Intrigued

by Bertrice Small

  The cardinal smiled faintly at this observation. “Musketeers,” he told the marquis, “are particularly hardheaded, as our relations with them in the past has proven. Do you know who the captain of this group is, mon ami?”

  “Pierre d’Aumont,” Sebastian said.

  “Humph,” the cardinal replied. “A particularly difficult individual, if I remember correctly.”

  “Do we have your permission then to proceed?” the marquis asked the cardinal. “Time grows short.”

  “We can but try,” Jules Mazarin said with a deep sigh, “and God protect us all, particularly the queen.”

  Sebastian d’Oleron, Marquis d’Auriville, bowed low and left the chamber where the cardinal sat, now deep in thought. Despite his churchly title, Jules Mazarin, born Giulo Mazarini of Sicilian parents forty-nine years earlier, was not a priest, but rather a layman. He had been educated in Rome and in Spain by the Jesuits. While his education had made him devout, he had no desire to give up his carnal life. Still, his talents were appreciated by the Church. He had served in both the papal army and the papal diplomatic corps.

  In 1634 he was made vice-legate to Avignon by the pope, and in less than a year, papal nuncio to the French court. His skills attracted the attention of Cardinal Richelieu. Recalled by the pope, Mazarin resigned from his service, quickly returned to France, became a naturalized French citizen and, on Richelieu’s recommendation, entered the diplomatic service of King Louis XIII. He had served that king loyally, and with much distinction.

  In 1641 the pope made Monsieur Mazarin a cardinal of the church despite his lack of holy orders. In the next year Richelieu picked Mazarin to succeed him as prime minister to the king. The queen was immediately attracted to him, and Mazarin to her, although both behaved with the utmost decorum. When Louis XIII died, Cardinal Mazarin became Anne of Austria’s greatest champion and right hand. She trusted him utterly and adored him secretly.

  The queen had not had an easy life. Her husband had disliked her, preferring his male companions, encouraged to believe his wife’s loyalty lay with her native Spain rather than with her adopted France. She was twenty-eight years old before her son, called “the God-given,” was born to her. Louis was followed two years later by his younger brother, known as le Petit Monsieur. Mazarin knew all of this, and offered Anne what her husband never had: gentleness, kindness, an ear that listened willingly, and love. While many considered his actions toward the queen self-serving, she knew better. She had spent her entire life in one royal court or another and understood the difference between what was real and what was false. She was far more intelligent than her detractors gave her credit for, which was why her son had now reached his majority.

  But Louis was only thirteen. He needed his mother’s counsel, and he was wise enough to know it. How long before the young king realized his mother had been taken from him? And how would he, yet a boy, be able to retaliate and free his parent? Nay, it was up to him, to Mazarin, the king’s foster father, to bring Anne of Austria, safely back to Paris. And then he, already asked to return from exile, would return. When he did he would no longer be patient or give their enemies the benefit of the doubt. He would destroy them once and for all! He would make certain that nothing ever threatened Louis or his mother again. Even if it cost him his own life in the process.

  Mazarin chuckled at his own thoughts. He was far too clever, he knew, to be done in by his enemies. He would live to see the king a grown man. Then he would engineer the marriage he and Anne had always wanted, with the Infanta of Spain. Nay. He would not die yet. There was too much work to be done.

  Chapter 12

  The guards at the gate at Chenonceaux saw the dust in the distance and wondered who was coming their way. Gradually the brownish mist began to clear, and they could observe fully a dozen or more carriages, and coaches approaching at a fast clip. The bridles of the horses jingled with tinkling bells. Outriders upon their mounts blew their trumpets lustily in the damp gray air of the mid-morning.

  “Send for Captain d’Aumont,” the musketeer in charge said.

  The captain arrived just as the first of the elegant vehicles arrived at the gate. The window to the carriage was lowered and a head popped out. It was a most beautiful lady wearing a crimson velvet cloak, its hood edged in ermine. The lady smiled a brilliant smile.

  “Bonjour, Captain,” she said gaily. “I am Madame la Marquise d’Auriville. My neighbors and I have come to pay our respects to her majesty, Queen Anne.”

