The Paix de Fleix was duly signed, but no one had much faith in these peace treaties now. There had been too many of them. They were flimsy, creaking bridges that linked one war with another.

Having arrived at Nérac, Anjou did not seem in any hurry to leave it. He declared himself to be enchanted with the place, but it soon became apparent that it was not the place which enchanted him so much as one of the ladies living there. Anjou seemed as determined to pursue trouble as Margot was; the lady he chose to honour with his devotion was none other than La Fosseuse, the King’s mistress.

This naturally proved very enlivening for the court. There was a return of that rivalry, that horseplay which the brothers-in-law had enjoyed in connexion with Madame de Sauves some years before. They both indulged in practical jokes on each other, and as before, these grew so wild that they bordered on the dangerous.

It was Margot who put a stop to this. She called her brother to her one day and talked to him with great earnestness. ‘Dearest brother,’ she said, ‘I know you love me.’

Anjou kissed her tenderly. He was very susceptible to flattery and admiration, and Margot had seen to it that he received these in great measure from her.

‘I would,’ she continued, ‘that your love for me was of such magnitude that it transcended that which you bear for all others.’

‘Dearest and most beautiful sister, why should you wish for what is already yours? There is no one whom I adore and admire as I do my own beautiful sister.’

‘La Fosseuse?’ she asked.

He laughed. ‘Dear Margot, that is indeed love . . . but a passing love. But for you, my love is eternal.’

She embraced him, lavishing caresses upon him. ‘That delights me. Now I know that you will listen to my advice. You are wasting your time here, dearest brother. You are a great general. In your hands lies the glory of France. You should seek an Empire, not a woman.’

Margot enjoyed playing on his susceptibilities; she made him see himself as the empire-builder, the future King of France, the greatest King that France had ever had. And so well did she do this that, not long after that conversation, he was taking a regretful leave of Fosseuse; duty called him, he explained; he was a man with a mission.

He left Nérac and eventually arrived in Flanders, where he collected an army and entered Cambrai; but as usual he had planned without caution, and Philip of Spain had not been idle. In a few months Anjou found himself in a precarious position, faced by the might of Spain and without money to continue the campaign. Defeated, he went to England, begged Elizabeth for a loan which she granted, and returned to make war in Flanders.

But his departure from Nérac meant only temporary peace for those of that court.

La Fosseuse had become enceinte. This irritated Margot for two reasons; first that the King’s mistress could produce a child while his wife could not; secondly, the meek little girl changed with pregnancy and did not remain meek; she was no longer content to take orders from the Queen. Moreover, Mademoiselle de Rebours, disgruntled at having lost the King’s favour and blaming Margot for this, seized upon every opportunity for spreading scandal about both the Queen and La Fosseuse.

If it became known throughout the country that a daughter of the great House of Montmorency was about to bear the King’s bastard, there would be—particularly in certain Huguenot quarters—a great deal of shocked dissatisfaction. In view of this, Margot decided to take matters into her own hands, as she said, for the good of all concerned.

She commanded Fosseuse to come to her, and when the girl stood before her, she looked at her with kindness and said: ‘my dear Fosseuse, this thing has come about and it is no use blaming anyone for it. We must do our best to keep it quiet. As you know, it would do the King’s cause much harm throughout the land if it were known that you were to bear this bastard. The Huguenots are puritans and they do not like what they call immorality among their leaders. For the King’s sake and your own, since it is not suitable for a daughter of your house to bear a child while still unmarried, I offer you this solution: I propose to take you with me to our very secluded estate of Mas Agenais, which, perhaps you do not know, lies on the Garonne between Marmande and Tonneins. There you shall have the child in great quietness and no one will be any the wiser. I suggest that when the King and the court leave for a hunting party, we accompany them part of the way; then you and I with our ladies and attendants, will leave the King’s party for Mas Agenais.’

La Fosseuse listened to this suggestion and lifted suspicious eyes to the face of the daughter of Catherine de’ Medici.

‘Madame,’ said Fosseuse, ‘nothing would induce me to accompany you and your friends to a quiet spot.’

