“Come, Bertrand, let me bring you to the appartement. We have a chamber all ready for you.”
“I would not wish to be a burden, ma chère. I shall stay with Andelot.”
“A burden?” She laughed, looping her arm firmly through his and walking with him across the courtyard. “I am in high spirits that you are back with us. You do not know how we have longed for this moment.”
He put his arm around her shoulder and walked with her.
“We?”
“Fabien has been waiting for you. There is much on his mind. He looks forward to having many discussions with you. I think he must have enjoyed your presence aboard the Reprisal. He often quotes you.”
“Does he! Well, well.”
“Remember, he is a declared Huguenot now. Although he has his kinsmen, Louis and Antoine, he needs the support of one who is seasoned in the Scriptures.”
His white brows came together. “I thought the trouble over his arrest had settled.”
She lowered her voice as they entered through a side entrance into the château.
“The Duc of Alva has not yet ceased to be a threat. King Philip is persistent with his demands that the Queen Mother and Charles arrest Fabien for sinking the Spanish vessels. It is only her mantle that safeguards him. I, also, am held in palais arrest as a second incentive. If he will not comply with her demands for his service, she will be rid of us both.” She glanced at him. “I think you know what she demands of him?”
His lean face turned grim. “I do. We discussed it in London before he returned here to France. So then, it is just as I feared.”
They entered the appartement, a private world of solace amid a sea of intrigue and danger.
“Fabien’s chosen to use delaying tactics until a way of escape develops.” She glanced about the salle. Her eyes automatically went to a large chest of drawers. She went there and checked inside.
Bertrand’s brow went up.
“Spies,” she said briefly. “Some are the size of children. We always check.”
He gave a nod of understanding and looked even grimmer.
Confident they were alone, she came back to him, speaking in a quiet voice.
“Fabien has plans for our escape, but he keeps them to himself and his loyals, like Gallaudet and Julot. I am the difficulty, you see. He is quite free to come and go. He was even sent to Paris on court affairs, but I cannot leave the castle grounds. I am watched day and night. By now they have reported that you are here with me.”
“As long as she has you under rein, the marquis will always come back, is that it? Most clever of her. I see that we are in a dangerous trap set by a shrewd and cruel mind. A hasty decision will lead to disaster. Fabien must plan with careful expediency.”
Bitter News
THE CHESTNUT STALLION AND THE GOLDEN BAY RACED ALONG NECK AND NECK down the level road with the forest trees rushing past. As the riders turned the corner, the golden bay inched ahead, Andelot bent low in the saddle. He laughed over his shoulder, and as the race came to a close he slowed to a canter and then eased to a stop near the trees.
The chestnut stallion slowed to a walk and stopped across from the bay. Fabien reached over to console his horse with a pat on the neck.
“Do not be unhappy, beau ami. We both know Andelot cheated.”
Andelot threw back his head and laughed. “Now you sound like Comte Maurice. Are you certain, Marquis, that you do not want me to return the bay? I tell you, he is unbeatable.”
Fabien grinned. “No, I gave him to you, he is yours. And now I owe you my sword and scabbard, though why you want them and what you will do with them is a mystery. You are as clumsy at fencing as a bear.”
“So you think, Marquis. But just you wait. You have not watched me practice recently at the armory. I am becoming as light-footed as a deer. One day I shall equal you, and if need be, I shall be able to take Maurice on.”
“You are going to attend Monsieur Calvin’s theology school in Geneva, remember?”
Andelot dismounted. He dug a cloth out of his saddlebag and began to wipe down the bay.
The wind rushed through the pine trees. Fabien thought of his ship, the sea, and freedom.
“What makes you think I will leave for Geneva?” Andelot asked a moment later.
“Because it is the wisest decision you could make for your future.
You should follow the steps of Pasteur Bertrand.”
“What! Marquis! Go to Geneva to Monsieur Calvin and abandon my opportunity to go to the Guise Duchy of Lorraine? Why, I shall follow in the steps of my most honorable kinsman Cardinal de Lorraine.”
Fabien scowled and was ready to cuff his ears until Andelot looked up and smiled ruefully. Fabien curved his mouth. So Andelot had a malicious sense of humor, did he?