  “The queen?” Captain d’Aumont affected a puzzled countenance.

  Autumn laughed merrily. “Now, Captain,” she cajoled him, “this is not Paris. This is the country. There are no secrets here. We all know her majesty has come to Chenonceaux to relax and recover from a most busy year, culminating only two months ago in the official recognition of our good King Louis’s majority. ’Tis Martinmas, Capitain, and we have brought her majesty freshly slaughtered and dressed geese, a fine boar, and several stags that our husbands hunted. We have apples and pears from our orchards and wine from our vineyards. ’Tis a day we countryfolk celebrate, and we would share our bounty with the queen. Now do be a dear man and allow us in, s’il vous plait.” She smiled at him once again. “Some of us have had to travel several hours to reach Chenonceaux. Surely you would not have us go home dissatisfied.”

  As she leaned farther from her coach to plead with him, her cape opened slightly, and he could see the creamy flesh beneath. “Madame la marquise,” he began, “the queen’s residence is supposed to be a quiet and most private visit. We have orders specifically from the king that his mother rest in the peaceful environs of this chateau.”

  “But Capitain, the queen has been here for several weeks. Certainly by now she is ready for a visit from her neighbors. Please! We all came, our husbands and children and entire families, last spring when she was here with the king and the Prince d’Orleans. We are only a little group of ladies. If you are afraid of us, we will leave our coaches outside the gates and walk, but you will have to carry our gifts, I fear. They are too heavy for mere women.”

  He sighed. “I must ask the queen if she would like her privacy disturbed, madame la marquise. If she says, oui, then you and your coaches may enter Chenonceaux.”

  “Will you go yourself and ask her, Capitain? If you just send one of your men, some upper servant may prove too overprotective and refuse us. The queen will not even know we are here,” Autumn said astutely.

  Now it was his turn to smile. “You are a clever pretty puss, madame la marquise,” the captain replied boldly, “but I will go myself.” He turned away, chuckling. He was a country man himself, having been born and raised in Poitou. These women who had come calling would most likely never see Paris or the court. If it had been up to him, he would have allowed them in immediately. They were harmless little country ladies eager to reach out to their king’s mother.

  Entering the queen’s apartments, he found the king’s mother sitting before a tapestry frame, a needle in her hand. He bowed politely, waiting for permission to speak. It came. “Majesty, at our gates this very minute are a covey of local noblewomen who have brought you gifts this Martinmas. It is difficult to keep secrets in the country,” he said, almost apologetically. “These ladies beg permission to enter your presence and offer their gifts to you. They have, I have been told, brought geese, boar, venison, pears, apples, and wine.” He bowed again.

  Before the queen might speak, Madame de Laurent, who had accompanied her from Paris, said brusquely, “Send them away!”

  “Non!” the queen responded firmly. “I am bored, and it would be rude to send these ladies away when they have come bearing such lovely tribute. It would also seem odd. Ask them in, Captain d’Aumont, and you, Madame de Laurent, will see to providing refreshments for my guests. Wine and biscuits will do nicely.” The queen stood and stuck her tapestry needle into the frame. “Show them into the salon overlooking the river, Captain.”

  He bowed smartly. “As your
majesty commands,” he said, but he noted that Madame de Laurent appeared most irritated. Surely she was as bored as her mistress, he thought, hurrying off to give the good news to the beautiful Marquise d’Auriville.

  The white and gold salon overlooking the Cher was a floor below the gallery where the young king had walked with Autumn the previous spring. The women crowded in, chattering and laughing. The queen arrived, and they all curtsied low. Autumn’s heart was hammering with her nervousness. If they failed, what would happen to them all? she wondered for the first time, not having previously considered failure.

  “There, the watchdog,” her aunt, Madame St. Omer, said low. “We will have to separate her from the queen if we are to succeed, but there is time, ma cher Autumn. There is time.”

