Reluctant Queen

by Freda Lightfoot

  Rosny received reports, however, of meetings of dissension held secretly in dark corners of Jesuit monasteries, and resolved to wrinkle out these troublemakers.

  The Princess Catherine, however, was another matter. Despite her religious austerity she often sat beneath the royal canopy to enjoy the ballet with the King, Soissons beside her, flagrant in her loyalty to him.

  Henry was fast losing patience with her. ‘I might have relented and let her marry the Count, had she not resorted to deceit by attempting that secret marriage.’

  ‘The Princess was encouraged in this by Madame de Guiche, Sire,’ Rosny assured him.

  ‘Indeed, Corisande was ever a woman with a mind of her own. But how can I pardon such a transgression? My sister is an obstinate woman and insists on standing firm, consoling herself with prayers and psalms. She has again been holding her prêches in public, despite my having forbidden her,’ Henry raged. ‘This time within the precincts of the Louvre itself. Have the Parisians not suffered enough? They look upon this as a desecration. It has to be stopped, Rosny. If only she would agree to marry. A husband might be better able to subdue her than I, but she adamantly refuses.’

  ‘You must be firm, Sire, and remind the Princess of her duty to France.’

  Henry rolled his eyes. ‘You know women, Rosny, they have a will of their own. What can we do when she waves that betrothal contract between herself and Soissons in my face?’

  ‘You could take it from her.’

  A shout of laughter. ‘How?’

  ‘With guile and cunning. Why do you not safely leave the matter in my hands,’ Rosny quietly suggested.

  Henry looked his advisor in the eye, seeing him suddenly in a new light. Perhaps he wasn’t always so proper and moral after all. ‘See to it then. I would be forever grateful.’

  Catherine had taken up residence in the Queen Mother’s former abode, the Hôtel de Soissons, which seemed highly appropriate. Each evening she would hold court, attended by her ladies and gentlemen, including Soissons more often than not, who was beside her this evening.

  ‘How dare Henry deny us the chance of happiness when he actively encourages an immoral atmosphere at court, as practised by his unholy relationship with Gabrielle d’Estrées.’ Catherine secretly envied the couple’s obvious happiness together, and the birth of their son, feeling deeply aggrieved that Henry did not care enough for her own happiness to allow her to marry the man of her choice and find happiness.

  Reading her thoughts, Soissons agreed. ‘I too have grown to resent him even more in recent weeks, particularly when I was overlooked for advancement in the council. I had hoped to be president, believed myself well suited for the task, but the role was given instead to Conti.’

  ‘The fellow is fit for nothing more strenuous,’ Catherine pointed out, ‘Because of his girth and ill health.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I would have made a better job of it than that doddering old fool. But it seems that as Henry is still engaged in battle, my skills are better employed in warfare. “You shall attend our person,” he told me. “Organize your regiment and follow us into Burgundy.” I believe he’d very much like to see me struck down in battle. That would solve his dilemma nicely, would it not?’

  ‘Oh, do not say such a thing!’ Catherine protested, horrified by the thought of losing her beloved. ‘Promise me you will take every care.’

  ‘My love, I am sorry. I did not mean to distress you. But when Henry leaves, I must go with him. I have no choice.’

  The situation was most vexing, so when one morning Corisande came to her in great excitement with a letter from Rosny saying that Henry was beginning to soften his attitude, Catherine could hardly contain her delight.

  ‘Soften? You mean he may agree to our marriage, after all?’

  ‘Rosny wishes to discuss this with you in person, since it is such a delicate matter, but he claims that Henry is not as averse to the alliance as he once was,’ Corisande told her.

  ‘What is this I hear about my brother softening his disapproval, Monsieur?’ Catherine asked, the moment the Baron was brought into her presence. Soissons was at her side, and they received him together.

  ‘It would seem that most of His Majesty’s objections nowadays stems from the deception that you perpetrated upon him by attempting a secret wedding.’

