* * *

Contemplating the gaiety of the life at court, it seemed to Catherine that a colourfully embroidered cloth had been laid across something that was horrible, for the wars of religion were taking on a deep significance throughout the land.

The Chambre Ardente― a special chamber to deal with Huguenots― had been created by Parliament. Henry was less cruel than many about him and he did not wish to have his subjects tortured and burned at the stake, even though he was convinced that their misguided religious views might merit this punishment; but he was hemmed in by strong men and women who demanded punishment for the heretic. These were the wily de Guises, grown more powerful since their niece, Mary Stuart, had arrived in France, the cruel Montmorency, and Diane herself.

Calvin was flourishing, and Protestantism was growing everywhere; there were even some towns where the Reformers were in a majority; and where they were, as Diane did not hesitate to point out to the King, they did not refrain from persecuting Catholics. A firm hand was needed, said the Catholic party.

Protestantism must be ruthlessly suppressed.

Catherine, concerned with her own obsession, felt aloof from the conflagration. She would state no opinions and favor none unless it were beneficial to her to show favour. If the Protestants could help Catherine de’

Medici in her fight against Diane, then they should have her help; but if the Catholics could prove advantageous in the same cause, then Catherine was all for the Catholics.

Watch and wait for an opportunity to defeat Diane, should be her motto.

An opportunity did come her way, and she seized on it.

Henry was disturbed. It was all very well for his friends to tell him that the burning and torturing of heretics was a necessary duty. Even though Diane insisted on this, he could not feel happy about it. He would, he declared in unguarded moment, be prepared to hear what an ambassador from the Reformed party had to tell him. The man could come to him and have no fear, on the King’s honour, of being victimized for anything he might say on this occasion.

This announcement of the King’s threw Diane and her friends into a state of uneasiness. There were intelligence in the Reformed party; and the fact that the King had, without first consulting Diane, declared his willingness to hear their side of the case was in itself disconcerting.

Catherine was delighted. Could this mean a lessening of Diane’s power, an inclination in the King to think for himself? She was alert, wondering if there was any small way in which she could turn this matter to her advantage.

There were several prisoners awaiting torture and execution, the King had said; and he was agreeable that one of them should be sent to him that he might state his case.

A prisoner, thought Catherine. She guessed that Diane suggested that. Why, the King should have sent for Calvin or some such exalted member of the party.

But a prisoner. There was no doubt that the King was as much under the influence of his Catholic mistress as ever.

So Diane, with her new relations, the de Guises, brought their man before the King. He was to be questioned in the presence of others besides Henry; indeed, there was a good gathering of ladies and gentlemen of the court seated about the King.

Catherine watched the wretched man who had been selected for cross- examination. He was a poor tailor, a man of no education; but as Catherine cunningly surveyed him, it began to occur to her that Diane her friends had not been so clever She felt that mad racing of her heart that was the only indication of her excitement. This tailor was a man of ideals; there was no mistaking the burning zeal in his eyes; he stood before them unafraid, so sure that he was right and they were wrong. She was reminded at once of Montecuccoli and how such men could be used by others whose zeal was not for a cause but for their own power and the fulfillment of their desires. Such men as Montecuccoli and this poor tailor were made to be used by such as herself, the de Guises, Diane. But in this case, she was cleverer than Diane and the de Guises. Had she been in their place, she would not have brought a fanatic and an idealist to speak against them.

The tailor looked wretched in his ragged clothes, the more so because of the brilliant colours and the jewel-studded garments of the court. It was foolish to imagine such a man would be over-awed by splendid surroundings and costly jewels. To him there was no splendour but that of Heaven, to be attained only through what he believed to be the true religion.

He proved to be a man of some intelligence and he talked eloquently. It was easy to see that the King was not unimpressed. It was impossible, Henry was obviously thinking, not to admire spirit and courage, and these the man un-undoubtedly had, even though his religious views were to be regretted.

Catherine was trembling. She longed now to impose her will upon the man, as she could do easily enough with such as Madalenna. There was within Catherine a power which she did not fully understand. There were times when she would have a clear vision of something which had not at the time happened and which certainly would. It was a queer gift over which she had no control.

But this other gift of concentration which enabled her to make others do as she wished in certain circumstances, she felt she was more able to guide.

How stimulating it was to endeavour to work her will on others! Now she wished the tailor to see her as the poor neglected Queen of France, humiliated by the haughty harlot in black-and-white. No doubt he thought of her as that, but at this moment, his mind was far from the relationship of the King with his wife and mistress. Catherine would bring his thoughts to this matter, because she desired to will him to make an outburst, before all these people, against Diane.

She caught the man’s eye and held it for several seconds. She forced herself to see herself through his eyes― the neglected wife, betrayed by a husband with an adulteress. She saw herself, if she had power, pleading for the Huguenots and Calvinists, helping those of the Protestant faith.

She felt the sweat in the palms of her hands; she was almost faint with the effort she had made.

Then Diane put a question to the tailor, and the moment had come.

‘Madame,’ he cried in ringing tones as he turned to the King’s mistress, ‘rest assured with having corrupted France and do not mingle your filth with a thing so sacred as the truth of God.’

The silence which followed this outburst lasted seconds, but it seemed longer to Catherine. The King had risen. His face was scarlet. Diane had been insulted. Henry, who had humiliated his Queen in a thousand ways, would not stand by and hear a word against his mistress.

Everyone was waiting for the King to speak, holding her head high and seemed haughtier than ever. Catherine, recovered from her mental strain, endeavoured to look as shocked as any present that a humble tailor could so speak of the Duchess of Valentinois. The tailor stood defiant, unabashed, his eyes raised to the ceiling; he cared nothing, this man, because he believed that God and all the angels were on his side.

And while the King stood there, slow in his anger, struggling to find the words he needed to express his hatred for this man, two of the guards strode forward and seized the wretched tailor.

‘Take him!’ said Henry, through clenched teeth. ‘He shall be burned alive in the Rue Saint-Antoine, and I myself will watch him burn.’

The tailor threw back his head and laughed.

He called to the saints to witness the puny revenge of a dishonourable King who had promised that he might be allowed to speak freely. Did they think to hurt him through what they could do to his miserable body? He welcomed death. He would die a hundred deaths for the true faith.

Catherine, as she watched the man carried out, knew that Henry was already ashamed of his conduct. This was the second time he had been publicly humiliated through Diane. Would he realize this? Would he not feel some resentment? Or was this just another of those petty victories which led nowhere?


* * *

Catherine watched her husband pace up and down his room. Through the open window they could hear the tramp of feet and the low chanting of many voices.

The wretched procession had almost completed its miserable journey through the streets.

Catherine took her place beside the King at the window. He was already regretting that he had sworn to see the tailor burn. He had no stomach for this sort of thing.

Catherine, ever inclined to indiscretion in his presence, wondered whether she should whisper to him: ‘It is through Diane that you suffer thus. You would not be standing at this window now to watch a wretched man perish in the flames by your orders if it were not for her. She has brought you to this. Do you not see that if you would but listen to your Queen you need never suffer thus? I would never lead you to indiscretions such as this. I would never have let you humiliate yourself over the de Vivonne-de Chabot affair. Oh, my darling, why will you not be wise and love your wife so that she does not have to plot to humiliate you!’

But she would not again be trapped into betraying herself.

She said softly: ‘They are tying up the tailor now.’

‘Catherine,’ said Henry, ‘There is a strangeness about the man.’

‘Yes,’ she answered.

‘A look of― what is it― do you know?’

‘A look of martyrdom, Henry.’