She knew that de Vivonne was not happy. The weapons were too cumbersome for a man accustomed to the swift rapier. He had been outwitted. If only de Chabot was as good now as he had been when facing the Italian fencing-master in the house of the Ruggieri, all would go as she wished.

She would have brought some charm with her that would have ensured de Chabot’s victory, if she had dared; but that oath the men had taken before the priest, and she had known must be taken before the combat began, had made her dismiss the idea. Some supernatural force, other than the one she would call upon with her charm, might be turned against her if she dabbled in such matters.

De Vivonne was springing on his opponent; the crowd caught its breath as he aimed a blow at de Chabot’s head. But de Chabot remembered.

Ah, my beloved Italy, thought Catherine . You can show France how to fight. De Chabot, while feigning to parry the blow with his sword took it on his shield, and stooping to do so, thrust his sword into de Vivonne’s knee.

Bravo! Bravo! thought Catherine, glancing toward Henry and Diane, and emulating their looks of consternation, It was not serious, but to the braggart de Vivonno, the finest dueller in France, it came as a complete surprise, and as he staggered back, de Chabot was able to give him another blow on the same spot, and this time, a more violent one.

It is done, exulted Catherine.

And she was right.

His tendons had been severed, and de Vivonne staggering back with an awful cry, let his sword fall from his hand as his blood spurted over the green grass.

The crowd roared. The combat was over. It was victory for de Chabot― and Catherine de’ Medici.

But my victory, thought Catherine, is the greater because none but myself and de Chabot know it is mine. The breathless crowd waited. What now? Would de Chabot dispatch his victim and hand him over to the executioner for the gibbet or would he spare his life on receiving a confession that de Vivonne had lied and that de Chabot’s cause was the just one?

De Chabot answered the question by shouting: ‘De Vivonne, restore my honour; and ask mercy of God and the King for the wrong you have committed.’

The wretched de Vivonne, in direst pain, still was sufficiently aware of his surrounds to remember ambition. He tried to get up, but failing wretchedly, sank back on the grass.

The moment for which Catherine had waited. De Chabot had left his victim and was kneeling before the King.

‘Sire,’ he said, ‘I entreat you to esteem me a man of honour. I give de Vivonne to you. Let no imputation, Sire, rest either on his family or upon him on account of his offence; for I surrender him to you.’

Henry had never felt so embarrassed. Here he was, defeated before his court and the citizens of his capital; for de Vivonne’s cause had been his‚ and it was Henry’s honour that de Vivonne was defending.

Catherine’s elation was complete.

Now, my darling, she was thinking, who is to blame for bringing you to this unhappy pass? Whose action, in the first place, set the scandal abroad? Look into the face of her who sits beside you. She is the guilty one. Hate Diane for this; not de Chabot. Oh, my love, why waste time on one who bungles so, when here is your clever Queen who, with your power to help her, could outwit all the men and women of France? How she loved him― even. as he sat there, looking foolish and ashamed.

You’ve lost Henry. admit defeat. Oh, my dear foolish one, you must not hesitate. Have you forgotten that all Paris watching you? Do you not know that mob hysteria can turn to adoration for a hero, and that hero, de Chabot, stands before you now? Do not betray yourself. Blame Diane. Hate Diane. But in the presence of your people do not forget your honour, your nobility.

But the King was silent.

There was a hissing whisper in the crowd. What meant this? The victor was there. It was a surprise, it was true, but who does not like to be surprised? Why did the King not speak. De Chabot, his head held high, had gone back to his foe who to rise and throw himself in an access of hatred on the man who had ruined his future.

‘Do not move, de Vivonne, or I shall kill you,’ said Chabot.

‘Kill me and have done with it!’ cried the wretched man.

And once again de Chabot presented himself to and asked that his honour be restored to him. But still Henry, bewildered and ashamed, did not speak.

Montmorency rose and knelt before the King. Diane’s trembling hand was plucking at the King’s sleeve. Henry must see reason. He could not so demean himself before those thousands of watching eyes. In a few moments, the popularity of years could be lost.

