The Queen and the Courtesan (14 page)

Afterwards, their differences forgotten, or at least set aside, Henry made her another promise. ‘You shall again have rooms at the Louvre so that I may visit you whenever I choose, and no one, not even the Queen, will prevent us being together. And that, dear heart, is a promise I
can
keep.'

Henriette had the sense to realize it was the best she could hope for in the circumstances. At least for the present.

When she heard that Rosny's attempts to rid them of La Marquise had failed, Marie was filled with despair. The she-cat's scheming had resulted in reward rather than chastisement and punishment. To add insult to injury, following the delivery of her own son, Madame de Verneuil had moved back into the Louvre, leaving the Queen feeling let down and humiliated.

‘I will not have your mistress treated with the same consideration that you give to your queen. I insist that you remove her.'

Henry made a feeble attempt to dismiss her hurt feelings with a pat on the hand and a soft chuckle, calling her his dear wife and telling her not to fret. But Marie remained adamant and at length the King wearied of the argument and agreed to remove her. He did not, however, as Marie had hoped, banish La Marquise back to the country, but instead installed her in the magnificent Hôtel de Soissons, which his sister Catherine had once occupied. He also paid a large sum each month towards her expenses, despite constantly crying poverty.

It seemed that the position of the King's
maîtresse-en-titre
had been elevated still further, despite an intrigue that surely amounted to treason. And just as Marie's mother Joanna had suffered by the constant presence of her father's Venetian mistress, Bianca Cappello, so would her own marriage be equally blighted.

Marie was even more distraught when, some weeks later, Henry announced that in future all his children, those of Gabrielle d'Estrées, Henriette d'Entragues, the Dauphin, and any further royal children, would share a nursery.

‘It is too much to bear, you cannot do this to me,' Marie stormed. She was feeling increasingly vulnerable, as if her wishes were not even taken into consideration. ‘Have you no heart, no sensitivity?'

Henry seemed dumbfounded by her reaction. ‘Where is the harm? They are but children, and I, as their father, wish to see them as often as possible. It is no fault of theirs that I am also a king and therefore restricted by court duties. It will be far more convenient to have them in one place where I can slip in to see them whenever I have a few moments free.'

‘But
my
child is the only legal heir,' Marie railed, stamping her foot in vexation. ‘He is Louis, a Prince of the Blood.'

‘I am naturally delighted to have two new sons, and in such a short time, but I trust Louis will never deny his half-siblings. What of César and Alexandre, and his sister Catherine, Gabrielle's charming little daughter? Do they not deserve love and care? I may not always be the wisest, or most constant of husbands, but do I not love all my children equally?'

Marie recognized by that certain glint in his eye that she would never persuade him to change his mind. The King's will would prevail.

The morale of the court had been so raised by the safe deliverance of a dauphin that the winter passed in a whirl of celebrations. The Queen, having made a full recovery following the birth, appeared in the royal ballet as Venus. She led little César de Vendôme, attired as Cupid, by the hand, enjoying every moment.

‘Have you ever before seen so fine a squadron?' Henry proudly remarked, smiling to see his consort's happiness restored.

The only irritation, since Marie had been compelled to accept the woman's presence at court, was that the King's mistress also took part. It was perfectly plain that La Marquise was arrogantly determined not to be ousted from her position as favourite. Nor did she hesitate to comment on everything and everyone, at times even daring to criticize the Queen.

‘That gown does nothing to flatter Her Majesty. Why, she looks almost frumpish. At least I have kept my slender figure following the birth, unlike the Medici who grows fatter by the hour. It is very clear to me why Henry married her. She is naught but his fat banker.'

Pretending not to hear, Marie sauntered away to speak with her friend, the Duchess of Guise. No matter how much these remarks distressed her she could do nothing but watch and smile as best she may, helpless to defend herself. For some reason the King never seemed to see the worst in anyone, certainly not that she-cat.

Later, Donna Leonora brought yet more malicious gossip to the Queen's ear. ‘Your Majesty, La Marquise is saying that the Dauphin isn't the King's child. This latest outrageous statement was apparently spoken loud enough for many of the courtiers taking part in the ballet to hear.'

