“A large number of armed Protestants have been spotted, with the Prince de Condé at their head,” I say. The eyes of the others register fear at my pronouncement.
We wait for more news. We have been seated for some time, when the Duchesse of Uzès enters. Clapping her hands she declares, “We depart within the hour.”
“For where?” someone asks.
“Meaux. Waste no more of my time or your own with questions. Pack only what is needed to carry you through tomorrow. Servants will see what we leave behind sent on. Assemble in the courtyard ready for the saddle. There will be no coaches.”
The handwork, books, and instruments that were mere props as we waited are cast aside, and we run from the room. I am nearly to my apartment when I dash headlong into the Duc de Guise.
“Calmly, Your Highness,” he says, reaching out a hand to keep me from toppling backwards. “Panic will not get us to Meaux more quickly.”
“Why Meaux?” I ask.
“A fortified city is more defensible than a palace built for pleasure,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Do we need defending?”
He considers for a moment. “That remains to be seen. If the Protestants stay at Rozay-en-Brie, then we will have given up our hunting for nothing.”
“Do you think they will stay?”
“No.”
“And when they come, what will be their purpose?” I hold my breath. It is the sort of question that Mother would never answer, but the Duc has thus far treated me as a person of intelligence.
He looks about to make sure we are alone, then draws very close. So close that I can feel his breath upon my face. “It is said they plot to kidnap the King.”
Holy Mary! What stunning treachery! My body trembles slightly, and the Duc perceives it, regarding me with concern.
“Do not fear, Your Highness: there will be plenty of armed gentlemen to see you safely to Meaux.” Then, placing a hand upon my arm, he adds, “And I will not let harm befall you.” His hand drops as if he is embarrassed by the intimacy of the gesture. “Now go and make ready.”
CHAPTER 5
Meaux, France
When we reach Meaux we take over the Bishop’s palace—at least, those of highest rank do. Where those of lesser prominence go I cannot say. His Excellency was, of course, wholly unprepared for our coming. His Majesty’s fourriers were not a quarter hour before our party. I feel sympathy for His Grace as he stands on the covered stairway of his own palace looking lost as courtiers stream past. Inside all is chaos. Servants, their arms full of linens, run in every direction. Space is tight. Henriette, passing me, tells me that she is crammed into a room with her husband—a situation not at all pleasing. I am led to a chamber where I find the Duchesse d’Uzès. The thought of sharing a bed with this very elderly woman is not appealing. Seeing me in the doorway, she says, “Come in, come in. Her Majesty is with the King, and I am making sure things are as she likes them.”
I nearly gasp. For the first time in my life, it appears I am to share a bed with Mother. The dread of such auspicious lodgings adds to my state of agitation. I need a quiet place to collect myself, but where can I go when every corner is full? I hear a bell and my refuge is clear. Slipping out, I cross the courtyard to the Cathedral of Saint-étienne. Entering the transept, I am greeted by graceful arches in pale, smooth stone and intricate carvings that give the walls the appearance of lace. I give a sigh of pleasure at the beauty. I can feel my heart slowing.
Drawing in the familiar smells of incense and candle wax, I move to the nave. The church is not deserted. Near the high altar a gentleman kneels, head bowed. I make my way forward quietly. I would not disturb the man’s devotions. When I am a few yards away, I recognize the Duc de Guise. So he is a man of prayer—what a pleasant discovery. Looking up, he nods with a faint smile, then drops his head again over his clasped hands. Sinking to my knees and closing my eyes, I give thanks for our safe arrival and pray God will protect the King—protect us all. Then, though the subject is less exalted, I ask God to help me to show myself to best advantage while I am so closely in company with Mother. When I open my eyes, the spot where the Duc knelt is empty. I feel a certain disappointment, which is erased when I find him standing by the door. Silently he offers an arm and we step into the courtyard, now striped with golden light from the falling sun. Pausing he says, “You are a great deal calmer than when I saw you last.”
“The walls of the city and my prayers bring me reassurance.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
“Did your prayers comfort you?” I ask.
“I did not seek comfort, but strength—the strength to slay Coligny.” His voice is fierce.
“But I thought Condé headed the party we would evade.”
“The heretics would never undertake such a plot without consensus. Their party is a many-headed monster and I expect more than one chief to be with them if we meet.”