The Rival Queens (29 page)

In this manner they reached the gate in question, Du Bois and Barlemont still protesting that they were not taking the correct route. A quick look confirmed that the Spanish soldiers were nowhere in sight. Someone had thoughtfully left a number of vessels moored to the city side of the waterway. With the townspeople huddling closely around Don John’s two representatives, forming a barrier between the queen and her adversaries, Margot and her entourage made a break for the river. “
I hastened onto the boat
, and my people after me,” she recalled. “M. de Barlemont and the agent Du Bois, calling out to me from the bank, told me I was doing very wrong and acting directly contrary to the King’s intention.” But the two men were helpless in the throng of townspeople, and the soldiers, unaware of her escape, were still waiting on the opposite side of the town, by the road to Namur. “
In spite of all their remonstrances
we crossed the river with all possible expedition, and, during the two or three crossings which were necessary to convey over the litter and horses, the citizens, to give me more time to escape, were debating with Barlemont and Du Bois concerning a number of grievances and complaints, telling them… that Don John had broken the peace and falsified his engagements with the States; and… that if the troop made its appearance before their walls again, they would fire upon it with their artillery,” noted the queen of Navarre. “I had by this means sufficient time to reach a secure distance, and was, by the help of God and the assistance of my guide, out of all apprehensions of danger from Barlemont and his troop.”

Not quite. Don John had not secured his reputation as the most able commander in Europe by conceding so easily. Discovering his
prey to have slipped from his grasp, and correctly anticipating that she and her party would attempt to make for the safety of a particular castle belonging to one of the comte de Lalain’s vassals, he sent a further three hundred men to entrap her. Marguerite managed to arrive at her destination only minutes ahead of the pursuing Spanish soldiers. The drawbridge was lowered, and she and her party were ushered inside the castle’s strong walls just as the enemy force loomed on the horizon.

But she had no sooner escaped the Spanish than “
I had intelligence
sent me that a party of the Huguenot troops had a design to attack me on the frontiers of Flanders,” she related with dismay. To circumvent this latest ambush, she decided on a desperate predawn flight. She called for her coaches, but her steward once again opposed her plan and attempted to prevent her departure. Strongly suspecting that he was in league with the Protestants, she thwarted capture by impetuously mounting her horse and, leaving her beautiful carriage behind, riding as fast as she could through the darkness of early morning, accompanied by only a handful of loyal retainers. The deception worked, and she was safely across the border of France before midday.

Never before had she been so close to fear; never had she such need of all of her talents; never had she felt so alive. To return directly to the royal court and the stifling dominion of her brother the king—particularly after Henri’s connivance with Don John—was anathema. She went instead to her fortified château at La Fère. Soon after she arrived she was joined by François, who had also found the atmosphere in Paris, where Catherine and Henri had lately returned, unbearable. For two months brother and sister remained together. “
I consider it amongst
the greatest felicities I ever enjoyed,” Marguerite would later write. François reciprocated this sentiment. “
Oh Queen! How happy I am
with you!” he told her. “Your society is a paradise wherein I enjoy every delight, and I seem to have lately escaped from hell, with all its furies and tortures!”

The excessively rhapsodic language employed to describe their joy in being together at La Fère has led many to suggest—as usual—that
Margot’s relationship with François was incestuous, just as her former attachment to her older brother Charles IX had been assumed to be carnal. But of this again there is no evidence. The siblings’ affection was rooted in their political and emotional needs, not in sex. They shared a common enemy in Henri III and realized that each had a much greater chance of surviving their older brother’s reign if they stood together against him. They might even manage to exert a measure of control over their lives that would not be possible if they faced him individually. More than this, as the youngest and least loved of Catherine’s children, they naturally turned to each other for support. Their happiness was based as much on being free from the restrictions and indignities suffered at court as it was in the pleasure they took in each other’s company. Henri and Catherine might have the privilege and power, but Margot and François were a team.

