Daughter of Silk

by Linda Lee Chaikin

  When le Duc de Guise had first seen Louis, Coligny, and le Cardinal de Châtillon, his eyes had chilled with a sinister expression that spread over his features. Sebastien knew that he took pity on none whom he judged to be heretic. He could murder in the name of God without a twinge of conscience.

  The young king and queen sat motionless, reminding Sebastien of two young people bewildered by sober adult ceremony. They looked confused and concerned, as if neither truly understood what was hap- pening. Sebastien believed the facts were kept from them.

  Francis was ill, too taxed to probe too deeply into his mother and oncles’ schemes. Nor could he have stood up to them if he had so desired. And Mary, quietly astute, had received few answers to her many ques- tions of her oncles.

  Catherine received the Bourbon princes and nobles of the Huguenot faith with cool reserve, with the same manner she received the Guises, Nemours, and the other Catholic leaders.

  All took their seats with tense silence. Naught was heard except the sound of chairs scraping on the hardwood f loor. They now sat in a semi- circle facing King Francis and Queen Mary on the royal dais.

  Fabien’s mind again wandered. Andelot had not been in the chamber when he returned this morning. Fabien had inquired of Gallaudet, who had also been surprised by Andelot’s absence.

  Catherine was speaking. Fabien did not believe a word she said. She spoke of danger to the crown from the Huguenot party, which to Fabien was nonsense. If there was danger, and there was, it came from two of the men in the chamber — the Guises.

  The Queen Mother hinted of a “treasonable plot.” There were some men near the Valois throne involved in this plot, she stated gravely. She called on the Huguenot princes and nobles who supported the Protestant cause to offer their support to King Francis and also to lend her their excellent advice.

  Fabien marveled at her Machiavellian ruse. As if she wished for the advice of Louis, Cardinal Odet de Châtillon, or the admiral. She was trying to f latter them so as to drop a shroud over their unsuspecting minds!

  “I have summoned here my son’s wise and trusted counselors of the Calvinist religion to hear your decision on whether an edict of pacifica- tion, designed to guarantee all his faithful servants round his throne the rights to peace and worship, has been granted.”

  I can almost believe her, Fabien thought dryly. If I did not know the

  perfidy of this woman.

  Fabien was more interested in King Francis’s reaction. He appeared to listen and wonder at his mother’s words. Perhaps he was asking him- self why his mother was duping the Huguenot leaders with talk of paci- fication when she had been in a rage promising vengeance at Chambord after speaking to Avenelle.

  This was Fabien’s question as well. Why had she changed her mind? Where was the call for the death of every last man who had plotted to set her aside in favor of Louis?

  Had she changed so much in a few weeks? Had she suddenly for- given? Absurd!

  When Catherine concluded, le Duc de Guise applauded with enthu- siasm. That in itself convinced Fabien it was a ruse.

  King Francis looked momentarily astonished. Why? Had he heard his oncle promise the very opposite? Undoubtedly.

  It was a grave miscalculation to have come here, Fabien thought again

  and looked at his kinsmen.

  Fabien saw Mary glance at her oncles.

  She knows the truth, Fabien thought. He stared at her. Her eyes turned toward him, widened slightly as if unmasked, blushed, and looked quickly away.

  Prince de Condé, crafty at times, was more suspicious. He had not come because he was duped, but because le Duc de Guise, now head Marshal of France, could have put out a missive to arrest him for the treason of disobeying a royal command to appear at court.

  Had Louis taken note of Catherine’s words, “Some men near the throne are involved in a plot”? He must know to whom she applied those words. Louis then stood and in a few choice phrases swore himself ready to defend the royal cause with his life. Royal cause, as Fabien under- stood it, was a kingdom free of the meddling House of Guise who served the interests of Spain and Rome.

  The others followed suit, but Fabien noted their casual tone.

  But Admiral Coligny, always a man with a true face, stood and answered forthrightly.