  Catherine felt a small kernel of hope. ‘All the world knows the fidelity of my attachment to Monsieur le Comte, and if you could help me to perfect his reconciliation with my brother the King, I would be eternally obliged.’

  ‘The secret nature of this alliance has inflicted great pain upon your brother the King, and …’ Rosny paused to search out the most tactful way to describe Madame’s stubbornness. ‘I have pressed him to be more forgiving but your declaration of independence has pained him further.’

  ‘You mean my obstinacy.’

  Rosny politely declined to acknowledge the Princess’s bluntness.

  Soissons intervened. ‘We do not doubt your diplomacy, Monsieur de Rosny. But what is to be done about it?’

  ‘I will not concede,’ Catherine insisted.

  Rosny cleared his throat, perhaps wishing the Princess might offer him a glass of wine, or at least permission to sit. She did neither. ‘Now that His Majesty is more firmly established in his realm, the political objections to Your Highness’s alliance with Monsieur le Comte are much less pronounced.’

  ‘Then can we hope for a change of heart?’ Catherine asked, her face alight with that emotion.

  Rosny put up a hand to caution her. ‘I venture to assure your Highnesses, as one well versed in the royal sentiments, that the surest way to realize your aim is to show goodwill. Were you, for instance, to relinquish the promissory note of marriage exchanged between you, together with a signed agreement that states your loyalty to the King and willingness to abide by the royal decision, I am quite certain His Majesty would then look favourably upon Monsieur le Comte and readily give his consent.’

  ‘Can this be true?’ Catherine asked, gripping Soissons’ hand in excitement.

  ‘Indeed, I see no reason why you shouldn’t achieve your heart’s desire,’ Rosny agreed.

  Catherine believed him, and turning to Madame de Guiche asked if this could be done.

  Corisande smiled and nodded. ‘The betrothal letter is safely deposited in the archives of my home at Grammont, but it can easily be retrieved so that you may present it to the King in return for his permission, my dear, if that is what you wish.’

  Catherine happily told Rosny that she would attend to the matter forthwith, and be in touch.

  A few days later the written promise of marriage given to her by Soissons was sent by special messenger to Rosny. ‘You may deliver it to the King as a pledge of my affection, confidence and submission,’ Catherine recklessly wrote. In addition, both she and Soissons signed and sealed the document left them by Rosny. ‘In which we mutually release each other from promise or contract, and consent to abide by His Majesty’s decision relative to our proposed alliance.’

  Every word showed how much Catherine was willing to trust in her brother’s change of heart, as described to her by Rosny. She embraced Corisande in delight. ‘All is going to turn out well, after all.’

  But the response from Henry, when it came, dashed all such hopes. ‘I have made no such promise to agree to your alliance with Soissons. I can only recommend that you accept the hand of the Duc de Montmorency, or failing him, the Duc de Bar.’

  Catherine fell into tears of rage and recriminations, and furiously ordered an explanation from Rosny. ‘I have been tricked. A terrible deceit has been practised upon me. How dare you treat me so ill!’

  Rosny stood before her, wringing his hands and attempting to look contrite, for all his response was as carefully calculated as ever. ‘I did only what was asked of me by my royal master. I beg leave to assure you, Madame, that I did indeed put your case to the King with great sincerity, and pleaded for the alliance to no avail,’ he lied.


  But Catherine continued to rail at him. She wept and raged, and indignantly reproached him, but was finally forced to accept the Baron’s innocence in the matter. The decisions and power over her future lay with her brother. Rosny offered his deepest condolences and left, satisfied that he had carefully avoided any hint of his own duplicity.

  It was Christmas 1595, which the court was spending at Folembray. The palace was ancient, set in dense forests and therefore somewhat damp and neglected, but it was a convenient distance from Travercy where Henry was stationed. Gabrielle had often visited him at the camp, now she took it upon herself to make the festival as merry and pleasant as possible for the King, arranging revels and ballets and various petits jeux.

  ‘Christmas is all about rejoicing in the birth of our Saviour, not silly little games and immoral entertainment,’ Catherine admonished her.