And as a team they used these two months—“
which appeared to us
only as so many days”—as a political summit to formulate their plans. For despite her ignominious retreat, Marguerite’s espionage mission to Flanders had in fact been a success. By personally interceding on François’s behalf, she had won her brother the regional support he needed to pursue his northern ambitions. The promised meeting with Monsieur de Montigny, the comte de Lalain’s brother, came to pass, and there was also a letter from the steadfast Monsieur d’Ainsi reiterating his fealty and pledging the fortress at Cambrai to the queen of Navarre’s younger brother. Don John’s ferocity and her near escapes had in no way dampened Marguerite’s spirits; if anything, her brush with danger had legitimized her participation in the venture and made her a far more active partner. Using her diplomatic skills and his martial abilities and rank as heir to the throne of France, they had won the Peace of Monsieur. Why not try again, but this time reach higher?

To wrest Flanders from Spanish rule was not treason against Henri III but a valid outlet for François’s—and French—aspirations in the Netherlands. “
M. de Montigny delivered
his brother’s declaration and engagement to give up the counties of Hainault and
Artois, which included a number of fine cities,” Marguerite recalled. “These offers made and accepted, my brother dismissed [the Flemish officials] with presents of gold medals, bearing his and my effigies, and every assurance of his future favor; and they returned to prepare everything for his coming.” Having her picture engraved on the emblems as well as François’s was very unusual. This was clearly meant to be a joint venture.
^*

And so it was decided. François would return to court, but only to acquaint Henri and Catherine with his plans and ask for their help in raising the necessary men and supplies as a prelude to his leading an army into Flanders. As he would also require Huguenot assistance—or at least their neutrality—Margot would accompany him to court and again formally request permission to join Henry in Navarre. During the long weeks of summer, while she had been away taking the cure at Spa, Henri III had run out of funds with which to pursue his vendetta against the Huguenots and had been forced to sue for peace, so he no longer had a legitimate reason to keep his sister from her husband. Once back in Navarre, she could resurrect the old triumvirate of herself, Henry, and François. They had proved a potent combination in the past; who knows what they could accomplish in the future? At the very least, this would aid François’s efforts in Flanders. Once her younger brother established his sovereignty to the north while her husband held his realm in the south—well, let Henri III try to harm her then.

Of course, it’s easy to arrange the future—to adopt ambitious plans involving the participation of many different, often opposing factions—while sequestered in the dreamlike atmosphere of a secluded country estate. Reality can be somewhat more challenging.

A
FTER THE TWO MONTHS WITH
her brother had passed, with her objectives firmly in mind, Marguerite departed La Fère for the royal court. François had preceded her by a few days, but she soon caught up with him, and together they arrived in Saint-Denis on November 12, 1577. In a show of respect, Henri and Catherine had arranged for the entire court to ride out to welcome the king’s younger siblings. “
I was received very graciously
, and most sumptuously entertained,” Margot remembered. “I was made to recount the particulars of my triumphant journey to Liège, and perilous return. The magnificent entertainments I had received excited their admiration, and they rejoiced at my narrow escapes.” It was obvious that Henri and Catherine had debated how best to handle this pair of royal truants and had decided to flatter and humor them, at least until they could determine exactly what Marguerite and François had been up to all this time.

They didn’t have long to wait. On her very first evening back, after the grand ball in her honor had ended and everyone was on the way home to Paris, Marguerite sought out her mother and Henri and again requested permission to join her husband in Navarre.
Given that the kingdom was officially at peace they could have no objection, she argued, and to her pleasant surprise, “
both of them approved
of my request and commended my resolution.” Pressing her advantage, the queen of Navarre then reminded her mother that she had promised to bestow upon her the dowry that had never been paid, and again “
she [Catherine] recollected it well
, and the King thought it very reasonable, and promised that it should be done,” Margot concluded.

But it wasn’t done. Marguerite had intended to stay in Paris for only two weeks and start her journey south to Navarre at the beginning of December. She petitioned repeatedly for her dowry and a means of transportation, but to her frustration found the king and queen mother unceasingly evasive. “
Instead of dispatch
, I experienced only delay; and thus it continued for five or six months in negotiation,” she complained. François had no better luck with his Netherlands project, which Henri III had also pretended to approve. “
My brother met with
the like treatment, though he was continually urging the necessity for his setting out for Flanders,” Margot observed. It did not take the siblings long to realize that they were being deliberately misled and that Catherine and Henri had no intention of letting either of them leave the court.

