Виктория Холт - Madame Serpent

‘You do!’ she told him. ‘You are the son of the King. I am just a lonely widow.’

‘My father― hates me!’ he spoke vehemently. He dared not say he hated his father, but his tone implied it.

‘Oh no! Nobody could hate you. Your father least of all. I have two little girls. I know. Parents cannot hate their own children.’

‘My father can. He loves my little brother, Charles. He loves my sisters Madeleine and Marguerite. I think too― though he is often angry with him― that he loves the Dauphin. But myself― never. I am the one who angers him most.’

‘No, no!’

‘But I assure you that it is so. His looks, his words tell me so. One can be mistaken in looks, but not in words. Francis is the Dauphin, and one day he will be King, and my father does not forget that. But he sneers at him. He says he is too solemn and dresses like a Spaniard and likes water better than wine. Francis is cleverer than I; he can learn French ways more quickly. But little Charles is the one my father loves best. Lucky Charles! He was too young to be sent to Spain.’

‘You could win your father’s favour as easily as Francis.’

‘How?’ The boy was pathetic in his eagerness.

‘It would take time. Your father has always surrounded himself with people who joke and laugh. He does not mind if the joke goes against himself even, as long as it makes him laugh If you can make your father laugh, you are halfway to his heart.’

‘He laughs at me― but in derision.’

‘He wants to laugh for amusement. Mind you, his wit high order, and it is not easy.’

‘My young brother can make him laugh.’

‘Oh, Monsieur Charles will be the King all over again. My lord Duke, if you were less afraid of offending your father, you would offend him less.’

‘Yes,’ said the boy eagerly; ‘that is it. I am always wondering what I must answer him, even before he has spoken to me.’

‘This is the first thing to learn, then: there is nothing to fear. And when you bow or kiss a lady’s hand, you should not wonder whether you are doing so with a lack of grace. You should not care. You should stand up straight and hold your head high. If you do not try very hard to please people, you can please them more. You must forgive me. I talk too much.’

‘Indeed, no! No one has ever spoken so kindly to me before.’

‘I am glad I have not bored you, for I was going to take a great liberty. I was going to ask you if you would be so good as to pay a visit to my home and look at those stables of mine― and perhaps ride out and advise about my land.’

His face lighted up. ‘I can think of nothing I should like better.’ The light died out of his face. ‘I should not be allowed to leave the court.’ He scowled, visualizing the scene with his father. So you wish to visit a lady! My dear Henry, the affairs of the heart must be conducted with some decorum― even here in France! Something like that, he would say, and with that coarseness always so gracefully expressed, would the honour of this beautiful lady. Henry knew he could not bear that to happen.

‘You could come accompanied by a few attendants. Why not?’

‘My father would never allow it, I fear.’

‘Monsieur le Duc, have I your permission to ask your father if I might take a small party, including yourself, for a brief visit to my home?’

She had a way of putting it that made it seem less unattainable. That was the way with some people. They were able to say with ease what they meant; he was so clumsy.

‘That would give me great pleasure,’ he said. ‘But I fear you will soon wish to send me back.’

She laughed. ‘Forgive me if I say you must dispense with such modesty.

Always remember that you are the Duke of Orléans, the son of the King himself.

Forget those unhappy years in Spain. They are gone and cannot return. I hope you will not be bored at my château. I shall do my best to give you the hospitality worthy of a king’s son. Now, have I your permission, my dear friend, to make my request to the King? Please say yes.’

‘I shall be desolate if I may not come, for I long to see your château and your horses and your land.’

She held out her hand and he took it, blushing hotly.

She put her head close to his. ‘Never forget,’ she said, ‘that you are the son of the King of France.’

She was right. He was the King’s son. He had never felt his importance so keenly before.

He stared after her as she left the garden. She gave him a smile over her shoulder as she went.

So beautiful, he thought, like a goddess, and yet so kind withal!

* * *

The summer months were the happiest Henry had ever known.

Miraculously, his lady had gained the King’s consent to the wonderful visit. He was not the same boy when he supped and talked and rode with Madame la Grande Sénéschale of Normandy.

