CHAPTER XVII.
MATE AND CHECKMATE
At this moment, the litter of Catherine de Medici was seen approaching.D'Epernon had hastened to tell her of the unexpected arrival of herdaughter, the Queen of Navarre.
"No, it cannot be--she is safe at Usson, entertaining all theJackass-erie of Auvergne!" cried the Queen-Mother, hastily wrappingherself in a bundle of dark cloaks, with the ermine sleeves and sablecollars, which the thinness of her blood caused her to wear even in theheat of the dog-days. Scoffers declared she was getting ready for thehereafter by accustoming herself gradually to the climate. But those whoknew better were aware that the vital heat was at long and last slowlyoozing from that once tireless body, though the brain above remainedclear and subtle to the end.
D'Epernon helped the Queen-Mother into the litter of ebony and gold inwhich she journeyed. She called for her maids-of-honour, but wasinformed that they were all busied with welcoming the new arrivals.
Then the face of Catherine took on a hard and bitter expression.
"This is not the first, nor the second time that Margot has outwittedme"--she almost hissed the words, yet not so low but D'Epernon caughtthem. "Has ever a woman who has given all, done all for her family, beencursed with sons who will do nothing even to save themselves, and adaughter whose pleasure it is to thwart the mother who bore her?But--patience, all is not yet lost! Wait a while. Little Margot of theLarge Heart may not be so clever as she thinks!"
Yet so artful was the dissimulation of both women, that when at lastthey approached each other, Margot, the Queen of Navarre, threw herselfinto her mother's arms, and hid her face (possibly, also, her emotion)on her shoulder, while Catherine wept real, visible, globular tears overher one daughter, whom she embraced after so many years.
Only D'Epernon knew that they were tears of rage and mortification.
It was when husband and wife were left alone on the broad balcony of theMansion of the Palmer, by the southern river-front of Argenton--theCreuse, sweetest and daintiest of streams in a land all given over tosuch, slipping dreamily by--that Margot told the Bearnais why she hadcome.
"Do not thank me," she said; "you have that Huguenot sister of yours tothank--a good, brave girl, too good to be married as I was (and as youwere, my poor Henry!) for politics' sake, and a few more acres of land.Also, you owe it to the good counsels of yonder Scottish maid, calledClaire Agnew, who----"
Henry rose from the low chair on which he had been carelessly restinghis thigh.
"Why, I remember the girl"--he threw up his hands in humorous despair."Oh, you women, a man never knows when he will have you! I thought thatyou, Margot, my wife, would have been at Usson flying your hawks, andgathering snails for the Friday's _pot-au-feu_; that Catherine, myadmirable sister, had been safe at her prayers in the Castle of Pau,where I left her in good charge and keeping; and of my carefulness Ihad even provided that this Scots maiden, the daughter of my good friendFrancis Agnew, should abide in douce tranquillity with her Professor ofthe Sorbonne, within ear-shot, not to say pistol-shot of a certainAnthony Arpajon, a sure henchman of mine, in the town of Blois. But herebe all three of you gadding at my heels, Margaret from Auvergne,Catherine from Pau, and even the Scots maid from Blois, all blown inwardlike so many seagulls on the front of a westerly storm!"
"Harry," cried Margot the Queen, "your beard is frosting, and there arewhite hairs on my coif at thirty-eight. Yes, there are; you need notlook, for, of course, I have the wit to hide them. We have not agreedwell, you and I. But I like you, great lumping swash-buckler of Bearn.Even as the husband I was not allowed to choose, I like you. If you hadbeen any one else, I might even have loved you!"
"Thanks--it is indeed quite possible!" said the King quietly.
"But since they wrote it in a catechism, learned it me by rote, made meswallow love and obedience willy-nilly before half-a-dozen cardinals andarchbishops glorious, why then, of course, it was 'nilly' and not'willy.' So things have gone crosswise with us. But there's my handon't, Henry. In all save love, I will serve you true. Not even yourbeloved Rosny and dour D'Aubigne will help you better, or expect lessfor it than I, Margot, your Majesty's humble prisoner!"
"So be it," said the King, kissing her hand, and passing over all thatwas not expressed in this very sketchy view of the case; "I have foundmany to betray me who owed me more than you, Margot. But never you, mylittle Queen!"
"Thank you, Henry," quoth La Reine Margot, smiling demurely, withsomething of the subtle Italian irony of her mother. "Perhaps, afterall, I do not help you so much because I like you, as because I love tospite some other people who are plotting against you."
"Are they seeking my life, Margot?" said the King. "Well, there isnothing new in that. I always keep a man or two on the look-out forassassins. I have quite a collection of knives--some Guisard, and someItalian, but mostly of Toledo make. There are four gates to my camp, andthe men of my guard kick the varlets south if the knife smells of ourbrother Philip, north to cousin Guise, if 'Lorraine' is marked on theblade--and as for Italy----"
"Do not say any evil of Italy," smiled Margot; "pray remember that I amhalf an Italian--therefore I am fair, therefore I am cunning, thereforeI am rich--at least, in expedients."
The Bearnais said nothing, for having so many war charges, he had morethan once refused to pay Madame Margot's debts!
"I have come," she continued, after the King had sat some time silent onthe tapestried couch beside her, looking out on the sleeping Creuse,"first of all, to see that you sign no treaty that I do not approve.Well do I know that a woman has only to smile upon you to make you say'Yes.' It is your weakness. The Queen, my mother, knows it also, and shehas brought hither many fair women in her train. But none so fair as I,your wife--your wife Margot, whom camps, and wars, and kingdoms havemade you sometime forget!"
"There is, indeed, no one so fair as you, little Margot!" said herhusband. And, for the moment, he meant it.
* * * * *
Margot the Queen entered her tiring-room that night clapping her hands,and dancing little skipping "tarantellas" all to herself, after theItalian fashion.
"I have done this all by myself at eight-and-thirty," she cried. "Ithought I was no longer Parisian, after so many years of hiding my headin Auvergne. But Henry never moved from my side all the evening, and asfor D'Epernon, he was as close as might be on the other. Come in, girls!I have much to tell you."
She rose, and threw her arms about the neck of her sister-in-law,Catherine of Navarre. She had entered, flushed, walking so fast that herslight D'Albret limp was not noticeable.
"Oh, we three," cried the Queen Margot--"we three were as Juno, Minerva,and Venus. The men stood round, and gazed and listened, and listened andgazed, each like a stupid Paris with a golden apple in his hand, a prizeof beauty which he wanted to give to all three at once. You, Katrin mysister, were the grey-eyed Minerva; you, Claire, must be Juno--though,my faith, you are more of the mould of Dian; but as for me--of course,that is obvious! And the defeated enemy--the maids of honour! Ha! Didyou see how the Queen, my mother, called them in to heel, like so manyuseless hounds of the chase, to receive their whipping? How they coweredand cringed! Truly, the game was carried off by another pack--a buck--abuck royal of ten tines is the Bearnais. We had a plot indeed--but notreaty. Pricked like a wind-bladder it was. If I am a feeble house-wife,I am at least a true ambassador, and they shall not cheat myhusband--not while little Margot lives, last of the Valois and halfMedici though she be! To bed, girls, and get your beauty-sleep. You willneed it to-morrow!"
The White Plumes of Navarre: A Romance of the Wars of Religion Page 18
