Catherine reminded herself bitterly that this gondola would have been made to the King’s instructions, and that was why it bore those letters.
At Vaise a pavilion had been made ready to receive them and everywhere Catherine looked there were those significant letters. The whole country, then, was saying: ‘It is not the Queen we must honour if we will please the King; it is his mistress.’
When they left the pavilion and entered the town they found themselves in an artificial forest which had been erected by the citizens for their reception. It was cleverly contrived, but spoiled for Catherine, for no sooner had they entered this man-made forest than through the artificial trees came a party of nymphs― all the most beautiful girls of the neighborhood― and their leader, the loveliest of them all, carried a bow and a quiver. It was immediately apparent that she was to represent Diana, the goddess of the chase. She lead a tame lion on a silver chain, and she asked the King to accept the animal from the citizens of Lyons.
And I, the Queen, Catherine thought, might be nothing but the attendant of Diane, for all the respect that is paid to me! Yet there was worse to come. There followed the entry into Lyons itself, under triumphal arches, past the fluttering flags; and, listening to the cries of the welcoming crowds, Catherine in her open litter with the weight of diamonds and wretchedness, knew the acclamation was not for her, but for Diane, who rode behind her on her white palfrey dressed in her becoming garments of black-and-white.
The citizens of Lyons had no doubt of what was expected of them. When the burghers came forward to greet the ladies, they kissed the hand of Diane first, and that of the Queen second.
Between her lids, the Queen surveyed them.
Never, never had a Queen of France been so publicly humiliated!
After the triumphal journey through the cities of France, the royal party made its way to Saint-Germain. Catherine was more unhappy at Saint-Germain than anywhere else; yet when she knew that they were bound for this palace, she could scarcely wait to reach her apartments. In them she could suffer more exquisite torture than in any other spot. Everywhere else she imagined; there she saw.
All were eager to see the little Queen of Scotland, who was now living at Saint-Germain with the royal children, and the child was the topic of conversation as the cavalcade rode On the arrival, the usual ceremonies which accompanied the King wherever he went were performed; and once again it was Diane who was treated with the homage and respect which should have been the Queen’s.
Quietly, and as soon as she could do so unobserved, Catherine slipped away and went to the nurseries.
The nurses in attendance curtsied low.
‘And how are the children? And how have they been in our absence?’
‘Your Majesty, the baby is very well, and so is Mademoiselle Elizabeth.’
‘And the young Prince?’
‘He is not so well, Madame, but the coming of the little Queen has cheered him greatly.’
Catherine went into the first of the nurseries, where three children were playing together. Francis and Elizabeth smiled the queer, uncertain smiles they always gave her.
‘Good day to you, my dears,’ said Catherine.
‘Good day to you, Maman,’ said Francis. He was now five and small for his years. Little Elizabeth was three and a half.
Now Catherine’s eyes were on the newcomer, was the loveliest little girl the Queen had ever seen; her hair was fair and softly curling, her eyes bright-blue, her complexion delicately tinted, and her face a perfect heart-shape. So this was little Mary Stuart! No wonder accounts of her charms had preceded her! She was enchanting; and Catherine was immediately aware that it was not merely enchantment of face and form.
The little girl’s bow was graceful, and there was no sign of self- consciousness as she came forward to greet the Queen of France; her manner was completely dignified as though she had in mind that while she was now in the presence of the Queen of France, she herself was destined for that high rank.
She was six years old― a little older than Francis- easy to see that in the short time she had known him she had made the boy her slave. Already he loved her. That was perhaps just as well, since he would have to marry her.
‘Welcome to France, my dear.’
In perfect French the little girl thanked the Queen for her welcome.
‘You had a comfortable journey, I trust,’ said Catherine.
‘Oh yes. Soon after we left the Clyde, though, an English squadron sighted us, but we escaped. That was most exciting!’
Her eyes sparkled. Could it be that she was only six? She seemed more than a year older than Francis. And even Elizabeth, Catherine noticed, was ready to follow her about and laugh when she laughed. She seemed to have been educated in advance of the little Valois. Well, they would all be educated together now, for the King had given orders that Mary Stuart was to be brought up as a French princess, although in view of the exalted position she would one day hold, she would immediately take precedence of the little Valois girls.
The child chattered on in French. Yet she was a dignified little thing, Catherine thought, a little too imperious. She seemed to be implying: You are the Queen, but I am the future Queen. I am the daughter of kings; and you come from a merchant family! But that could not be. Catherine was a little over-sensitive on that point. She had suffered so much indignity that it might be that she was too ready to look for slights.
She sent for the child’s governess who was a pretty red-headed widow; a natural daughter of James IV of Scotland. Her name was Lady Fleming; and she declared herself to be at the service of the Queen of France.
Catherine discussed the education of the children, and explained that she herself supervised, to a large extent, the children’s education. She fancied Lady Fleming’s smile was a trifle impertinent, as though she already knew that the Queen was only allowed to do what Madame Diane permitted. Truly, Catherine reminded herself, I am over-sensitive. It was the after-effects of the humiliation of Lyons.
‘I shall be giving you instructions,’ she told Lady Fleming and dismissed the woman.
‘Now children,’ she said, ‘tell me what you have been doing while you have been awaiting the coming of the King and myself.’
Francis was about to speak, but Mary spoke for him. They had played games which she had introduced; they had read books which she had brought with her.
Francis’s Latin was not very good she feared; and Elizabeth scarcely knew anything at all.
‘I can see you are a very learned young person,’ said Catherine; at which the little Queen of Scotland was graciously pleased.
Catherine then asked questions about the court of Scotland, and Mary supplied the answers, while Francis and Elizabeth watched her in delight. Every now and then, Francis would: ‘ Maman, Mary says―’ Or: ‘Mary, tell my gracious mother of the way you ride in Scotland―’ And Elizabeth kept murmuring Mary’s name and clutching the elder child’s gowns with her fat little fingers.
An enchanting child, thought Catherine. But one to whom it would be necessary to teach a little humility.
.And then Henry and Diane came into the room.
The attendants dropped to their knees and little Mary Stuart gave the most charming curtsy of all.
‘Come here, little Mary, and let me look at you,’ said Henry. The lovely blue eyes were lifted to Henry’s face with something like awe. She might be the future Queen of France, but here was the ruling King.