The Rose of Provence

by Susanna Lehner

  “I think it’s time for me to be jealous,” said the man, and his disarming smile did not fit his words at all. “That ambitious medical student has danced attendance on you too much recently.”

  “Not that you have the right to haul me up for anything, but I am only friends with Michel,” she answered defiantly.

  “I don’t have the right?” Morgan was laughing while throwing his head back, and his azure eyes turned marine-blue. “It’s not an exaggeration to say that I have been in love with you a lot longer than any other man with his wife. Of course, I wouldn’t get far with this, but we both know that, although you conceal it well,” he leaned really close to the girl, so he can whisper into her ear: “I’m not indifferent to you either.”

  Amrita tried to take one step back, but by that time, the earl’s arms held her waist as firm as a rock.

  “What’s this magnificent smell?” He sniffed her neck. “As if a vanilla pod kissed a bouquet of roses. I’d like to smell this on you next time too!”

  “Release me!” Amrita said quietly, but resolutely.

  She resisted the earl’s glance stiffly while the man’s lips were only an inch away from hers.

  She tried to force calmness on herself, but her heart throbbed fast in her chest, and she knew that this would not remain a secret for Morgan either.

  “I’m afraid I can’t,” whispered the earl in a subdued voice.

  “Why?” It slipped out of Amrita’s mouth, but she regretted it immediately.

  “Because actually, you don't want me to release you, and I don’t want to act against your will,” came the answer that she expected.

  It was not the first time, but she was surprised how strong Morgan could embrace her with just one of his arms so that she couldn't move, and with his other hand, he caressed her face so gently. She was practically stupefied by the almond scent flowing from the man’s skin. She closed her eyes and gave herself to whatever came next. The earl pressed his body to hers tightly, but only as forcefully so as not to give her pain. With his left hand, he embraced her waist, and ran his right hand over her shoulder first, then he sank his long fingers into her thick, red curls. Then he laid his palm on the girl’s nape and pulled her head towards him, so close, that their lips met. As hard as his arm held her, his soft lips caressed the girl’s mouth. As always, when the man kissed her, Amrita felt her heart unbearably overflowing. The basket fell out of her hand, so nothing inhibited her from embracing Morgan. The noise of an approaching carriage broke the magic of the moment.

  “We haven’t finished yet,” said the earl while releasing her, and he stepped a few paces away.

  “You keep repeating this, for too long,” Amrita swept a wavy curl aside on her forehead. “Don’t you think that if you haven’t yet managed to finish what you started, you won’t succeed this time either?”

  “Humans cannot even imagine that you can be so evil,” Morgan laughed out loud, which made his features more irresistible. “But this is what I like about you, you little witch!”

  He waved good-bye and in the next moment, disappeared in the alley. Amrita bent down for the turned-over basket while shaking her head. She did not suspect that two corners away, another man was watching all of her moves from the doorway of an ancient house covered in ivy.

  It was Michel, who had unexpected things to do on the following day, so he decided to arrive a day earlier and surprise Amrita. He saw her heading for the market, he hurried after her, and he was just about to call out to her to wait for him when earl d’Angerville stepped forward from one of the alleys. Michel saw everything: as Amrita and the man had a private talk, then as the earl embraced and kissed his loved one, who obviously did not mind it at all. So that is the reason why Amrita rejects everybody! She is the lover of the earl… As suddenly as Michel’s heart burst into flames, when he first caught sight of the girl in the main square of the town, just as fast, it broke into pieces from this sight. He flopped down on the dirty cobble stone, and while he was watching the girl’s bickering figure, bitter sobbing shook his hunched-up body. He never looked for Amrita again.

  Every magical and painful moment of the summer of 1528 rushed through the doctor’s mind and soul as he caught sight of his former love fifteen years later in the royal palace. Due to the shock, he could not even move for a while. It was not enough that he saw the woman again who smashed his heart to dust once and for all, moreover, this woman did not age a single day in the past one and a half decades. However, by the time the doctor regained his consciousness with great difficulty, he noticed the panic in the unforgettable emerald eyes.

  Although the past years left marks on Michel, hearing his unusual name, Amrita recognized him even behind the mature features.

  Chapter 7

  Star of the Valois shines

  Louvre, Paris – 29 April 1543

  The princess diligently sipped the magnificent-flavored rose nectar, and in the evening of the twenty-first day, she gathered up all her long time wasted charm and made sure to detain Henri in the marital bed all night long.

  Amrita’s room was on the other side of the corridor, opposite to the ducal suite, so through the door’s eyelet, she saw when the crown prince left in the morning. She waited for a while, then knocked on the princess’ door.

  The princess, with her back to Amrita, stood in front of the window and was gazing at the lewdly green castle park. Her champagne-colored, satin gown slid down on her left shoulder showing her velvety skin. When she heard Amrita stop behind her, she turned around and looked into her eyes. The girl immediately saw in her look that the nectar brought the desired effect, and the night did not pass pointlessly. She did not say anything just smiled and nodded.

  “Say it, I want to hear!” Catherine was stretching contently.

  “The future heir was conceived.”