And with that she curtsied, and, leaving the Queen, went straight to her lover. When he saw how distraught she was, he demanded to know what had happened.

‘It is the Queen,’ said Fosseuse. ‘She plans to murder me.’

‘How so?’ demanded Navarre angrily. It seemed to him, as it did to his mistress, possible that the daughter of Catherine de’ Medici would plan to eliminate those she wished out of the way.

‘She proposes a hunting party on which we shall all set out; then she and her women will take me to a secluded chateau where I shall stay with them until my child is born. I will not go. I know that she intends to murder me.’

‘Ventre-saint-gris!’ cried the King. ‘I believe she would try it too. Don’t fret, my love. You shall not go with her.’

He strode to Margot’s apartments. She was reclining on a couch, and she turned and looked at him with haughty dignity, moving her head elegantly to one side in a mute plea that he should not come too near her; since she had asked him to wash his feet, he had taken a great delight in them. He would sit smiling at them—and she believed he had not yet washed them.

‘So,’ he said, ignoring one or two of her attendants, ‘you follow your mother.’

She raised her eyebrows interrogatively.

‘See here, Madame,’ he cried, ‘enough of those haughty looks! What is this about taking Fosseuse off to a lonely spot to murder her?’

‘I do not understand why my offer of help should be construed as intent to murder,’ said Margot.

‘You . . . help her?’

‘Why not? Your Huguenots will not be pleased when they hear about the bastard. I remember your father’s plight when his mistress bore him a child. We Catholics are more broadminded, you know. A little confession . . . and we are forgiven. But you chose the more rigorously righteous religion. I merely wished to help you and Fosseuse.’

‘By murdering her?’

Margot shrugged her shoulders. ‘Very well. I withdraw my offer. If you insist on leading an immoral life you cannot hope to do so in secret. You must be exposed to your righteous followers.’

‘You dare to talk to me of leading an immoral life!’

‘At least there are not these sordid complications in mine.’ ‘Do not boast of your barrenness.’

‘I have no cause to be ashamed of unpleasant consequences. I am sorry I offered to help. I merely thought that, as the reputation of this court is as dear to me as to you, I might help in this matter. That is all.’

‘How would you help?’ he demanded. ‘Did your mother leave you a selection of her morceaux when she was here?’

Margot reached for a book and began to read. Her husband stood staring at her in angry silence for a few seconds; then he strode out.

He was worried. He was anxious that his Huguenot friends should not be too scandalized, and it was a fact that these self-righteous people did not so much object to secret immorality in itself; it was when it was exposed that they held up their hands in horror; but he was still enamoured of his little Fosseuse and he did not want her to be neglected.

The weeks went by; it was now impossible to ignore the condition of the King’s mistress. Navarre began to feel that he might have been rash to neglect Margot’s offer of help.

He came to her when she lay in bed, and, drawing aside her curtains, assumed a humble air.

‘I need your help,’ he said. ‘I wish you to look after Fosseuse.

‘I can do nothing in that matter,’ she said with pleasure.

‘There was a time when I offered my assistance, but it was most churlishly refused. I will have nothing to do with the matter now.’

He caught her wrist and looked at her menacingly. ‘You will obey my commands,’ he said.

Margot was not displeased. She and Turenne greatly desired to have charge of Fosseuse, and she made up her mind there and then that she would carry out her original plan; but she must exploit the situation; she must have a little fun with Navarre to punish him for his recent rejection of the help she had offered. She wished to refuse, and be persuaded. So now she tossed her head.

‘Monsieur, you ask me, a Princess of France, your Queen, to act as midwife to your slut of a mistress!’

‘Why have you become so dignified? A few weeks ago, my dear Princess of France, my Queen of Navarre, you were asking for the privilege of acting as midwife to my mistress.’

‘My kind heart got the better of my good sense,’ she said.

‘Your kind heart will have to repeat its action, my dear.’

‘You insult me.’

‘Then it is no more than you deserve. You will take care of Fosseuse.’

‘I will do nothing of the sort.’

He caught her by the shoulder, but something in her expression set him laughing. She had great difficulty in steadying her own expression.