Royal Road to Fotheringhay - Plaidy Jean - Страница 19

The Duke nodded thoughtfully. “I am sure you are right,” he said.

THE KING AND QUEEN received the Duke.

Francois de Guise, the man of action, did not waste time. He came straight to the point.

“Your Majesties, I have a request to make, and I trust you will give me your gracious attention.”

“It is yours, cousin,” the King assured him.

“It is many years since my niece came to France,” said the Duke, “and it is touching to see the love she and the Dauphin bear toward each other. I know that both these children long for marriage, and my opinion is that it should take place as soon as possible. I am hoping that Your Majesties are of the same opinion.”

The King said: “I think of them as children. It seems only yesterday that I went to the nurseries and found the little Stuart there with Francois. What a beautiful child! I said then that I had never seen one more perfect, and it holds today.”

“It is a matter of deep gratification to our House,” said the Duke, “that one of our daughters should so please Your Majesty. I venture to say that Mary Stuart will make a charming and popular dauphine.”

Catherine glanced at her husband and murmured: “All you say is true, Monsieur de Guise. The little Stuart is charming. It seems that she only has to smile in order to turn all Frenchmen’s heads. She will indeed be a beautiful dauphine… when the time comes.”

“That time is now,” said the Duke, with that arrogance which was second nature to him.

The King resented his tone, and the Queen lowered her eyes that neither of the men should see that she was pleased by the King’s resentment.

She said quickly: “In my opinion—which I beg Your Majesty and you, Monsieur de Guise, to correct, if it seems wrong to you—these are but two children… two delightful children whom everyone loves and wishes the greatest happiness in the world. I know that to plunge two young children into marriage can be alarming for them. It might even injure that pretty comradeship which delights us all.” She was looking at the King appealingly; she knew she had turned his thoughts back to their own marriage all those years ago when he was a boy, of much the same age as Francois was now, with a girl beside him, a quiet, plain Italian girl—Catherine herself—whom he had never been able to love.

The King’s lips came tightly together; then he said: “I agree with the Queen. As yet they are too young. Let them wait a year or so.”

In exasperation the Duke began: “Sire, I am of the opinion that these two are ripe for marriage—”

The King interrupted coldly: “Monsieur de Guise, your opinion can be of little moment if, in this matter of our children’s marriage, it differs from that of the Queen and myself.”

The Duke was dismissed. He was furious. He had no alternative but to bow and retire, leaving this matter of the marriage as unsettled now as it had been before he had spoken.

BUT THE Cardinal and the Duke were not the men to let important matters slide. The Cardinal was quite sure that at all costs the delay must be ended.

He walked with the King in the gardens. He was more subtle than his brother. He talked first of the Protestant party in Scotland, of those lords who were in league with John Knox and were turning his little niece’s realm from the Catholic faith. The King, as an ardent Catholic, could well see the danger that lay in that.

“Your Majesty knows that my niece’s bastard brother, Lord James Stuart, is one of these men, and with him are the most powerful men in Scotland—Glencairn, Morton, Lorn, Erskine, Argyle. It is open war against the true faith in Scotland. A sad state of affairs, Your Majesty.”

The King agreed that it was so.

“We shall have them repudiating Mary Stuart next and setting the bastard over them. That, no doubt, is his plan.”

“They’ll never allow a bastard to rule them.”

“Who knows what that fanatic Knox will lead them to! They might well say, better a baseborn Protestant than a true Catholic queen.”

Henri said: “It shall never happen. We’ll send armies to subdue them.”

“Sire, since Saint Quentin we are not as strong as we were. If you will forgive the boldness, may I suggest that these barbarians could be made to respect my niece more if her status were raised. If she were not merely the Queen of Scotland but also the Dauphine of France they would think twice about flouting her in favor of the bastard.”

“The Queen and I, as I told your brother, consider that as yet Mary and Francois are too young.”

“The Queen and Your Majesty are as usual right. Ah… these little kings-to-be… these queens! Sometimes they must be married before their time. How fortunate it is that our Dauphin is affianced to one whom he has loved almost from her cradle. It is a fate, Sire, which befalls few of any royal house.”

“That’s true, Cardinal. I would wish to see them married but I am loath to spoil that happy and tender comradeship which warms my heart every time I see them together.”

“Your Majesty is not only their devoted King; he is their beloved father.”

“That is how I would have it, Cardinal.”

“And that is how they would have it, I know. I hope Your Majesty will consider it wise to have the children married before you need the help of Scotland next year against the English … as you assuredly will.”

The King was silent. What the Cardinal said was true. He himself was a soldier of some ability and he knew that he might shortly need the help of Scotland. The marriage would make sure of that.

He continued silent and the Cardinal went on: “Your Majesty, I have drafted an agreement which, if signed, would bring great good to France. It is premature, I know, and could not, of course, be signed by Mary Stuart until the marriage is certain; but thinking of the good of our country, and the depression we felt after Saint Quentin …”

“What is this agreement?” asked the King.

“If she could be induced to sign it, it would give her kingdom to the crown of France should she die without heirs; she would also transfer her rights to the crown of England to Your Majesty, or your successors, until a million gold crowns had been paid to France as an indemnity for those monies which France had paid out for the defense of Scotland.”

The King gasped. “But… how can she sign such a document? She has no power to do so without the consent of the Parliament and the Regent.”

“She is the Queen of Scotland. Her signature on the document would make it valid.”

“Would she sign such a document? Poor child, would she understand what she was doing?”

“I will explain it to her.”

The King was uneasy yet desperately tempted. He must be a king first now, and father second. Scotland was an unruly country; it was an unhappy, a tortured country; how much happier it would be, completely depending on France!

“She would sign,” said the Cardinal softly. “She would be only too happy to give you these rights. She loves you. You are her beloved father. She would be only too happy to repay something of all you have done for her.”

The King nodded. The crown of Scotland was being offered to him and his heirs. He could not turn away from it. The temptation was too great.

“I am sure,” said the smooth-voiced Cardinal, “that when she knows she is to be in very truth your daughter, gladly will she put her name to the documents which I shall place before her.”

“I think,” said the King, “that as they love each other and as they have known each other so long, it would please them to know that they are to be married.”

“Soon,” added the Cardinal. “I will break this wonderful news to my niece. I am impatient to witness her joy.”

“And I will break the news to my son. I know he will be the happiest boy in Fontainebleau this day.”

So the King smothered his conscience; the Cardinal—having none—was spared such pains.