  Fabien, encouraged by this, secretly cheered Coligny’s denunciation of “a second group of certain men near the throne” whose only ambition was to usurp the government of France for Spain.

  “There are two million Protestants in the kingdom, Your Majesty —” he looked carefully about the chamber for emphasis — “who look to us, the political representatives who share their faith, and look for relief from religious tyranny and injustice under which they have long languished. Two million,” Coligny repeated slowly, looking firmly but gravely round the circle, “who seek to live at peace with Christ and their earthly king. Good Frenchmen who are industrious, who are tranquil, and who are loyal to this throne.

  “But these two million demand that they shall enjoy equal privileges with the least of His Majesty’s Catholic subjects. This is now refused them. They ask neither to be suspected of treason nor heresy. They are weary of being spied upon by churchmen loyal to Rome. Nor are they persecuted and slaughtered by the thousands for any wicked reason except that those who oppose the Bible are determined to silence the truth of the Reformation.

  “If any conspiracy exists, Your Majesty, such as is now spoken of by the queen regent — and we accept her statement in part as being true, for it is with the deepest sorrow that a conspiracy is deemed necessary by the persecuted — it can only have arisen from the bitter feeling engen- dered by the disgrace toward the Calvinistic subjects of this realm. The same who are uniformly treated as aliens and repulsed with cruel persis- tency from such places of trust and honor as their services have entitled them to enjoy.”

  Coligny glanced about the chamber again. “Let these heavy griev- ances be removed; let His Majesty reign for himself alone — ” Coligny’s gaze moved from le Duc de Guise to le Cardinal de Lorraine, and finally to the Queen Mother — “with equal favor over both political-religious parties in our beloved France, Catholic as well as Protestant. Let the conciliatory edict now before the council be made public, and I, Gaspard de Coligny, bind myself upon my plighted word as a noble, and upon my conscience as a devout Calvinist, that the House of Valois will forever live in the hearts of our people, and receive from them an entire devotion ever subject to his sovereignty.”

  Ah! Bravo! Fabien thought.

  A stern silence pervaded the chamber. The angry duc and cardinal exchanged glances of stif led indignation.

  A royal parchment with gold seals of state was born to King Francis by the chancellor for his signature. But Francis simply stared at it, dumb- founded. He looked up and over at his mother as though he could not understand why he was being asked to sign a document granting peace to the very subjects that she and his oncles but only a day ago had sworn to him were his greatest enemies.

  Catherine stood quickly from her chair. For once, her face showed her alarm. Was she afraid Francis would ask embarrassing questions? Fabien frowned. This was a ruse. He was sure of it now.

  Catherine advanced toward her son. With an imperious gesture, she took the pen from the hand of the chancellor and handed it to Francis.

  “Sign, my son. Why do you delay? This edict was drawn up by the unanimous advice of your council in favor of your loyal subjects.”

  “Truly, Madame. I call God to witness that I desire the good of all my subjects, Huguenot and Catholic.”

  He took the pen from her and signed the edict of pacification.

  The council was adjourned, and Fabien watched the cold indif- ference with which the Guises brushed past the Bourbons and left the chamber.

  “Peace, indeed,” Sebastien murmured ruefully to Fabien, coming up beside him.

  Fabien frowned. “I would say our young King Francis was as bewil- dered as any I have seen by this
action today.”

  “Where are you going now?”

  Fabien had started toward the door. “To make certain my kinsmen ride safely out of the courtyard,” Fabien called dryly as he strode from the chamber after the Bourbon delegation.

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  Chapter Twenty-Two

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  Andelot paced the chamber where he had been brought two days ago after Francis the king had finished the interview with the Huguenots captured in the woods.

  Andelot had no idea in what section of the castle he was kept, or how long the cardinal would keep him there. He had been brought a plate of bread, cheese, venison, and a bottle of wine last night. He had tried to glean information from the guards without success. A priest had come who showed himself more friendly.

  “Fear not, Andelot. You are being protected here, not punished.” “Monsieur Père, I do not understand.”

