The Reluctant Queen (18 page)

‘I am sorry to hear you are disappointed in her, having paid four thousand crowns for the girl.’

Henri frowned. ‘Four? I paid six.’

Epernon shook his head. ‘Her mother asked for six but I assure Your Majesty she was paid only four.’

Henri went puce with fury. ‘Then I have been doubly cheated. Montigny told me he had paid the woman six. He lied! I shall banish the rogue from court.’

‘The fault was not mine,’ Gabrielle pleaded, frightened of losing her position and the lovely life she enjoyed.

‘Get you gone, girl. I dislike cheap goods.’

Gabrielle wrote to her mother in tears. ‘The King is done with me. What am I to do? Must I come home?’

Madame d’Estrées was even less pleased at this turn of events. She too felt cheated. In a fit of pique, and not wishing to lose out on an exceptional asset, she sold Gabrielle on to the Cardinal de Guise.

Gabrielle was at first alarmed, and then intoxicated as the Cardinal proved to be a much more passionate lover. Experienced in the art of love, despite his supposedly living the religious life, he groomed her well in how to please a man, and herself for that matter. Life had suddenly taken an exciting turn for the better, and in the months following Gabrielle grew from an adolescent girl into a voluptuous young woman.

A year went by in this pleasant fashion, and it was through the Cardinal that she met the Duc de Longueville, a handsome courtier who was instantly smitten with her. He would send her small gifts, flatter her with pretty compliments, use all his considerable charm to lure her into his bed.

‘How are you enjoying your life at court?’ Madame d’Estrées asked her daughter one day when she came on a visit.

‘Oh, exceeding well,’ Gabrielle cried, clapping her hands in delight. ‘And I am greatly pursued by gentlemen, one in particular.’ She told her mother about Longueville. ‘I fear he loves me, and I swear I could be tempted to return his love, were I not bound to be faithful to the Cardinal.’

Madame d’Estrées was shocked. ‘Whatever gave you such an idea, daughter? Faithful indeed! It is your duty to be pleasant to such a fine lord as the Duc de Longueville. It wouldn’t be wise to cause offence or any hurt to your protector, yet there is no reason on earth why you should not entertain the Duke, so long as you are discreet and the Cardinal does not learn of it.’

Madame d’Estrées had never exercised discretion herself, but she had no wish for any of her daughters to put at risk the considerable profits she made from the preferment she arranged for them.

Gabrielle was only too happy to follow her heart and take Longueville to her bed. The pair met in secret but despite every effort at discretion, in due course the Cardinal did discover his mistress’s betrayal.

‘Rumour has it you have taken a new lover.’

‘That is not so. I would never hurt you.’

‘Do not lie to me, minx. I may be old by comparison with the brilliance of your own youth, but I am no fool.’

‘Oh, very well, then I confess it is true. But he is no more than a passing whim. I do assure you that my love for you, Sire, is undimmed. He means nought to me.’

The Cardinal laughed. ‘Does he not? I think you like to tease. I would take great pleasure in running the fellow through with my broad sword for such audacity. Fortunately for him I’m leaving court and joining my brother, Henri de Guise. As you may be aware, he is making a bid for the crown and needs all the help he can get.’

Gabrielle slid her arms about the Cardinal’s neck and kissed him, long and deep. ‘I shall miss all those delicious lessons in love. Life will be very dull without you. Shall you take me to your bed one last time then?’

The Cardinal roared with laughter. ‘Why not? I may as well get my money’s worth.’

The Cardinal de Guise left court to support his brother in his cause, and the following day Gabrielle moved in with Longueville.

Madame d'Estrées was less impressed with the young courtier. Handsome and charming though he may be, he was not high enough for Gabrielle. Besides, he had thus far offered neither money nor marriage.

Some time later she learned that a certain Moorish banker by the name of Zamet was showing interest in her daughter. Since he was immensely rich she immediately came to advantageous terms with him. After all, Gabrielle had been loved by a King of France and a Cardinal of the Church, what better recommendation could there be?