To have arrived in Paris with such high expectations only to find themselves reduced once more to the role of virtual prisoners was infuriating. Worse, both of them found the atmosphere surrounding Henri III, which was simultaneously cloying and dangerous, repugnant. In their absence, the king’s favorites had grown even more powerful. François’s position was especially onerous, as he was openly held in contempt by Henri III’s
mignons,
to whom the king gave so much latitude that “
these licentious young courtiers
thought they might do whatever they pleased,” Marguerite reported. The duke of Anjou’s household, also comprised of combative young noblemen at the peak of their testosterone levels, naturally seethed at every slight. Bussy in particular had trouble containing his temper. “
Bussy had a degree of courage
which knew not how to give
way to anyone,” Margot reasoned fondly. In consequence, “
some new dispute betwixt them
[the
mignons
] and Bussy was constantly starting.” This was something of an understatement. On January 10, 1578, after enduring two months of heckling and numerous clashes, Bussy stormed into the
mignons’
quarters at the head of a band of three hundred like-minded toughs and, drawing his formidable blade, dared his antagonists “
to fight it out to the death
.” Only a last-minute intercession by Henri III, forbidding the acceptance of this challenge, stopped the battle from taking place. Even so, a few of the king’s attendants, led by Quélus, Henri’s longtime favorite, broke into Bussy’s apartments late one evening and killed one of his closest friends, an offense the brilliant swordsman did not forget.

Matters came to a head a month later. As was his wont, by way of a reward for services rendered, Henri III had arranged for another member of his inner circle, a
mignon
named Saint-Luc, to marry an heiress—an extremely reluctant heiress, it was true, but that was hardly of primary importance to either the king or the courtier. The wedding was planned for the second week in February and promised to be a raucous, drunken affair at which the bejeweled and elaborately coiffed
mignons
would swagger around at their dandified best, lording it over the other guests. François prudently elected not to attend and urged Marguerite to join him in abstaining from the festivities, a request she had no difficulty granting.

Then Catherine stepped in. Alarmed that Henri might interpret his younger siblings’ absence as an insult, she hastily arranged to cover up at least part of this potential indiscretion by pleading a prior engagement for herself, Marguerite, and François. It was a Monday, and the three went out for the day together to the château of Saint-Maur, one of the queen mother’s favorite residences, just outside Paris. They stayed to dine, but it was still early when they returned from their excursion. The wedding party was in full swing, and Catherine, again fearing repercussions from an imagined slight to Henri, “
well lectured my brother
, and made him consent to appear
at the ball, in order not to displease the King,” Margot reported.
^*
So he went.

It was a huge mistake. The moment he entered the room the
mignons
went after him, not with swords but with insults. Secure in the knowledge of their own physical superiority, they taunted François about his clothes, his pockmarks, his misshapen features, and “
other allusions to the meanness
of his figure and the smallness of his stature,” Marguerite affirmed. It was the worst kind of bullying, especially inappropriate given the victim’s rank as a member of the royal family and heir to the throne. The duke of Anjou was well aware of his blemished countenance and had been tormented by his looks since childhood. What had been painful as a boy was downright intolerable as a young man in his early twenties. He was the ugly swain in a court that worshipped male beauty, and every quip landed with the precision of an executioner’s ax. He turned pale and fled the room; he sought out Catherine, and by the time he found her he was in tears. He informed his mother of his humiliation at the hands of the
mignons
and the impossibility of his staying at court. He didn’t care what anyone said, he told her; he was leaving Paris to go hunting. Catherine, perhaps feeling a trifle guilty, agreed that he should get away for a bit and sent word to the king that his younger brother would embark the next morning on the chase, “
as it would put a stop
to the disputes which had arisen betwixt him and the young men, Maugiron, Saint-Luc, Quélus, and the rest,” said Margot, naming the worst of the offending
mignons
. Her recollection of these events was confirmed by the envoy from Florence. “
The quarrels of Bussy are bound
to lead to a new row between the king and Monsieur, his brother,” the ambassador wrote. “The latter is… resolved to withdraw from court… together with all of his followers.”

