Madame Serpent (21 page)

So the girl with the meek smile and flushed cheeks listened of her husband’s mistress; and that very night the Dauphin visited her. So urgent was her love that she was happier to have him on these terms than not at all.

And so, every night from then on at his mistress’s command, Henry visited his wife.

Catherine followed Diane’s advice, and she found that after a while, Henry became almost friendly. He consoled himself and her. ‘A duty, a necessary act.

Once you are pregnant we shall have a long respite until it is necessary to think of the next one.’

What romance for a passionate girl! When he left her she would weep until morning.

But in less than a year after her tearful and touching scene with the King, the court was ringing with the joyous news. ‘Madame
la
Dauphine
is
enceinte!
Let us pray the saints that it is a male child!’

―――――――

Three hundred torch-bearers lined the route from the King’s apartments to the church of the Mathurins. It might have been midday, such light did they give. In the procession which was led by hundreds of the gentlemen of the households of the Dauphin, came the King of Navarre, and the dukes led by the Monsieur
d’Orléans
, with the Venetian Ambassador and the Papal Legate with other cardinals and priests.

These were followed by the Queen, the Princesses led by Marguerite, the

King’s daughter; Madame
d’Etampes
― showing no sign of the chagrin she was feeling― was more extravagantly dressed and more beautiful than any; and in the these ladies, the royal baby was carried.

The church was decorated with finest Crown tapestries in its centre was a circular platform covered in cloth and on this platform stood the Cardinal of Bourbon waiting to perform the baptismal ceremony.

As soon as the procession had reached the church, set out; the sounds of

tumultuous cheering seemed to shake the foundations of the church, as, smiling graciously, acknowledging the acclaim of his people, the King reached the Mathurins to act as godfather to the little boy who was named after him.

On the circular dais stood the
Duc
d’Orléans
, the second godfather, and Princess Marguerite, the godmother. The baby seemed lost in his magnificent christening robes― a tiny, red, wrinkled-faced creature, a future King of France.

When the ceremony was over, the baby, surrounded ladies of the court, was taken back to the palace. The feasting and rejoicing that must crown such an important event begun. There must be balls and masques, dancing, plays and jousts to celebrate this addition to the House of Valois, Francis was the toast of the hour.

But there was none more delighted with him than his mother. She watched

him in wonderment― this shriveled creature who had given her security.

She held him fiercely to her breast. Her little Francis! Henry’s son!

But even as she did so, fear came to her. He seemed so small and fragile.

There must be more sons to make his mother feel safe.

IT WAS APRIL at Fontainebleau. In her beautiful bed with its rich hangings of brocade and wonderfully woven tapestry, lay the Dauphine. Her eyes were

lustreless, her fair hair spread out on the pillows; her thick pale skin seemed almost yellow in the sunlight; otherwise she showed little sign of the ordeal through which she had recently passed. She was strong and young; childbearing was easy for her.

She was not discontented as she lay there, although she wished that her

Elizabeth had been another boy. Still, there would be boys yet. There would be many children. She allowed her lips to curl cynically, for Madalenna, sitting at her window seat, was intent on her work, and could not note her mistress’s expression. Diane had decreed that the Dauphin should be the father of many children; therefore it would be so. As for Catherine, she had proved, by

producing these two children, born within two years of each other, that she was no barren wife.

How lucky she was that her husband’s mistress had decided to allow his

wife to bear his children! He visited her apartments regularly― on his mistress’s instructions― albeit he came like a schoolboy going unwillingly to school; but nevertheless he came.

It was senseless to nourish this bitterness. She should congratulate herself.

She had a son and a daughter and there could no longer be any suggestion of divorce.

Everywhere in France― unpopular as she was― she was regarded as the

future Queen. She was― though still called
the Italian woman
― the Dauphin’s wife; and France was beginning to take its Dauphin to its heart.

Henry had proved himself an excellent soldier in the last few years, for the King could not leave his war with Charles V forever long and Henry took a big part in it. He was without much imagination, but he was as brave as a lion; he was kindly too, a just disciplinarian; he was the sort of leader men liked to follow; and eager as he was to prove a worthy general in his father’s eyes, he rarely erred on the side of recklessness. His men were fond of him and the sober backbone of the country liked him. France adored its licentious, charming, and artistic King; it was hoped that he would live long to enjoy his pleasures; it was gratifying to hear of the works of ort collected and to know that he employed the best artists in the world to beautify his palaces; it was amusing to hear of the erotic joys, of the beautiful women who delighted mirror-panelled chambers.

But the splendours of France were costly, and it was comforting to look forward to a more sober court under the King-to-be.

There would be, to some degree, a return to morality. The Dauphin, it was true, had a mistress; but the relations between them was like that of husband and wife. Nor did the people blame the young man for taking a mistress, for was he not married to
the Italian
, and that, in the eyes of good French men and women, was ample reason for choosing a French mistress. Yes, France was well pleased with its Dauphin.

