The Queen and the Courtesan (3 page)

A short, breathless silence, in which a silent acknowledgement passed between them.

‘Much as I might long to give in to my desire, how can I?' she gasped. ‘My father would never agree. Nor my mother, who is overly protective of me. She warns me that I would court disappointment, were I to succumb to your pleas. And I dare not go against my father's wishes. His anger would be so terrible he would marry me off in a moment, to the first man willing to take me, however fat or old; a husband I would surely loathe. How dare I take such a risk?'

Mildly irritated by this show of resistance, which he had heard many times before, Henry hastened to offer the usual reassurances. ‘I swear you would not be disappointed. I would be true, and I would never leave you at the mercy of a cruel father.'

‘You might mean to protect me, but my father has sworn to protect the family's honour.'

Henry longed to explain that he had always generously provided previous mistresses with a rich husband, but thought better of it. In any case, some of those had indeed been fat and old. He'd never enjoyed competition. Girding his patience he decided to try another tack. ‘In that case we must employ different skills. I wish for our future destinies to be most certainly entwined, so we must seek some way to pacify your father.'

And on that promise, she allowed him to kiss her.

Following this heartfelt declaration, Henriette grew ever more daring and generous with her favours, cleverly allowing the King increasing liberty with her body, which only encouraged him to press for more. He would blaze a trail of tantalizing kisses along the slender white curve of her throat. She would creep up on to his lap and allow him to dip his fingers beneath the low bodice of her gown. Henry did so love to fondle her breasts; would rub a teasing thumb over her rosy nipple, or flick it with his tongue, surprising her by how quickly it hardened with desire. Henriette discovered to her delight that although the King was quite old, he was a generous and exciting lover. In her turn she would daringly take in hand the King's member and pleasure him too, but she drew firm boundaries. There could be no true intimacy between them, no risks which might damage her reputation, and ruin her chances of a richer prize.

Consequently Henry's frustration grew by the day, his patience stretched to the limit.

In early August, still eager to avoid the loneliness of his own bedchamber, Henry was staying at Zamet's house. Following supper with the Marquis d'Elbeuf, he returned rather late and went straight to bed, only to be roused from his slumber in the early hours by an uproar. Some dispute or other was clearly taking place in the courtyard. Taking up his sword, and clad only in his nightshirt, Henry hurried to investigate. He found his Grand Equerry, the Duke of Bellegarde, and Claude, Prince de Joinville, fourth son of the late Henri de Guise, engaged in a ferocious fight.

‘What means this? What goes on here?' Henry asked a goggle-eyed page.

‘Sire, the gentlemen fight over a woman.'

Henry snorted. ‘I should have guessed. Who is the fortunate, or perhaps I should say
unfortunate
lady this time?'

‘Mademoiselle de Balzac.' Enthralled at being in conversation with the King himself, the young page poured the gossip into Henry's ready ear. ‘Prince de Joinville has been paying the lady his addresses, but now the Duke de Bellegarde has come forward as a rival.'

‘Has he indeed?' Henry growled, remembering how the Equerry had once begged permission to marry Gabrielle, and how he'd been obliged to banish him from court as a consequence. What an unfortunate fellow he was to always fall in love with the wrong woman. Henry called out to them, half-amused by the altercation, which did not appear to endanger life, and yet he was partly irritated that these two should dare to compete with a king. ‘Stop behaving like fools, the pair of you. The lady is taken, and by a better man than either of you.'

Certain of being obeyed, Henry had half turned away to return to his bed when he heard the unmistakable sound of a sword being unsheathed from its scabbard. Before anything could be done to stop him, Joinville had rushed at Bellegarde and pierced his rival's thigh with his rapier.

Henry leaped out into the courtyard and was upon him in a second, de Villars and Rambouillet at his side. ‘Are you mad?' he roared, knocking Joinville to the ground and snatching the weapon from him. ‘You could have killed the Duke.'

‘Sire, he has intruded upon my pleasure.'

‘And you intrude upon mine.' Turning to Villars, he cried, ‘Summon the President of the Parliament. I'll have this young fool arrested and brought to trial. Mayhap that will knock some sense into him.'

