by Checkmate
On the same morning, a liveried groom arrived at the Hôtel de l’Ange with a packet for the Dowager Lady Culter. It contained two enclosures. One, a letter sealed with the Sevigny crest, was addressed to the Most Christian King of France, and she laid it aside. The other, a single sheet of paper, was a message to herself from Nicholas Applegarth.
They are both here, and safe, although very tired. The enclosed packet, which I am to beg you to pass to his Majesty, contains a surrender of all your son’s offices and holdings, other than his house and lands in this Seigneurie. Neither M. le comte nor his wife will be returning to court.
I am asked that this should be made clear to those whom it may concern. On my own account, I beg you to see that all this is accepted so far as possible without discord or argument, and that above all no one should think it necessary to come to Sevigny.
I remain, your obedient servant, NICHOLAS APPLEGARTH.
With that letter in her hands, she sat unmoving until the Commissioners returned. Then, summoning Richard and the three remaining officers of St Mary’s to her room, she gave it into their keeping.
To Jerott, to Adam and to Danny, it was the first certain indication that, whatever danger Lymond had feared for her, Philippa was safe; and following her, Lymond had come to no harm.
The news that they were together, and were remaining together, was something else. At that point in their reading Adam looked up and met Sybilla’s eyes, his scarred face intent, but he said nothing and neither did Danny, the perpetual talker. It was Jerott who, flushing, said, ‘What has he done? What is he thinking of?’
And Richard who answered, ‘He has merely broken, as always, every promise he ever made, before man or God.’ And then, ‘I shall have to tell Austin.’
He did so later, when the other letter had been delivered to its destination and the resulting repercussions had done nothing to sweeten his temper. The discovery, on arriving at the Hôtel d’Hercules, that Master Elder had already visited the English prisoner and had been admitted without sanction did nothing to make him feel better. Lord Culter had preserved Allendale’s peace of mind, he well knew, at the cost of a falsehood. The impact of the truth would be bad enough, without its gleeful and premature delivery by Seton’s sycophantic Caithness friend.
He had known it was going to be difficult. But the hostile man who faced him upstairs, exhausted with rage and grief and pacing, over and over, the confines of his room, was something he had not expected. Before he could speak, Austin had rounded on him.
‘So much for your promises! The Cardinal Legate has not postponed the signing of the annulment. Philippa has been allowed to run off, and you have permitted your brother to go after her. Perhaps you encouraged him. Perhaps you mean to share her money. If you had told me, I could have paid you more.’
‘That bloody, interfering fool Elder,’ Richard said. ‘We tried to spare you some of this.’ He drew a long breath. ‘Sit down and get some wine inside you. Losing your head isn’t going to help.’
Austin paid no heed whatever. ‘If you had nothing to do with it, why conceal it? Why keep me locked in this house, where I could do nothing about it? Twenty-four hours a day, you said you would guard him, and Philippa as well. And they left … when?’
‘The night of the Queen’s wedding,’ said Richard. He had found wine and throwing it into as large a cup as he could find, brought it to where Austin stood, braced in a corner, breathing through shut lips rapidly. Richard said quietly, ‘Perhaps we were wrong not to tell you, but there was nothing you could have done. I searched the town myself all night and next day as well, without finding them. As for the guard … we did our best, but it was the night of the wedding.’
‘How clever,’ Austin said. He made no attempt to take the wine.
‘How clever,’ Lord Culter repeated. ‘But then, you know my brother is wily. What successes have you had in your dealings with him? Can you imagine what it feels like for me, to pledge my word to preserve a girl’s honour and have it broken for me by Francis?’
‘You should have locked him in a room, as I am locked,’ Austin said. And then added, ‘But I forget. He is too popular and too powerful for that. He can trap a girl like a bird-catcher and then desecrate her, and the Court will only applaud. Then, I suppose, he will leave her.’ He stopped, and swallowed, and said, ‘Do you even know if she is alive?’
‘Sit down, for Christ’s sake,’ Richard said, ‘and drink that.’ And pushing him at last into a chair he thrust the cup into his hand and said, ‘He hasn’t left her. They are together at Sevigny, and staying there.… Drink it, you fool!’
