Threads of Silk (31 page)

“Well said. You should study at Geneva to be a pasteur. The calling, mon ami, is in your heart.”

GARBED IN BLACK VELVET AND SILVER
, Fabien entered the royal chambers of the Queen Mother and removed his hat with a bow.

She sat in pitiless silence while he gave account of what the Guises planned against his kinsman.

“You have proved an asset at court, Monsieur Marquis, if what you say is true. And I in no way doubt you, or the cunning schemes of the house of Guise. If the hunting accident had occurred . . .”

He remained silent.

She took this as assent. “What else have you planned?”

He expected this and was prepared, speaking with strong passion. “When Duc de Guise may be aware? Madame, it is folly. If I blunder in haste, the King of Spain will suspect
you
. The Spanish ambassador will be the first to write him. You have kept me from his chains for the very purpose of eliminating Guise, he will say. The King of Spain is looking for an excuse to turn on you, Madame. You know this well. My hasty move against the duc could provoke the king to order the Duc of Alva to withdraw some of his soldiers from the Netherlands and invade Calais, or they could cross the border through the duchy of Lorraine, at the cardinal’s secret order.”

He saw the flicker of alarm in her amber eyes. She gave a brief nod but paced restlessly, watching the burgundy rug beneath her.

“Yes . . . caution. Always caution.” She snapped her fingers. “Then there is no choice for me except to move to protect Antoine.”

“If, Madame, you were to find a way to also save Louis, you would have a strong soldier on your side. So also Admiral Coligny would rally to you,” he suggested silkily.

She focused her unblinking stare upon him. For a moment he expected her to accuse him of deliberately baiting her.

She did not respond, however, and merely said, “I believe I can guess why Duc de Guise wishes the swift demise of Antoine upon the execution of Louis. I have discussed the worsening health of Francis with Antoine. Young Prince Charles is next in line for the crown. If Charles comes to the throne, there will be a regent for some years, and only I can control Charles.”

So then it was the regency that propelled her forward in her actions. He became more convinced than ever of her secret plan to align herself with the Bourbon-Huguenot alliance against the house of Guise.

“And my kinsman Antoine?”

She smiled. “Antoine will become general of France in place of Duc de Guise.”

The position was one of great power. Catherine and Antoine would rule France in coregency. The Guises, of course, would lose as much power as the Bourbons gained.

“You understand the reason why the duc and cardinal wish for Antoine’s demise? My spies tell me they discovered my meeting with Antoine several weeks ago on this subject. And now they see the danger to their house.”

No wonder the Guises were afraid and planning desperate measures.

“Go to Antoine and warn him,” she said. “Under no circumstance should he enter the king’s chamber if he is called.”

Fabien bowed over her hand and left the chamber.

Did Rome encourage the assassination of the Bourbon princes because of their Huguenot leaning? Or did Spain?

He walked along the corridor and through a salle in the direction of Antoine’s chamber.

CATHERINE LEFT HER CHAMBER
and entered the royal chamber of her son, King Francis, but she did not go alone. She made certain her excuse for being there would go undetected by the Guises and Mary, for Mary would be certain to be there, keeping Francis under watch, no doubt as the cardinal had told her.

Catherine stood at the foot of the grand bed, her arms folded across the front of her black gown. She looked sympathetically at her son Francis.

Francis was resting as the docteur attended him, asking about his condition.

I must get Mary out of the chamber so I can speak to Francis alone.

When the docteur turned to leave, Catherine asked him to speak with Mary of the young king’s condition.

“While I bid my son adieu, you understand. Just a small mother and son talk. Ah, how I worry about my ailing son, my petit Francis, my young and brilliant king . . .” And she brought a lace kerchief up to her mouth and bent her head. “I worry so.”

“Of course, Madame,” the docteur said gently. “I shall speak to the queen in the next chamber.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Mary watching her. She appeared about to protest when the docteur took her aside, but at last she went with him into the other chamber, leaving the door between ajar.

The spy!

Catherine sat down on the bed beside Francis, laying her palm on his forehead. She felt his body tense under the satin cover.

“Ah, my poor sick Francis, how tired and worried you look. Is there more that disturbs you than physical weariness?”

“Madame Mother, do not worry. I — I am well.”

She leaned toward him and whispered urgently, “Tell me, my son, keep nothing back from me. What have Duc de Guise and the cardinal planned for the poor little Bourbon prince, Antoine?”

His eyes swerved to hers, and she saw fear in their depths.

“Is there a diabolical plot to involve you in the murder of a prince of the royal blood?” she whispered. “Oh my son, do not do this deed. Do you not know that none can strike a prince of the blood and not suffer a curse?”