‘I will call you Henry,’ she said, ‘and you shall call me Diane, for we are friends, are we not― friends for as long as we both shall live?’

He stammered something about hoping he would always be worthy of her friendship. They rode together, though not as much as he would ride in the ordinary course of events. Diane was not so fond of the chase as he was, and she had no intention of risking an accident to her beautiful body. She was making an excellent job of the task which the King had set her. In her company the boy seemed to shed all his awkwardness; it was a pity that it returned as soon as others were with him. She was getting fond of him. He was not without charm; and the devotion he was beginning to feel for her was flattering. It was so disinterested; she was accustomed to admiration, but that of the boy was different from anything she had before experienced. She was filled with pity for him. He had been so badly treated that it was small wonder that he responded as he did to a little kindness.

In a very short time after their first meeting, it seemed Henry that there was no happiness to be found away from Diane. To him she was perfect, a goddess in truth; and he asked nothing from her but to be allowed to serve her. He looked about for what he could do, but there seemed nothing. He longed to wear her colours and enter the jousts; but so many men wore a lady’s colours, and that just to win her favours. Henry wanted none to mistake his devotion. He did not wish for favours as ordinary people understood them. It was favour enough for him to be able to sit near her, to watch her beautiful face, and to listen to the wisdom that came from her perfectly moulded lips, to bask in the kindness she alone offered him She had given him a horse when she bought those which he had chosen. She had asked which in his opinion was the finest of the lot, and when he had told her― little guessing what in her mind― she said that one should be his. He had protested with tears in his eyes. He wanted no gifts; he wanted only to be allowed to serve her. But she had laughed and said: ‘What are gifts among friends?’

‘It shall be my dearest possession,’ he had told her earnestly.

Everything she did was exalted; nothing was ordinary. Even when she discussed his clothes and told him what to wear, how to bow, how to greet men and women, she did it with such grace and charm that it did not seem like a lesson. One thing she could not teach him, and that was to smile for others; he kept his smiles for her alone.

When he heard that he was to be married to an Italian girl, he was much alarmed; he went to Diane at once and told her of it.

Then was she her most sweetly sympathetic. She held his hands just as though he were in truth her own son; and she told him how she, a little girl of fifteen. about the age that he was now, had been given into marriage with an old man. She told him of her own fears.

‘But Henry, I quickly learned that there was nothing to fear. He was an old man; and this Italian is your own age. It is not for you to be afraid of a little girl.’

‘No, Diane,’ he said. ‘I should not be afraid, should I? But I wish I need not marry. I have no wish to marry.’

‘But my dear little friend, those of high birth must marry.’

‘I would have wished to choose a bride then,’ he lifted his eyes to her face.

‘But she whom I would choose would be too far above me.’

Diane was startled. What had happened to the boy?

She laughed lightly. ‘Oh come, my lord, who is too exalted for the Duke of Orléans?’

He was about to stammer something when she turned the subject quickly.

It was well, she thought that he was about to be married. She hoped the little Italian girl would be pretty enough to charm him.

It was with great delight that Henry heard Diane was to be of the party who would accompany him down to Marseilles where he was to meet and marry the little Medici.

IN THE valley lay the noblest city in all Europe. Its dot and spires that glittered in the smokeless air seemed to challenge the quiet hills which stopped only at its gates. The river gleamed silvery grey in the distance as it twisted west-wards through the valley of the Arno, through Tuscany to Pisa and to the sea. The Country was fertile, rich with its vineyards and plantations of olives.

The town was richer; its bank and wool merchants had made it prosperous, but it possessed a greater richness than they could give, to share with the world.

Leonardo da Vinci and Botticelli, Dante and Donatello had beautified it; and Michelangelo, still a comparatively young man, was on this summer’s day, at work within its walls. Its palaces and churches were storehouses of treasures; but in the city there was one possession which was more highly valued than art and learning. This was freedom. And the townsfolk looked to their ruling family to remember Florentine pride and Florentine independence.