‘It would seem that this bear’s strength and prowess grows with every telling,’ Prince Henri remarked in amusement on the first night we arrived at the hunting lodge in the foothills of the mountains.
His friend, Denis Durac, said seriously, ‘It does sound as if it is of monstrous size.’
‘I know that within exaggeration there usually exists a kernel of truth,’ Prince Henri observed wisely. ‘But in the space of one day I have heard men who claim to have seen this bear with their own eyes describe it as black, brown, or black and brown, or even, in one instance, pure white.’ He laughed. ‘Perhaps it is all of these colours.’
‘There is no denying the damage it has caused,’ said Denis Durac.
‘Yes,’ replied the prince, ‘the mother I spoke to earlier moved me deeply.’
As we had ridden through the last village Prince Henri had stopped upon hearing the keening of a woman lamenting the loss of her child. He was told that the bear had seized the little boy as he’d played outside his family hut. Upon hearing the mother’s screams everyone in the village had run to help. They had managed to drive the bear off with stones and fire but too late to save the life of the boy. The child’s badly mauled and half-eaten body was brought for the prince to examine. Prince Henri ordered money to be given to the grieving woman and she had run after him as he rode off and grasped his stirrup and kissed his feet.
The prince was obviously embarrassed by this display of emotion. But he reined in his horse and, looking down on her kneeling there on the earth, he promised to bring her the head of the bear who had robbed her of her son.
‘Now that is the mark of a true prince,’ Giorgio had murmured to me.
I was surprised at his comment for it was not Giorgio’s custom to give praise, and also he was very out of sorts at having to accompany the hunt at all. He was in pain being jolted around on horseback and would have much preferred to remain in the safety of the cosy royal palace than be out trekking over wild countryside. I felt some guilt at his discomfort for it was me who had encouraged him to come along. I’d learned that a physician was required to be in attendance at the hunt and I’d gone to Giorgio and asked him to volunteer for the post.
‘Why would I do that?’ Giorgio said. ‘I’d much rather be at court and attend to the ladies here who pay well for my remedies.’
‘Prescribing water tinctures for women’s fainting spells when they would be better advised to lace their bodices less tightly is not true doctoring,’ I told him.
‘Mélisande!’ He affected to be shocked. ‘I have told you before that physicians have to heal the mind and spirit as well as the body. In any case, you have not explained why you think I should offer my services on this occasion.’
‘It would be very prestigious, and bring you to the notice of Prince Henri,’ I said.
Giorgio narrowed his eyes. ‘Is that all?’ he asked me.
‘Of course,’ I replied. ‘I only wish for your advancement.’
‘Now I am even more suspicious,’ said Giorgio. ‘Is it your intention that you accompany me on this expedition?’
‘I think you would most certainly need an assistant with some apothecary skills. Someone who could also play the mandolin in case Prince Henri needed any musical diversion.’
Giorgio considered this idea. ‘Going about the court discreetly as you do, dressed as a young man, is relatively easy. But on a hunt, when men are in close physical contact, and are wont to relieve themselves whenever and wherever they choose, is somewhat different. All manner of things might be very awkward for you.’
‘I appreciate that,’ I told him. I was already becoming used to the careless, open way men did this. I’d learned to turn my head away, and also to drink sparingly and control my own functions until I was sure of privacy.
‘I will manage,’ I assured him.
‘I hope so,’ he said seriously. ‘For if you were found out you might become sport for men of crude tastes, and I might not be able to protect you.’
But I might have the protection of another, I thought.
When we stopped at the hunting lodge Giorgio and I established our sleeping arrangements and pharmacy in a tent under the trees. He had been asked to attend to one of the prince’s men so I unfolded the portable stools and table we had brought and set out herbs, tinctures and some surgical instruments and bandages in case of any serious injury to the hunters. I finished and sat down on a stool, took up my mandolin and began to play. How good it was to be outdoors again! The trees rustled and whispered to each other. The moon rose in the sky and the night owls hooted.
