But the fire of God's word is already laid to those rotten props (I
include the Pope's law with the rest), and presently they burn.. ..
When they are consumed, that rotten wall the usurped and unjust empire
of women shall fall by itself in despite of all man, to the destruction
of so many as shall labour to uphold it. And therefore let all men be
advertised, for the trumpet hath once blown.
Praise God, ye that fear Him.
"He rejects the authority of royal blood," she finally said.
"No, he rejects women as rulers," the Cardinal corrected. "You see
here." He took the manuscript and read, " "For assuredly her empire
and reign is a wall without foundation; I mean the same of the
authority of all women." You have misunderstood."
"No, good Uncle, you have misunderstood," she said in a quiet, clear
voice. "Or else you are trying to shield me. When Master Knox
harangues the people and says they should not have taken Mary for their
Queen, then the hidden message is that they need not have taken her, if
they so chose. And it follows from that that the people have the
freedom to choose their ruler that it is not royal blood that
determines who has the right to rule,
but the people's will. If they have the power to reject royal blood,
then what power does royal blood possess? None, if Knox has his way.
He says here" she snatched the manuscript back "that 'the insolent joy,
the bonfires, and the banqueting which were in London and elsewhere in
England when that cursed Jezebel was proclaimed Queen did witness to my
heart that men were .. . rejoiced at their own confusion and certain
destruction.. .. And yet can they not consider that where a woman
reigneth and papists bear authority, that there must needs Satan be
president of the council?" "
"Satan in skirts. I like that," said the Cardinal.
Mary refused to laugh. " "I say that the erecting of a woman to that
honour is not only to invert the order which God hath established, but
also is to defile, pollute, and profane the throne and seat of God."
The people are the ones with the duty to discern God's will and choice,
that is what he is saying."
The Cardinal sighed grievously. "Yes, I admit that is one
interpretation, at least by implication. You have a searching wit, my
child."
"Then Knox is my enemy!" said Mary.
"Indeed he is!" the Duc burst out. "For above all things, your royal
blood makes you special and entitles you to rule."
"Shall we leave the table?" Mary suddenly rose, and the servitors
descended on the leavings like crows.
She ushered the two men into her privy chamber, and then dismissed the
valets de chambre and her attendants.
"There are too many ears out there," she said. "Now we may speak more
freely."
The Duc and the Cardinal raised their eyebrows the Duc's, thick and
dark, and the Cardinal's, light and perfectly arched simultaneously.
"You have gotten quite adept at politics," the Cardinal said. "You
must have a natural talent for it. Someone should have warned us." He
gave his brother a knowing look.
"I have learned much from the Queen," said Mary. "For example, always
to use a cipher in my correspondence. I have some sixty codes I employ
in my letters." She smiled brightly.
"How laborious," said the Cardinal. "Remember, a code is only as
ingenious as its holders are at hiding the key to it. And there are
many agents who are geniuses at breaking codes." He enjoyed the look
of disappointment on her face. She had felt wise, secure, adult. Time
to educate her further. How much did she know about the Queen?
"What else have you learned from her?" he continued. "Do you keep an
expert carpenter in your employ?" Seeing the blank look on her face,
he answered her unasked question.
"Why, to make secret drawers for all your silly ciphers and magic
potions, like the room at Blois where she has over two hundred of them,
some of them dummies. She thinks no one knows how to open them by
pressing a panel at the baseboard. But of course everyone knows. Or
perhaps to drill secret holes in the floor of your bedroom, like the
ones she has at St. Germain-en-Laye, where she watches the King making
love to Diane on the floor directly below her."
Mary gasped, then giggled. "She does?"
"Indeed." The Cardinal laughed, and the Duc began to guffaw.
"What would Master Knox say?" The Duc roared with laughter.
"He would say it was their royal blood that compelled them to act
so!"
The Cardinal had to sit down, he was laughing so hard. Tears flowed
from his eyes, and he dabbed at them with a lace handkerchief.
"Catherine is insanely jealous," he gasped between laughs. "But
instead of poisoning Diane, as a good Medici should do, she just
resorts to magic spells. Evidently they don't work! The King still
takes to Diane's elderly bed, with Catherine watching. What a menage a
troisl"
"I think I would kill her," said Mary, who was not laughing. "I could
not stand to share my husband. It is a mockery. Or, perhaps, I would
kill him. It would depend ... on the circumstances."
As if Francois, that lily-livered, timorous thing, would ever be
capable of taking any woman to his bed, except in trembling duty,
thought the Cardinal. Mary need fear no rivals. But he said, "No, you
would not. If you were jealous, then that would mean you loved him.
And if you loved, love would stay your hand from evil."
"Much evil is done in the name of love," said Mary.