Montmorency entreated. The victor must have his dues, Diane whispered.

‘You have done your duty, de Chabot,’ said Henry coldly, ‘and your honour ought to be restored to you.’

Henry then rose abruptly. The trumpets rang out; and he with Diane and the Queen and his immediate followers walked out of the pavilion.

Catherine was delighted, for surely a King could rarely felt so discomfited.

If he would but remember who had led him to this!

She went to her apartments, and as she sat there, she heard her women chattering.

What were they saying? What was the crowd saying― all those people who had lain about in the fields all night had come to see a man killed and they had seen a King forget his honour.

But later she laughed to have thought it mattered what the people said; it was what they did that was of more moment. They broke into de Vivonne’s tent, and had a good time with the victuals he had prepared to celebrate his conquest.

They feasted and drank and made merry. They stole the rich plate which he had borrowed.

If there was no death for the crowd, there was plenty of fun instead. Perhaps Henry’s feeble conduct was not so important as Catherine had thought it.

Perhaps, for all her scheming, she had come no nearer to winning her husband from Diane.

I cannot endure it, she sobbed to herself during her lonely nights. If I cannot do it this way, I will find some other. A few days later, de Vivonne died. He might have lived if he had wished, but he had torn the bandages from his wounds and would not let the doctors attend him. Hardly anyone seemed to notice his passing The de Chabot and de Vivonne affair was finished. But the Queen developed a new interest in the study of poisons; and in her private bureau there were many locked drawers containing books and recipes as well as potions and powders.


* * *

In November another girl was born. They called her Claude, after Henry’s mother.

Henry was paying his nocturnal visits to Catherine again. They must get themselves more sons. Little Francis, at four-years-old was a sickly child.

Catherine watched over him anxiously whenever Diane allowed her to.

Henry had been crowned at Rheims that summer. Catherine had not been crowned Queen so far; but there was no fresh insult in this, since it was the custom of France that the Queen was not crowned at the King’s impressive coronation. Her day was to follow.

During the fêtes which had accompanied the coronation of the King, Catherine had thought of how she could rid herself of Diane. There must be some slow and subtle poison, she told Cosmo and Lorenzo Ruggieri. She could not endure very much more of this humiliation which Diane imposed upon her.

She must rid herself of her enemy. Did they not know that at Saint-Germain she had watched the woman and her own husband together?

The brothers shook their heads. Most respectfully and fervently, they advised her to have the hole in the floor sealed, and to cease to think of the relationship between the King and Diane. They could not help her; they dared not help her. Why, even if Diane died from natural causes, the Queen would be suspected of poisoning her! Moreover, all those been known to advise the Queen would be imprisoned and tortured for confessions.

Catherine understood. Why, if Diane died, these two brothers would set about escaping from France with all speed.

She must not continue to think of removing Diane that way. She listened to them and agreed she had no alternative to take their advice because they were right; but all the same she continued to consider the murder of Diane.

Diane did not spare the Queen. Often she entertained the royal party at Chenonceaux; then she would delight in showing Catherine how she was beautifying the place. It needed great strength of mind not to slip some quick poison into the goblet.

Diane went from triumph to triumph. Chenonceaux was by no means the only gift the King bestowed on her. She was rich in jewels and estates; and her triumphs were mounting.

She now began to arrange the marriage of the heir to the throne.

The family of de Guise was linked to her by marriage, for her eldest daughter had married one of the de Guise― so Diane sought to assist in the elevation of this dashing and ambitious family.

It was characteristic of Diane that, when she had made up her mind that something should be done, she would beg an audience of the King and Queen and discuss such matter with them, gaining that approval which the King would never deny her, and which Catherine had no power to give.

She did this when they were visiting Chenonceaux, as she wished to lay before them her plans for the little Dauphin’s marriage.

She was received by the King and Queen, although, Catherine noted sardonically, it was as though she received them.