“For a moment I believed you.” He remembered how indignant Andelot had been at Amboise when Fabien had first informed him of how the cardinal kept mistresses and was a Christian in garb only.
Fabien took a moment to look around him at the sage green forest beneath a powder blue sky. Summer had fully arrived, yet he had no rest of spirit or mind. Tension was building, moving closer to conflict, to a decision.
He fingered the leather reins thoughtfully and looked down from his mount at Andelot. Fabien could see that he was troubled. Early that morning Andelot had sent a message and requested to speak with him alone. Fabien had bought a new stallion and was anxious to try him out, so he’d suggested they ride away from Saint-Germain-en-Laye to where there was no possibility of being overheard. On the way they had turned the leisurely ride into a contest.
The reason for being here now confronted him. Fabien swung down from the saddle and stood hands on hips.
“Well, mon ami?”
Andelot frowned. “I am not pleased with the news I bring you, Marquis.”
“That is why we are here. Have you heard something in the chambers of the cardinal?”
He sighed. “I would hold naught back from you, Marquis. But it brings me to grief to be uncovering your kinsman’s transgressions. And when so many of us held such high hopes after Prince Antoine became general of all France.”
Fabien leveled a look at him. So it is Antoine. “Your reticence is appreciated, Andelot. Even so, in speaking of misdeeds, we do not sit in final judgment: that is for Christ alone. But Antoine’s high position at court as a Bourbon holds him to scrutiny. He represents the Huguenot cause. As such, his testimony can affect the reputation of the Geneva church.”
Andelot shook his head sadly. “That is what is so disturbing, Marquis — it will give the enemy opportunity to mock and cause the weaker Christians to stumble.”
“Is it actually that dire? Then out with it, Andelot.”
“I shall be most forward. I overheard Cardinal de Lorraine talking to Duc de Guise, and they were laughing in low voices that reeked with scorn and delight.” He cleared his throat. “Prince Antoine has a mistress at court, Mademoiselle Rouet.” He tossed up his hands, as if embarrassed. “And she is, well — enceinte.”
Pregnant!
“The woman was deliberately sent to entrap him,” Andelot hastened.
“And he fell for the trap.”
“And worse, Marquis. His wife, Queen Jeanne, will be here at the colloquy in September. By then, Mademoiselle Rouet will be close to giving birth.”
Fabien gritted his frustration and kicked a stone. “That fop! I can hardly believe his stupidity. With such a God-given opportunity as this was, he has thrown it away. How could he have been such a fool? I could wring his neck!”
Andelot loosened the band about his throat.
“This is just the kind of depraved trap that the Queen Mother would plan for him, for he is as weak as water. I feared something would happen to lure him away, but nothing as common as this.” Fabien leaned his hand against the saddle and glared off at the forest. “But it makes no sense, Andelot. Why would she use Louise to ensnare him at this particular time? She needs the Huguenot alliance to stand against th
e Guises.”
“Louise?” Andelot asked, wrinkling his forehead.
“La Belle Rouet,” he said with a flick of his hand. “I know of her —who does not? As you say, a belle dame, a woman in the Queen Mother’s escadron volant, but I can think of no reason why Catherine would arrange for Antoine’s downfall now. It plays right into the hands of the Guises. Why would she do such a foolish thing?”
“Perhaps it was not the Queen Mother?”
“Then who would send Mademoiselle Rouet to entrap Antoine?”
He narrowed his gaze on Andelot. “They wish to weaken Jeanne, but aside from the obvious reasons, why now? The Queen Mother has plans to try to arrange a marriage contract between her son and Marguerite. One would think she would wish to appease and flatter Jeanne.”
“But as you so often say, Marquis, her way of thinking is not our way.”
“All paths lead to money and power, Andelot. In this case, it is power. Jeanne rules Navarre as a Huguenot. Spain has long wanted to join that region of Navarre in the south of France with what he calls ‘Spanish’ Navarre. If we could understand what is to be gained by the weakening of Jeanne, we may understand the reasoning behind plotting Antoine’s downfall. At the moment I am at a loss to explain this. It makes no sense to me when the Queen Mother is wooing the Huguenots.”
