The Queen and the Courtesan (11 page)

Henriette was less easily discomforted. Knowing it was by royal command that she was even here, she placed herself at the Queen's table at supper, attempting to ingratiate herself into the court ladies' circle as if she had every right to be amongst them, even presuming to address Her Majesty directly.

‘Ah, do you speak of the Savoy wars and Biron?' she asked, catching the thread of their conversation and paying no attention to the sudden tears that sprang into Marie's eyes, nor the chill condemnation of the courtiers around her. ‘Dearest Henry will not tolerate such a betrayal. The Marshal will lose his head over it, mark my words. Not that he will miss it if he does, as it is as empty as a rattling drum. Mayhap it would be better to deprive Biron of other parts which he might miss more.' And she laughed, rather coarsely.

The remark was greeted in silence by the ladies. Marie stared at her rival in cold dismay. Her insolence was beyond imagining. What in the name of heaven did her husband see in this grossly rude woman?

‘I assume Henry has spoken to you of this matter?' Smiling beatifically, Henriette's voice lifted at the end to form a question. One Marie had no intention of answering. ‘Or mayhap you have not seen much of your husband in recent weeks? Indeed, he has been kept occupied elsewhere a good deal.' Again that throaty chuckle.

For a moment Marie was too startled to reply, but quickly recovering her self-possession, she turned to her ladies. ‘I fear I must plead fatigue. I have travelled far and need rest. We shall continue our most fascinating conversation another time, when there is less . . . distraction.' So saying she rose, and calmly walked away to seek sanctuary in her own apartments.

Marie's one consolation was that, having maintained her dignity throughout, the sympathy of the court had swung very much back in her favour.

Six weeks later Marie was able to inform the King that she was
enceinte
. He was as delighted as she. Was not this the epitome of all their shared hopes and dreams? The people too were excited when they heard the news, and would run after her coach, cheering and calling their blessings upon her.

Madame de Verneuil quietly withdrew from court.

Marie smiled to herself, feeling she had won a battle, if not the war, greatly relieved to be rid of her rival for a while. She turned with enthusiasm to embrace her new life. Much work needed to be done as the court was sadly disorganized, controlled by a few great ladies who held sway. These doyens saw her as merely the daughter of a minor Italian royal, not a great sovereign, and rarely deferred to her. This, Marie decided, must change.

Nor did her husband exert sufficient influence over them. Since his accession, particularly following his separation from Marguerite, Henry had cared little about the glories of royalty. As a consequence the French Court had fallen into a sorry state, becoming one of the least splendid in Europe. In addition, it was evident that his earlier poverty had accustomed him to many privations. Nor had he been interested in the condition of his palaces, as Henry had rarely slept in his own bed, spending his time visiting the houses of the most wealthy of his courtiers, such as Zamet, Condé, and other dissipated sycophants. With them he could discard the restrictions of his royal status, and indulge his passion for gambling and womanizing.

Marie hoped to change all of that too.

As she waited patiently for the birth she began making improvements at the Louvre. She resolved to bring culture to the court. Masques and ballets were held, and the young nobles took part in a tournament at the Pont-au-Change, at which the Queen presented the prizes to the victors.

Nor did the King appear unwilling to accept these changes. He seemed anxious to improve the splendour and display of his court, perhaps to compensate his new bride for his lack of constancy in their private lives.

One evening the King and Queen were dining at the Arsenal at a banquet given by Rosny in honour of his appointment as Grand-Master of the Artillery. Perhaps carried away by his own glory that day, Rosny was overly generous with the wine. It was a Burgundy of particularly fine vintage, strong enough for the ladies to ask for water to mix with it. Unbeknown to them he instead laced the jugs of water with another wine, one of a paler colour but equal strength. The result was predictable, and Marie was furious when she discovered that her poor ladies, now very much the worse for drink, had been tricked.

Henry roared with laughter. ‘It was but a jest, Madame.'