Francis bit his lip, and his thin, nervous hands plucked at the cover.

“Yes, I know. I do not want to do such a thing, but the Bourbons wish to destroy our house, Mother. We must fight back for the sake of the Valois heirs.”

“Is that what they told you? And you believed them! It is only for the power of the house of Guise that they will murder Antoine — and Louis! And what of your ami since childhood, the Bourbon Marquis Fabien?”

“They do not trust him either. A word was given to the duc to be alert. His life may be in danger.”

Fear grabbed hold of her. It was true, then. The Spanish ambassador had somehow received word of her plan to use the marquis. That her effort to retain secrecy had failed terrified her.

Someone had overheard — a guard perhaps? It could be anyone. Perhaps a guard at the Amboise dungeon when she’d first confronted Fabien? Even a docteur. She turned her gaze slowly toward the door standing ajar. Yes, it could be anyone, even Fabien. How very Machiavellian if true!

“My enemies at court are many, and they lie,” she hissed. “I wish the duc naught but bonne fortune. And you, Francis, you must not shed blood.”

He bit his lip. “Mother, I am most miserable. I curse the day when Father died and I had to become king. I never wanted to be king. I would surrender the crown in a moment and go far away with Mary if I could —even to Scotland, oui, to be free of the cardinal and — ”

Francis stopped, and his gaze swerved to hers as though he had not meant to say those words.

“And to be free of me, too, my son? You need not fear me, my poor sick Francis. I am going to help you be free of the cardinal. You and Mary both.”

His eyes showed a sparkle. “You will help us, Madame Mother? If only we could go away — ”

“Trust me, my son. Oh, you will soon be free of the Guises. I have a way to open your cage and let the petite birds fly away.”

Footsteps entered too quietly behind her, and Catherine whispered, “Say nothing of what we discussed. Not even to Mary.” She stood, smiling down at Francis. “And now you must rest, my son. We must not overtire you.” She turned, and Mary stood with a cool glint in her eyes.

“Ma petite Reinette, do not look so grieved. Francis will be stronger soon, you will see. The new medicine the docteur has given to me will assuredly help him.”

“Given to you, Madame? The royal physician has said nothing to me about a new medicine. This new docteur you brought today — ”

“He did not wish to overburden you. You are so disturbed over your beloved Francis. Come now and sit beside him. Play on the lute for him and he will fall to sleep. We must not tire him.”

“No, Madame, we must not. This new medicine you mention — ”

“He has not yet sent it, ma petite, but he will deliver it soon. If you like, it shall be sent to
you
to give to Francis.”

Mary looked relieved. She showed her smile. “Oui, Madame, I should like to take care of Francis myself.”

“But of course you would, and you shall. Why not play the lute for him now? He so enjoys it. I shall leave you both in peace.”

Catherine smiled at Francis, then at Mary.

You smug spy!

“Ah, adieu, my little lovebirds.”

ANDELOT
RECEIVED HIS DREADED
summons from the cardinal to come to the king’s chamber. He arrived tense and prayerful to find King Francis looking pale and stressed, sitting on the throne chair.

“I — I have also sent for Antoine, King of Navarre,” he told Andelot.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The king was studying his slender white hands, turning a jeweled ring round and round on his finger.

Andelot was aware that the marquis had gone to warn Prince Antoine. The Guises had secretly arrived, and Andelot could hear them moving about behind the curtain in the antechamber, talking in low voices with Maréchal de Saint Andre.

The time crept by. Andelot grew more confident when two of the Guise followers came with the message that Antoine was sick. Duc de Guise came through the curtain and spoke to Francis.

“Send the captain of the guard, sire. He is not ill. This smells of a ploy.”

Andelot waited in prayer. At last he heard the captain of the guard coming with Antoine. The door opened and Andelot snatched a glimpse of Marquis Fabien and Gallaudet in the outer corridor flanking the prince, but when they attempted to follow him in, the guards stopped them.

Prince Antoine entered, his manner silent and cautious, and bowed low to the king.

At least he knows what to expect
.

Antoine remained across the chamber, far removed from Francis. Andelot noticed that he wisely carried no weapon. He kept his hands folded at his chest, fingers interlaced. Andelot took careful note of all this should he need to testify of Antoine’s actions.

The three of them were alone now. The fire sizzled and crackled in the hearth and, to Andelot, overheated the chamber, causing sweat to dampen his forehead. King Francis stood up suddenly from his chair and pointed a finger at Antoine. “You! You and Louis! You are traitors —both of you. Traitor! Fie! I should — I should have you executed — you, with Prince Louis. Speak! Confess you are a traitor. Have you nothing to say, you coward?”