Giorgio returned and informed me that he was now more unhappy than ever at being away from his more gentle duties of the court.
‘Lancing a boil on the backside of Prince Henri’s valet is not what I envisaged as the rise in status you promised me,’ he said.
I noticed that there was some satisfaction in his voice and I enquired sweetly if inflicting pain on another eased his own discomfort.
He was about to reply in kind when a shadow of a man appeared at the door of the tent.
‘I am looking for a salve.’
My pulse began to race.
Giorgio waved his hands towards his medicines in an agreeable manner. ‘I have many salves. Is there a particular one that you seek?’
‘A most particular one,’ Melchior answered him. ‘It is of arnica with the addition of borage flowers.’
Giorgio shook his head. ‘That is not one of my remedies.’
‘Perhaps your assistant has heard of it?’
‘I do not think—’ Giorgio started to reply.
I stood up and came forward nearer to the door of the tent.
Melchior held out the little dish I had given him all those years ago at Cherboucy.
‘I know that recipe,’ I said to Giorgio.
Giorgio tilted his head to one side. He looked at my face, at Melchior’s, and back to me. Then he said, ‘I think I may go now to where the evening meal is being served.’ Melchior and I watched him as he slowly unrolled his sleeves, fastened up his shirt cuffs and put on his coat and hat. He stared hard at Melchior before he left. ‘I will expect my assistant to join me within ten minutes,’ he told him distinctly.
Melchior returned Giorgio’s stare.
They both knew that if Melchior chose to disobey him there was nothing he could do.
When Giorgio had gone I found that I was suddenly shy.
I bent my head and sat down again on the stool.
Melchior came and knelt before me. His face was on a level with my own. I looked into his eyes and felt myself drown in their depths.
Melchior reached out his hands and took mine in his own.
‘Mélisande,’ he said. ‘Tell me how you have fared since last I saw thee.’
Chapter Sixty
BEFORE WE BEGAN the hunt proper the next day Prince Henri sought advice from his huntsmen.
He called Melchior to him and spoke to him most cordially. I saw how the prince listened and discussed how they might deploy the hunting animals, the horses and his men. His ambition was to rid his people of the threat that terrified them, but he showed concern for the safety and wellbeing of the hunters.
We made our way into the Pyrenees following the path shown to us by a local shepherd. This man knelt down before the prince as the bereaved woman had done the day before. He thanked Prince Henri for coming to his aid. He explained that his livelihood was at stake. Three of his sheep had been killed, the rest of his flock scattered in terror.
We went deeper into the mountains. Now the terrain was rocky, with woods dotted on the hillsides. It was in one of these that Melchior and the leopard, Paladin, had been born. Some trader or noble had brought a leopard to this land and it had escaped to the wild. The animal must have been pregnant before leaving the country of Africa where it had been captured.
At midday we paused to eat. The men took their meals in rough order. Prince Henri sat among them. For all his uncouth w
ays his conversation was not coarse as is sometimes the case in men without the presence of women. They talked politics and the fate of human kind and the influence of God and Church. The prince refused to condemn any man for his beliefs. We had earlier passed a wayside shrine dedicated to the Virgin Mary and our shepherd guide had gone forward, blessing himself, to place some flowers there. Then, remembering the company he was with, he had turned in sudden fear. But Prince Henri had already nudged his horse to move on, keeping his eyes firmly on the road ahead.
We mounted again and continued our tracking. The wind was blowing from behind us, carrying our scent forward and preventing us from picking up that of our prey. Giorgio and I were in the rear, as our horses carried the boxes of medicines and instruments, but the party was small and we could see ahead very clearly.
The shepherd showed us the place where his sheep had been killed a few days previously.
‘Let the leopard smell fresh blood,’ Prince Henri ordered.
