Another Small Kingdom (30 page)

Chapter Sixty-four

T
o their great astonishment, the very next morning a note was delivered to their lodgings, carried by another splendid footman. The note told them that the Cardinal would see them in two days' time at three in the afternoon.

Marie was delighted.

‘You see, Jean. All is well. And we have two whole days to enjoy ourselves. Is it not wonderful?'

‘Yes. Wonderful.'

Macleod managed the words and even managed to get enough enthusiasm into them to convince Marie who at once began making plans for what they should do while they waited.

Macleod's suspicions doubly returned. An audience with the Cardinal granted so promptly and so soon. What did it mean? But, seeing Marie happy, he kept his doubts to himself and joined with her in planning their two days of leisure.

As it turned out Macleod and Marie were satisfied to pass the two days in each other's company walking and talking. They told each other of their childhoods and families. Macleod told Marie of his time in the army and the loss of his wife and child.

‘It filled me with hate for the British. But there was always the problem of my father's family, the Macleods of Lewis.'

‘Your father's family?'

‘His Clan. How many of the men I faced on the battlefield were Scottish, perhaps Highlanders, perhaps even my own kin? I wanted to hate the British, all of them. As a child he made me swear to hate the British and be loyal to the Clan. How was I to do both, Marie?'

But Marie didn't know and could not help him. She knew nothing of Scotland and clans. That he wanted to hate those who had been responsible for the death of his wife and child she could understand. Those who take all possibility of love from someone deserved to be hated. Hate she understood well enough. But that was all she could understand.

Marie in her turn told Macleod of her own hate. How her shame and humiliation and the feeling of betrayal by her family had eaten into her very soul and how she had longed at times for death, even death by her own hand. But always the teachings she had absorbed in her childhood prevented her. Death at your own hands meant eternal punishment and she wanted no more punishment. De Valois and St Clair had provided more than enough.

They walked and talked, loved each other for the sufferings they had both endured and found comfort and peace in each other's company as they strolled through the town. Their contentment in each other's company even made Macleod forget, for a while, his suspicions.

Somehow it became known that their visit to Frascati to see the Cardinal was because Macleod's family had rendered their bishop's family some great service. That being the case, Macleod and Marie were welcomed everywhere they went. It became clear to them on those occasions when they came into any contact with the local citizens that the Cardinal was a man much loved by his people. Both knew only too well that such is not always the case with Princes of the Catholic Church.

In discussing the matter both Marie and Macleod agreed that Cardinal Bishop Henry Stuart must be a most exceptional man. Exceptional indeed.

Chapter Sixty-five

T
he two days of pleasant, intimate idleness ended and the appointed day of the visit came. The sun shone and despite the afternoon heat Macleod and Marie decided to forego a carriage and walk, and at three o'clock they were admitted to the fortress Palazzo by the same splendid footman. This time, however, he led them through the marbled hall where they had previously waited, into a grand salon. There they were met by Monsignore Cesarini whose manner had not noticeably changed. He gave them a polite but decidedly frigid smile.

‘His Eminence will be with us shortly. He seems to anticipate this meeting with pleasure.'

Macleod felt nervous. His suspicions had returned but, more than that, he was worried about Marie. She had decided that this meeting would resolve everything for them, but Macleod felt sure that the audience would be the briefest of condescensions. A slight bow of the head, a touching of hands, a benediction, nothing more. How was he to tell the Cardinal the real meaning of their visit, and tell him in such a way as to ensure his help?

If Marie shared any such worries she hid them well. She put on her best smile and, with a white lace mantilla draped over her abundant hair, hoped that she looked sufficiently presentable. She was acutely aware of how far her attire, forced on her by circumstance of purchasing her wardrobe hurriedly in Livorno, fell short of what the magnificence of her present surroundings required. All three stood, waiting. Then, unable to bear the silence, Marie decided to speak.

‘His Eminence is kindness itself to receive us.'

The Monsignor gave her another wintry smile. He also had noted the quality and cut of the dress.

‘Quite.'

Macleod did not know what to say or where to put his hands so he said nothing and left his hands to fend for themselves.

The three relapsed into further silence while a pair of footmen, who seemed to Macleod to serve no purpose except ornament, stood beside the great doors at the far end of the room.