  Each of the women was introduced, and the queen delighted them by remembering small bits of information about each one’s visit the previous April. All the while by Queen Anne’s side Madame de Laurent lurked so obviously that finally the queen turned to the woman and said irritably, “Leave me at once, madame! You shadow me as if I were some criminal. Return to my apartments and see it is prepared for evening. I will call you when I need you. Do not darken my presence until then.”

  “But the king . . .” Madame de Laurent began, only to be cut short.

  “Leave me! We both know your orders come from my brother-in-law and not my son,” the queen hissed angrily. “Go, or by God’s good grace, I will have you thrown in the dungeons. As long as I make no move to leave Chenonceaux, madame, the musketeers obey me.”

  Two red spots had appeared on Madame de Laurent’s cheeks. She curtsied and backed from the queen’s presence, clearly angry but unable to give vent to her ire.

  “Your majesty,” Autumn murmured to the queen softly when the woman had gone, “do not allow your face to betray us, but we have come to your rescue. We have been sent by your confidante. My aunt, Madame de Belfort, has worn two cloaks. She is divesting herself of one now amid the crowd of women. Please put it on, but leave the hood off for the moment so your face may be seen by all. Captain d’Aumont said we would be allowed but a short visit. When he comes to say we must depart, we shall all raise our hoods up and hurry out, laughing. You will be put in the midst of us all, and you must be silent. If God is on our side, we shall effect your release from Chenonceaux and help you to reach Paris.”

  “And if He is not on our side, madame la marquise?” the queen asked Autumn in an equally soft voice.

  Autumn shrugged. “I do not know, but I do not think it will be pleasant, your majesty. Still, it is worth our efforts. The king needs you, madame la reine. Those surrounding him now are wicked.”

  The queen felt a garment being set upon her shoulders. Glancing down, she saw it was, but coincidence, the same deep purple of her gown. Reaching up, she drew the halves together and fastened the silver frogs. “Merci,” she murmured to the unseen hands that helped her.

  They ate wine and biscuits, and then Captain d’Aumont was standing in the door, advising them that their visit with her majesty was over and they must all leave.

  “You will see my guests to their carriages and safely through the gates of the chateau, Captain,” the queen said in a loud voice. “I shall retire to my apartments. Tell the chef that I should like one of those lovely geese roasted for my supper when you return.”

  “Yes, your majesty,” the captain replied, and then with a wave of his hands he said, “Come, mesdames.”

  With a twinkle in her eye, Queen Anne raised the hood of her cape and pulled it up. It was edged in a dark mink, the further to obscure her features. Then, surrounded by her guests, she hurried out amid the chattering and giggling women. She could scarcely believe what was happening, but she followed along and quickly found herself hustled into a carriage with Madame de Belfort and Madame St. Omer. The vehicle started up and moved from the chateau’s courtyard, followed by the rest of the convoy.

  Autumn, however, lingered, thanking Captain d’Aumont girlishly. “It was so sweet of you to intercede for us, Capitain. How rested and pretty the queen looks. We shall come again during the twelve days of Noël. I hope to see you if the queen is still here,” she flirted, fluttering her thick, dark eyelashes at him. Then she offered him her hand, smiling seductively.

  He kissed the elegant little gloved hand. The glove was perfumed, and her scent was intoxicating. “Madame la marquise,” he murmured. “I shall certainly look forward to your return.” Then he helped her into her coach, his hand lingering a tiny bit too long upon her arm before he closed the door.

  Autumn lowered the window and leaned out. “Adieu, Capitain,” she said softly and blew him a kiss.

  He watched her carriage depart, wondering what kind of a man her husband was. Probably some stiff old country gentleman. Madame la marquise was looking to play, he was certain. When she returned to Chenonceaux they would have to find some opportunity in which to indulge her playfulness. This posting was proving to be far more interesting than he had anticipated, Captain d’Aumont considered to himself.

  Several miles from Chenonceaux, two carriages stopped along the river road. A muffled figure emerged from the first vehicle, and it quickly departed. It climbed into the second coach, where Autumn was seated. The seat facing the driver was pulled forward.

  “I regret you must secret yourself behind my seat, your majesty,” said Autumn. “There is the chance your absence may be quickly discovered. I suspect my coach will be the first sought, because I am the one who insisted upon entry into Chenonceaux. The journey is not long.”

