Catherine laughed. Ah well, let the foolish creatures frivol their time away. It kept them from meddling in state affairs.

And now for the letters which were to be taken out of Paris. These too were in the handwriting of La Mole and Coconnas. Catherine broke the seals and read, and as she did so, a cold fury took possession of her. She had been foolish; she had read their stupid love letters when letters such as these must have been passing out of the palace without her knowledge. It was clearly due to a little carelessness on the part of the lovers that these letters had fallen into het hands. How long had they been deceiving her? These were not the outpourings of lovesick suitors, but the clear, concise phrases of conspirators; and they were not addressed to foolish young women, but to none other than the Marshals Montgomery and Cossé.

She read on, and although her expression did not change, there was murder in her mind. This was treason. This explained that friendship between Alençon and Navarre which Charlotte could not break. Those two were together in this. They were plotting—those two whom she had kept in semi-captivity—to escape, to join Montgomery and Coss& and to get together a Huguenot army to march on Paris.

Conceited Alençon no doubt thought that his brother could not live long and, with Henry away in Poland, here was his chance to seize the throne. Navarre doubtless was prepared to play a waiting game and meanwhile ally himself with Alençon.

Catherine’s anger cooled. This was great good luck. How grateful she was to her dear Cosmo and Lorenzo Ruggieri, who had aroused her interest in the lover of her daughter!


* * *

Margot and Henriette, wrapped in their cloaks, slipped out of the Louvre to the house at the corner of the Rue de la Vannerie and the Rue Monton. They took off their masks as soon as the concierge let them in.

‘The gentlemen have arrived?’ demanded Margot of the woman.

‘No, Madame. They are not yet here.’

They went upstairs to a room in which a table was laid for four; on this were the choicest delicacies, and the best wines that France could offer. A banquet fit for a Queen and her friends. Margot looked at the table with pleasure, but she was uneasy.

‘There is no message to explain why they have been delayed?’ she asked of the woman.

‘No, Madame.’

When Margot had dismissed her, Henriette said: ‘Margot, you don’t think they have ceased to love us!’

‘If they had,’ said Margot, ‘they would have been very early. They would have been most chivalrous, most eager to assure us of their fidelity.’

‘They were most eager to assure us of that last time we met.’

‘I cannot believe my Hyacinth could deceive me. Something has happened to detain them . . . nothing more.’

‘Your brother would not detain them. He knows they come to meet us, and he is most friendly to you and eager to please you.’

‘It may have been some other small matter. Come, drink a cup of wine, and you will feel better.’ Margot poured out the wine and handed it to Henriette.

‘I shall be most piqued when they do come,’ said Henriette. ‘Margot, you do not think, do you, that it is your husband who may have detained them?’

‘Why should he?’

‘Jealousy.’

‘He does not know the meaning of jealousy. “Do not stand in the way of my pleasure,” he says, “and I will not stand in the way of yours!” ‘ She turned to her friend. ‘Perhaps the Duke of Nevers . . .’

‘But he would have stopped only Annibale. That does not excuse La Mole. They are both late. Could it be Monsieur de Guise?’

Margot was pleasurably excited at the possibility of her former lover’s jealousy. She dismissed such thoughts hastily. Must it always be so? Must she always wonder how her actions were going to affect that man!

‘Nonsense!’ she said. ‘That is finished. Listen. Someone is coming up the stairs.’

‘They are very quiet, Margot.’

‘Hush! They creep in order to surprise us.’

There was a tap on the door.

‘Enter!’ said Margot; and to her intense disappointment and also that of Henriette, it was the concierge who entered, not their lovers.

‘Madame, there is a lady downstairs who says she must speak with you at once. Shall I allow her to come up? She says it is of the utmost importance. She has news for you.’

‘Send her up at once,’ said Margot; and in a few seconds one of her attendants came into the room. The woman’s face was pale and it was obvious from her expression that the news which she brought was not good.

She knelt before Margot and cried: ‘Madame, I regret to be the bearer of such news. The Comte de la Mole and the Comte de Coconnas cannot come to you.’