At first Henri, also somewhat penitent, approved his brother’s decision. But that was before he referred the matter to his
mignons,
who sensed a chance to rid themselves of their highborn rival once and for all. “
The King, however, staying
in his closet… with his council of five or six young men, they suggested suspicions in his mind respecting my brother’s departure from Court,” Marguerite clarified. “In short, they worked upon his fears and apprehensions so greatly, that he took one of the most rash and inconsiderate steps that was ever decided upon in our time; which was to put my brother and all of his principal servants under arrest.”

To officially arrest a member of the royal family was no small affair; the action implied treason of the highest order. Catherine, who had gone to bed believing all was well and that François would be leaving in the morning with royal permission, was astonished to be woken in the middle of the night by an enraged Henri accompanied by the captain of the royal guard and a number of soldiers. The king did everything but accuse his mother of complicity in a plot against his life. “
How could you, Madame
, think of asking me to let my brother go hence?” Henri spat. “Do you not perceive how dangerous his going will prove to my kingdom? Depend upon it, that this hunting is merely a pretense to cover some treacherous design. I am going to put him and his people under arrest, and have his papers examined. I am sure we shall make some great discoveries.” So saying, he left with his band of armed guards to personally confront his brother. Fifty-eight-year-old
Catherine was obliged to heave herself
out of bed and run after him in her dressing gown down the cold corridors to ensure that he did not do irreparable harm to her youngest son.

From there, events spun out of control in a manner not unlike a droll stage play or the comic burlesques for which France is so well known. A startled and much confused François was subsequently awakened in the middle of the night by his brother’s banging furiously on his door. Having no idea what was the matter, he sat up in bed and ordered his chamberlain to let the king in. The next thing
he knew the room was filled with armed men and Henri was standing over him, bellowing, “
I will show you what it is
to plot against your sovereign!” The guards were ordered to remove any papers or boxes that might provide evidence while the king searched his brother’s bed for incriminating communiqués. A well-thumbed piece of parchment caught his attention. “
The King endeavored to force it
from him,” Margot reported. François “refused to part with it, and earnestly entreated the King would not insist upon seeing it. This only excited the King’s anxiety the more to have it in his possession, as he now supposed it to be the key to the whole plot, and the very document which would at once bring conviction home to him. At length, the King having got it into his hands, he opened it in the presence of
the Queen my mother
and they were both… confounded when they read the contents.” It was a love letter from Madame de Sauve.

Despite the absence of any indication of intrigue, Henri had gone too far to back down. He knew he already looked ridiculous, but he decided to bluff his way through rather than concede an error in judgment. When François demanded to know the charges against him, the king regally refused to answer and instead commanded the captain of the guard and his archers to remain in the room and guard the prisoner. Then he went back to bed.

Anxious and afraid, François considered his position. There was no approaching his mother, who had been in the room and accepted the king’s decision. Henri had already announced that François’s entourage was also under arrest, so there would be no help from that quarter. That left Marguerite.

He began tentatively by questioning the captain of the guard. François “
feared some fatal event
might succeed these violent proceedings, and he was under the greatest concern on my account, supposing me to be under like arrest,” Margot attested. The captain replied that, on the contrary, the queen of Navarre had not been detained. Upon further reflection, this did not seem quite fair to François. After all, what was the good of being a member of a team
if he was the only one to bear the burden of adversity? Accordingly, he begged the captain to go get his sister to keep him company, “
as I know she loves me
so entirely that she would rather be confined with me than have her liberty whilst I was in confinement.” So the captain went and woke up Marguerite and had her escorted through the Louvre like a common criminal in the presence of all the courtiers—by this time half the castle was awake—to share her brother’s imprisonment. “
Though I have received
many particular favors since from him [François], this has always held the foremost place in my grateful remembrance,” she commented drily.

She was thoroughly frightened by the time she arrived, having, like François himself, no inkling of what had occurred to set the king off in this way. By this time the guard originally assigned to watch over the duke of Anjou had been relieved and replaced by new men, including an older captain who had known Marguerite since childhood. Seeing her distress, he approached her out of hearing of the other soldiers to reassure her. “
There is not a good Frenchman
living who does not bleed at his heart to see what we see,” whispered the captain. “I expect to have the guard of the Prince your brother, wherever he shall chance to be confined; and depend upon it, at the hazard of my life, I will restore him to his liberty.”