Marie felt the blood drain from her face. This was too much. She could tolerate no more.

The following morning as they lay in bed together after their usual lovemaking, Marie quietly sipping her chocolate, she gathered all her courage, took a deep breath, and spoke of this latest mischief to the King. ‘Are you aware, Sire, of how my rival is challenging the legality of our marriage, as well as the legitimacy of our son, the Dauphin?'

‘Nonsense, I do not believe La Marquise would be guilty of such an absurd assumption.'

‘I have it on good authority.'

Henry inwardly sighed, wishing his queen could simply accept his wishes and leave the subject of his mistress alone, or that his mistress could practise more restraint. But then she would not be the exciting Henriette who so fascinated him if she did. ‘Gossip is rife in court circles. You should have more self-respect than to listen to the idle tittle-tattle of eavesdroppers and sycophants. You indulge your followers too much, and, encouraged by your credulity, they have become the scourge of this court. You would do well to dismiss them before I lose patience and return them whence they came.'

This threat gave Marie pause for thought. The prospect of losing Donna Leonora could not be borne, yet she surely had a right to be treated with proper respect and dignity. She was the Queen. Swallowing the tears that had lodged in her throat, she tried again. ‘It is not
I
who spins this mischief, I merely repeat to you what is being said. How is it that you chastise the messenger but not the source?'

The King nibbled on a brioche, pretending not to hear.

‘Henry?' she prodded, quietly setting down her dish of chocolate on the bedside table. ‘This will not do. I am your wife, a mother, and a queen, and I have been insulted, the legitimacy of my son questioned and my dignity compromised. May I at least ask that you make it clear to Madame la Marquise that Louis is most definitely
your
son too.'

There was a short pause before he answered in the mildest tones. ‘I am told that you have a fond preference for your cousin, the Duke de Bracciano, that you once considered him as a husband.'

Marie sat up abruptly in the bed to glare at him in utter shock, appalled by the implication behind his words. ‘Who dares to accuse me of such a calumny? No, do not tell me, I can guess. Yet more malice from that woman's vicious tongue! My cousin the Duke will arrive soon, and you can ask him yourself. He will tell you it is a wicked lie.'

‘And why would I believe him?'

‘Because he is a man of honour,' Marie snapped, furious that he should take her guilt for granted.

Henry half turned away from her with a weary sigh. ‘I have seen too many men of honour succumb to a woman's charms and lie about it. In any case, I have no intention of waiting for the Duke's arrival. We leave for Poitiers later this day.'

Marie was dismayed. ‘Oh, but when he gave notice of his visit, you promised me we would wait for him to meet us here, in Blois.'

‘I have changed my mind. I now choose not to delay our journey.'

‘But he is travelling all the way back from England, so how can he say with any certainty when he might arrive?'

‘Bracciano may do as he wishes, I care not.'

Marie could feel herself growing hot with anger. ‘
I
care. He is my cousin. Then I shall wait for him here myself.'

‘No, my queen, you most certainly will not. Such behaviour would only feed the fuel of these so-called rumours still further.'

‘Then wait with me, Henry.'

‘I have already decreed that we are leaving today.'

Marie lost her temper entirely. ‘Is this because Madame la Marquise demands your presence at her château?'

‘This has nothing to do with Henriette.'

‘I think it does. You are trying to tar me with the same brush. She is soiled, therefore I must be too. That she-cat accuses me of being engaged in a liaison only because she is desperate to convince you that I too am without virtue. I am sick of her rumour and slander, her nasty innuendoes and malicious attempts to destroy our union. I pray you do not judge your queen by your strumpet's deplorable standards.'

Henry's face changed colour. ‘I do not care for your choice of language, wife, and how do I know that she does not speak the truth? You have made enough fuss about waiting for your cousin's arrival. Why would I not suspect there is some reason beyond family loyalty?'

‘If that is the depth of your opinion of me then I see no help for it, I shall return to Fontainebleau forthwith.' Marie almost went on to say – and you can go to the devil, but stopped herself just in time.

‘
Ventre Saint Gris
, you wish only to return to Fontainebleau because you are longing to see Bracciano. You are panting for him. I can hear it in your voice.'