Suddenly, and without apparent instruction, the footmen opened the great gilded double doors and a figure in a flowing scarlet robe slowly entered.

Macleod was taken by surprise. Among all the magnificence, he had somehow lost sight of how old the man slowly approaching them must be. He was small, almost lost in his heavy, scarlet robe. On top of his wispy, grey hair there was a scarlet skull-cap. Macleod suddenly realised that the Cardinal must now be well over seventy years old. Monsignor Cesarini bowed to the venerable figure as the Cardinal came to a halt in front of them. Macleod stood staring but Marie salvaged the moment by falling on one knee and declaring, ‘Your Majesty.'

Macleod snapped out of his trance and also fell to his knee.

‘Forgive me, your Majesty.'

The Cardinal held out a hand to Marie.

‘Come, Madame, rise.'

Marie took the hand and rose. She bent forward and kissed the ornate Episcopal ring on his finger.

The old man smiled and looked down at Macleod who had remained kneeling.

‘Your Eminence, it is so gracious of you to allow us into your presence.'

‘Please arise, Mr Macleod. I am touched, touched and heartened that as part of your wedding tour you chose to pay me the attentions that my own country is at such pains to deny me.'

Macleod arose, took the outstretched hand and kissed the ring as Marie had done.

‘Not those of your countrymen who are kin to me, your Majesty. The men of the Clan Macleod were, like my father and uncles, true to your brother the Prince.' The old man's fixed smile assumed a small but unfeigned sadness. Macleod, encouraged, continued. ‘And if it were possible the Highlands would still be true to you in action rather than mere words. To the Clans the name of their rightful king is still Stuart.'

Macleod silently gave thanks for the stories with which his father had filled him as a child, and the hate old Euan had tried so hard to nurture. Thanks to the stories and that hate, his fine words rang almost true.

Cardinal Henry, veteran of a lifetime of lies, deceit and betrayal, gave an equally good account of himself.

‘Alas, words are all that is left to us now. We must be satisfied to resort to them alone. But I thank you for your timely reminder of the loyal and brave service the men of the Highlands have given to my family and the terrible cost levied on them for that service.' And Macleod found that he almost believed the emotion behind the words the gentle old man spoke so convincingly. ‘You come to seek my blessing on you both?'

‘Yes, Your Eminence.'

‘Then you shall have it at once.' Macleod and Marie knelt down. Macleod felt Marie's hand steal into his own as the Cardinal raised his hand in benediction and slowly pronounced the ancient Latin formula of blessing from Holy Mother Church.

In nomine Patris, et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.

Amen.

The blessing completed they both stood.

‘Now, you will take wine with me.'

Monsignor Cesarini intervened.

‘But Your Eminence, the envoy is waiting. A brief blessing was what I understood …'

Cardinal Henry silenced his Secretary with a gesture.

‘The envoy must wait, whoever he is. A king's loyal subjects who have travelled from so far must come before any other business.' He looked once more at Macleod and Marie. ‘We will take wine in the library.'

The Cardinal turned and walked slowly back towards the doors through which he had entered. Macleod and Marie followed him. The footmen opened the doors and the small procession passed through, leaving the Secretary watching them, angry and somewhat bewildered.

Chapter Sixty-six

I
n the library on a delicate dark table there were crystal glasses and a decanter of deep red wine. They sat and a footman poured wine into each glass.

The Cardinal said a few words in Italian to the footman who withdrew from the room closing the door behind him. He picked up his glass.

‘It is French wine. I have suffered greatly from the French, as have many others in Rome and throughout Italy. But our Saviour demands of us that we forgive our enemies so, as you see, I forgive them, and to show my forgiveness I drink their wine. But only their best wine.'

The Cardinal held his glass and waited. To Macleod the wine meant nothing but Marie was able to do it the justice the Cardinal so obviously expected.

‘But, Your Eminence, it is a truly wonderful wine. I have never tasted anything like it.'

The Cardinal smiled at her and turned his gaze on Macleod.

‘And you, Mr Macleod?'

Macleod searched for words that would at least have some small ring of truth to them.

