpment, and finally we were on more level land where the animal had to labour less to keep going. Through it all horse and master seemed at one with each other. I sensed Lord Thierry’s command of the reins as firm and sure.

  Finally he spoke to me, saying, ‘You may raise your head and you will see the loveliest castle in all of France.’

  The sun was edging up over the horizon and light flooded across the plateau. Gold, pink and grey-white rays lanced down from the clouds onto a bluff. On it perched the castle of Valbonnes, as if drawn from an ancient legend or one of the old folk tales of Europe. It sat foursquare with crenellated walls, a turret at each corner, and a moat all around.

  ‘It is beautiful,’ I agreed.

  ‘Why I ever left it to go wandering I do not know.’ He smiled. ‘Every time I see it after an absence it gives me such happiness.’

  There was a sudden ache within me at his words. This was an experience I would never have, for since I was small I had led an itinerant life.

  Lord Thierry’s castle was made from the same warm mellow stone as the city of Carcassonne, but his home was more compact, more symmetrical. As we approached we heard a shout from the battlements.

  ‘Ah,’ said Lord Thierry in satisfaction, ‘they are not asleep at their posts.’

  He raised his hand in the air and called to his soldiers. ‘It is I, your lord, Thierry.’

  The clanking chain of the drawbridge unravelled and we rode across and into the courtyard.

  He dismounted first and held out his arms to me. I had no choice but to go into his embrace as my legs were numb. He helped steady me as I stumbled against him. Then he set me aside in order to speak to the tall soldier who was hurrying to greet him.

  ‘Robert!’ he said, and clasped the hand of this man who was obviously one of his trusted commanders.

  ‘It is good to see you, my lord,’ said Robert with enthusiasm. ‘We have been concerned for your safety and hungry for news. There are rumours as to the spread of Plague and other more serious trouble in Salon. They say the famous necromancer, Nostradamus, is dying and many strange portents have occurred already. The canals are full of giant frogs which are leaping about and gobbling up babies and small children. And a holy priest tried to intervene but one of the frogs turned into a demon with a sword and cut off his head. Is this true?’

  ‘How plain facts can become distorted!’ Lord Thierry laughed. ‘It’s dead rats that float in the canals in Salon. I caused them to be flushed out by a noxious mixture poured into the sewers, a remedy I saw when travelling in the east. It may have saved the town, for as the rats left, so has the Plague. But it’s true that a priest was murdered, and the prophet is dying, so the combination of these events might bring chaos. And therefore’ – he gave Robert a firm look to quell further questions – ‘I have little time before I must retu
rn there to keep matters under control.’

  ‘You will find everything here as you ordered it, sir,’ Robert said proudly.

  ‘I thank you for that,’ Lord Thierry replied. ‘Now rouse my old nurse, Marianne, but with care, mind. Tell her there is no alarm, only that I need her to attend to a lady.’

  I was startled to realize that he was referring to me.

  ‘And I want two swift messengers sent out; one to go to the garrison at Febran, and one to Alette. I’ll write an order for the commanders there to send thirty men each to Salon. They are to ride at full tilt to the town and once there take orders from me alone.’

  ‘You are expecting trouble?’ said Robert. ‘Let me guess. It’s young Marcy who is using the circumstances to make an attempt to seize power for himself.’

  ‘You’re right, as always, dear friend. But I will crush this upstart before he has time to draw breath on another day.’

  ‘Be careful how you play this hand, sir,’ said Robert. ‘Don’t go too far and antagonize the boy’s father. He can muster other armies from his friends at court.’

  ‘I think I may outsmart him this time.’ Lord Thierry stopped as an elderly woman came running towards him. She was in her nightwear with a blanket thrown over her shift and her white hair bound in two long plaits. ‘Marianne.’ He reached out to her.

  ‘I heard the fuss,’ she said as she hugged him, ‘and knew that it must be you. I’m glad to see you safe and well, my lord.’

  ‘Marianne’ – he put his arm around her shoulder and led her towards me – ‘this lady needs attention. She will require warm food and drink and a bed to rest in. I would ask you that while she is my guest here you spoil her as you did me when I was a child.’

  Marianne nodded to me and then said to him, ‘Let me also spoil you for a while now. You look in need of a hot meal.’

  ‘There is no time. I will take some bread and cheese and a glass of wine as I write out some orders. Then I must return to Salon.’

  As Marianne went off to see to this and we followed her into the castle, Lord Thierry spoke to Robert. ‘Listen to me most attentively. Until I return, no one, unless it is a single soldier known personally to you and carrying a message from me, must be allowed to enter within these walls.’ He stopped and gripped the man’s arm. ‘Pay me heed in this, Robert. When I say no one, that is what I mean. No person is to be admitted to this castle when I am gone. No pedlar, nor vagabond, no mendicant monk, no trades person nor travelling pilgrim. Take charge of no goods, allow no deliveries to come in. You understand?’