  It was clear to Gabrielle that the Princess still held a deep resentment against her, as if it offended Madame’s dignity for Gabrielle to act as queen. She would be thankful when Catherine moved on to Fontainebleau. Yet for Henry’s sake she must make a valiant effort to be pleasant, and in truth she did feel some sympathy for the girl.

  ‘I am sorry this matter with Soissons has not yet been resolved between yourself and the King. I know what it is to be obliged to sacrifice a lover, but I was fortunate for everything turned out well for me in the end. The King is kind to me and I have come to love him dearly. Perhaps you will find the same with the Duc de Montpensier or the Duc de Bar, whichever you choose. You may find that a new love grows.’

  ‘I will never agree to have either one of them,’ Catherine snapped, looking at Gabrielle with haughty contempt. ‘You forget that I am a Princess of the Blood, not some common nobody like you with ambitions above her station.’

  Gabrielle flushed with embarrassment, but judged it wise not to argue when Madame was in one of her high dudgeons. The Princess’s hot temper was well known, not helped by the presence of Madame de Guiche. Corisande was openly critical of all the arrangements that Gabrielle, her greatest rival for the King’s affections, was making for the coming festive season, not least for le petit César and his entourage of nannies and nurses.

  ‘Goodness, a veritable circus for one small baby,’ she caustically remarked.

  ‘Henry dotes upon the child, as the future dauphin.’

  Corisande lifted fine eyebrows in disbelief. ‘What an optimist you are.’

  Gabrielle bit her lip, and, stemming the urge to retaliate, rested a gentle hand upon Princess Catherine’s arm. ‘I will speak with the King on this matter, if you wish. I do have some small influence. Perhaps we can bring him round even yet.’

  ‘I do not require the assistance of his inamorata’ Catherine retorted, in a tone of voice which seemed to indicate she could have chosen a far worse word to describe Gabrielle. ‘I need no help to mediate with my own brother.’

  ‘As you wish,’ Gabrielle coolly replied, and excusing herself on the grounds that César needed her, thankfully withdrew.

  The Christmas Festivities went like clockwork and everyone, King Henry in particular, had a restful and merry time. The court continued to reside at Folembray for the entire month of January. But growing increasingly weary of the tension and brooding atmosphere, Gabrielle could tolerate it no longer and decided it was time to make a move.

  ‘I wish to return to Paris,’ she told the King. ‘I fear the palace is too cold and damp for our son.’

  ‘You may well be right, my dear. Madame Catherine has already taken a chill. I will arrange for the coach to take you first thing in the morning, and guard him well.’

  ‘Do please speak to your sister, Sire. Be kind to her. She loves you dearly but has a high sense of moral duty, and an intense loyalty to the man she loves. As Soissons is less of a danger to you now, can she not be permitted some happiness?’

  Henry made no reply to this plea, nor gave any indication that he would change his mind. But he did pay Catherine a visit that evening, taking with him his baby son.

  ‘I trust you are feeling better,’ he told her, drawing up a chair beside his sister’s bed. ‘And that you have had time to think and reconsider whilst lying here. Time to regret your obstinacy over this alliance with Soissons which is so distasteful to me.’

  ‘It is not distasteful to me, who would be the one to make it. You seem to have gone out of your way not to favour the Comte.’

  Henry cuddled little César in his arms, refusing to answer the charge. ‘Would you not be glad to have a child of your own, sister? Montpensier is young and not bad looking. He would no doubt make a good husband and father.’

  ‘He is a Catholic.’

  Henry sighed. ‘As is Soissons, but I believe we have had this conversation before.’

  The King might have pursued his argument further but there suddenly came a great wrenching sound, a groaning as a huge rafter fell from the ceiling. Henry’s chair suddenly gave way under him as the rotten timbers finally perished. Catherine cried out in alarm while Henry instinctively pitched himself forward, clutching his precious son tightly in his arms and landed on her bed. Tucked as it was into an alcove, they were protected as beams fell and heavy furniture toppled all around them.