  “You shall later, my son. Eventually you and I will travel together to Paris where you will enter the Corps des Pages.”

  “But what is happening here at the castle? Did the House of Bourbon come as planned? Did His Majesty sign the edict of pacification? Why do I hear the sound of soldiers and horses as though a battle has broken in the woods — ”

  “Rest, Andelot. Be thankful le Cardinal de Lorraine is protecting you. Do not ask so many questions. Here, I have brought you a writing to ponder. Not heretical writings as from those diables Calvin and Luther, but written by the great archbishop of Carpentras, Jacopo Sadoleto. My son, the archbishop was one of the ablest of our theologians. His encounter with Calvin by public letters addressed to the civil leaders of Geneva was a notable challenge to heterodoxy.”

  When the priest left, Andelot heard a key turn in the lock. Andelot paced with a copy of the writings of Sadoleto in hand.

  Marquis Fabien would surely seek him after enough time had passed, as would his Oncle Sebastien, who was also somewhere in the castle.

  It was some time in the afternoon when the door unlocked and Prince Charles Valois, gloating, stood garbed in satin and gold. His pointed nose and small mouth fit his haughty nature well, and he shut the door behind him and held up a gold key.

  “So, peasant, they brought you here. They could have put you in the dungeons with the heretic spies, but the Huguenots are no longer in the dungeons below. Remember how I told you of the dungeons? Now they are not only packed with hungry rats, but also many Huguenot heretics. The spies were put there when they left the castle meeting with the king, my brother, but they are not there now.”

  Andelot expected the worst. “They are not there now, mon prince?” “Their heads decorate the ramparts. I will show them to you.” “Non, Your Highness . . . but can you lead me out of here to find

  Marquis Fabien?”

  “Fabien has returned. There was a meeting with the Bourbon princes this morning, but they have ridden away toward Moulins.” Charles looked at him slyly. “There are more Huguenots in the dungeons below, now awaiting their just due.”

  More Huguenots in the dungeons? More? Was he telling the truth?

  Where had they come from?

  “They are in the dark cells, dark as night.”

  But then a wicked little gleam came to his eyes. “So you do not wish to see the spies’ heads?”

  “I wish, mon prince, to be brought to Marquis de Vendôme. Can you help me?”

  Charles considered, folding his arms across his chest. “Remember the soothsayer’s laboratory?”

  “How could I forget, Monsieur Prince?”

  “Now I will show you something even more shocking.” “Monsieur — ”

  Charles shook his head. He closed his lips tightly. “Do you wish to be taken to Fabien or non?”

  “Merci, Monsieur Prince. I shall be most grateful.”

  Charles opened the door and glanced down the corridor. He lowered his voice. “Come, then, I shall even show you how it works.”

  It?

  “There is a garden. You can see the river and the trees. The steps on the terrace will take us down into the garden.”

  Andelot took heart. If he could get into the garden, he could escape to the barracks to Cousine Julot.

  “Our walk will be worthy of the effort. Wait until you see it.”

  “It,” again. What was it?

  Charles took him down a little used passage at the back of the castle and out through a door onto a terrace that overlooked both sides of a garden. Here, the Loire River ran alongside the castle and into the wider reservoir.

  Andelot felt better now that the fresh wind blew against him and he tasted freedom. But surely the cardinal had meant him no harm shutting him up in the chamber two days ago? Not if he would send him to Paris to attend the Corps des Pages? What then had been the reason for it? Would harm have otherwise come to him?

  “Ah! Look, peasant!”

  Andelot jerked toward Charles whose f lushed face was impudent, his eyes bulged.

  “Behold!” Charles cried out and ran to the terrace rail, looking delir- iously excited. “Did I not tell you I would reveal something magnifique? Look, mon ami, have you ever seen such a sight?”

  Andelot joined Charles at the terrace rail. An involuntary gasp escaped from Andelot. “Saints preserve us!”