He walked about, angry and frustrated. This was a heavy blow to the Huguenot cause, not to mention the personal pain that would be heaped upon Jeanne.
“Adultery will destroy their marriage. And if Louise is having a child, that will seal its doom. I know Jeanne.” He turned away again, taking out his frustration on the wooded road as he walked. “I see no hope for their relationship to be mended. Then what will this mean?” Fabien turned to look at his friend.
Andelot ran his fingers through his hair, scowling. “It will weaken Queen Jeanne of Navarre as you said. But it will also weaken the Bourbon-Huguenot alliance.”
“Précisément! And the Queen Mother could not possibly want that result. This must be a Guise plot.”
The wind whispered through the tall forest trees.
Andelot found a tall stump and sat down, chin in hand.
Fabien stood hands on hips staring off at the forest.
After a moment Andelot said, “The cardinal mentioned again just yesterday that I shall go to the Lorraine palais château immediately after the colloquy. Is that not odd? Why he wishes to wait until then, I cannot say. And why emphasize immediately afterward? It is most unusual that he wishes to send me at all.” He looked at Fabien. “Do you not think so, Marquis?”
“There is something being planned in secret, Andelot — some course of action similar to the plot they conceived to murder Antoine, and if so, we need to learn what it is in time to stop it.”
“I, too, discern trouble afoot. I keep alert when the cardinal calls for me, but so far there are only loose hints. It keeps me pondering till the late hours.”
“I suspect they may want to use you again in some other nefarious deed.”
Andelot scowled. “I will refuse. I will flee to Geneva as you suggested. If necessary, I will leave before the colloquy. With the golden bay I am at liberty to go whenever I wish — except that I would prefer that we might escape together with Mademoiselle Rachelle.”
“If you had not been close to the cardinal and willing to alert me, Antoine may have been murdered.” He walked over to where Andelot sat. “Now, again, you must play the spy. Discover what you can of what the Guises are planning. How often are you called in to serve the cardinal?”
“Now it is every day, which is also unusual. I saw him only this morning. It was then that he told me I would leave for the Guise estate in Lorraine as soon as the colloquy ended.”
“They may have planned for something to occur during the colloquy. But what? Does it concern Jeanne and Antoine?”
“And whatever it is, if I am sent away immediately afterward, I will not be at court to speak of it.”
“Exactement! Are you willing to stay on with Thauvet until the end of the colloquy, to keep alert, and play the spy?”
“I shall keep both the ears and the eyes open. I will convey any news to you posthaste.”
Fabien glanced about. “You should also know that my plans to leave for London are even now developing with Nappier and the privateers. The details are not all in place yet, but our general plan is sound. We will escape sometime near the end or after the colloquy as the opportunity presents itself. Julot is my messenger with Nappier. For caution’s sake the Reprisal weighed anchor and left Normandy after Maurice announced its whereabouts at Amboise.”
“Ah, Marquis, I remember that terrible hour — I wanted to clout him!
I have heard he has left Fontainebleau for Beauvilliers. I am most surprised he seems to have surrendered his pride.”
“The Reprisal will be anchoring at La Rochelle,” Fabien told him. “If we separate for one reason or another, mon ami, you will know where to locate the ship. Unless you wish to go to Lyon and cross the border into Geneva? Pasteur Bertrand has told me he will depart after the colloquy for the Château de Silk with the Calvin ministers and then cross into Geneva. You may wish to travel with him and the ministers.”
“Perhaps yes, Marquis, but you see, for several months now I have been corresponding with an acquaintance in the London area and would wish to visit for a time.”
Fabien turned to look at him while Andelot avoided his gaze. Fabien thought he knew who that acquaintance might be.
They walked to their horses and mounted for the leisurely ride back to Saint-Germain-en-Laye.
IN THE DAYS FOLLOWING, as she and Nenette worked tirelessly on the last of the three gowns for Princesse Marguerite, and her meetings with Henry of Navarre drew closer, Rachelle waited in anticipation for her family’s arrival from the Château de Silk in Lyon. In Madame Clair’s most recent lettre from the château, she confirmed to Rachelle that they would be staying with the duchesse at the Dushane château in Saint-Germain-en-Laye.
