‘Monsieur,’ whispered Montpensier, ‘are you mad? To have come here in this manner is folly! Have you no idea of the sort of people with whom we have to deal? You are rash indeed to walk dark corridors such as this one alone.’
Coligny said: ‘I am under the King’s roof. I have the King’s pledge for my safety.’
Montpensier put his mouth close to Coligny’s ear.
‘Do you not know, man, that the King is not master in his own house? Take care.’
Coligny thought, as he went down to the banqueting hall, that there might be much in what Montpensier said; but he felt that he had received a call from on high; and the Huguenot cause was dearer to him than his own life.
The King was delighted to have Coligny at court.
‘Such a man as this,’ he told Marie, ‘I would fain be. He knows no fear. He does not care if assassins lie in wait for him. He would meet his death willingly, eagerly … if he thought it was God’s Will. Would that I were like Coligny!’
‘I love you as you are, my dearest Sire.’
He laughed, and caressed her.
‘The Huguenots cannot be wicked,’ he said. ‘Coligny is one, and he is the noblest man I know. Ambroise Paré is the greatest surgeon in France, and he is one. I said to him, “Do you cure Catholics as well as Huguenots, Monsieur Paré? Or when you wield the knife, do you sometimes let it slip … when your patient is a Catholic?” And he said to me, “Sire, when I wield the knife, I do not remember whether my patient is a Catholic or a Huguenot. I do not think of faith at such a time. I think only of my skill.” And that is true, Marie. There is something fine about such men. I would I were like them. Must I spend my whole life longing to be like others? I should like to write verses as Ronsard does, to be a great leader as is my dear friend Coligny, to be handsome and brave and have many women loving me, like Henry of Guise; and I should like to have won great battles and be my mother’s favourite, as is my brother Henry.’
His brow darkened at the thought of his brother. He hated Henry as he hated no other, for he knew that Henry hated him; he was wondering if a plot was being prepared by Henry and his mother, a plot to take the crown from him and place it on Henry’s head.
Henry hated Coligny as much as Charles loved the man. Catherine had prevailed on Henry to receive Coligny, but Henry had sulked and pretended to be ill. Henry was obviously dangerous – dangerous to the King and to Coligny.
Charles’s friendship with Coligny grew. He would not let the Admiral out of his sight if he could help it. Coligny talked to the King of his plans for a united France, in which he wished to include the Netherlands.
‘The Netherlands would then know peace, Sire, and if we made successful war on Spain we might bring the Spanish Indies under the French flag. There would be an Empire – an Empire in which men could worship as they pleased.’
The King listened and applauded. He began to make concessions to the Huguenots. Coligny’s presence at court was making itself felt; so was his influence with the King. Some Catholics who had massacred Protestants at Rouen were executed. Coligny only had to request the King’s attention, and it was his. The Catholics of Paris were uneasy, while the Guises, during a temporary absence from court, planned the downfall of the Admiral.
Catherine too watched the growing influence of Coligny over the King, but she was not disturbed. Little mad Charles was her creature; his tutors, still at their task, were her creatures; and she did not think any man – even such a man as Coligny – could undo so quickly all that she had done over the years. She wished to keep Coligny at court. She had no wish to kill him yet. She hated him; she was suspicious of him, and she would watch him closely, but at the moment he was more useful alive. He was, with Jeanne of Navarre, her greatest enemy; even so, his time had not yet come. For one thing, she liked the idea of this war with Spain. Coligny was a great leader, the very man to lead the French in such a war. He would be invaluable if the plan came to fulfilment. War with Spain! Victorious war! Oh, to be free from the fear of that man of gloom, the Catholic tyrant of Madrid. He was the biggest bogy in Catherine’s life, although so many miles separated them. And another reason why she was not ready to get rid of Coligny yet was that she was anxious to marry Margot to Henry of Navarre. If she despatched Coligny, how could she ever lure Jeanne and her son to court? No! All honour must be done to Coligny until, through him, she had brought about this marriage of her daughter and the son of Jeanne of Navarre.
Her son Henry was being a little tiresome over this matter of Coligny. She made excuses for him. It was so difficult for him, so recently at war with the man, to have him here in the palace, to see him fêted, made the confidant of the King. Catherine had neither the authority nor the influence over this spoiled and beloved son that she had over her other children. He sulked and clearly showed his enmity to the Admiral.
So she must have Henry watched; she must spy on her darling; and she had discovered that he was in secret communication with the Guises, who were now at Troyes. They made no secret of their desire for the death of the Admiral; not only was he the leader of their enemies, the Huguenots, but they looked upon him as the murderer of Francis Duke of Guise, and this would never be forgotten nor forgiven.
Catherine was hurt that her dearest Henry should be plotting with the Guises without telling her. She went to him one day and, when they were alone, very gently let him know that she was aware of this secret plan.
Henry was surprised, but he smiled and, taking her hand, kissed it.
‘I had forgotten how clever you are, my mother.’
Catherine flushed with pleasure. ‘My darling, if I am clever, it is due to my love for you. It is because I watch all your interests with the greatest care. What of this plot?’
‘But you know.’
‘Tell me. I should like you to tell me all the same.’
‘There is to be a fête, a sort of masque, a sham tournament. We are going to build a fort at Saint-Cloud. I am to defend it and we are to arrange that Coligny shall lead his men to the attack. A sham battle, you see. That is how it will start; and then, suddenly, it will cease to be a sham. We shall, at a given moment, fire to kill. We shall kill them all … every Huguenot among them. What do you say to that, my mother?’
She looked into his flushed face, at his petulant mouth. She did not like it at all, but she would not tell him so, for if she did, and this did not come to pass, he would suspect her of having had a hand in stopping it, and be quite cross with her. It was no use; she could not bear his displeasure. She would not therefore explain to him that she hated Coligny as much as he did, and that she had decided on his death – but at the right time. She did not explain that if they killed him now Queen Jeanne would never come to court and bring her son so that a marriage might be arranged between him and Margot; why, if they were to wage war on Spain, this marriage of Huguenot Henry of Navarre and Catholic Margot would be the best thing possible. Catholics and Huguenots would march together against Spain. She could not risk his sulking, so she told him none of these things; she kissed him, admired his new ornaments, told him the plan was a clever one, and begged him to take care of his precious person, which was more dear to her than all else; and in the last statement at least she spoke with sincerity.
Then she went along to the King’s apartment and, dismissing all his attendants and taking her usual precautions to ensure that they were not overheard, she revealed to Charles the plot which had been concocted by his brother and the Guises.
Charles was speechless in his horror. There was foam on his lips and his eyes protruded horribly.