The Queen and the Courtesan (25 page)

‘But then we fell to quarrelling, over
his
women,
my
lovers, my settlement and property, and the fact I refused to grant him the divorce he needed to marry Gabrielle d'Estrées.'

‘But that young lady is no longer a threat,' Madame de Noailles gently reminded her. ‘You not only gladly signed the papers but the King has married his Florentine princess. Since that glad day Your Majesty has frequently written to Queen Marie with respect and congratulations at the joyous news of a birth, and you have been most helpful to the King during the recent travails.'

‘That is certainly true. Did I not frequently come into possession of many interesting nuggets of information regarding Balzac and Auvergne, sent to me in the gossipy correspondence from my many friends at court?'

‘Which you did not hesitate to pass on to the King. His Majesty's gratitude is such at this moment that he may finally grant the permission you seek.'

There was a small silence in which Margot set down her dish of chocolate untouched. ‘You are right, Noailles.' Hope soared in her, a giddy sensation akin to flying. ‘That rascal Auvergne was the recipient of a substantial inheritance from my mother, Catherine de Medici, which should rightly have been mine. Perhaps this is the moment to petition parliament and make another attempt to retrieve it.'

Madame de Noailles brought paper and ink and set it beside Margot's breakfast plate. ‘Since the Count has been sent into perpetual imprisonment he will have little use for such a fortune now. This may also be a good time to write again to the King, for permission to leave Usson?'

‘It may indeed, but we will not wait for his reply, Noailles. I shall simply inform him that I am coming home.'

Margot's journey across country from Usson was a good deal more comfortable than her last travels when she'd fled for her life from Agen. On that occasion she'd abandoned side-saddle in order to make greater speed bareback, and suffered blistered thighs as a result. When she'd grown too weary to stay upright, she'd ridden pillion behind Aubiac. Her loyal band of supporters had crossed precipitous mountains, forded raging rivers, and frequently got lost in thick forests, obliged to avoid all roads in case she was being pursued by her enemies.

Now she rode on a cushioned seat in a coach of relative comfort, passing through some of France's most beautiful countryside. She stopped to rest at Toury, and again for a time at Villres-Cotterêts, which formed part of her heritage from her father, Henri II. Her brother Charles IX had loved to escape to this hunting lodge deep in the forest of Compiègne when suffering from one of his black moods.

She had received no response to her letter, as yet, from the King, but several from friends. ‘They are warning me not to enter the capital without Henry's permission. I am growing ever more nervous, the nearer we get to Paris. What will I do if he denies me entry? I cannot bear the thought of being forced to return to Usson.'

‘I'm certain it will not come to that,' her
dame d'honneur
assured her.

The party were in the small village of Cercote, her gentlemen tending to the horses while Margot rested in her chamber, when, all of a sudden, there came the sounds of a disturbance in the courtyard. There was the clatter of hooves, shouts of the grooms; clearly a large party arriving.

Margot groaned. ‘Someone has come; find out who it is Noailles, but pray do not allow them to disturb me. I must needs sleep.'

Sleep was forgotten, however, when moments later her attendant rushed in with news. ‘It is Baron de Rosny himself come to meet you, Madame, and he's brought his good wife with him.'

Dishabille as she was, dressed only in her
robe de chambre
, Margot welcomed him warmly. ‘My old friend, how good it is to see you again after all these years. And how well and prosperous you look.'

‘And I see Your Majesty's beauty is undimmed by the years.' Rosny grinned, making his delight in seeing her again all too evident.

She laughed out loud. ‘Ever the flatterer, but I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you here.' Only seven or eight years younger than herself, Margot knew him to be a loyal servant of the King since Henry's days as the Prince of Navarre, although, unlike his master, he had refused to convert to the Catholic faith. ‘When first I met you, you were but a boy, a student, I seem to remember, studying at the College of Bourgogne at the time of the Saint Bartholomew's Day Massacre.'

‘From which I fortunately escaped unscathed by wisely contriving to be seen carrying a Book of Hours under my arm.'