‘It's tastes very red, Your Eminence, I have never tasted a wine more red.'

There was a small pause, then the old man appeared to begin to wheeze slightly and his head dipped forward. The wheezing grew slightly and Macleod and Marie looked at one another in alarm. Marie leaned forward.

‘Your Eminence, are you not well? Should I call someone?'

The old man made a small, dismissive gesture with his hand and lifted his head so they could see his eyes as he looked at Macleod. At once they both realised that he was not suffering any kind of seizure. He was not wheezing, he was laughing. The laughter died from his lips but not from his eyes.

‘Thank you, Mr Macleod.' Macleod didn't understand why he was being thanked. ‘I cannot easily remember the last time anyone made me laugh quite so much. But please, do not do it too often, I laugh rarely and it may not be good for my health.' He lifted his glass to his lips and took a small sip then put the glass on the table. ‘But now we must get to business. My Secretary will wait a reasonable time but not indefinitely. You wish to ask me for something I think, something other than a blessing?' This question was so unexpected that neither Macleod nor Marie replied. The Cardinal's manner became short. ‘Come, come, Mr Macleod. You have come to me for something other than my blessing, have you not?'

Macleod looked at Marie but for once she seemed at a loss to help him, so having no other way of dealing with the Cardinal's question, he resorted to the truth.

‘You are correct, Your Eminence.'

‘And what is it that you wish me to give you?'

‘A list of names.'

‘Names? What names? Saints perhaps, to name a child if your marriage is blessed by a power greater than my own?'

‘Eminence, we know of the list of names …' The Cardinal's eyes held him with a mischievous look and Macleod realised that he was being played with. His voice became firm and direct. ‘You have the names of men in America who seek to subvert her lawful Government. Those are the names, Eminence, the names of traitors. I shall take those names and …'

But the Cardinal waved a hand and Macleod stopped.

‘Good. I was almost sure, of course, but you must understand I needed to hear it from your own lips. You wish me to provide you with a list of names, the names of a few very highly placed gentlemen in your country who have arrived at what I shall call an arrangement with Monsieur Fouché. Am I not right?'

‘Yes, Your Eminence.'

The Cardinal produced from somewhere under his scarlet cloak an envelope sealed with red wax. He held it out.

‘Then take it. Although I warn you, I doubt it will do you much good.' Macleod reached out and took it. Macleod looked at it. Other than the seal the envelope was totally blank. ‘You need not fear that it is not what you came to seek. Rather you should fear that having it, others may, in their turn, seek you. But it is done. You have your list.'

Marie recovered her power of speech.

‘But, Eminence, how did you know the real reason we wished to see you?'

‘Information comes to Rome from many sources. It is said that only the Jesuits have a better Secret Service of spies and informers than the Vatican but, as it is the Jesuits themselves who say that, one might be forgiven for doubting its veracity. I expected this visit, Madame, and expecting it, I was prepared. It is the duty of those close to the Holy See to be fully aware of, shall we say, the currents of the time. I, of course, have been aware of Monsieur Fouché's plan from the very beginning, how could I not, since it was I who was supposed to assume the throne? It is somewhat ironic, do you not think, that not only did I inherit my brother's claim to the British throne but also the same invitation he received to assume the throne of the kingdom of America?'

Marie's surprise was obvious in her voice.

‘Your brother the Prince was asked to become king of America?'

‘Indeed he was, Madame. It was before the American War of Independence. My brother was approached by a small embassy of senior figures who wished to see their country free of British rule. A king of their own was, they thought, one way to achieve such freedom. But, like so many projects associated with my brother, it failed to flourish. It did, however, provide Monsieur Fouché with the idea for his present endeavour.'

Macleod's voice cut in.

‘I have never heard of such an approach.'

‘Do you then, Mr Macleod, move in political circles where you would have expected to have been informed?'

Although the gentle Cardinal's eyes were still benign, his voice had taken on a different tone.

‘All I meant, Eminence, was that as far as I am aware as an American citizen, it has never been officially admitted that such an approach was ever made.'

The Cardinal's eyes now took on a hardness and Macleod immediately regretted his original interruption. He had the list, but they were still in the fortress Palazzo.