But come morning the Duchesse de Nemours called upon the King to beg mercy for her grandson. ‘He is as hot-blooded as his father was, and Guise was no enemy of yours, Sire.'

‘How can you say that when he was the love of Queen Margot's life.'

The old duchess gave a small smile. ‘You never objected at the time. What a pair you were, each outdoing the other with your intrigues and
affaires
. Surely you, of all men, can sympathize with a young blood hot with love for a woman.'

Henry felt obliged to concede the point and contented himself with banishing Joinville from the court. But did not hasten to forgive him. By the time he did allow the fellow back to court, his own liaison with Henriette would surely be settled, and any hope of future rivalry for her favours forever banished. He meant to have her, and although Henry had no wish to share his throne with the daughter of the mistress of Charles IX, there had never been a woman he could not persuade into his bed.

The King took her to meet his children at St Germain. He sent her more gifts including some hangings that were conservatively valued at three thousand
livres
. He flattered and charmed her, freely admitted that he had lost his heart to her. It was not enough. Henriette coolly refused to surrender, and, quite against her father's advice, returned to Bois-Malesherbes.

‘Do not push him too far or you risk losing all,' Balzac warned his ambitious daughter.

Henriette smiled. ‘Do not worry, Papa, my absence will only serve to show the King what he is missing.'

Her clever game worked as Henry quickly followed her, but yet again she refused him. This time he left in high dudgeon and in retaliation turned his attentions to a maid of honour at Chenonceaux where he was visiting Louise of Lorraine, widow of Henri III.

Later, on his return to Fontainebleau, Henry despatched the Comte de Lude to discuss a certain proposition with Henriette and her father. ‘Let her think that my interest is waning, that should bring her to heel.'

The King's emissary did as he was bid and tactfully pointed out to Balzac that His Majesty was now so enamoured of Mademoiselle de la Bourdaisière, a renowned beauty, that he may well cease to pursue Henriette altogether. ‘The King's patience grows thin.'

Startled by this news, Balzac instantly changed tactics, adopting a more humble disposition. ‘I may well agree, were my family's honour to be properly compensated.'

The Comte hid a smile. ‘His Majesty wishes to know what price you would ask for her to concede to his desires.'

Balzac hurried away to discuss the matter with his wife and son. Auvergne had frequently feigned disapproval of the King's pursuit of his sister, even while secretly encouraging it. Marie Touchet cried out in horror when she heard the sum he had in mind.

‘You ask too much. You shame us by these demands, husband.'

Lifting her chin with a blaze of defiance in her green eyes, Henriette challenged her mother. ‘Are you saying that I am of less value than a pile of old silver? Shall I not need to set myself up in a manner befitting my new status?' In her heart she was secretly growing fearful of losing Henry, of her clever tricks failing to bring off this coup. There was still talk of an Italian marriage, but not for a moment would she admit these fears to her parents.

‘On the contrary, we ask too little,' Auvergne protested. ‘The King should treat her with better respect. This is not the first time Henry has willingly paid for a woman's favours. But I note he still does not offer a crown.'

Balzac frowned. ‘You are right, son. Does he imagine he can buy my daughter's honour with mere money? I shall also request a suitable appointment for you, and for myself. He is hot for her and will pay whatever we ask.'

The pair at once began to devise various military promotions which might be advantageous to them both. After lengthy discussions Balzac returned with a demand for one hundred thousand
livres
, plus suitable positions for himself and his son.

Now it was the Comte's turn to be startled. One hundred thousand was an unheard of sum, even for a maidenhead, and Henry was surely not fool enough to be convinced the girl was still in possession of it. But who was he to judge what a king would do to satisfy his lust? Skilfully masking his dismay, de Lude bowed deeply and quickly departed to relay these demands to his monarch.

‘Are you never satisfied, husband?' Marie protested. ‘Think of our daughter's virtue which you so easily barter.'

‘Silence, wife! I will not relinquish the family honour for anything less than the sum we demand, plus a crown.'

