The Queen and the Courtesan (19 page)

‘But if Your Majesty were to dismiss La Marquise from court, I'm sure the Queen's coldness would thaw.'

‘Never! Would to Heaven, Rosny, that she had never come, but it is too late for such regrets. If you could but induce the Queen to become more amenable to my wishes, and more indulgent to my errors,
Ventre Saint Gris
, then I would be forever grateful! Pray tell her to behave with better manners, that the King demands it.'

‘The King demands
what
?' Marie clutched one hand to her breast at the pain caused by these words. ‘I shall
never
submit to that
she-cat
while she continues to malign my son. She is greedy and overambitious. Why cannot His Majesty see that?'

A question Rosny wisely did not attempt to answer.

‘The woman constantly sets out to humiliate me at every turn. I am the subject of endless pity and speculation by the courtiers, and live in dread of her plotting. Yet the King takes
her
side against
me
!' Tears shone bright in her dark eyes, and slid down her pale cheeks.

Rosny stifled a sigh. The Queen's response was exactly as he'd expected, and she had his full and profound sympathy, but that made it no easier for him to cope with. He must carry out the King's orders, although not quite using his choice of words. As tactfully as he could he made his suggestion. ‘Perhaps if Your Majesty were to be a little less confrontational, more demonstrative in your loving, then the King might not feel the same need to visit Madame de Verneuil.'

Marie's patience snapped. ‘How he can think so much of her defeats me. The woman is a traitor to the crown. She has betrayed the secrets of this country, which the King will one day discover to his cost.'

There was a small startled silence while the minister considered this remark, a frown puckering his brow. ‘Are you in possession of facts to that effect, Madame?'

What had she said? Marie's heartbeat quickened as she pondered on the wisdom of speaking out. Beyond the gossip that Donna Leonora relayed to her, she had only the warnings from her uncle, the Grand Duke, that some intrigue was going on with Spain. Unfortunately, neither source could back up their fears with sound evidence. Yet Rosny had shown himself to be supportive. Glancing about to be sure they were not overheard, she lowered her voice and told the minister swiftly what she had heard. ‘But I have no proof. It may all be malicious gossip.'

Rosny's interest sharpened. There was nothing he wanted more than evidence to rid the court of that meddlesome strumpet, and her pestilential father and brother. ‘Nevertheless, the matter should be investigated.'

‘I would not have the King think that I intrigue against him,' Marie said, instantly alarmed.

‘The task will be carried out with the utmost discretion. His Majesty shall hear nothing of it until we have the full facts. Know, Madame, that you have my full support in this matter.'

‘Thank you, and it is greatly appreciated. Trusty friends are rare in this hothouse of gossip and intrigue.'

Remembering his purpose for calling, Rosny again made a feeble attempt to obey his master's orders. ‘It should be remembered that His Majesty is of an easy-going nature, and asks only for domestic peace, Madame.'

‘Well, he will get no peace from me, not while his whore plots to have my marriage annulled and my son branded illegitimate. I shall make his life a misery until he banishes her for good.'

Rosny quietly left, unsure whether his visit had promoted success or failure, but he was certainly now in possession of some interesting information.

On 13 February 1604, Catherine of Navarre, Duchesse de Bar, succumbed to her ill health and died. Her last words were ‘Save my child!' Tragically there was no child, no pregnancy, only the severe symptoms of the disease that had devastated her.

When the news was brought to the King he withdrew to his bedchamber, behind closed doors and shutters, and gave himself up to inconsolable grief. Despite their differences in recent years, he still loved his sister as much as ever. He looked back with painful nostalgia to a childhood when they had been close companions. Yet in adult life, with all the responsibility of kingship upon his shoulders, he had ignored her pleas for love and happiness and used her as a political pawn in the game of power.

Even when he had failed to win her the throne of Scotland, when she had begged him thereafter to allow her to marry Soissons, the love of her life, he had chosen instead the Duc de Bar for diplomatic reasons. The marriage had been one of untold misery and dispute, and Catherine never had converted to her husband's religion. She had remained, in the hour of her death as in life, true to the Huguenot faith of her mother. He wept for her now, and for himself at the decisions he'd needed to make. Such was the lot of kings.