  “Non, ami, they will not.” Charles boasted.

  Andelot curled his fingers around the terrace railing. So this was what had been going on since yesterday while he was closed up in a chamber. Troops, troops, everywhere! Every gate was watched, every entrance into the castle, the gardens, the walled plateau, the galleries. His gaze shifted to a tuft of trees inside one of the bastions. There, on the pin- nacles of the fretted roof belonging to a little votive chapel were more of the king’s archers. The walls of the castle bristled with guns and archers. But that was not all. The heads of the Huguenot men from Geneva were

  posted on sticks on the ramparts. Already the vultures were greedily at work. Andelot, sickened, turned away.

  “There were even more soldiers yesterday after the Bourbon princes and nobles rode from Amboise,” Charles said, folding his arms. “I heard le Duc de Guise and le cardinal talking to the Queen Mother. They told her the open country toward Loches was full of soldiers. Guards now watch the double bridge across the Loire.”

  He looked at Andelot to see his response, as though he recalled Andelot’s comments of a week ago that le Duc de Guise was unjust toward the Huguenots.

  “Le Duc de Guise has absolute power these days,” Charles said. “There was a battle in the woods that lasted all night and most of this morning.”

  A battle? Was that why he had been closeted away out of sight and perhaps trouble? Or had they guessed he had been on his way to warn Marquis Fabien?

  “Then the council meeting with the Bourbon princes is over?” “Oui. An edict of pacification was signed by my brother, the king.” “Then what is all this?” Andelot cried, spreading his hand toward

  the soldiers and battlements. “And what of the fighting last night in the woods?”

  “It was le Duc de Guise who discovered the Huguenots moving in a great army in the woods. They were taken by surprise. Even Renaudie was captured,” Prince Charles boasted.

  “Monsieur Renaudie taken prisoner?” Andelot felt sudden pity and regret. If only he could have been more clever and escaped before the guards took him to the chamber —

  “It is not easy to deceive the Queen Mother.” Charles drew in his chin and gave a triumphant nod of his princely head. “We came to Amboise only because it is a fortress and easily defended from attack.”

  And the edict was a deception. To throw them off guard while le Duc de

  Guise put his army into order.

  Andelot turned his gaze back to the archers and guns.

  “But —” Charles shrugged his small shoulders with boredom —“the fighting, it is all over now. Le Balafré’s army killed many heretics, and they carried Renaudie back here and cut him
into four pieces. His head is on the wall by the Loire River, where the water runs into the great lake.”

  Andelot thought back to last night. He had not slept well. He had awakened several times in the night to hear voices and horses on the cobbles below his window, but when he had gone to look out he could see nothing but torchlight.

  Andelot remembered with a rush about his Oncle Sebastien, about Cousine Julot, and the marquis. Oh, but they would not move against Fabien, would they?

  Is this why he had not heard from them? He became aware that his palms were sweaty. But they could not have been involved in treason against King Francis.

  “There are many prisoners.” Charles’s smile was smug.

  Andelot looked away from his taunting eyes. His own heart thudded. Not his oncle, not Cousine Julot— I beg of you, mon cher God, please, non. Andelot was now afraid to look Charles in the eye. Was this the evil reason he had brought him here? To boast that Sebastien and Julot were in the dungeons of torture?

  “They were Huguenots, all pestilent rabble.”

  Andelot’s fear burst into righteous indignation. He turned abruptly to Charles, hand at heart.

  “Not so, Monsieur Prince. I do not believe the Huguenots tried to harm the king, your brother. They are loyal. Monsieur Prince, is it not so that the past commander of the French army served your grandfa- ther King Francis I during the Italian Wars? And Admiral Coligny, the Huguenot leader, is he not the nephew of that commander?”

  Charles shrugged, looking moody now, as though he might not be as sure as he had thought. “But, come! You still have not seen what I brought you here for!”

  “Have I not seen too much already? Let us go back at once, I beg of you — ”

  “You have seen nothing yet, peasant.”