The Cardinal kissed her forehead.
“My darling, I know it was nothing. Of course, it was nothing. My pure, sweet Mary, who shall remain pure and sweet for the heir of France.” He put his arm about her and held her against him. “If there should be one, other than the heir of France, it shall not be the son of the Constable!”
She caught her breath, for his lips were on hers. It was one of those moments when she sensed danger close. But almost immediately he had stood up and was smiling down on her.
“Rest, my beloved,” he said. “Rest and think on what I have told you.”
She lay still after he had gone, trying to shut out the thoughts which the Cardinal had aroused in her. She could not. She could no longer picture Henri de Montmorency as he had seemed to her that day in the gardens; he was a different person, laughing and leering, calling to others to come and see how he had humiliated the Queen of Scots.
She buried her face in her pillows trying in vain to shut out those pictures.
THE CARDINAL, deeply disturbed, sought out his brother.
“We must hurry on the marriage,” he said. “I am sure it is imperative that we should do so.”
The Duke looked grave. “With Mary so young and the Dauphin even younger…”
“There are two reasons which make it necessary for us to press the King until this marriage is accomplished. I have it from the Dauphin’s doctor that his health is failing fast. What if he were to die before Mary has married him?”
“Disaster!” cried the Duke. “Unless we could secure young Charles for her.”
“He’s nearly ten years younger, and it will be long before he is marriageable. No! Mary must be Dauphine of France before the year is out. I have another reason, brother. I saw her walking in the gardens with the son of our enemy.”
“That remark,” said François cynically, “might indicate the son of almost any man at Court. As our powers grow, so do our enemies. To which one do you refer?”
“Montmorency. The Queen was with me and I have an idea that she was delighted to see those two together. I fancy she tried to make more of the affair than was justified. She was quite coarse, and talked of a bed as the best place to cool Mary’s fever.”
“You alarm me, brother.”
“I mean to. There is reason for alarm. You are the hero of Paris, of all France. You have given back Calais to the King; you bear the mark of heroism on your cheek. The people look at the scar you bear there and cry: “Vive le Balafré!” At this moment you could demand the marriage, and the King would find it hard to refuse you. Take my advice, brother. This is our moment. We should not let it pass.”
The Duke nodded thoughtfully. “I am sure you are right,” he said.
THE KING AND QUEEN received the Duke.
François 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 François. 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 François 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 François 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.”