Like it or not, Gabrielle was provided with a new protector.

Gabrielle responded as generously as ever, becoming quite fond of the Italian merchant, and giving what affection and pleasure she could. It was not in her nature to do otherwise. And she continued to enjoy her delightful life at court, as well as add to her considerable collection of gowns and trinkets. Zamet was nothing if not generous.

But she was still seeing Longueville, while exercising careful discretion, of course.

One day King Henri spotted Gabrielle about court. Turning to Epernon, he asked, ‘Is that not the young virgin I once took pleasure with?’

‘Indeed, Your Majesty. After you’d discovered that Montigny had cheated you over the price her mother had demanded for the girl, Gabrielle d'Estrées moved on to the Cardinal de Guise, then Longueville. She is now with Zamet, I believe. Her mother never misses an opportunity to maximize her assets.’

Henri Trois lifted fine plucked eyebrows in surprise. He had never been averse to relieving people of their money for his own benefit, and revelling in any amount of licentious behaviour, but he did not approve of it in others.

‘Is that the way of it? Then let us fox that greedy lady, and find the chit a husband, eh, Epernon? Who shall we choose? It is no fault of the girl that she has such a rapacious mother, so he should be handsome, elegant, charming … ah.’ At that moment the King’s gaze fell upon Bellegarde. ‘Perfect. Bring the gentleman over, Epernon, and I will make the introductions myself.’

Gabrielle was intrigued and enchanted by this new man in her life, delighted when Bellegarde fell violently in love with her. Thinking about it now, she was quite certain that he would have offered for her sooner, had not political events overtaken them. First came the Day of the Barricades, then Guise had been murdered, Catherine de Medici had died and some months later Henri Trois himself had been assassinated by a mad monk. It had felt as if there was danger everywhere.

During those turbulent months her mother had taken her home to Coeuvres to keep her safe, whether out of love for her or simply to guard her investment, Gabrielle didn’t care to acknowledge. Either way she had enjoyed the respite, being able to offer her love to both suitors quite freely, and looking forward to one or other of them making an offer for her hand. First she favoured one, and then inclined towards the other, although on the whole she thought she preferred the young Grand Equerry, Bellegarde.

Madame d’Estrées had now eloped herself with her latest lover, leaving her long-suffering husband almost sighing with relief at his wife’s final, if undignified, departure.

The King of Navarre continued to call at Coeuvres from time to time, but Gabrielle was not enamoured of him. In private, when she joked about him to her sisters, she dubbed him
Majesté à la barbe grise
. Henry was neither scented nor handsome, and he was old. On three occasions she had done as her mother had bid her, being no more than a bargaining chip. Now she was at last free to choose a lover for herself, and Gabrielle had every intention of following her heart.

But she had reckoned without her ambitious father.

‘Do you hope for a visit from the King this afternoon, child?’

Gabrielle shrugged, pouting prettily. ‘I know not. He has sent no word.’

‘It is some time since we last saw him. You have not caused any offence, I trust?’

‘Not that I am aware of, although I shouldn’t care if I had.’

‘Indeed you must care. He is the King, and could turn up at any moment, so run and change and make yourself pretty, child,’ the Marquis sternly informed her.

‘I do not see why I should.’

‘Because he is the
King
, for goodness sake. You will do as I say, girl.’

‘But he is old, and he is
married
!’

‘That does not signify.’

‘Well, it does with me,’ Gabrielle stubbornly responded, stamping her foot.

‘Come, come, you are no fainting virgin. Why play games? If Henry were to take you for his mistress you would be well provided for. In fact, the entire family would benefit.’

‘You are as bad as Mother, that is all you ever think of, your own ambitions,’ Gabrielle cried, sobbing with fury. ‘I will
not
have him! I haven’t the slightest wish to encourage his suit. He is neither gallant nor courtly as is Longueville, nor as charming and elegant as Bellegarde. I desire no better fortune than to become the wife of Monsieur de Bellegarde.’