  “I would like to believe you, but after ten years of futile wait and hope, my faith is in ruins,” the princess’ face clouded over.

  “All you need is a little patience, and soon you will feel the signs of pregnancy,” Amrita encouraged her, but she saw that the additional waiting did not sound promising for her mistress.

  “You know what?” Catherine’s face lit up again. “Doctor Nostradame arrived at the court again yesterday to report about the measures against the plague in Marseilles. They say he is not only skilled at healing, but he also has prophetic abilities, and for him, the future is an open book.”

  Hearing the name, Amrita trembled. That moment, three weeks ago, came to her mind when she thought that she would be immediately revealed. Michel de Nostradame, how could she have forgotten this name? It’s true that she has not seen Michel for fifteen years, who just disappeared from her life one day, never providing an explanation for his nonattendance. But no matter how many years have passed so far, and that he is now a forty-year-old man instead of a twenty-five-year-old boy; Amrita immediately recognized him. She took it for granted that Michel recognized her too, because she has not changed, even the slightest, over the years. The man was gazing at her speechlessly for a long time, but finally, he broke into a polite smile, stepped up to her and greeted her as someone who has seen her for the first time. Amrita could not decide whether Nostradame’s memories in connection with her, really faded over the past one and a half decades, nor was he well aware who was standing in front of him, but rather kept it to himself. After the short visit, the doctor traveled south on that day to manage and control the efforts made for restraining the plague. Amrita tried not to think about him, but by mentioning the name, all the controversial feelings piled up again that Michel evoked in her.

  “I would like you to speak with the doctor,” Catherine said, and sat down in front of the dressing mirror. “The case has to be handled confidentially. I don’t want the news of pregnancy to get around before it becomes certain. Tell him the situation, and that I would like him to come to me secretly behind Henri’s and Diane’s back.”

  “As you wish,” nodded Amrita, conce
aling her unwillingness. “Shall I look for him right now?”

  “Yes, that would be the best. I don’t want him to leave again before we ask him. But don’t come immediately, I’m going to get dressed and have breakfast first. Then, I can receive him.”

  “All right,” she said and left Catherine alone.

  Her heart pounded in her throat while she was heading towards the doctor’s suite. She wanted to stay in the background, maybe Michel really has not recognized her yet, but if she spends time in his company, sooner or later the beneficial veil will fall, behind which the man’s mind hid their story. She was also afraid that the doctor remembered her very well, and the reason why he has not asked embarrassing questions was that they were not left alone. However, now there will be nothing to hold him back from asking those questions…

  For a second, her hand stopped in the air, then she took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Nothing happened for a while, and she was about to knock again when the door opened. There stood Michel as real as possible, and she forgot to lower her hand raised for knocking. She came to herself again only when the doctor greeted her and ushered her in.

  “The princess sent me,” Amrita started her story, but the man interrupted.

  “What about going for a walk in the park, and you tell me what you want there? I start every day with a substantial walk, but I haven’t completed my task for today yet.”

  “Why not?” The girl nodded, and she was glad that in this case, she did not have to stay alone with the man in his own suite, within four walls.

  The foliage of old lime trees cast a beneficent shadow over the promenade traversing the castle park. While they were walking under their interlocking branches, Amrita told him how long the princess has wanted to have a child, and maybe her dreams will come true finally, but she does not want to be beset by doubts until the symptoms appear. That is why she would like the doctor to glance at the sheets of her future and tell her what you see among the lines. Nostradame promised her to pay his respects in the ducal suite right before lunch, then he stepped up to the carefully pruned rose bush, tore off a palm-full of crimson red flower and handed it to her.

  “Rose for the rose, as the sign of my homage.”

  “Oh, thank you! This is beautiful!” Amrita leaned over the velvety petals. “And its smell is heavenly! I hope the king’s gardener will not find out; he is remarkably sensitive about his roses,” she giggled confused.

  “It is a really nice-looking flower, but it cannot come near to your beauty,” said Michel, as he looked into her eyes meaningfully.

  Nostradame tried to conceal the volcano, which was about to erupt in his soul, with moderate courtship. The love that has been buried under petrified lava for fifteen years, came to a boil again, and was burning at the same temperature as at that time in Provence. Together with passion, hope revived in Michel’s heart: perhaps now, he can have Amrita, because by being a mature, but still youngish man, a famous and wealthy doctor, he can offer her a luxurious life. And by now, earl d’Angerville who took use of the girl’s naivety, has also disappeared into thin air…

  Amrita felt that a destructive storm rages inside the doctor, but she tried to shoo away the sinister thoughts.

  “Monsieur de Nostradame, without questioning your sincerity, I must say that you’re exaggerating!” She cast her eyes down.

  “No, no way!” The doctor protested. “Believe me, I was in every corner of the world, I met several beautiful ladies, but their beauty cannot come close to yours.”

  Amrita could not really say anything to this, so she veritably felt relieved when she heard that someone was shouting her name from the other end of the path.

  “Amrita!” The metallic voice of earl de la Roux resounded under the foliage of the sleepy lime trees.

  Amrita and the Doctor turned around simultaneously, and they were watching the figure that was approaching fast, so Amrita did not notice that Nostradame’s face became increasingly darker when he could detect the other man’s features.

