The Reluctant Queen (31 page)

‘Their low opinion of you is deeply unfair, particularly considering the good influence you have brought to bear on the King of late,’ Madame de Sourdis protested.

‘I wonder sometimes if I have any true friends. I thought Zamet was, but he is shrewd and wily, and very ambitious coming from humble stock as the son of a shoemaker from Lucca. He has done well for himself as valet to Henri III, then was he not treasurer for the League for a time? I do wonder if perhaps he courts my friendship only for the benefit it will bring to him rather than out of genuine affection.’

‘I am sure that is not the case. Does he not lend you money, and assist you with your property dealings? You have many friends, my dear, and His Majesty at least appreciates you.’

Gabrielle smiled. ‘Then what more do I need?’

At yet another banquet the following evening Henry seemed in a quarrelsome mood and again began upbraiding his sister for her obstinacy.

‘We see little of Monsieur le Comte at court these days, since he withdrew to his
Château
de Maillé. I suspect he is wallowing in sullenness and resentment.’ Which made Henry all the more determined to delay his sister’s betrothal no further.

Catherine protested. ‘He does nothing of the sort. Perhaps he feels undervalued, as do I.’ She felt irritable and impatient, pining for her count whose character Henry continued to malign.

‘You should appreciate, Catarina, that Monsieur le Comte is cunning and clever. I fear he might one day become a deadly opponent to César, which is a further reason for withholding my consent to your marriage.’

‘I think you see shadows where there is only light. Charles has threatened no such thing.’
           

Henry frowned. ‘He has certainly clouded your judgement, Madame.’

‘And you are inconsiderate and unfeeling, brother.’

‘While you put every obstacle you can in the way of a betrothal,’ Henry snapped. ‘You have refused Montpensier, a decision I suspect you will live to regret, therefore I have sent a message to the Duc de Bar that he should present himself to you at his earliest convenience. What say you to that, sister?’

The Princess Catherine got to her feet. ‘If you will excuse me, I am feeling somewhat indisposed. There is no place for me here. I cannot yield to Madame la Marquise, so I have no doubt you will find my absence a joyful release.’

Dipping a curtsey she left the room, and, irritated by her apparent disobedience, Henry turned his annoyance upon Gabrielle. ‘Have I not seen that green brocade gown a number of times?’

Gabrielle flushed. ‘It is my favourite, Sire. You know how fond I am of green.’

‘And you know that I do not like to see your hair powdered. Nor are there enough diamonds in your
coiffure
. There ought to be fifteen at least, not a mere dozen.’

‘I beg Your Majesty’s pardon for being inadequately dressed,’ Gabrielle said, in something of a fluster. She was suddenly acutely aware of a silence falling upon the room, of the Duchesse de Montmorency, Madame de Villars and others delighting in her discomfiture. She could sense them examining her attire and finding it at fault. Never before had the King openly criticized her in public, more often brazenly caressing her, and there were some courtiers, Zamet and La Varenne amongst them, who were all too evidently amused by the incident.

It was almost dawn by the time they arrived back at the Louvre, and within moments of their arrival, before even Gabrielle had chance to retire to her room and remove the offending gown, she heard the clatter of hooves in the courtyard.

Henry went quickly to the window. ‘It is Bellegarde, and he seems in a great hurry.’

Moments later the Duke was ushered into the King’s presence. He was sweating and out of breath, clearly having ridden hard. ‘Sire, the town of Amiens has fallen to the Spaniards.’

‘
Ventre Saint Gris
, are you sure? We did not expect this.’

Bellegarde said, ‘It came quite out of the blue. It is incredible that the Spanish could take so large a town so easily. We now have no stronghold to impede the march of our enemies.’

Henry strode to the door, then back again, concerned and agitated. ‘Where is Rosny? Beringhen, fetch him to me. I need to speak to my keeper of finance.’