‘I admit that I have no quarrel with the Duke. He is a fine young gentleman.’

Instantly drying her tears, Gabrielle saw her advantage and, slipping on to her father’s knee, turned her wheedling charm full upon him. ‘Will you not, darling Papa, arrange a marriage with this fine gentlemen for me, since you do approve of him, in your heart. Bellegarde is
possessed of courtly accomplishments and graces, is of high rank, a bachelor, and therefore in a good position to offer marriage. He is both dashing and brave, having fought gallantly at Arques and Dreux, and in addition has captured my affections. What more can he do to win your consent?’

The Marquis pressed a kiss on his daughter’s cheek. Sweet Gabrielle had always been a warm, affectionate child, if a little vain. He would dearly like to see her happy, but girls, in his experience, did not always know what was good for them. He would not go so far as his wife, perhaps, to win preferment for them, but nor would he be blind to a golden opportunity. ‘I will certainly speak to the fellow, but I will not gainsay a king. Do as I say, child, and prepare yourself to receive him. You must ever be ready in case he should find time to call upon you.’

Gabrielle flounced off in a fine temper.

In Paris the people were starving, the stores of wheat all but exhausted, meat was being offered for sale at a price far beyond all but the rich. The hungry multitude trailed after the coaches of the nobles begging for a crust, and if any should throw them a coin instead, would cry out, ‘Give us bread! What good is money when there is nothing to buy?’

Many died, or caught dreadful diseases from infected food, ending their days either in a hospital or the gutter, depending upon their luck. Even the living spent their days in agony, their bellies swollen, their guts paining them, and only the fortunate few found themselves standing in line for a bowl of soup from the public cauldrons set up on the odd street corner by some charitable nun.

The monasteries were ordered to provide an inventory of their stores, and to distribute it to the people. But many refused, one ecclesiastic protesting that, ‘the brethren of the church must first be consulted and their wants provided for’.

Meanwhile, the population resorted to eating their own dogs.

It was agreed that if they took their pets to the monasteries the monks would erect great coppers and serve them a stew comprised of vegetables, barley meal, dried pease and dog flesh. Weeks later even this revolting mess would have been welcomed as famine and pestilence stalked the city. Not a live horse, or animal of any sort could be found, and corpses littered the empty streets.

Yet not for a moment did the citizens consider relenting and accepting a heretic king. They lived in fear of revenge from the Huguenots for the St Bartholomew massacre. Were the siege to be broken and the Protestants allowed in, murder and mayhem would surely follow. And if Paris fell, so would the League.

Henry had marched on the city more times than he cared to count. Now, after the latest expedition against the Leaguers, he felt weary of battle and preferred to think of love. Bellegarde, he noticed, had similar thoughts on his mind.

‘You would not object, Sire, were I to visit my Gabrielle, and offer for her? I must needs take a wife, and she has as good as promised herself to me.’

Henry considered. ‘Yet you are not actually betrothed.’

‘No,’ Bellegarde reluctantly admitted. ‘But almost. There is what might be described as an understanding between us. I have been waiting for her permission to speak to her father and make a formal request for her hand.’

‘I would prefer it, Bellegarde, were you to withdraw your suit entirely.’

Bellegarde was mortified. He was not unaware of the King’s interest in his mistress, but how could he bear to part with his darling Gabrielle? Yet no more could he openly flout the wishes of his monarch. Looking crestfallen, he said, ‘But she favours me.’

‘A woman may change her mind, given the right kind of persuasion.’

Tight-lipped, the equerry tentatively enquired, ‘I trust the manner and degree of such persuasion would not be excessive?’

Henry looked aghast. ‘Do you imagine I would resort to force? Am I not a man of honour?’

‘Of course, Your Majesty,’ Bellegarde hastily agreed, but couldn’t resist adding, ‘Then the choice will be hers entirely?’