‘Why not?’ demanded Margot. ‘Why have they sent you instead?’

‘They are prisoners, Madame. They are already in the dungeons of Vincennes, whither the Duke of Alençon and the King of Navarre have also been sent. It is said that the Marshals Montgomery and Cossé have been arrested. There is said to have been a plot which the King discovered.’

Henriette fell on to a couch, covering her face with her hands. Margot stared blankly before her. Why, why could they not leave their foolish plots; why could they not be content with love?


* * *

Margot lost no time in driving to Vincennes. She knew that she would not be allowed to visit her lover in the dungeons below the castle, but it would be a simple matter to have a word with her husband, who was lodged in apartments there.

Navarre was nonchalant.

‘What could have possessed you to be so foolish?’ she demanded.

‘My dearest wife, it was not I who was foolish. It was those lovesick idiots of yours and Henriette de Nevers. It was through their carelessness that notes, not intended for her, reached your mother’s hands.’

‘Do you think you can escape punishment this time?’ ‘That question gives me cause for reflection.’

‘What a fool you were to attempt escape a second time!’ ‘There might have been no need for a second time but for your interference. Your brother and I might be free men now but for you.’

‘You are so irresponsible, both of you. You have involved these two men in your schemes, and they will be the ones to suffer for your misdeeds.’

‘Dear Margot!’ he said. ‘Always so solicitous on behalf of your lovers! You make me wish that I were one of them myself.’

‘Do not let us waste time. What can we do?’

He shrugged his shoulders and she stormed at him. ‘Do not stand there smiling as if this was of no account. Other people have been led into danger.’

‘Say “La Mole”, not “other people”. It is so much more friendly . . . and is after all what you mean.’

‘You must admit that you and my brother are responsible for this.’

‘It is not entirely true, my dear. There was a letter in La Mole’s handwriting: there was also one in that of Coconnas. These letters show these two men to be deeply involved and quite knowledgeable as to what we planned should take place.’

‘You must save them,’ said Margot.

‘You may be sure I shall do what is possible.’

‘We must deny there was a plot. That is possible, is it not?’

‘We can always deny,’ said Navarre. ‘Even when confronted with proof, we can deny.’

‘I do not think you care for your own life or for any one else’s.’

‘It may be that it is better to die young than to grow old. I often wonder.’

‘You madden me. Listen to me. I am going to draw up a document which I shall present to the Commissioners if there is any sign of your being brought up for questioning.’

‘You . . . write my defence!’

Why not? I am your wife. I am also a writer of some ability. I swear that I can present your case with such sympathy and understanding that I will make those who believe you to be guilty believe in your innocence.’

He smiled at her. ‘Why, Margot, I think there may be something in this. You are a clever little chronicler. When I read your accounts of what happens here at court I find myself believing you to be a poor, innocent, misjudged and virtuous woman. And that in spite of all that I know! Yes, if you can tell such pretty stories about yourself, why not about me? Come, draw up this document. I put myself in your hands. I will say what you advise.’

One of the guards was knocking at the door.

‘Come in,’ said Margot.

‘The Queen Mother is coming this way,’ she was told.

‘She shall not find me here,’ said Margot. ‘But remember what I say. Confess nothing. It is imperative that you remember that although you and my brother may escape punishment, those two poor men, whose services you have so carelessly used, may not.’

‘My love,’ said Navarre, kissing her hand, ‘you may trust me to remember.’


* * *

Now that Catherine had decided how she should deal with the further rebellion of her son and son-in-law, she lost no time in putting her plan into action. She did not intend that this plot should be generally known. There must, she knew, be a certain leakage, but she was going to do all in her power to make it as small as possible.

Montgomery and Cossé were under arrest and could do no more damage for the moment. She was thinking that it might be a good idea to ensure that they never did again. They could be murdered while they were in jail. Not yet, of course. It would be necessary to employ great caution with such well-known men. She would have the news that they were ill circulated, and later on it could be said that they had died of their illness.