His favourite adviser came hurrying into the salon moments later to find his royal master pacing the floor half dressed, shoulders drooped, and the blackest of expressions on his face. Various nobles stood about, pale with uncertainty and Rosny saw at once that something was badly wrong.

‘What is it, my lord? What disaster has befallen us?’

‘It would seem the poor folk of Amiens have undone themselves through refusing the garrison which I wished to send them.’ The situation was quickly explained, money promised, however difficult it would be to find it, and the King’s men alerted so that an army could immediately be mustered.

‘By the grace of God we will prevail. We have played too long the King of France. It is now time to enact again the role of the King of Navarre.’ By which Henry seemed to imply he must set aside royal amusements and return to battle.

Gabrielle flung herself into his arms. ‘Oh, my love, I beg you to take care.’

Henry gently hushed her. ‘Take heart,
ma maîtresse
. We must set aside the contests of love and wage a different war.’

The nobles were angry at this turn of events, feeling more vulnerable than ever as Paris lay open to attack, its treasury all but empty and with yet another battle to wage. They were filled with fear and even as the King retired to his own room to prepare before leading his men out in battle, they turned their venom on Gabrielle.

‘This is your doing,’ Sancy hissed. ‘Had His Majesty paid more attention to protecting his people rather than toying with his mistress we might not be in this position.’

‘He speaks true,’ muttered another voice.

‘Aye. Amiens might not have fallen had he remained in camp.’

‘The King is being turned into a shallow creature.’

Epernon said, ‘You think more of the crown you wish to wear on your pretty head, rather than the needs of the people.’

Alarmed by these dangerous murmurings from her enemy, Gabrielle fled in terror to the King’s apartment. ‘I cannot stay here,’ she wept as Henry snatched a hasty breakfast, issuing orders to his men and talking with Rosny all at the same time. ‘The nobles mutter and whisper against me. They say I distracted you from your duty. I don’t feel safe in Paris without you, my lord.’

The contempt of his courtiers had not passed him by. Henry was no fool and knew how some sought any opportunity to bring her down. ‘My dear, you must take refuge in Monceaux.’

‘Are the roads out of the capital still passable?’

‘If we make haste. I will have your litter prepared at once.’ Henry caught her in his arms and held her close. ‘My dearest angel, I insist that you are protected.’

‘But what of you? Will you be safe?’

‘You must not fret, my love. We will prevail.’

‘Oh, Sire, much as I long to leave for my own sake, and for yours, how can I? The people would accuse me of deserting them.’

‘You must obey the King, Gabrielle, not the citizens of Paris,’ scolded her aunt, all of a dither and most anxious to depart to safer territory. She did not trust the people of Paris, nor certain court nobles when their king was absent.

Henry took Gabrielle’s lovely face between his hands and gently kissed her. ‘You must do as I ask, my love, I beg you.’ As good hearted and caring as ever, it was as if their quarrel had never occurred.

Before it was properly light, Gabrielle departed in a closed litter. An hour later, Henry set out at the head of his company. The citizens of Paris rushed out into the streets to watch him pass by, cheering him on his way. No one could deny that their King possessed courage.

Days later pamphlets appeared stuck up in shop windows and on street corners bearing satires and verses which blamed his
maîtresse en titre
for keeping the King from his duties, and bringing disgrace and menace upon them all.

Within weeks the health of the King once again began to fail as Henry complained of exhaustion and battle fatigue. He wrote to Gabrielle of the heavy burden he carried, worse than when he was King of Navarre. She hurried to nurse him in the camp, anxious to do everything she could to help.

‘I have pledged many of my jewels to Zamet and he has promised more loans.’

‘My angel, what would I do without you?’

Gabrielle flushed. ‘And I am
enceinte
again.’

Henry managed a weak laugh. ‘You bring me nothing but joy.’

But, alarmed by his increasing indisposition from whatever malady he suffered, Gabrielle insisted Henry return at once to Paris. She summoned his man-servants. ‘The King requires the services of a doctor so we will take him back to the city, with all speed.’