And as Austin, his face grey, leaned against the back of the chair Richard guided the cup to his lips and said, ‘They have been together now for long enough to make any annulment of the marriage quite impossible. Therefore it is going to stand, and nothing that anyone can do will help it. It is wrong: it is a tragedy; it is a betrayal. I agree with all that. My impulse, too, was to ride off to the Loire and whip him in his own house. But they are legally married. He has not dissolved the union as he threatened to do, so that she could only reach him outside it. And lastly, she loves him.’
Austin said, ‘He is very plausible. I believed him when he gave me his oath.’
‘Never do that,’ said Richard flatly. Then after a moment he said, ‘You know of course that you are free. Francis signed your release for the Tuesday you should have left France with Philippa. It is my fault, as I have explained, that we kept you here in ignorance since then. I don’t suppose you want to stay. If you will tell me when you want to take ship, I shall ask for a safe-conduct for you for Gravelines.’
‘I don’t know,’ Austin said. He had emptied the cup and the worst of his pallor was leaving him. ‘It would do no harm to have the safe-conduct. But I might stay a little.’ He looked up. ‘Would there be room for me at the Hôtel de l’Ange?’
‘Yes,’ said Richard. ‘But is there any need to stay longer? You will only add to the hurt. And it would do nothing but harm to interfere with them.’
‘I should like to know,’ Austin said, ‘if she is happy.’ He paused, and then said, ‘Is it true that your father had a natural daughter who is married to Jerott Blyth?’
There was a small silence. Then Richard said, ‘I have never met Jerott Blyth’s lady. But at court, of course, there is always gossip. I have been told, yes, that she is extremely like Francis. I have even been told that in Lyon he called her his step-sister. More than that I do not know.… Why do you ask?’
Austin shook his head with a small, irritable movement. ‘Master Elder wanted to meet her. I hoped it would not be embarrassing.’
‘Not to me,’ Richard said. ‘I can’t, then, persuade you to leave France in the next day or two?’
Austin shook his head again. The outburst of violence had gone, leaving him spent with weariness. He said, ‘What if she needs help? You won’t be here for long.’
‘For long enough,’ Richard said. ‘In France, it seems, there is almost no term to the celebrations for a Dauphin’s nuptials. We have been told to count on a further stay of several weeks: more, if the Narrow Straits are still not safe for shipping. And meantime, we shall have news of Philippa in a very short time. Piero Strozzi is riding to Sevigny.’
‘Strozzi!’ said Austin, his voice cracking. ‘But——’
‘If you think it is undesirable,’ said Richard harshly, ‘try arguing with the King and his followers. The more ambitious captains may not want Francis back, but his own men do, and the mercenaries, and the ensigns who fought with him at Calais. The new season’s campaign is just about to open in Champagne and King Henri wants Francis there. Strozzi is being sent to tell him so.’
There was a long pause. Then Austin said, ‘You will tell me what he says when he returns?’
‘He will tell you himself,’ Richard said. ‘I shall bring him to the Hôtel de l’Ange and he will tell all of us. We deserve that much reassurance, at least.’
*
The French King was hunting when Piero Strozzi returned. He had been hunting, in fact, for ten days largely, it was rumoured, to keep out of the way of prying foreign ambassadors while conducting a war with one hand and a peace conference with the other. As a result, it was the middle of May before Strozzi made his report and was able, on his way back through Paris for his equipment, to call on the Hôtel de l’Ange with his bulletin.
He delivered it, nothing abashed, not only to the Crawfords of Culter and Lord Allendale but to Adam and three of the Commissioners who happened to be in the main salon at the time.
‘Well, you are wondering; you ask, did I see him in his asylum of the Muses and I have to say yes, I have seen him. And quel changement … quantum mutatus ab illo Hectore! Spells, spells has he cast, my enemy and traitor! I take God to record that if the little demoiselle did not look so appealingly, I would have pulled him from his bush of roses with my sword belt, I burn so with jealousy. But who would blame him? Appetite is the stay of life, and it is not given to a man to love and be wise.’