She also wrote that Idelette had given birth to a healthy boy and was living in London with Madeleine and Comte Sebastien. “And your sister Madeleine’s daughter, Joan, is healthy and growing. I thank God for my grandchildren. They are the most beau in all the world.”
Rachelle smiled, but then her amusement faded and she bit her lip over a disquieting thought. She was not wishing for pregnancy at this dangerous time when she would need all good strength for flight, but as the planning of their escape drew on, she was beginning to wonder about her own health.
After nearly than a year of marriage, it seemed that she should have become enceinte by now. She tried to shrug off the tiny fear growing at the back of her mind. What if I am barren? The thought brought cold fear. What if I never give the house of Bourbon a son through Fabien’s line?
Rachelle kept this emerging fear to herself and never spoke of it to Fabien, and though she rejoiced at the news of the healthy birth of Idelette’s baby, she became tense and sometimes cross, blaming her ill mood on the many long hours of work demanded by Marguerite’s gowns.
Unlike the gowns she had made Marguerite in the past, which had won praise, the princesse utterly hated these gowns. She took the peach silk and threw it on the floor. “I swear I will not wear such a drab and dull gown.”
Rachelle, feeling a headache coming on, complained to Fabien as she came home to the appartement weary and hurt.
“She threw the gown on the floor. All of my painstaking efforts! Why then must I waste further time in sewing the third gown?”
Fabien took her in his arms. “You know Margo. She can behave like a child at times. This rejection has nothing to do with you or your talent, chérie. I suspect her dislike is because the Queen Mother insisted on the design and colors. She has no interest, as you know, in Navarre. As for you, your fame is known far and near. A hundred élégante ladies would give much to have la belle couturière Rachelle designing their fine gowns. Remember Queen Elizabeth?”
>
Rachelle brightened. Yes, the Queen of England had been delighted with the gown she and James Hudson had made for her. “Tell me again her reaction when you saw her take the gown.”
“Ah, her sweet eyes brightened, and she broke into a tender smile.” Fabien’s tone exaggerated with passion. He squeezed Rachelle and kissed her lips. “Then she nearly swooned. Just as I nearly swoon each time your delectable lips touch mine.”
“Tell me more.” She smiled.
“About the English queen, or how your beauty turns me to melted wax?”
“About how my work with the needle thrills the Queen of England,” she said, just as disingenuously.
“The queen even inquired of Hudson whether or not you would come to London and become her couturière.”
Rachelle sighed as she laid her cheek against Fabien’s chest and imagined the scene.
“I wish I could have been there to see it.”
“So do I. I would not have needed to return to France to claim you.
But you will yet be there one day. And you may yet attend the whims of the Queen of England and her wardrobe.”
He grew serious and lifted her chin until their gazes met. “The plans of escape are all in play now. I have informed Bertrand. The final details, however, will await the last hour.”
She held to him tightly. “May God grant that nothing goes wrong.”
The day drew close when Rachelle could sit with her beloved mother and enjoy a long talk. Rachelle knew some of what had happened from the letters received since her parents had arrived at home at the Château de Silk. Both sisters had also written Rachelle after their safe arrival in England. However, only her mother had written that the silkworm experiment of Rachelle’s father near London had failed. Rachelle knew few details, but Fabien had seemed to think the silkworms had died of a disease for which there was no known cure.
What all this would mean for Arnaut’s wish to start a silk plantation in England, Rachelle did not know. She missed the sunny days in Lyon and wished for a visit home to the Château de Silk. Would she ever see it again?
As September neared, the hopes of the Huguenots were mounting that the regent Queen Mother and Charles would grant them a certain freedom to conduct Protestant worship services in various locations outside of the French towns and villages. Rachelle could not imagine Cardinal de Lorraine permitting this worship activity without ramifications, no matter how many petitions were accepted or edicts signed. She was sure the house of Guise, though quiet at the present, was busy planning traps for the Huguenot leaders, perhaps even their murder.
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