‘Be silent, Charlotte,’ said Margot, beginning to laugh. ‘Oh, but my heart bleeds. What shall I do? I declare I’ll not be married to this oaf. I hear he has a fondness for peasant girls.’

‘Not more than for great ladies,’ said Charlotte. ‘He just has a fondness for all.’

‘It may be,’ said Margot, ‘that the Pope will not send the dispensation. Then there can be no marriage. I pray each hour that the Pope will refuse to allow the marriage to take place. And then what can we do?’

Her ladies smiled. They were of the opinion that the Princess mother, who desired the marriage, would not allow it to be prevented by a mere Pope. But they said nothing; it was the fashion to share wholeheartedly in Margot’s fables. As for Claude, she did not wish to add to her sister’s distress.

Then there will be no wedding,’ continued Margot, ‘and all these men and women can go back where they belong. But it is exciting to see so many people in Paris. I must confess I like it. I like to hear the shouts of the people all through the night. They have turned night into day—all because they have gathered here to see me married to that oaf Henry of Navarre, whom I will never marry, whom I have sworn never to marry.’

There was a knock on the door.

‘Enter!’ cried Margot; and her face changed when she saw Madelenna, her mother’s confidential Italian attendant. Claude shivered; she invariably did when there was a prospect of her being called to her mother’s presence.

‘What is it, Madalenna?’ asked Margot.

‘Her Majesty, the Queen Mother, desires the immediate presence of Madame de Sauves.’

All except Charlotte showed their relief, and she gave no indication of what she was feeling.

‘Go at once,’ said Margot lightheartedly. ‘You must not keep my mother waiting.’

There was silence when Charlotte had gone. After a pause Margot went on to talk of her hated marriage, but her eyes had lost their sparkle and the animation had left her face.


* * *

Charlotte de Sauves knelt before Catherine de’ Medici, the Queen Mother of France, until Catherine, waving a beautiful white hand, bade the young woman rise.

Catherine was fifty-three years of age at this time; she had grown very fat in the last years, for she was very fond of good food; she was dressed in black—the mourning which she had worn since the death of her husband, Henry the Second, thirteen years before. Her face was pale, her jowls heavy, her large eyes prominent; her long black widow’s veil covered her head and fell over her shoulders. Her carmined lips were smiling, but Charlotte de Sauves shivered as many did when they were in the presence of the Queen Mother, for in spite of a certain joviality of manner, her sly secret nature could not be, after so many years, completely hidden; and it was such a short time since the death of Jeanne of Navarre, the mother of the bridegroom-to-be, who had, much against her inclination, been persuaded to come to court to discuss the marriage of her son with Catherine’s daughter. Jeanne’s death had been swift and mysterious and, as it had occurred immediately after she had done what Catherine required of her, there were many in France who connected the death of Jeanne of Navarre with Catherine de’ Medici. People talked a good deal about the strange ways of the Queen Mother, of her Italian origin, for it was recognized that the Italians were adepts in the art of poisoning; it was suspected that her perfumer and glove-maker, René the Florentine, helped her to remove her enemies as well as her wrinkles, supplied her with poisons as well as perfumes and cosmetics. There had been deaths other than that of Jeanne of Navarre—secret murders of which this widow in black had been suspected. Charlotte thought of them now as she stood facing her mistress.

But Charlotte, young, bold and beautiful, was by no means of a timid nature. She enjoyed intrigue; she was delighted to exploit the power which was hers through her unparalleled beauty. She had found favour with Catherine because Catherine always favoured those who could be useful to her; and she had her own way of using beautiful women. She did not keep a harem to satisfy her erotic tastes as her father-in-law Francis the First had done. The women of Francis’ Petite Bande had been his mistresses whose task was to amuse him with their wit and their beauty; Catherine’s women must possess the same qualities; they must be able to charm and allure, to tempt husbands from their wives and ministers of state from their duties; they must wheedle secrets from those who possessed them, and lure foreign ambassadors from their Kings. All the women of the Escadron Volant belonged to Catherine, body and soul; and none, having entered that esoteric band, dared leave it. Charlotte, like most young women who had joined it, had no wish to leave it; it offered excitement, intrigue, erotic pleasure; and there was even a certain enjoyment to be had from the more unpleasant tasks. No woman of virtue would have been invited to enrol in that band, for women of virtue were of no use to Catherine de’ Medici.