He paused for breath. Richard said flatly, ‘Is he coming back to the army?’
‘Ah! Chi mi! Qu’io no pensara di partime! I lie,’ said Piero Strozzi cheerfully. ‘At times I hoped very much he was able to leave me. It is not comfortable, when you are a great leader, as I am, and a veteran of many famous wars, to have a second Démétrius appear and sit at your master’s right hand. No, he is not returning. He is not planning to throw himself into the King’s arms and cry misericordia. He does not wish to take his wife to Lanarkshire, the Paradise of Scotland. He intends to remain where he is, multiplying the fornications and impurities before the idol of Aphrodite like the Agregentines, who gave themselves up to delight as if every day was to be their last. I beg you, Lord Allendale,’ said Piero Strozzi, ‘do you know of any other young maids from Hexham?’
He was a mischievous man, and not above malice. The Commissioners, having heard what they wanted to hear, moved away. Sybilla said, ‘You imply they are much in love. Did you see Mistress Philippa? Did she seem to be happy?’
‘I never saw them apart,’ Strozzi said. ‘They greeted me together, and dined with me together, and waved me farewell together the following morning. I would find that too much. I had a good joke to tell mon petit François and I could find no opportunity. I rode off to Onzain and told it to Lord Grey instead to cheer up his captivity. He is not so badly off as he makes out. He had a wench with him.’
It was Austin who persisted. ‘But did she seem happy?’ he said. ‘Is she well?’
‘The wench? Ah, the young maid from Hexham. They never spoke to one another,’ said Piero Strozzi thoughtfully.
Sybilla lost patience. ‘Signor Strozzi, we are attempting, with some difficulty, to distinguish the condition of a young girl of whom we are particularly fond. Did Philippa seem well? Who never spoke to one another?’
Piero Strozzi looked surprised. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said. ‘Ce beau chevalier and his mignonne. They talked, each of them to me, but almost never to one another. It is true, of course, when I am there, there is no need for others to converse, but some of one’s friends are not commonly backward.’
‘And their health?’ Sybilla said. ‘We were told they were both very tired.’
Strozzi shrugged. ‘How can one tell? It has changed him, as I have said. He has no wish to hear of the great matters of court, and if I mention the war, I am taken aside and shown horses. You know, I dare say, the intuition one may sometimes acquire, that one is not wanted?’
For the first time, the tension in Lady Culter’s face relaxed a little. ‘I do,’ she said.
‘Well, this I did not have,’ said Piero Strozzi simply. ‘And yet I knew I was not wanted. There is something formidable in that household of Sevigny.’
Obeying the dictates, perhaps, of just such another presentiment he did not stay much beyond that. Only, just as he was taking his leave and after Austin had left, alone, to go to his room, Sybilla said, ‘I wish you would explain something you said. That there was something formidable in that household of Sevigny?’
‘Ah,’ said Piero Strozzi. ‘It does not lend itself truly to words. But you know, perhaps, you, Lord Culter and you, Blacklock, the alla sanguigna, the blue-red shimmer of a sword when it is drawn from the flesh? That is what it was like: the alla sanguigna, burning behind all the politenesses. Since also we are here together in small numbers, I may say something else.’
‘Yes?’ said Richard quietly.
‘Assai sa, chi nulla sa, se tacer’ sa. He knows enough, who knows nothing, and who can keep quiet. It is not a matter which concerns the world,’ Piero Strozzi said, ‘but I am a curious man, and I notice that much as these two are together, they never touch. There is no embrace. There is no twining of the fingers even. So I ask questions, and I watch, which is difficult, for in that household they are very discreet. But this I must tell you.
‘M. le comte and madame la comtesse sleep apart. Their rooms are in different wings. And they do not move from one room to another. Whatever they may wish you to think, Madame, your son and Mistress Philippa are not living as man and wife.’
Chapter 2
Un Capitole ne voudra point qu’il regne
Sa grande charge ne pourra maintenir.