Melchior brought Paladin forward and took the muzzle from the leopard’s mouth. The animal was restless, ears flattened against the relentless mountain breeze. Melchior slipped free the chain. Then, despite the coolness of the air, he removed his shirt.
Once again was revealed the twisting pattern of ochre and violet colours on his painted back.
Within me every sense heightened. As if my mind and body were in accord.
I was aware of Giorgio watching me. He turned away but not before I had seen the look of concern on his face.
Suddenly, without warning, the bear attacked.
It leaped from the mountain rocks above and landed on the mount of Denis Durac. Under the weight of the bear and the tremendous force of the assault, horse and rider crashed to the ground. The bear’s attack ripped the shoulder of the horse to the bone.
Without waiting for a command the leopard launched itself in retaliation. The bear raised itself up. With a wide sweep of its huge paw it cuffed the leopard away. Paladin was sent hurtling through the air and thudded to the earth, rolling over and over down the mountain slope.
I bit my hand to stop myself screaming.
The huntsmen released the dogs. They yipped frantically, barking and circling, but too cautious to try to run in. The bear was immense. Twice the height of any man. And broad as a house. The horses neighed in terror. Eyes rolling, they reared and thrashed and tried to bolt. Some managed to do so, galloping off down the path with their riders clinging on desperately. Prince Henri kept control of his own, urging it forward to the place where Denis Durac lay on the ground, trapped under the body of his own horse.
The bear stood over the stricken man, snarling and growling, small red eyes blazing hatred, drool and blood hanging from its jaws.
Prince Henri snatched off his cloak. He stood up in his stirrups and flung it over the head of the bear. The cloth spun out and caught the bear about the ears. Half blinded, with its head covered, the beast twisted this way and that, forelegs flailing like one demented.
It gave the respite needed. In an instant Prince Henri had his lance in his hand. There was a blur of almond fur and Paladin had the bear by the neck. The leopard clung on as the bear clawed at his body and tried to shake free. The hunters closed in, and with spear and arrows finished the kill as quickly as possible.
The shepherd was weeping with both fright and delight. The rest of the men hauled the horse off Denis Durac. He lay there, white-faced, while one of the huntsmen mercifully slit the throat of the stricken animal.
Prince Henri came and knelt by his friend. Denis Durac grasped the prince by the hand. ‘Sire, you saved my life.’
Prince Henri cuffed his head in comradeship. ‘As you no doubt would have saved mine, dear friend, had our positions been reversed.’
I saw now why these men loved their prince and would go with him to the mouth of death.
Prince Henri raised his hand in summons to Giorgio. ‘Doctor! Your presence is required here.’
We gathered ourselves and made our way back to the hunting lodge. Giorgio insisted on a litter being made to transport Denis Durac. He declared Durac’s ribs to be broken, and if they were to heal without further internal injury then they must do as he recommended. He spoke with such conviction that the prince paid attention and insisted that Giorgio’s orders were followed.
After we had eaten, Prince Henri spoke of his promise to the village woman. He had the bear’s head sawn off before setting out with an escort to take it as a gift to the mother of the dead child. The prince had placed Denis Durac in his own bed. I left Giorgio in attendance on him there and went to pack up our boxes and prepare for our return to court the next day.
Melchior was waiting for me.
‘How is Paladin?’ I asked him.
‘Sore, but satisfied with his kill.’
‘Do you need ointment for his cuts?’
Melchior shook his head. ‘He will lick his wounds clean. His saliva has healing properties.’
I looked to the mountains behind us. ‘This is where you were born?’
‘Yes, not so far from here.’
‘You told me once, that the day would come when you would seize your chance and escape.’ I gestured with my hand to indicate the hunting lodge, empty save for a few servants. ‘This is an opportunity.’
Melchior nodded. ‘I know of a secret pass through the mountains.’ He waited. ‘What would you do?’ he asked me.
‘I must go to Paris.’
‘To find your father?’
‘Yes . . .’
‘There is something else?’
‘Yes.’