  “I wanted to say good-bye to you before I go back to Langeais, and they told me that I can find you here,” sputtered the earl to Amrita at one go, and only after that he glanced at the man standing next to her. “Morgan de la Roux,” he offered his hand.

  The world crashed down around the doctor. A world that never really existed anywhere else, but in his imagination.

  “Michel de Nostradame,” he returned the greeting, and he could not decide what upsets him more: the fact that the man who sours his life appeared again near Amrita, or that he did not age a single day, just like the girl. A terrible presentiment squeezed his heart with an icy hand, but for the time being, he was unable to think what this could mean. He knew, however, that the time, which irresistibly streams towards decay, is never so gracious to mortal human beings.

  Chapter 8

  Glance behind the Veil

  Louvre, Paris – 29 April 1543

  By the time Nostradame arrived to the ducal suite, Catherine was already waiting for him in full flush. Her royal blue, silk dress was decorated with snow-white frills made of Brussels lace according to the latest fashion; a sapphire necklace rested on her chest. Her pinned-up hair arranged in playful curls was ornate with a tiara suiting the necklace. Her earrings, bracelet and the gemstone of her gold rings were made of the same precious stone. Rouge powder breathed color to her pale cheeks and lips; the arc of her colorless eyebrows was highlighted by a coal pencil. With the rose water, she got from Amrita, she perfumed not only her hair and décolletage, but she also dispersed a few drops in the air of the room.

  When Michel entered, the sweet fragrance of rose immediately crawled into his nose, and because his senses identified this smell with Amrita back in Arles, the girl appeared in front of his mental eyes before he would have noticed her in the shadowy end of the room. First, he greeted the princess, and then he waved towards Amrita with his head.

  “Dear doctor, sit down here on the sofa, I would like to interrogate you thoroughly!” Catherine chattered as if she had changed since the hope arose that she was pregnant. “Some say you see the future, is it true?”

  “I don’t deny it; I’m able to foresee certain events,” Michel nodded slowly. “But whether it is a blessing or a curse, I myself haven’t decided yet.”

  “Amrita says I’m in a delicate condition,” the princess cast her eyes down. “Certainly you know how long I’ve been waiting for motherhood, so you have to understand my curiosity: is it true that a child was conceived?”

  But Nostradame, deep in his thoughts, glanced at Amrita first. The girl felt increasingly awkward in the man’s company anyway, but practically shivered by seeing this investigative look. Michel’s penetrating glance wandered to the princess, then after a seemingly endless moment, the doctor said:

  “Your lady is right. At the beginning of the next year, in the month of January, you are going to give birth to a boy. He will be named after his grandfather and his deceased uncle.”

  “Oh, and it’s a boy! Francois… But this is wonderful!” Catherine was clapping her hands jubilantly. “And will he be the king someday?”

  “Yes. But he is not going to be your only child, and not the only one who will come to the throne.”

  “What?” The princess asked eagerly.

  “In the following thirteen years, you will present your husband with ten children, and three of them are going to be crowned.”

  “Oh my God! This is wonderful and unbelievable at the same time! Ten children after ten years of infertility! And three kings!” Catherine sprang up excitedly and ran to Amrita. “Thank you! So the potion you gave me really has magic power!”

  Amrita's and the Doctor's eyes met. She was not glad at all that the princess blurted out the secret in front of Michel, who eyed her suspiciously. Meanwhile, in the man’s mind, troubled thoughts were in a whirl: he was increasingly sure that Amrita is a witch. That is why he did not see their common future back in Arles, or anything in connecti
on with her future: he could glance only at the path of mortals’ fate. And obviously that is why the years have passed over her without a sign. Compared to this recognition, it was nothing he saw about the princess’ sons coming to the throne: Catherine has no room for happiness because her successors will not sit on thrones of various countries but on the same French throne: they are going to reign after each other because they will have a short life. He was watching the princess’ face irradiated with happiness, and he rather kept this knowledge to himself.

  “First of all, the road leading to the throne opens to your husband, the Orleans prince,” he said the pleasant news instead.

  “When?”

  “Exactly on his twenty-eighth birthday.”

  “So it’s only four years, and I’ll be queen… Then, I will have more say, won’t I? Can I get rid of Henri’s favorite, Diane de Poitiers?”

  “Unfortunately, I cannot flatter you with this Milady. You must accept the princess’ presence because she will stay next to Henri until his death.”

  “My husband dies before that slut?”

  “Yes, as a consequence of an injury received in a jousting tournament.”

  “When will this happen?”

  “I see exact dates within fifteen years, and I cannot see this one so all I can say is that sometime after the spring of 1558.”

  “I see,” nodded Catherine, calming down. “Then, I won’t be sad because there is so much happiness waiting for me in the next ten years. Amrita! Give the doctor some cold punch that you made yesterday.”

  Amrita was about to leave, but stopped by hearing Michel’s objection.

  “Thank you, I’m sure it’s magnificent, but I never drink stupefying beverages.”

  “Oh, come on, Monsieur de Nostradame! Don’t reject it, you will regret it!” The princess said in a kind but peremptory voice.