"Which brings us back to Master Knox," said the Duc. "True enough he's
safe in Geneva, hiding under Calvin's coattails, but the moment he
steps out I'll see to it he's silenced. Permanently. Odd that Calvin
shelters him; Calvin and his men advocate obedience to rulers."
"All that means is that he's wily enough to let others do his fighting
for him. Those wretched Calvinists have infiltrated France; they are
all over. They slink away to their heretical meetings under the cover
of night. "Night spectres," we call them Huguenots. Calvin sends them
books and preachers; he just won't buy them muskets and cannon. Not
yet."
"I'll blast them to their Kingdom come," said the Duc. "They won't
take root here."
"They already have, but their roots are not very deep," said the
Cardinal. "We must uproot them, pull them out."
"After the English are vanquished," said the Duc.
"Knox will not stay in Geneva," said Mary suddenly. "He will return to
Scotland, and there trouble my dear mother."
" Tis true, he has written her a most hateful letter," the Cardinal
agreed. "I happen to have a copy. Master Knox does not use a cipher;
he publishes everything he writes." He handed her a printed copy, its
title, Letter to the Regent of Scotland, in bold type.
Mary read it, her face growing more and more angry as she went along.
" "I do consider that your power is but borrowed, extraordinary, and
unstable, for ye have it but by permission of others." " She shook her
head angrily. "He means me! He means she has it from me!"
She continued.
"Impute not to fortune that first, your two sons were suddenly taken
from you within the space of six hours, and after, your husband reft,
as it were, by violence from life and honour, the memorial of his name,
succession, and royal dignity perishing with himself.
"For albeit the usurped abuse, or rather tyranny, of some realms have
permitted women to succeed to the honour of their fathers, yet must
their glory be transferred to the house of a stranger. And so I say
that with himself was buried his name, succession, and royal dignity;
and in this, if ye espy not the anger and hot displeasure of God,
threatening you and the rest of your house with the same plague, ye are
more obstinate than I would wish you to be.
"Ye may, perchance, doubt what crimes should have been in your husband,
you, or the realm for the which God should so grievously have punished
you. I answer: the maintenance and defence of most horrible
idolatry."
"Yes, he compares us to Ahab and all the evildoers in Israel," said the
Cardinal. "You need not read it all; it is quite redundant. He never
makes a point but he feels he may reiterate it twenty-eight times."
Mary kept reading, captive to all the venom and invective. "But the
fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and
whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars' "
"That is us, my dear," said the Cardinal, in a light, mocking tone.
" 'shall have their part in the lake which bur neth with fire and
brimstone, which is the second death." " She shuddered.
"I should be the one to tell you this," said the Cardinal. His face
grew serious for almost the first time that day. "I do not want you to
hear it from anyone besides your family. Your French family," he
emphasized. Shaking his ginger-coloured little beard, he said, "Your
brother James, who is coming here to attend your wedding, has joined
them. He has become a Protestant. He follows Knox now." He ground
out the words one by one like a man turning a crank. "He is one of
them."
ELEVEN
Mary lay awake, listening to the faint sounds of birds stirring. It
was lyet too early for birdsong; the sky was still night-dark. But she
1 could not sleep.
This is the last night I pass unmarried, she thought. This is my last
night as a maiden.
But what did that mean? she wondered. Did it mean that she and
Francois would lie together as a man and wife tomorrow night? They
would lie in bed together, that she knew. That was part of the
ceremony. But when they were alone?
Frangois has kissed me, she thought. But only in the same way as Uncle
le Balafre and Uncle the Cardinal; or as the Marys and I kiss one
another to say bonjour or au revoir. It is exactly the same. Indeed,
how can it be any different tomorrow? I know there is special
knowledge that comes to men, but Francois is not yet a man.
She sighed and rolled over. The light covers felt comforting in the
chilly April air of predawn. Francois had remained small; he barely
reached her shoulder. Moreover, he had never been well; he suffered
from coughs and colds and fevers, and had the puffy, pale face of an
invalid. And the whining, cantankerous nature of one as well, more was
the pity. The only person he seemed to regard as a friend and not an
enemy was Mary, his designated partisan and protector. For her alone
he managed a smile and an attempt at fetching his own toys. The rest
he ordered about languidly.
Poor Francois, thought Mary. How I wish his body would grow strong!
But her thoughts did not follow where that would inevitably lead. If
Francois had been a normal fourteen-year-old, with widening shoulders
and deepening voice, with eyes that followed women, the promise of her
forthcoming marriage would be altogether changed.
A chorus of birdsong now sprang up outside the windows, which began to
reveal their outline against the fading purple sky. The pale stones,
the pointed arches, looked like a church window; and indeed, this was
an old cloister, now the palace of the Archbishop of Paris. Outside
the windows were blooming branches, trees just getting their April
leaves. The birds sat chittering in them, ever more shrilly.