‘There have been so many negotiations for Margot. First Henry of Navarre, then Don Carlos, now the Prince of Portugal.’
‘That does not mean that one of these may not come to something.’
‘I shall never allow that.’
‘Now listen, my nephew: it is all very well to be gallant and noble in the presence of your mistress. With your old statesman uncle you must be frank. You want to marry Princess Margot. I, and all our house, will help you in this. Therefore I beg of you to go carefully. Try to hide your intentions for a time, until the moment comes when it is good policy to show them. Dear boy, you are as close to me as though you were my own son – closer, in fact, for are you not the head of our house? My brothers, your uncles, all have discussed this matter with me, and we have agreed that nothing could advance our house more than this marriage with the Princess. But you must take care. We do not wish to see you in your grave. Your brothers, Charles and Louis, have not your qualities. You must therefore take our considered advice in this matter, which is this: continue to enjoy your mistress; bind her closer to you; but act with more secrecy, and, moreover, it will be as well if you pay court to another lady to divert suspicion. That should not be difficult, for I have heard it said that there is no young man at the court of France who can compare with Henry, Duke of Guise; and there are few women who could resist him. Your success with Mademoiselle Margot, I imagine, did not demand a great effort on your part. My boy, you have charm, you have good looks, you have power and rank. In fact, you have everything. Do not dissipate these assets, but use them to good advantage. Now, the Princess of Clèves watches you, my boy, with languishing glances; she is pining for you. It would not seem amiss if you paid court to her, for she would be a good match.’
‘I have no intention of marrying anyone but Margot.’
‘Of course you do not wish to marry any but Margot; nor do we wish it. But on account of the Queen Mother and her spies, pay a little court to the Princess of Clèves. Do not let the Queen Mother think that you have hopes of Margot, for I greatly fear that if she did she would not be very pleased. My dearest Henry, it is fatal when the Queen Mother turns those cold eyes upon a man and decides he has become a nuisance to her.’
‘Such an affair is repulsive to me.’
‘Oh, come come! Are you the head of a great house or are you a love-sick boy? Explain to Margot if need be. She will not be colder, I imagine, if she thinks you look elsewhere.’ The Cardinal laid his arm about Henry’s shoulders. ‘A great destiny may be yours,’ he whispered. ‘Look at Catherine’s sons: Charles, a little madman; Henry, a pervert; Hercule, that strutting coxcomb! And then … Navarre? A lazy good-for-nothing. I have seen in him something which tells me that he will be wax in the hands of women. Condé? Condé will not live long, depend upon it. Either some battle or the Queen Mother will finish him. Ah, my lord Duke, there are many between our house and the throne, I know, but the citizens of Paris love you as they loved your father. I have heard their shouting in the streets. Paris thinks for France, decides for France.’
Henry drew away; he could hear the shouts of the Parisians in his ears. King … King of France! And Margot his Queen!
The Cardinal smiled at the flushed, handsome face.
‘Why not?’ he said. ‘A marriage with a royal Valois Princess would doubtless clinch the matter. My boy, do not, in your reckless folly, spoil that chance. Act the statesman even while you act the lover.’
Margot was in a fury of jealousy, and Henry found it difficult to calm her.
How dared he look as he had looked at Catherine de Clèves? She had seen his smile; she had also seen the way the woman had answered it.
He tried to explain: ‘Margot, I love you more than anything in the world. I want no one but you. But others have noticed our love, and this must not be.’
‘Who? ‘Who?’ she demanded. ‘And what do I care? They will notice that you are playing me false with that creature. I hate her. I will have her banished. I could not believe that you could treat me so.’
It was necessary to make ardent love to her, to soothe her, to assure her a hundred times of his devotion to her alone. Then when she lay quiet beside him he decided to explain.
‘My uncle, the Cardinal, knows what is between us.’
‘That lecher! That man of God!’ she cried.
‘I know, my darling. But he has great wisdom. He says it is unsafe for us to show our love.’
‘Unsafe? He is a coward. He wears a suit of mail under his church robes. He fears someone may stab him, as he deserves to be stabbed.’
‘We must be wise, my Princess, my love. Our hearts would be broken if aught came between us.’
She wept and clung to him.
‘Swear to me that you do not love her.’
‘I love no one but you, Margot. I must pay some court to her, because to some we have made our love known. We must think of the future. We must marry, but at the moment everything would be against us. Your mother is negotiating for the Prince of Portugal. What do you think would happen if it were known that you and I have already been what we have been to one another?’
‘I do not know and I do not care. I only care that we should continue to be that to one another. I am afraid of my mother … oh, so terribly afraid. There is something in her that frightens me. But I would brave her anger; I would brave anything for this, Henry.’
He could only caress her, murmur endearments, undying fidelity, let himself be drawn into more passionate lovemaking.
‘Margot,’ he said at length, ‘understand me. Our whole future depends on this. When you see me smile at the Princess of Clèves, remember that my heart belongs to the Princess Margot.’
‘For every smile you give her, you must give me two. If you ever kiss her hands, you must pay twenty kisses to make up for that.’
She clasped her arms about his neck and strained herself against him. ‘Henry, my love, I adore you.’
‘And you will understand? You will know that every thing I do is to make our future secure, that I have no thought, no wish beyond my union with you?’
She drew his face down to hers, and her kisses, tender at first, grew warmer and more wild.
‘Oh, Margot, Margot,’ said the Duke of Guise, ‘there was never one like you in the whole of the world.’
She laughed. ‘If all women were like me there would be no wars, no politics. There would be no time for anything but love-making. But then, all men would have to be like you to make the women desire them so much – and there is no one in the world like you, my beloved.’
It was difficult to be wise with such a woman; when he was with Margot, Henry forgot that vision of a crown which, by sagacious diplomacy, might be his one day.
Margot, deep in her love affair, had completely forgotten that other Henry, her brother, for whom she had promised to play the spy.
Henry, returning from the wars, found her changed, and he, like the Cardinal of Lorraine, knew the meaning of the change in her. He was angry that she should have forgotten her promises to him, but when he discovered who her lover was, his anger increased to a fury.