‘It was a cruel insult against my Florentine ladies who are accustomed to the taste of a more refined wine. Why would such a trick be played upon them, except out of malice? Have I not attempted to bring some civilization and improvements to this dissolute court? Not least by turning a blind eye over a certain personage being presented who by rights should not have been.'

Henry looked shamefaced. ‘Indeed you have been most patient, my love, and I heartily endorse your efforts.' Secretly he thought her rather fussy and quarrelsome, but could not deny that she had been sorely tested.

‘Not only that but in return for Your Majesty's generosity and kindness towards me, have I not willingly taken on the nurture and care of the children of Gabrielle d'Estrées, your previous
maîtresse-en-titre
, despite their mother having been the reason for the endless delays to our marriage?'

Now Henry was almost grovelling as he hastened to assure her of his appreciation. ‘Your heart is boundless in its charity.'

‘Indeed that is not so; I am simply your loyal and dutiful wife. Although I confess to being particularly fond of little César. Nevertheless, Rosny has overstepped the mark. He had no right to make sport with my ladies and destroy their dignity!'

Rosny was obliged to eat humble pie and offer his most sincere apologies to Her Majesty, but the incident did nothing to further good relations between them.

Henriette was in bed with the King. Despite the Queen's pregnancy, or perhaps because of it, he could not keep away. He needed her. He lusted after her. She'd welcomed him back into her arms with a smile of pure triumph. Now, as she sat astride him, rubbing her bare breasts against the hard planes of his chest, she breathed in the acrid maleness of him. Henry always smelled vaguely of horses, or the garlic he loved to eat with every meal. Unlike many of the King's previous mistresses, Henriette had quickly grown accustomed to it and found the scent manly and intoxicating. She nibbled at his full lower lip, kissing him with a languid sweetness, and saw how his Gascon eyes darkened with desire.

‘You will stay with me, will you not, Your Majesty?'

Henry was smiling, partly in ecstasy, yet partly in an attempt to reassure her, his hands caressing her breasts, thumbing the tautness of rosy nipples till they peaked with need. ‘I have promised to take the Queen to meet my sister at Monceaux. I cannot dally too long. Dear heaven . . . what are you doing to me?'

She could hear how his breath was rapidly shortening, growing more ragged as she nipped at his ear with her small sharp teeth, licked him with her pink curled tongue, while her hands were busy elsewhere.

‘Whatever you like, my lord. Whatever you like.' She lowered herself down the length of his lean body, savouring the tensile strength of his hips and thighs, intent on bringing him nought but pleasure. ‘Do you like this . . . and this?'

Henry let out a low groan and Henriette smiled to herself, certain of her power over him. ‘Why should you rush away? I'm sure your new bride can happily keep herself occupied for a little while longer, dusting and tidying the Louvre, while you and I play.'

Henriette meant to keep him with her for as long as possible. Did she not possess the power to hold a king? By rights it should have been herself wearing the crown, if only she had successfully borne Henry a son. But it was not too late. She still held his written promise, complete with the King's signature, which meant that the Italian marriage was illegal. Had not her father learned as much from the lawyers? And as she had produced a son, albeit not a live one, sadly, their judgement surely remained valid. Were she to be more fortunate next time, she would not hesitate to act.

Yet she also appreciated that in the meantime she must tread carefully. It was vital she protect herself in case the power of this new queen flourished too well and grew out of control. ‘I fear that Her Majesty is determined to destroy our relationship,' Henriette mourned, sliding him inside her with liquid grace. ‘How will I survive when you have cast me off ?'

He gasped, a husky sound deep in his throat as he put back his head to savour the fullness of her. ‘I am not about to cast you off, my sweet.'

It was vitally important that he didn't, that she held on to her power. Now that the Queen was
enceinte
, Henriette feared the Medici woman could exert an even greater influence over the King. She might even decide to have his mistress banished from court altogether. Henriette shuddered at the prospect.

It was unthinkable!

‘The Queen may cast me off, even if you do not,' she said, as she rocked against him, making him cry out with agonized passion.