The Queen too was equally distraught. She not only sympathized with Henry's sufferings, but shared his grief as in Catherine she had lost a most dear friend. Full court mourning was put in place and Marie also insisted that all amusements be forbidden. The entire court grieved, save for the papal legate who dared to rebuke the King.

‘Consider, Sire, that you grieve only for the bodily demise of Madame la Duchesse de Bar, but I deplore the loss of her soul.'

Henry, who had never shown much patience with religion, and had changed it more than once, was deeply offended. ‘Your words, Monseigneur, savour little of Christian reverence. We know that a last wish, a pang of remorse, can send a soul heavenward. I therefore firmly believe that my sister is saved.'

Henry also ensured that the body of his beloved sister was conveyed to Vendôme and buried beside that of their mother. It had taken a dispensation from the Pope to achieve it, but he knew this to be her dearest wish.

In addition to all of this trauma, his domestic turmoil continued.

Henriette persisted in declaring that she felt threatened by the Queen. ‘Not only is my life in physical danger, but so is my soul. I have been dishonoured by lying with Your Majesty unwed.'

In truth, such a thought had never seriously troubled her, but she was fearful of the King discovering the intrigues of her father and brother. Henriette was also anxious to win the sympathy of the people, which might be important in the future. Affecting a deep and bitter repentance for her past errors seemed an appropriate stance to take, and suited her dramatic nature, particularly in the current climate of deep mourning. ‘I request that I be granted a place of safety, and time alone to pray to God for grace and forgiveness. I feel I should withdraw, perhaps even leave France altogether and live a life of retirement and piety.'

It was the last thing she wanted, but Henriette hoped that by threatening to leave, the King would see how very much he needed her.

Henry hid a smile, for once not so easily fooled. ‘You are of course at perfect liberty to withdraw whenever you see fit to do so. However, I will not permit you to take my children. And before your own departure you must deliver into my hands the written promise of marriage. According to all the high ecclesiastics of the kingdom it is totally without merit or value, but nevertheless a source of unease and annoyance to the Queen.'

Henriette was shocked. This was not the response she had hoped for. ‘I will neither part with my children nor with a document that renders me the legal wife of a king. Do you not care that my life is in danger?'

Henry sighed, struggling to maintain his patience when he had so much more serious matters on his mind. ‘Very well, you can use the Castle of Caen, which was once in the appanage of my sister.'

Henriette wrinkled up her pretty nose. ‘Perhaps the castle at Poitou?'

‘I think not. The area is rich in plotters associated with your father, your brother Auvergne, and Biron.'

Henriette found herself flushing, and flounced away as the conversation had taken a dangerous turn.

Henry ordered Rosny to conduct an inventory of Madame Catherine's property and belongings. He felt obliged to sell his sister's Paris home, the Hôtel de Soissons, to pay off her debts, although he later regretted it when he discovered these were not as bad as anticipated. Her jewels he gave to the Queen, together with a house at Saint Germain. The one at Fontainebleau he gave to Madame de Verneuil.

‘There can be no safer place for you to retire to,' he told her, and she purred with pleasure since it excelled even her wildest dreams.

‘How good you are to me, Henry. I shall make you a happy man this night by way of reward.'

Henry smiled dotingly upon her, even as he led her towards the bedchamber. ‘I always prefer a night of lovemaking, dear heart, rather than a war of words. I am glad we are friends again.'

But in pacifying one of his women he had succeeded only in offending the other.

‘How dare you treat your mistress with the same consideration as your wife?' Marie stormed at him when she heard the news. ‘A house for each of us? It is insufferable. Your Majesty treats us as if we were equals, and we will never be that. How many insults must I endure while you meekly indulge her greed? My entire married life has been embittered and blighted by that woman.'

‘My love, if you would but—'

‘
No!
I will listen to no more blandishments from Your Majesty. I refuse to agree to any further compromises until that obnoxious promise is returned.'