He looked at me but I shook my head. I’d already decided that I would not tell him of the strange prophecy of Nostradamus. As the day approached when I must take the papers I carried nearer to the presence of Catherine de’ Medici, my terror of her vengeance grew. If she tore the hair from her own daughter’s head for falling in love with the wrong man, what would she do to me, a mere minstrel, who had concealed from her a prophecy concerning her son, the king? I had too much regard for Melchior to involve him in anything that might bring him harm.
‘If you go to Paris you will be in great danger,’ he said.
‘I know that.’
‘Then I will go too that I may help thee.’
His fingers brushed mine.
And my heart trembled.
Chapter Sixty-one
WE MADE A triumphant return from the hunting lodge, dragging the remainder of the bear’s carcass through the villages on the way. The villagers ran out to strew flowers at Prince Henri’s feet and to try to kiss his hand as he passed. They surrounded the litter carrying Denis Durac, including us all in this outpouring of gratitude and affection. It was plain to see the high regard in which the people of Navarre held their royal leader.
Arriving back at court, we discovered that finally an agreement had been reached as to the terms and format of the marriage of Prince Henri of Navarre and the French princess, Margot. The wedding would take place in August of next year, 1572.
1572.
The year Nostradamus had predicted when the streets of Paris would echo with the screams of the dying.
The organization began for the long cavalcade of court members, nobles, dignitaries and royal staff to set out from Navarre to Paris for the wedding ceremony. Queen Jeanne d’Albret went to Paris a few months ahead of her son. She wished to get settled there to prepare for the various royal receptions. Prince Henri intended to follow later. King Charles had specifically asked his cousin to bring the leopard, Paladin, with him.
Over the months as the court got ready to move, Denis Durac made a full recovery. This caused a lot of comment for it was quite usual for a person suffering internal injuries to take an infection and die in agonizing pain. Thus Giorgio’s fame at healing spread enough for him to be one of the doctors chosen to go in the vanguard of staff travelling to the French capital. Prince Henri requested that he attend to his mother, Queen Jeanne, who did not keep good health.
Now the hour of my destiny was near. The night before we were due to depart I lay unsleeping and trembling with apprehension in my cot, staring out the uncurtained window at the moon in the sky. The night noises of the castle came to me and I recalled how Chantelle and I had whispered together each evening in the palace of Cherboucy in happy sisterhood. I must set my fear aside. I owed my sister justice. If I saved the life of the king then surely he would grant my father liberty and avenge the death of my sister and her lover?
Although we’d been provided with a coach in which to travel, the journey was harrowing. Long hours with wheels jarring over rough roads did not help Giorgio’s condition, but it was the sights we saw on the way that disturbed both of us much more than any physical discomfort.
The countryside was ravaged with the constant religious wars of attrition. Crops rotted in the field while starving orphaned children stood by the roadsides holding out their hands for bread or alms. We passed burned-out villages, and manor houses and châteaux with the walls torn down. Nearly every crossroads had a gibbet with a dangling skeleton. Despite this my spirits lifted as we approached Paris. I was hopeful that, after all this time, I would see my father again and my memory of the city in my extreme youth was of a happy, vibrant place.
How this city had changed! The wars of religion had battered the buildings and the mood of the citizens in equal measure. The jubilant, noisy sounds I’d heard in my youth had been replaced by angry voices and arguments.
The markings on our coach declared us Huguenot. Once through the gate horsemen in the street would not move aside to let us through. In front of us carts slowed to delay our progress and stallholders and passers-by shouted names and crude words after us.
Suddenly a rough hand pulled aside the window flap and a face was thrust through,
‘Heretics!’ the intruder screeched at us. ‘Here, take this as a wedding present for your Protestant prince!’ And the man spat into Giorgio’s face.
I gave a shriek. I heard our coach driver curse and one of our escort rode up and beat the man off with his whip.
The Nostradamus Prophecy Page 27
