Dark Eminence Catherine De Medici And Her Children Marguerite Vance (mobi ebook reader TXT) 📖

Anjou let himself be drawn across to the deep window seat Marguerite had quitted, thinking how exquisitely lovely she was, this strange sister of his, how very dear to him, When he was King—as he knew he would be some day-he must plan something very special for her, give her a castle where she could live and laugh and dance her merry life away if she so chose without hindrance or criticism. And the thought of his kingship brought another less pleasant consideration.

Charles's chilly reception had been disquieting in that day of sudden extinction. With his arm still around Marguerite, her head on his shoulder, he spoke quietly against her hair.

"Margot, yetite" he said, "we are the closest, the Lest friends, aren't we?"

Startled, she looked up, drew away, nodding. "But yes, of course. Why do you ask? Why do you look so serious?"

For a moment he twisted the chain of her pomander, lifted the jeweled hall to sniff its perfume, then, "Because I have just come from His Majesty, our brother, and . . ."

"Charles? Oh"—Marguerite giggled and patted his cheek —"don't worry about Charles. What did he do? What did he say? You know that one is always in a mood when dispatches come in praising you, and many have been coming lately. Her Grace, our mother, does nothing but sing your praises

and that infuriates Charles. Tell me, what did he say to make you look so like a chief mourner wearing hood and liripipe?"

"Not very much"—Anjou twisted about to face his sister— "but the unmasked hatred I saw in his face gave me pause. He could so easily decide to relieve me of my command and our mother might not be able to stop him before the deed was done. That is why I have come to you."

"But what could I do, cherie? I of all people whom Charles dislikes almost as much as Her Grace does. . . ."

Anjou took her hands in his, tilted up her chin until she was looking into his eyes. "You can do this, little sister, you who are my other self: you can watch and listen when I am away and you can let me know the instant you feel my command, in fact my interests at Court, are in danger. Will you swear to do that? Will you, unafraid if necessary, face our mother, speak out for me until I return?"

And Marguerite, overcome with emotion at the realization of the trust that was being put in her, buried her face in her brother's shoulder and sobbed her vow of loyalty and devotion.

But Anjou was Catherine's most obedient child. Having confided his uneasiness to Marguerite, he probably felt he had shown a certain disloyalty to his mother, so he immediately told her what he had done. Catherine, far from being enraged or even annoyed, saw in the shared confidence a pleasant way for bringing Marguerite and her brother into closer harmony over the Navarre marriage. She told her that Anjou had "confessed" having confided in her, Marguerite, instead of in his mother first and suggested that they three

sit down cozily and discuss the Navarre pact. And Marguerite of the fiery temper, the idolatrous love for her Brother, Marguerite felt she had been betrayed by Anjou and from that hour despised him as a being unworthy of her slightest consideration,

"Traitor!" she screamed at him when he would have reasoned with her. "Get out of my sight and a pox on you all the days of your life!"

So Catherine must do her own diplomatic planning if she wanted Henry of Navarre for Marguerite. Henry of Anjou could be of no help.

Chapter 9 SAINT BARTHOLOMEW'S DAY

JEANNE D'ALBRET, Queen of Navarre, was in a grave quandary. Physically she was a frail little woman and through the years the strains of her religious leadership and the boorish behavior of her son Henry, the young King, had worn her strength to a fine transparency of numbing despair.

The small part of Navarre which she still held against the incursions of Spain was all that remained of the rich kingdom left her by her father. It was the Huguenot stronghold. Philip of Spain was a formidable Catholic enemy to the south; France, with Catherine temporizing (though the Court was Catholic) and eager for the marriage of Marguerite and Henry, was an excellent friend and neighbor to cultivate. But—here the tired little woman drew back—what of the Protestant faith for which she had suffered so much?

How could she sanction a marriage, however great its material advantages, if through it she sacrificed her son's spiritual welfare and herself deviated from the straight path of her own convictions?

Still, she rationalized, Catherine's ministers had promised Henry would be free to worship as he chose, and was it not entirely possible that Marguerite might be won over to the Huguenot cause? Understandably eager for an alliance with powerful France, willing to discuss the details of the marriage contract, Jeanne let herself be persuaded to make the journey to France. Catherine's invitation had been most cordial.

Arrived at Blois, however, where the Court was in residence, she was greeted by the Queen Mother with thinly disguised unfriendliness while she in turn held her head high and merely returned Catherine's icy kiss on the brow with one equally frigid. Then the two royal mothers sat down to discuss the marriage of their children.

Catherine, on her part, promised the marriage ceremony should be so worded as not to give offense to the bridegroom and his followers. Jeanne, flinching at the thought of the dispensation from Rome required to make the marriage legal, promised that Marguerite should be allowed freedom to worship as she chose