The day following Piero Strozzi’s visit to the Hôtel de l’Ange, Marthe returned to her husband.
Jerott received no kind of warning. Preparing, with the others, to leave with Strozzi and de Guise to join the army then mustering at Chalons, he was turning out of a back courtyard of the Hôtel du Séjour, his eyes on the lists in his hand, when a familiar voice spoke directly in front of him.
‘Whoredom, said Sir Thomas More, is better than wedlock—in a priest. Have you as yet reached any conclusion on the subject, Master Blyth?’
It was Marthe, sweet-sour and golden, in a gown of some Oriental fabric he did not recognize, and a line he had not seen before between her brows.
He killed, with an effort that could be seen, the impulse to grip her; to fling himself on her; to press out under his kisses the sight of that mocking mouth. Instead: ‘About monastic life and the priesthood?’ he said. ‘Being still in a state of wedlock, I’ve been trying to keep an open mind on it all.’
‘And an open bed?’ she said. ‘And an open bottle?’ She had not changed.
‘Suppose you come in,’ he said, ‘and ask Danny and Adam if they will give me a testimonial.’
‘You don’t ask,’ she said, ‘if I can supply one.’
Then he did sigh, looking at her from the open dark eyes in which there was much dignity but no guile, alas, to match hers. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘that with or without a testimonial, you have only to come to be received.’
‘Even if I make no promises?’ she said.
‘I have learned that those, too, are pointless,’ he said simply.
*
The Cardinal of Lorraine’s first peace conference failed, and he returned to Paris with a quantity of perfumed gloves, pressed upon him by the Spanish. The release from captivity of the Constable retreated a little further into the future. The Duke de Guise’s programme for the uniting of the largest army ever mustered by any monarch was tackled by all concerned with exemplary vigour.
During the third week in May, the meadows beyond the Faubourg St Germain in Paris, normally the after-supper pleasance of students, were occupied by an orderly procession of four thousand Protestants singing Lutheran psalms interspersed with anti-Papal invective. In the course of their march, which led them after dark into the city and down the rue de St Jacques, they took with them for protection several companies of horsemen and many on foot with concealed weapons. The composition of the procession was extremely mixed, being drawn from noblemen, plebeians and artificers and men of every kind and condition, as well as from women and children. They were not stopped.
The following night they repeated the performance, this time to an immense crowd of spectators. On t
he third night, a proclamation was issued forbidding the gathering, and when it was ignored, the city gates were closed against them at dusk.
Even then, there was no disturbance. The concourse of ten thousand persons spent the night in the houses of the suburb, or strolling through the meadows in the pleasant mild air, re-entering the town in the morning. On subsequent nights they did the same but omitted, with belated tact, the ballads against the Vatican.
An account of the disturbances being sent to the Court, the Cardinal de Sens, the spiritual Primate of France, issued a severe proclamation in the King’s name to prevent further such demonstrations, and by offering rewards for information, succeeded in arresting some hundred persons of no great consequence who had taken part in the singing. Among them were a number of tutors and other officials from the University colleges.
Because of the nature of the times and the danger of civil war, great discretion was used in the case of a number of great persons who openly favoured Calvinism and were known to have attended. The King of Navarre, who had been present only, he pointed out winningly, as an interested bystander, was questioned none the less by the King and by the Cardinal.
François de Coligny, sieur d’Andelot, recently back in Paris after securing the Brittany ports against threat of English invasion, was less fortunate, as it happened, in his perfumed handshake.
He had been seen to attend the demonstrations. He had also, so the Cardinal was able to show, sent for Geneva books during his recent captivity. The King, who was fond of him, regretfully summoned him to face his questions, and went so far as to have him warned in advance of their content. A simple lie, there was no doubt, would have saved him. But confronting the King at his supper, the sieur d’Andelot merely replied, with strong rectitude and no sense of discretion that, while owing the French King his absolute devotion, his soul belonged only to God, and lit by the torch of the Evangile, he approved the doctrines of Calvin and thought Mass a horrible profanation and an abominable invention of mortals.