Henriette burst into a tantrum of fury. ‘The King may refuse. How can we force him to agree to what we ask? We have no power.'

‘We have more than you might think. Now do not spoil that pretty complexion with tears, and listen carefully, child, for I have a plan.'

Henry heard the demands in silence. How different the bewitching Henriette was from his sweet Gabrielle. He had showered his precious angel with gifts and love but she'd had no desire for a crown, wanting only to marry and be respectable. In the end his persistence had paid off and he'd won her affection away from her previous lover. He'd loved Gabrielle sincerely, and would gladly have made her his queen. There would be no crown for Henriette but he wanted her all the same, and if a hundred thousand
livres
was the price to pay to purchase her favours, then so be it.

The problem was that while he was ready and willing to hand over the sum demanded, Rosny put every possible objection in his path to prevent him from doing so.

‘Does Your Majesty not appreciate how difficult it has been for the treasury to raise the required four million for the renewal of the Swiss alliance?'

‘Then this is a trifling sum by comparison. I wish her to have status and privacy, away from her meddling father. I demand that you make the payment forthwith.'

Knowing he had no choice but to obey, the wily superintendent of finances made one final effort to change his monarch's mind. The next morning, approaching the King while Henry took breakfast, he slowly and deliberately counted out the coins, in small pieces of silver, spreading the piles across the table in order to demonstrate how large a sum this greedy courtesan had demanded.

The gesture made not the slightest difference. The King's decision was final.

A small château and the estate of Bois-Lancy in the Orléannois was purchased and the deeds sent to Mademoiselle d'Entragues, together with the balance of the money in silver to her father. Henry ordered Henriette to leave Malesherbes and wait upon him there.

Instead, infuriated by the lack of an appointment for himself and his son, Balzac refused to allow his daughter to leave.

As anticipated, Henry quickly followed.

‘Led like a fool by the nose, or by the demands of the heat in his breeches,' Balzac scorned, smirking with satisfaction as the King's entourage clattered into the courtyard. ‘Order refreshment for His Majesty, wife, and put on your best smile. As for you, daughter, remember the stakes we play for are high.' As if Henriette needed any reminder.

The royal patience might be rapidly failing but Henry could not bear it when a woman wept upon his shoulder, as Henriette was doing now, pressing her warm voluptuous body against his as she proclaimed her distress over her father's obstinacy. Henriette strived not to flinch or recoil at the stink of horse flesh emanating from him, and the sweat he'd worked up on a long hard ride.

Henry's resolve to have her remained strong. ‘What more can I do for you, my beloved? You already have my heart, a fine château, and your father a small fortune in silver.'

She stroked a soft hand over his cheek, playfully tweaked his beard and ran a finger over that sensuous lower lip of his, hearing the low groan of desire deep in his throat. ‘I would surrender to your will this day, this very moment, but my father will not allow it. He wants more. I confess he is a greedy, cruel man who will beat me if I do not obey his wishes,' Henriette lied.

Fearful of losing her when the promised prize was tantalizingly within his grasp, his hands circled the tiny waist to press her ever closer, hoping to ease the ache in his loins. ‘What is it he wants from me this time?'

‘I dare not say. It is too shocking.' Pushing the King gently away, Henriette retreated to the window and hid her face in her hands, praying he would follow. ‘I swear I do not possess the courage to communicate his demands to Your Majesty.'

‘Tell me, my sweet, and I swear I will not blame you, whatever they may be.'

Feeling his arms come about her she closed her eyes in relief and allowed herself to sink back against his broad chest. Then catching a breath in her throat, Henriette spoke quickly, as if in fear. ‘My father the Marquis will never consent to my becoming your mistress unless he receives a written promise, signed by Your Majesty's hand, that you will offer me marriage, provided that within a year I successfully give you a son.'

Turning in his arms she gazed lovingly up into his face, and saw a small frown gather upon his brow. Henriette hastened to lay the blame squarely upon her father. ‘I did try to point out the futility of such a demand, but my arguments were in vain. My father declares that he seeks only to preserve the honour of his house.'