  Henry, however, burst into gales of merry laugher. ‘Is this heavenly retribution for my taking such a firm stand against you?’

  ‘If so, then you are fortunate to have found sanctuary on the couch of the reformed faith.’

  Catherine had never forgiven Rosny the trick he’d played on her by relieving her of the promissory note of marriage. Now he stood before her again, on yet another mission from his royal master. He’d spent two days in her company, walking with her ladies in the gardens of Fontainebleau, making pleasant small talk and attempting to be agreeable. But Catherine felt she’d been patient long enough and demanded to know the real reason for his visit.

  Rosny had the grace to prevaricate no longer and came straight to the point. ‘Monsieur le Comte is a fine fellow, none better, and it is unfortunate that he is at cross-purposes with His Majesty. I have to say that he did himself no favours by departing the King’s camp at Burgundy just when he was most needed.’

  ‘Charles felt he was again being overlooked for preferment.’

  Rosny drew in a patient breath. ‘The Count wished the King to make him supreme commander of the armies of France, above others who would not take kindly to being so placed. Soissons is a strong and able soldier, but young, of uncertain temper, and yet to distinguish himself in battle. Sadly, he took offence at the King’s refusal and retired to his château at Blandy, taking no further part in the campaign.’

  Catherine’s face suffused with crimson, then went pale with anger. ‘It is not for you to criticize Monsieur le Comte. Charles has been constantly undermined by those who intrigue against him.’

  ‘He has forfeited the royal favour by his own petulance and caprices.’

  ‘Perhaps it was in retaliation for the shameful way the King has treated him. And you have betrayed me, Monsieur Rosny. You cannot deny it. If that blockhead Pangeas had not managed to prevent our clandestine marriage back in the spring of 1593, none of this ill feeling between Soissons and Henry would have existed.’

  ‘On that I cannot say, Madame, but I fear your own obstinacy in this matter does not endear you to the King.’

  ‘Henry adores me. I have received any number of offers of marriage, including Monsieur de Guise, but Henry thwarts them all. I doubt he wishes me to marry at all as he loves me too well to part with me. As for you, Baron, if you are audacious enough to meddle with my affairs, beware! What right have you to tell me what to do?’

  ‘I submit only to the will of your brother the King, as must you.’ Rosny took the letter Henry had written to his sister, in which he had firmly set out her choices, from the inner pocket of his doublet. He did not hand it to her, ever cautious of inflaming the Princess’s temper further, but tapped it thoughtfully against his bearded chin. ‘Mada
me, it is your duty to accept the husband chosen for you, and to despise the evil counsel of Monsieur de Soissons, or you will descend into disgrace.’

  Incensed by this remark Catherine almost exploded with rage. ‘How dare you insult Charles! I assure you I will have none of my brother’s suggestions! And I shall complain to Henry of the insolent threats you have made against me.’

  Still in possession of the King’s letter, Rosny bowed and quietly took his leave, refusing to relinquish it even when Catherine sent a maid of honour scurrying after him down the grand staircase to demand that he do so.

  ‘Madame has refused the King’s request to obey his wishes in this matter. I can do no more,’ he said, thinking it prudent to avoid any further upset. Henry would have his way in the end. The sooner the Princess realized that fact, the happier for her.

  But then to his complete shock and dismay, on his return to court Henry took him to task for offending the Princess. Rosny was mortified, appalled that his royal master should choose not to defend him. ‘I was only carrying out your orders, Sire.’

  ‘My sister has written detailing your insolence and rudeness. Such conduct is inexcusable. She demands an apology and you must oblige her.’

  ‘But Sire …’

  ‘Do it.’

  Rosny could not face returning to Fontainebleau for yet more haughty condescension, nor dare he disobey his king, so with gritted teeth he wrote and dispatched a carefully worded apology.

  A day or two later Henry’s natural sense of justice and generosity resulted in an explanation that he had wanted only to pacify Catherine. ‘I needed to assuage the waves of her wrath. We are both passionate and fractious, but we soon recover. I am convinced that you have done nothing of which I cannot approve.’