Catherine was also pleased with her Dauphin― desperately, maddeningly

pleased. Her passionate love had increased than diminished with this greater intimacy between them. Oh, how hateful it was to think that he came to her because Diane sent him!

But she had her babies now.

‘Madalenna!’ she said. ‘Bring me my baby.’

Madalenna rose and went to the cradle― a magnificent affair of cloth of

silver, decorated with ribands and laces. Catherine’s face softened as the child was brought to her. She held out her arms and took the little Elizabeth into them.

‘Is she not a beautiful child, Madalenna?’

‘She is indeed,’ said Madalenna.

‘I fancy she has a look of her father about her.’

‘It is too early to say yet,’ said Madalenna.

‘Oh, come, Madalenna, look at her nose.’

‘You think it is the Valois nose?’

‘Do you? Perhaps. But I am sure those are the Medici eyes.’

‘’Madame
la Dauphine
, it will be well for her beauty if she has the Medici eyes.’

Catherine kissed the small face. ‘It is to be hoped also that she has the Medici nose,’ she said, ‘for I declare, Madalenna, the Valois nose is impressive and noble for a man, but somewhat overpowering, do you not think, for a little girl?’

Madalenna laughed gaily. How happy she was talking thus to her mistress.

It seemed to her now that the Dauphine was just a happy mother, not that

cold, frightening mistress who sent her on secret hateful missions.

‘Go to the nursery, Madalenna, and bring young Francis to me. I would have both my children with me. Go and tell him his mother wishes to show him his little sister.’

Madalenna went, and in a few moments returned with the little Prince. He

was just over two years old, small for his age, with a delicate air. He was rather a pampered little boy, for his great glittering grandfather, whose name he bore, had taken a fancy to him; and that meant that everyone else at court must do the same.

‘Come here, Francis dear,’ said his mother; and he came and stood by the

bed, his great eyes fixed on her face. He seemed to regard her with awe; she would rather it had been with affection, but the awkwardness which she felt with the father seemed to come between her and the child.

‘Look my little one,’ she said, ‘here is your baby sister.’

But he could not keep his eyes on his sister: they kept coming back to his mother’s face.

‘Is she not a beautiful little baby, my Prince?’ demanded Madalenna; and

Catherine noticed how naturally the boy could smile and nod at Madalenna.

Why was it that he was at ease with others and not so with herself? Perhaps she was spoken of with awe in the nursery. Was she not the Dauphine? But that was not the reason. Young Francis had no fear at all of his father; he would climb all over Henry and chuckle with glee as he pulled his beard. The child was equally at home with the King himself. Catherine had seen him try to pull the jewels off his grandfather’s coat, for which he had received a friendly tap on the cheek, and had been thrown to the ceiling with a ‘Ha! My young robber! So you would steal the Crown Jewels!’ No! There was something strange in the child’s

feelings for his mother, something she could not understand.

‘Madalenna, lift him on to the bed.’

He sat there uncomfortably, she thought; as while she fascinated him, he

was afraid to get too close.

‘Why, Francis,’ she said, ‘it is pleasant to have you here like this. You―

and your sister― and your
Maman
. Is it not, my little one?’

He nodded. He was staring at the ruby on her finger,

‘Ah! Is it not beautiful, Francis? It was a gift from your papa.’ She took off the ring and gave it to him.

Now he smiled. ‘Pretty!’ he said; and tried to put it on his little finger.

‘You must wait, must you not, until you are a grown man. Then, my son,

you will wear many beautiful jewels.’ She saw him, a grown man, loving his mother. She could not bear to see him as the King of France, for that would mean that Henry was no longer King. She could not imagine a world that did not contain the joy and agony of loving Henry.

She took off more rings and he played with them on the bed. She thought:

he is not really afraid of me. I could soon make him love me.

He was laughing as the rings slipped from his fingers into the bed.

‘Too big,’ he said. ‘Too big for Francis.’

And she seized him and kissed him suddenly and passionately, until she

noticed that he had stiffened. She released him at once, while she wondered bitterly why it was she found it so hard to make people love her― even her own children.

She must remember not to be too demonstrative with young Francis.

‘Try on this one,’ she said; and she pulled a sapphire from her finger.

He was chuckling over the jewels when Diane came in.

‘You will forgive this intrusion, Madame, I know,’ she said.

Catherine’s face was set into the fixed smile she had always to show Diane.

Fierce hatred was in her heart. How dare the woman come intruding into her private apartments! How dare she? That was easy to answer. Every bit of

happiness that Catherine knew was doled out to her by this woman. ‘Your

husband shall make love to you tonight.’ Make love! There was no love-making, only child-making. ‘
I
will insist that he comes!’

I am nothing to him,
thought Catherine;
and she is all.
What I would I not
give to see her lying dead?

‘It is a pleasure to see you, Madame,’ said Catherine. ‘How well you look.’