They both laughed, as if it were a joke and not a matter of life and death. ‘Would that it had been so easy for Henry and myself. How is the King?'

‘His Majesty is well. I have business in Châtellerault, but he bade me come to meet you on your journey. He wishes me to sound out your intentions and thank you for your assistance in dealing with the malcontents. My wife also eagerly awaits the opportunity to be the first court lady to compliment Your Majesty on her return to the world.'

They talked for some time, as the old friends they were, discussing the troubles in Limousin, the intrigues of Biron and then Auvergne. Margot explained how she had already petitioned parliament for the return of her inheritance, and Rosny offered his full support.

‘But what of the King and Queen, how do you think they will react to my presence?'

‘I believe the King is secretly looking forward to seeing you again. I assure you, Madame, you will be well received by both the King and Queen.'

‘Would that I could believe you.' Margot felt deeply vulnerable. As the last Valois her position and alleged wealth was coveted by many, yet her years away from court had changed her. She was no longer that beautiful, adventurous young princess, but a stranger now in the court that had once been captivated by her charms. ‘I am nothing more than a divorced wife, a barren queen with nothing to offer.'

‘You can offer your friendship, your loyalty, which have never been in doubt.'

Again she laughed, gurgling with pleasure at the repartee. ‘You grow ever more diplomatic, but do not twist the facts, old friend. My friendship and loyalty to the King were most sorely tested, and doubted, on numerous occasions. Scandalous rumours about me were rife, one would not be exaggerating to say they were at times the life blood of the court.' Then just as abruptly, she grew serious. ‘I beg you to give me your word that no further harm or dishonour will befall me. I want nothing more than to enjoy my last years without censure or apprehension.'

‘I pledge, on my honour, that you will be safe.'

Later they dined together, and Margot spent a happy day with the Baron and his lady, before Rosny went on his way and the Queen's party continued on to Paris.

Margot arrived at the Château of Madrid on the outskirts of Paris on 19 July 1605. She could find no fault with her reception as the palace had been magnificently prepared for its long-absent mistress. She was greatly encouraged by the trouble taken, and by the fact she was met by César, the young Duke of Vendôme, who had been sent by the King, together with his tutor, to welcome her.

‘The excitement among the people is high,' he told her, most seriously. ‘They are eager to welcome back their beautiful Queen, the last of the Valois who was so outrageously and disgracefully evicted from court.'

Margot was enchanted by the boy, a precocious child if ever there was one, and allowed him to kiss her hand then take her on a tour of the palace, as if he were the one responsible for making her feel at home. Afterwards, she penned a note to the King, waxing lyrical about the nine-year-old's charms.

‘I believe, Monseigneur, that God has given him to Your Majesty for special service . . . He is a royal prodigy truly worthy of Your Majesty.' She added a postscript. ‘I took extreme precaution that the journey taken by this delicate little angel of yours should do him no harm, and I exhorted him very zealously not to pass through Paris. Your Majesty will pardon me if I presume to say that you are not careful enough about his health.'

Queen Marie, when she read this letter, was deeply offended. César was a favourite of hers too, yet she took exception to Margot's comments. ‘How dare she criticize the arrangements we made for him? He was perfectly well escorted on his journey, and properly guarded.'

Henry gave a wry smile as he fastened on his cloak, attempting to pacify his queen who had become increasingly insecure of late, the cause for which could no doubt be laid at his own door. ‘Marguerite is somewhat extravagant in her praise but she means no harm by it. She is a woman of great character and passions, full of
joie de vivre
, and possesses great tenacity and courage. She is articulate and well educated, a lover of poetry and art, politics and religion, skilled in languages, and indeed fond of young children. It is a tragedy that she had none of her own. I am sure that when you meet her, you will find that you have a great deal in common.'

A chill wind flickered down Marie's spine as she listened to her husband sing the praises of his former queen. Had she not enough trouble with mistresses without an ex-wife to contend with as well? ‘Meet her! Are you intending to receive her at court?'

‘Of course I will receive her. How could you imagine otherwise?'