Charlotte guessed the meaning of this summons. It was, she was sure, connected with the seduction of a man. She wondered who this might be. There were many noble and eminent men in Paris at this time, but her thoughts went to the young man whom she had seen on horseback from the window of Princess Margot’s apartment. If it were Henry of Guise she would enter into her task with great delight. And it might well be. The Queen Mother might wish to curb her daughter’s scandalous behaviour; and as Margot and Henry of Guise were in Paris at the same time there was bound to be scandalous behaviour, although he was another woman’s husband and she a bride-to-be.

Catherine said: ‘You may sit, Madame de Sauves.’ She did not go immediately to the point. ‘You have just left the Princess’ apartments. How did you find her?’

‘Most excited by the tumult in the streets, Madame. She sent me to the window to look at the Duke of Guise as he rode by. Your Majesty knows how she always behaves when he is in Paris. She is very excited.’

Catherine nodded. ‘Ah well, the King of Navarre will have to look after her, will he not? He will not be hard on her for her wantonness. He himself suffers from the same weakness.’ Catherine let out a loud laugh in which Charlotte obsequiously joined.

Catherine went on: ‘They say he is very gallant, this gentleman of Navarre. He has been so ever since he was a child. I remember him well.’ Charlotte watched the Queen Mother’s lips curl, saw the sudden lewdness flash into her eyes. Charlotte found this aspect of Catherine’s character as repelling as anything about her; as cold as a mountain-top, she had no lovers; and yet she would wish her Escadron to discuss their love affairs with her, while she remained cool, aloof, untouched by any emotion and yet seemed as though she enjoyed their adventures vicariously. ‘Old and young,’ went on Catherine. ‘It mattered not what age they were. It only mattered that they were women. Tell me what the Princess Marguerite said when she sent you to the window to watch Monsieur de Guise.’

Charlotte related in detail everything that had been said. It was necessary to forget nothing, for the Queen Mother might question another who had been present and if the two accounts did not exactly tally she would be most displeased. She liked her spies to observe with complete accuracy and forget nothing.

‘She is not so enamoured of the handsome Duke as she once was,’ said Catherine. ‘Why, at one time . . .’ She laughed again. ‘No matter. An account of such adventures would doubtless seem commonplace to you, who have had adventures of your own. But those two were insatiable. A handsome pair, do you not think so, Madame de Sauves?’

‘Your Majesty is right. They are very handsome.’

‘And neither of them the faithful sort. Easily tempted, both of them. So my daughter was a little jealous of the effect your interest might have on the gallant Guise, eh?’

Charlotte touched her ear reminiscently, and Catherine laughed.

‘I have a task for you, Charlotte.’

Charlotte smiled, thinking of the handsome figure on horseback. He was, as so many agreed, the handsomest and the most charming man in France.

‘I wish to make my daughter’s life as pleasant as I can,’ went on Catherine. ‘This wedding of hers is distasteful to her, I know, but she likes to see herself in the role of injured innocent, so she will, in some measure, enjoy playing the reluctant bride. The young King of Navarre has always been one of the few young men in whom she has not been interested; and as I wish to make life easy for her, I am going to ask you to help me do so.’

‘I have one wish, and that to serve Your. Majesty with all my heart.’

‘Your task will be an easy one. It is well within your range, and as it involves attracting a gallant gentleman and seeking to

hold his affections, I am sure you will accomplish it with ease.’

‘Your Majesty may rest assured that I will do all that is possible to please you.’

It should not be unpleasant. The lover I propose for you has a reputation as colourful as your own. I have heard it said that he is as irresistible to most women as I know you are to most men?

Charlotte smiled. She had long desired the handsome Duke of Guise. If she had never dared to look his way it was because Margot guarded her lovers as a tigress guards her cubs; but if the Queen Mother commanded, then Margot’s anger would be of little importance.

‘I see that you are excited by the proposal,’ said Catherine. ‘Enjoy yourself, my dear. I feel sure you will. You must let me know how you progress.’