Diane rustled regally to the bed and kissed Catherine’s hand. ‘And you, I am sad to see, do not look so well. You have overtired yourself.’

Diane glanced at Madalenna. ‘I had given instructions that Madame
la

Dauphine
was to sleep this afternoon.’

‘You must not blame Madalenna,’ said Catherine. ‘She obeyed her mistress

and brought my son to me.’

Diane was playful and firm all at once. She clicked her tongue. ‘It was so very wrong of you to so tire yourself. And young Francis was to stay in his nursery. He has not been well these last days, and I did not wish him to be carried through the corridors. Hello, my little one.’

The boy smiled. ‘Look!’ he said; and he held out a ring.

‘That is beautiful. And what are you doing with
Maman’s
rings, eh?’

Catherine felt as though she wanted to burst into tears, for Francis looked at Diane as though she were his mother.

‘Come along,’ said Diane. ‘We are going back to the warm nursery; and if

you are very good I will tell you a story. Madalenna, cover up your mistress, and put the baby in her cradle. Madame
la Dauphine
must not tire herself so. Oh yes, I know she is feeling better.’ This was to Catherine. ‘But we want no ill effects to spoil our pleasure in Madame Elizabeth’s arrival.’

She picked up young Francis, and Catherine noticed how willingly he left

the rings to go to her. She longed to snatch him from her arms, to shout: ‘You have my husband! Leave me my child!’

But instead she smiled and murmured: ‘You do too much for me― and my

family.’

Diane, if she saw subtle allusions, knew when to ignore them. ‘Indeed no. I count myself favoured to serve you and the Dauphin. Now say
Au revoir
to
Maman
― there is a little fellow.’

Was it Catherine’s imagination or did young Francis say
Au revoir
with something like relief?

As Diane and Francis left, Madalenna obediently took up little Elizabeth and laid her in her cradle.

Catherine lay back on her pillows. She set her mouth into a smile while she thought of her hatred of Diane.

Madalenna stitched quietly in the window seat; the baby slept, and as the afternoon wore on, Catherine lay still thinking of how much she hated her enemy.

―――――――

As soon as she was well enough to travel, Catherine left Fontainebleau to join the court at Saint-Germain-en-Layne. When she was there she sent for Cosmo and Lorenzo Ruggieri. She wished, she said to discuss with them her daughter’s horoscope.

When they came to her she dismissed all her attendants. ‘Speak in Italian,’

she said, ‘and quietly; for what I say to you two must be heard by none other.’

They begged her to proceed.

‘How,’ she asked, ‘can I rid myself of an enemy and have no hand in her

going?’

The two brothers looked first at each other and Catherine; they were

worried.

Cosmo was the first to speak. He said: ‘
Duchessina
, there is one enemy of whom you could not rid yourself without the gravest suspicion. Is it of her we must speak?’

She did not answer. She knew that he was right; but she wished to ease her jealous soul by talking of the impossible.

‘It matters not who it is,’ she said imperiously as the brothers were waiting for her to speak.

‘I crave pardon, Madame
la Dauphine
,’ said Lorenzo firmly, ‘but we cannot agree that it matters not.’

‘There are poisoned perfumes,’ she said.

‘Dangerous!’ answered Cosmo. ‘They may fall into the wrong hands.’

‘Lip salve,’ she suggested.

‘As dangerous as perfume,’ Lorenzo put in. ‘Very easily to those who

supply it.’

‘There are gloves so cleverly poisoned that a victim has only to draw them on and death follows,’ she said.

The brothers nodded and were silent; but their lips, she were tightly

compressed.

‘And then,’ she went on, ‘there are books. It is but necessary to turn the leaves, and the poison enters through the skin and the victim dies. In Italy we know how such things are done.’

‘It is necessary for Italians to be cautious,’ said Cosmo. ‘We are not loved in this land.’

‘I thought you two would work for me,’ she said.

‘We have sworn to serve you,’ said Cosmo.

‘With all our hearts and minds,’ echoed Lorenzo.

‘But always with caution, dear
Duchessina
,’ finished Cosmo. ‘Oh dear lady, if aught happened to the one you wish removed, every finger would point to you. All know the position she holds. All understand how deeply she has

humiliated you. Why, if she were to die a natural death tomorrow, there would be those to look askance at you. Rather you should employ us to keep her alive than to remove her.’

She stared before her. ‘I see― that you are right, my dear wise friend. Let us talk of my daughter’s future.’

The brothers were greatly relieved. They knew of the raging emotion

beneath the calm of their mistress. They were often afraid they would wish them to act rashly. At the time of Dauphin Francis’s death they had suffered agonies of suspense; they had expected to be arrested and put to the torture. The would be a fool if she tried to remove the
Sénéchale
.

‘Come,’ said Catherine. ‘Will my daughter make a good marriage?’

But how could she be interested in her daughter’s future? It was that of