  Queen Anne did not argue with the younger woman. She was surprisingly agile for a lady of middle years and fitted herself into the orifice with little difficulty.

  “I shall not close it, your majesty, unless I am advised we are being followed. I hope you are not discomfitted by small spaces.”

  “I have no idea, having never been put into one. No. Once, when I was a little girl in Spain, I hid from my old duenna in a cabinet used for linens. I thought it rather cozy, surrounded by all those sweet-smelling sheets. I had quite forgotten about my adventure until now. Tell me, why is Jules at your chateau, madame?”

  “The king has asked him to return, but of course, there are those who oppose the king’s will. My husband has been one of the cardinal’s agents for several years, I was only recently informed. The cardinal has a cousin, a man who is his twin in features. He displays himself boldly in Cologne, and so your enemies believe the cardinal is yet there. They have no idea he is already in France. He awaits you eagerly, your majesty.”

  “I have missed him so very much these past months,” the queen said, almost to herself. “I was not certain when I should ever see him again; and then, when I was kidnapped from Paris, I truly feared, not just for Jules, but for my beloved sons as well.”

  “Madame, we are being pursued,” the coachman called down to Autumn. “Shall I evade them, or pretend I do not notice?”

  “Maintain your current speed, Henri,” she called back. Then she said to the queen, “Majesty, I am sorry, but I must close up the seat. Be as silent as a mouse, I beg you.” Autumn smiled encouragingly at the queen, who nodded as the back of the seat was raised and fastened with its tiny concealed latches. Then Autumn returned to the seat facing forward, slumping into a corner as she pretended to doze. She could hear the thunder of hoofbeats coming up behind them.

  “Stop the coach!” an authoritative voice called out, and the vehicle drew to a slow halt. Almost immediately the door to the carriage was pulled open.

  Autumn feigned a scream of fright; and then, seeing Captain d’Autmont, cried, “What do you mean by stopping my coach, Capitain?” Then her voice grew almost seductive in its tone. “You are really quite naughty, monsieur, chasing after me. What shall I say to my husband when the coachman tells him? Shoo! Go away this instant!” Her lips pouted temptingly, and she shook a finger at him in reproach.

  “As much as I should like to say it is madame la marquise who brings m
e out this night, I cannot lie to such a beautiful woman.” The light from her carriage lantern touched the tips of his mustache, making it glisten. He was quite attractive, Autumn thought.

  “Then why have you stopped me?” she asked.

  “The queen is missing from Chenonceaux, madame,” he replied.

  “What! Surely you have made a mistake, monsieur. Why would the queen be gone from Chenonceaux? Who has said it? How can you be absolutely certain? But if it is so, a search must be mounted immediately! The queen might be in grave danger, Capitain!” Autumn replied.

  “I went to the queen’s apartments after I had carried out her instructions to see you and the other ladies off, and to speak to her chef regarding the goose for her dinner. When I arrived at her majesty’s door, Madame de Laurent told me the queen was not there. A search was made at once of the rooms in which her majesty lives. She was nowhere to be found, I regret to say. A search has indeed been mounted, madame la marquise. It will not be concluded until her majesty is safely returned to Chenonceaux. Her kidnappers will be dealt with harshly, I can assure you,” he finished.

  “As well they should be, Capitain,” Autumn agreed with him in firm tones. “But that still does not answer my original question. Why have you stopped my carriage? Surely you don’t think I took the queen away? As you can see, I travel quite alone. Besides, did you not help me into this vehicle yourself? I was the last to leave our little fête. Why on earth would anyone steal Queen Anne?”

  “Step from the coach, madame la marquise. I must satisfy myself that it is indeed empty of anyone but yourself,” he said, and offered her his hand so she might step down.

  “This is quite outrageous,” Autumn protested as he lifted her out. Her anger was just enough to convince him of her outrage, but not enough to engender his suspicions. She had no fear that the captain would discover the queen’s hiding place. Both the hinges and the fasteners holding the back seat closed were too well concealed.