Henriette was ostentatiously frequenting churches and confessionals, publicly bewailing her past sins and declaring how she had been fooled by the King. Outwardly she appeared as confident as ever, but inside was a growing fear that the Queen might win, that she may never see her own darling Henri on the throne. For this reason she welcomed her father and brother's plan to seek help from Spain. She had even engaged a new lady-in-waiting who was teaching her the Spanish language. If she was forced to escape, Spain would be as good a place as any to retire to.

‘We should also secure family connections in England,' Balzac told her. ‘They may prove useful. My sister's son, the Duke of Lennox, is advocating your cause to King James, and has even enlisted the sympathy of Anne of Denmark.'

‘I welcome his support but have no real wish to go to England, Father, and pray it won't be necessary.'

They were walking in the gardens of the Louvre, as it was never safe to conduct such dangerous conversations indoors. ‘Do not fret, my dear, if all goes according to plan it will not be necessary. Your brother is in close communication with Spain, using Morgan to act as emissary through the Spanish Ambassador. Philip III is ready to assist if it means he can gain more power in France. We also have won the support of Bouillon, La Tremoille, L'Hoste, Father Hilaire and other disaffected nobles who were once important members of the League.'

‘Why would they choose to risk all to help
me
against the King?'

‘Some have never trusted Henry's conversion to Catholicism, others seek to reduce the royal authority and increase their own.' Balzac gave a wry smirk. ‘While many are simply anxious to replace what they lost in the civil wars with Spanish gold. And there is always the hope that other discontented French subjects might be induced to join the cabal.'

‘I am aware there is no love lost between Henry and Spain, but will Philip fully support us in this?' Henriette asked, feeling a stir of excitement at the prospect of a successful intrigue, with the crown as the prize.

‘He has agreed to recognize your son, Henri de Bourbon, as dauphin of France and legitimate heir to the throne. Asylum would be offered to you, dearest daughter, in Madrid, together with five hundred thousand
livres
. The King of Spain will despatch the troops which are currently occupying Catalonia. Once we have achieved our object, the country will be divided between the chief conspirators, under the auspices of Spain, of course. Philip would hold the real power.'

‘Would that not be bad for France? Would it not result in further war?'

‘The odd skirmish, maybe,' Balzac agreed, somewhat dismissively. ‘But these men are not concerned about the interests of the realm, only with their own – a desire we can use to our advantage. Never forget that your son would then be King. For my part, I welcome it. Henry of Navarre and France has dishonoured our family name,' he finished, blithely forgetting that he had himself married a woman whose reputation had been ruined by a king.

Almost as if she followed this thought, Henriette asked after her mother. ‘Is
Maman
aware of what we are about?'

‘I believe she has a suspicion, for she has railed at me enough of late.'

Henriette received a letter from her mother the very next day warning her not to involve herself in any designs upon the throne. ‘Your father's ill-conceived plan will be the death of us all.' Marie le Touchet's fury came over in every word, but her daughter laughingly tossed the letter into the fire, paying it no heed. Ambition was far too strong in her.

‘I will have what is rightly mine, at whatever cost,' Henriette wrote to her brother, who was far more reliable, as he was utterly devoted to her. She warned him of her mother's rage, and also urged him to do all he could to secure her a foreign refuge.

‘If you are what I deem you to be, you will never cease until you obtain for me this boon. Your interest is bound up in mine, and I am compelled to contemplate this step, principally because
his
health appears to indicate such a necessity.'

The King had suffered from bouts of ill health all his life and was even now enduring yet another attack. Henriette was certain it would not be long before he succumbed, in which case it was essential she be in a safe place before making a claim for the crown.

Auvergne being notoriously careless with his belongings, Henriette's letter soon fell into Rosny's hands. The minister showed it at once to the King. It wasn't quite the evidence he'd hoped for against La Marquise, but it hinted at intrigue as well as a firm determination to leave France, at least temporarily. ‘Were Madame de Verneuil to depart without first relinquishing the marriage document, the danger for Her Majesty and the Dauphin would intensify.'