La Rivière, his first physician, was called and at once took charge of the King’s treatment, embarking upon a regime of cupping and bleeding in order to restore him to health. To Gabrielle’s great joy and relief, despite lengthy discussions with Rosny about the state of the exchequer when really he should have been resting, Henry made good progress and was soon moved to Monceaux to convalesce.

In May, while the conquest of Amiens and the recovery of the King slowly took their course, radical priests grasped the opportunity to again inflame the people of Paris against the Huguenots, who were gathering in the city under the patronage of Princess Catherine. They held secret meetings and plotted treason, spread rumours that King Philip of Spain would march from Amiens upon Paris, till finally the leaders were rounded up and hanged.

‘My God, I am beset with problems on all sides,’ Henry groaned.

Cooling the heat of his head with a cold compress, Gabrielle smiled. ‘Then I shall do my best to cheer you, for I have good news, my lord. The Duc de Bar has arrived, hoping for a betrothal with the Princess Catherine.’

In early June Henry rode out to meet the Duc de Bar in the park of St Germain with hope and optimism, and no small degree of relief, in his heart. The Duke was young with considerable military prowess, more recently engaged in trying to win the heart of a fair maiden, which he had ultimately failed to do. Or else he had decided that a royal princess was a better option. He seemed perfectly agreeable on first acquaintance, if a little too anxious to please.

Catherine received him with cool indifference, very much upon her guard, and her dignity. Once the niceties were swiftly dealt with, she cut straight to the point. ‘You know that we are of different religions and that my faith is important to me. Would you allow me freedom of conscience as the Duc de Montpensier agreed to do?’

‘Of course,’ the Duc de Bar pronounced.

The King intervened. ‘But would you not expect your wife to bring up any children you might have together in the Catholic faith?’

‘But of course,’ Bar said again, smiling nervously from one to the other, as if trying to decide which one he should attempt to please.

‘Perhaps you might wish my sister to change her religion too by then?’

‘Indeed, Your Majesty, that would seem wise.’

Catherine stifled a groan of repugnance. ‘And if I did not wish to?’

‘Oh, I am quite sure that you would,’ Bar insisted, smiling benignly upon her.

Catherine was dismayed. ‘But you said you would allow me freedom of conscience?’

‘I am sure that as a good wife you would recognize the wisdom of converting of your own accord, at an appropriate juncture.’

‘Well said, young sir,’ laughed the King. ‘No more vacillating, be firm and consistent with my sister. It is the only way to control her.’

Catherine made her excuses and walked away, trembling with silent anger. The following day, which was a Sunday, she attended prêche as usual, if even more ostentatiously than usual. ‘Let it not be said that I am about to abandon my faith simply to become the Duchess of Lorraine.’

In July and August the royal troops remained fully engaged with skirmishes as the Spanish were putting up a furious resistance. But early in July, just a few months after Henriette was legitimised, as her brother César had been, the King had a surprise for Gabrielle. He deeply regretted not being able to legitimize their last child with marriage, as he had so longed to do, particularly as Gabrielle had already confided that she was again
enceinte
. But Margot remained perversely obstinate, and Rome infuriatingly slow to provide the necessary lubricant to loosen the bonds that tied him to her. So, anxious to at least prove his goodwill, Henry instead conferred a new title and lands upon his official mistress. The domains were in the province of Champagne, which he’d purchased for 80,000 crowns.

Rosny was not pleased by this news, considering it a wasteful drain upon the public purse to create another duchy, and for such a reason. From now on Gabrielle was to be elevated from La Marquise de Monceaux, to Duchess of Beaufort.

Some called her the Duchesse d’Ordure.

No one was now allowed into her presence without having first made formal request for audience. Her
levées
were ceremoniously attended, the ladies jostling to dress her, hand over her book of hours, or hold the golden platter upon which was deposited her fan, rings, watch and handkerchief.