Marie swung round and slapped him across the face. There was a short, horrified silence, then grabbing her by the wrists Henry held her down on the bed, restraining her fury for some moments while Marie wept and sobbed, utterly distraught that he should think so little of her. Then pushing her from him he stormed from the bedchamber calling for his
valet de chambre
and Rosny.

For days afterwards Marie remained in her apartments. She knew Henry would accuse her of sulking but she didn't care. She felt deeply wounded and hurt by his attack, a natural reaction with which Rosny fully sympathized.

‘The King makes these charges only out of jealousy. He cares for you, truly he does.'

‘I have given him no reason to be jealous. He listens to evil tongues.'

Marie refused to emerge, having her meals brought to her, and keeping all three of Gabrielle's children, and baby Louis, by her side in her seclusion. Meanwhile the King's favourite minister flitted back and forth between the two royal chambers, begging first the King, then the Queen to resolve the dispute, but to no avail.

‘I am considering confining the Queen to one of my castles,' Henry coldly informed Rosny. ‘In the meantime I shall exile those personages who have formed such a clique about her that they carry every bit of malicious gossip, quite unnecessarily, back to her.'

Rosny was appalled. He loathed La Marquise with a vengeance, and was personally very much on the Queen's side in this matter. As the mother of Prince Louis of France, their precious dauphin, she was above reproach in his eyes. It had been a bad mistake on the King's part not to banish La Marquise from court, particularly after the Father Hilaire intrigue. Henry's soft heart and love of women was ever a flaw in his pragmatic nature. Now his overambitious mistress was starting a whispering campaign against the infant dauphin. Was it any wonder if the Queen had taken offence at such a calumnious charge? For the sake of France, Her Majesty must, at all costs, be protected.

‘Sire, I counsel patience and moderation. You would do well not to aggravate matters. Your proposal might be feasible if the Queen had no children, but since God has graciously given her a son, beware of committing such folly.'

‘She is a difficult, quarrelsome woman,' Henry stormed.

‘A woman of spirit, certainly, one able to stand up for herself in what she finds to be most trying circumstances.' Rosny struggled to disguise the admiration in his tone.

‘That harlot's insolence is beyond bearing,' Marie was even now saying to her stalwart companion. ‘Why does the King see no wrong in
her
, and force
me
to endure her constant presence?'

‘He can refuse her nothing,' Donna Leonora agreed, still managing with consummate skill to remain on friendly terms with the King's mistress whilst giving every impression of remaining loyal to her own. ‘The latest rumour is that her half-brother, the Comte d'Auvergne, is working with Biron to form a new league which reportedly has many grievances. They are said to be against the charter of Huguenot liberty, urging citizens not to pay the latest levy, and they are growing in strength daily. I believe the King has been informed but has chosen, as yet, to do nothing.'

‘Auvergne is weak and overambitious,' Marie scoffed. ‘And no doubt out for revenge for the supposed slight against his sister when Henry chose to marry
me
, a royal princess, rather than that cheap trollop.'

Donna Leonora continued to brush the Queen's luscious brown hair, calming her by the measured strokes, as always. Best to keep off the painful subject of La Marquise, she decided. ‘Monsieur Biron is certainly boastful of his influence and power with foreign potentates. Concini tells me that the Marshal is now conniving with Spain as well as Savoy.'

‘I think we should take care, dear friend, that we do not help to spread these dangerous rumours. I have no wish to upset the King further.'

At length, thanks to the patient auspices of Rosny and his good wife, the Queen was persuaded to continue with the royal progress to Poitiers, and the King grumpily accepted that he had no just cause for jealousy.

So it was that in April the court left Paris and removed to Fontainebleau. Finally losing patience the King instructed Rosny, together with Villeroy and Bellièvre, to investigate the intrigue concerning Marshal Biron. Being naturally austere the minister had quickly grown tired of the banquets and revels, and was more than ready to put his time to better use. The investigation took some weeks, but the outcome was that incriminating documents were found that appeared to prove Biron's connivance with Spain and Savoy, which was surely evidence of high treason.