‘But I'm not sure that
I
can. I should feel most awkward. She was your
wife
, after all.'

He pulled on his leather gloves, one by one. ‘That is all in the past. Will you ride with me now to greet her?'

Marie stiffened, a tremor of nervousness in the pit of her stomach, yet she held fast to her resolve to keep her distance from this new threat. ‘I would prefer not to.'

‘Very well, then I shall ride out alone,' Henry agreed in his equable way. ‘You can make the necessary preparations for receiving her later.'

Marie watched him go with a heavy heart. Should she have accompanied him? Had she again made the wrong decision?

The meeting between King and Queen, one-time husband and wife, was surprisingly warm considering the fierceness of their quarrels over the years. Henry arrived at about seven and they sat and talked all evening, much of it concerning the details Margot had learned concerning the intrigues of Madame de Verneuil, and more serious worries involving the assignment of Marseilles, Toulon, and other cities to the Spaniards. Henry thanked her for generously agreeing to a divorce so that France now had the heir she needed, and for the deference Margot had shown to his new queen. But most of all they enjoyed reminiscing about the past.

‘I give you due warning not to expect too much. The courts of your brothers, both Henri Trois and Charles IX, were far more luxurious and brilliant than my own.'

‘You were ever parsimonious,' Margot teased. ‘Particularly when it came to soap, I seem to remember. I do hope you have learned better hygiene and do not trouble your present queen by attempting to visit
her
bed with dirty feet, as you did mine.'

Henry grinned. ‘I doubt she would wash them for me, as you did.'

‘I was ever a woman of high standards. You know that I like my perfume, my diamonds, and my splendid gowns.'

‘And your dancing and cavorting, your ballets and banquets. I am only too aware of your ability to spend money,' Henry gently admonished. ‘While I, as the King, must think first of the treasury before my own pleasures.'

‘Which is why you are so loved by your people. You have done a great deal to improve their lives: building roads and bridges, repairing the destruction left behind by my brother, as well as lowering taxes. Henri Trois bled them dry, you succour them.'

‘I believe if every Frenchman can afford to have a chicken in his pot on a Sunday, he will be a contented citizen.'

‘I do not seek to make problems for you, Henry,' Margot added, suddenly anxious. ‘I trust we are going to be friends.'

‘You will be my very dear sister.'

She smiled at him, resolutely putting behind her all their former differences. ‘I would like that very much.'

‘There are only two things which I must request Your Majesty to concede. The first is that for the sake of your health you will refrain from turning night into day, and day into night. The second concerns those pecuniary affairs of which we speak. I beg you to be less liberal in your expenditure.'

Margot laughed out loud. ‘Sire, I will strive to please you in all things. But your first request will be difficult to comply with, for such has been the habit of my life from childhood. As to my liberality, I fear to make such a promise. I am a Valois and a Medici, profligacy and heedless munificence have ever been the failings of our family houses.'

The King sighed. ‘I can but hope for the best.'

The court was buzzing with anticipation. At last the two queens were to meet. Marie was trembling with nerves, not quite sure what to expect. ‘That woman has spent her entire life making mischief for you,' she reminded Henry. ‘Why should she want to come here and bother you now?'

‘I believe I have made as much trouble for her, and it is time to leave the past behind us. She is lonely. Be kind to her, Marie. It is a humiliation to lose a crown, and a sadness to her in old age to find herself without children. We are the only family she has left, we can afford to be generous.'

‘We do not all have your heart of gold,' Marie tartly responded. ‘It is humiliating for me, as all of Paris will see this beautiful queen they have lost and may prefer her to me.'

He tenderly kissed her forehead. ‘Now why should they do that? Are you not handsome too, and didn't you give France a dauphin? Now here she comes; smile and offer your deepest curtsey.'

Marie looked sharply up at him, not quite able to believe this last instruction. ‘You wish me to offer obeisance to my predecessor?'

‘I wish you to treat a fellow queen with proper respect. She is the daughter of a King, three of her brothers were Kings of France. She was herself Queen of France and Navarre. I will have her treated accordingly.'