‘Perhaps that is so, but in my experience governments are so often economical with the truth.' The hardness left his eyes and the fixed smile returned. ‘However, as I said, having been approached by the American agents of Monsieur Fouché I made sure I was kept well informed of the progress of the project. Your somewhat late appearance in the matter and that of Madame de Valois was an interesting but, as I thought, largely irrelevant development. It seems I underestimated the role you would play. Once you arrived in Rome I felt that providing you with the names you were seeking was perhaps the best course of action for all interested parties.'

Other than letting them know that he was well aware of their masquerade as man and wife Macleod had no idea what the Cardinal meant. It was clear, however, that he was using them both in some way.

‘With the greatest respect, Your Eminence, how am I to be sure you have given me a true list of the names of those involved in Monsieur Fouché's plot against my country.'

The Cardinal held up his hand once more.

‘Please, Mr Macleod, no more laughter, one good jest is sufficient I assure you.'

‘I mean no jest, your …'

‘Mr Macleod, you and this charming young lady have found yourselves embroiled in something you do not nor cannot understand. That you have managed to make your way so far amazes me. Either you are far more skilled in what you are doing than I have been led to believe, or you are under the direct protection of heaven itself. Personally I believe the latter is the only possible explanation. The list you have is in my own hand and bears my signature. It is sealed with my own personal seal. Placed in the right hands its contents will certainly not be questioned. The problem now for you is, which are those right hands?'

Macleod pushed the envelope inside his coat.

‘It will be placed in the hands of someone I trust and who serves the American Government.'

‘If that is what you say, Mr Macleod, then I am sure that is what you intend. Now, you have what you came for so I must ask you to leave. I am a very busy man and my Secretary will already be worried that our little meeting has thrown his carefully planned schedule into chaos. He is very loyal, but he worries.'

The old man slowly began to rise but paused at Marie's voice.

‘Tell me, Eminence, why are you helping us?'

Macleod wasn't sure whether he was embarrassed or grateful that Marie had asked the question.

‘My child, the Macleods of Lewis suffered grievously for their loyalty to my family's cause as did many in the Highlands. Let us say that I am making some small repayment for the suffering the cause of my House has inflicted on Mr Macleod's kinsmen. I wish there was more that I could do.'

Macleod, never the diplomat, took the Cardinal at his word.

‘Your Eminence, there is one more thing.'

The old man looked at Macleod, and for a brief second he was unsure. Could this man really be such an innocent, or was he very cleverly acting the part of a complete fool? But, as the Cardinal held Macleod in his gaze, he saw that he was genuinely waiting for permission to make his request, and he felt sure the man was indeed no more than a simpleton. But if that was the case, what more could this strange American possibly presume to ask of him?

Macleod completely misinterpreted the Cardinal's enquiring gaze. He took it as a sign that he should make his request and, once made, it brought a genuine smile to the Cardinal's face, one that even reached his eyes.

‘Very well, Mr Macleod, I will grant your request, but I must be brief. Remember, Monsignore Cesarini is waiting.'

‘Thank you, Your Eminence. I will be eternally grateful. We both will.'

A few minutes later the doors opened and the Cardinal led Macleod and Marie out of the library. A footman stood to one side impassively and Monsignor Cesarini stepped forward.

‘The envoy is still waiting, Your Eminence'

Marie stepped forward and reached out her hand. The Cardinal placed his hand in hers and she bent and kissed his Episcopal ring once more.

‘Thank you, Eminence.'

Macleod in his turn kissed the proffered ring.

‘Thank you, Your Eminence, and may God bless and keep you, Your Majesty.'

The Cardinal ignored the words, turned away and left them. A footman stepped forward and indicated that they should follow him.

Marie and Macleod once more walked through the corridors, the salon, the marble hall and finally emerged from the Palazzo into the afternoon sunshine.

Marie slipped her arm through Macleod's.

‘Come, we must go to the Cathedral and light candles for our Cardinal who is also your king.'

Macleod put his hand on the slight bulge of the letter inside his coat.

‘We have much to be thankful for.'

Marie gave his arm a small squeeze.

‘Jean, we have everything to be thankful for. You heard what the Cardinal said, he thinks we are under the protection of heaven itself. I think so too.'