Médicis Daughter: A Novel of Marguerite de Valois

“With pleasure, Your Majesty.”


While Mother hands Henriette a sample of the blue, Claude leans in and whispers, “They reminded Charles of Montceaux today.”

Of the long-ago kidnapping attempt?

“Who?” I whisper back.

“Birague, Tavannes, Montpensier,” she says. “Retz has been with Charles for hours by Mother’s express command.”

Henriette moves out of Her Majesty’s line of vision and Claude sits bolt upright.

What is she trying to tell me? The men she names are influential with the King and all heavily under the influence of Mother. Tavannes is a military man and much inclined, therefore, to military solutions.

“May I have something from your basket to work on?” I ask Claude, careful to speak unconcernedly, as if nothing more than embroidery were on my mind.

She bends down to take up the basket and I with her.

“Mother has bent Charles to her will,” Claude whispers frantically. “It is no longer justice he seeks.”

Straightening, I am not surprised to find Mother’s eyes upon us.

I take up a needle and attempt to thread it, but my hands shake. Is Claude trying to reassure me Henri is safe? If so, why is there terror in her voice? What exactly is there to fear if Charles has given up his investigation into the attempt upon the admiral’s life?

“Margot, you look tired,” Mother observes. “You must go to bed early. In fact, you may go now.” I stare at her, wide-eyed. I do not wish to be dismissed. Not until I have divined what goes on.

“Your Majesty, I thank you for your concern, but I assure you I am fine. Will you not permit me the honor of helping you prepare for bed, as is my right and duty?”

“It is pleasing to have a dutiful child,” she replies. “But as your mother I must look to your health before my own pleasure in your company. You can be spared and it is my wish that you return to your rooms.”

There is nothing for it. I must go. I hand Claude the basket, stand, and curtsy. As I rise a hand clutches my sleeve. Half turning, I find tears coursing down my sister’s face.

“Margot,” she says, choking back a sob, “do not go! This is not a night for bed.”

“Enough! Claude, you are overwrought and will upset your sister to no purpose.”

“Your Majesty, I beg you—”

“Not another word.”

Claude hangs her head.

“Good night, then.” I move toward the door, keenly aware all eyes are upon me.

When I reach my apartment, Gillone sticks her head out of the next chamber. Within moments she is ghosting away with a note for the King of Navarre. Something dire goes on, and no mistaking.

I am on my knees at my prie-dieu when they come en masse in response to my summons—my cousin and three dozen of his gentlemen. “Let only the King come through,” I instruct, staying where I am. Having humbled myself before Guise earlier, I now mean to do the same before my husband. Well, I tell myself as he crosses the threshold, humility is a virtue before God.

“Wife, you may cease your prayers, for I am come.” The joke, the smile—awkward and out of place—put me in mind of all the times he vexed me as a youth.

“I did not pray for your arrival, Sir, but for both our safety.”

“You have news.”

“The Duchesse de Lorraine tells me the King no longer seeks justice.”

“Ventre-saint-Gris! Well, we seek it still. If that is all, I will leave you to your devotions.”

“Do not be so hasty. I have been with my mother and something has changed. She smiles the sort of smile that generally presages ill for those she considers her enemies.”

“Surely I do not fall into that category. If she considered me such, I doubt sincerely she would have given you, her own daughter, to me as a bride, embraced me as a son, and encouraged the King to call me ‘brother.’”

“The use of the word ‘surely’ in conjunction with Her Majesty is a grievous error, Sir. But never mind. I do not need to convince you to be as fearful as I am. I have brought you here to ask a favor.”

He tilts his head slightly, clearly both curious and wary.

I swallow and plunge onward. “Stay with me tonight.”

“You cannot be eager for my company, so you must truly feel to your bones that something is coming.”

“I am as certain as the day I saw blood.”

“All right. If you will rest more easily knowing I am here, it will be so. But the hour is early; my gentlemen and I have much to discuss. I will go and return.”

I wait for a feeling of relief. It does not come. So I shake my head. “No. Do not return to your rooms. You and your gentlemen may have the use of my antechamber. Gillone and I will stay tucked away here and leave you to your business.”

“You wish my gentlemen to remain too?”

“I have seen how they guard you. If the King’s men are sent to arrest you, then your own men will buy you time to flee.”

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