For a while there were no more words between them as Henry turned her over on to her back and took full control, unable to restrain himself any longer. She was a dangerous woman. He could smell ambition in her, sense it in every sleek, intoxicating encounter between them. Yet he must have her. He lived to possess her.

Later, as they lay entwined, their passion sated, he offered what reassurance he could. ‘Your fears are unfounded, dear heart. Her Majesty has quite accepted the situation and will not seek to change it. She appreciates my great love for you, which is different to that which I feel towards her.'

‘Oh, Henry, I do hope so. I should be desolate without you,' Henriette whimpered. ‘But let us suppose, just for a moment, that she had her way. Where would I go? How would I survive, all alone, abandoned and penniless?'

Henry chuckled against her soft lips. ‘I would never leave you penniless, my sweet. Do you take me for a heartless knave?'

Gently pushing him away, Henriette sat up, her auburn hair a tousled halo of fire about her head, and pouted at him. ‘You should know that I have received a proposal of marriage.'

Twin furrows creased Henry's brow. ‘What sort of proposal?'

‘From a prince who, at this juncture, shall remain nameless. But the offer is conditional on my being able to bring with me a dowry of a hundred thousand
livres
. A not unreasonable recompense if a man is willing to take on a king's rejected mistress. Would you do that for me, Henry, to secure my future?'

‘I have not rejected you, my sweet. Nor will I.'

‘You may have little say in the matter,' Henriette persisted, ‘once the dauphin is born. We will speak no more on the subject at this juncture, but at least think on it.' She began to kiss him again, to tease and to tantalize. The business of the bedchamber represented her pathway to success. And in that respect, Henry was very easy to please.

One morning, while the King was out hunting, Henriette was surprised to receive a visitor in the form of Galagai, the little monkey-like woman who attended on the Queen. Henriette was taking a leisurely breakfast, as she so liked to do, sipping her chocolate when the request for an audience was brought to her. Curious to hear what the woman wanted, she agreed to see her.

‘Madame, I am grateful for this opportunity to speak with you.' The Italian dipped a small curtsey, as if wishing to indicate respect for the other woman's station.

‘The King may return at any moment, so my time is of the essence. Pray do not waste it.'

Donna Leonora still nursed a deep resentment over not being granted the position of
dame d'atours
, and the refusal of the King to give permission for her marriage to Concini. With his full, high forehead, aquiline nose, large eyes beneath arched brows, and a slight moustache curled elegantly upward, not to mention his charming manner, Leonora remained entranced by him. They had been lovers for some time now but she longed to be his wife. They could achieve so much together.

She carefully explained all of this to Henriette. ‘Unfortunately the King is not impressed by the documentation which proves that I am indeed highly connected to a notable Florentine family. He considers me to be no more than a
cittadina
, a humble townswoman of good burgher birth. This would be well thought of in Florence, but not here, in France. Only ladies of noble lineage are allowed to attend the Queen and ride in the royal coach.'

Henriette was considering the woman with a thoughtful frown. ‘And what do you imagine I can do to help in this matter?'

‘With respect, Madame, I believe you and I are kindred souls. Like myself, you are a woman of ambition. I feel certain we could help each other.'

‘In what way could a mouse like
you
help
me
?'

‘I could gain you entrance to the Queen's circle, together with the respect you deserve.'

Henriette fell silent. It was certainly true that she hated being excluded from the Queen's private assemblies, as well as not being treated with the proper courtesy and consideration her rank as the King's official mistress warranted. Only by taking a full part in court life could she carry out her long-term plan to re-establish herself as first in Henry's life. She saw at once the benefit in such an alliance. This ugly little woman without doubt held the Queen's ear. The Medici may well be willing to offer a favour in return for helping her favourite advance and achieve her heart's desire, even if the person responsible was her husband's mistress.

The Medici was undoubtedly furious with her rival, following the debacle of the presentation, and would do all she could to induce the King to cast her off. But at the same time her most treasured companion was threatened with expulsion from France, which, if that happened, would leave the Queen more lonely and miserable than ever.