Mary, Queen of France: The Story of the Youngest Sister of Henry VIII

Louis enjoyed his sojourn at the chateau and spent most of his leisure with the children. He would go alone unannounced to the nursery, and he thought how delightful Louise’s two looked, bending over a chess board; he would sit beside them and watch the little fingers—the boy’s still showing signs of baby fat—moving the pieces with a skill extraordinary in players so young. There was a real baby, he discovered; and he was very amused to hear that Francois had demanded it and that his sister, Marguerite, had promptly left the chateau and found her imperious brother that for which he’d asked.

The boy will be spoiled, he thought, left to the care of women.

And women who dote on him to such an extent! He would consult with Georges at an early opportunity, for they must remember that, as yet, he was not even married to Anne, and that while this state of affairs persisted young Francois could be King of France. He should not therefore be tied to women’s apron strings, but brought up as a man.

During his visit he broached the subject with Louise.

“You are justly proud of two such children,” he told her. “I’ll swear that you will wish to put such a boy in the care of a great soldier, and that soon.”

Louise was startled. “I had no such plans, Sire.”

“He is so advanced for his age that one forgets how young he is. Such a one needs to be brought up with boys of his own age and under stern discipline. He must learn how to become a knight—to use a sword, how to conduct himself in combat. Remember, he could one day hold a very important position in this land.”

“’Tis true, Sire. But I would wish to remain in charge of his education. He must learn all that a man should learn, but that will come later.”

“You have too much sense,” said Louis with a smile, “to wish to leave it too long. I will speak to de Gie of our Francois. As you know he is one of the greatest soldiers in France, and I am sure, Madame, you will agree with me when I say that none but the best is good enough for Francois.”

Louise was trembling with apprehension but the King noticed the firm set of her lips, and he said to himself: There is a woman who will fight for her boy like a tigress for her cub. She is determined that one day he shall be King of France. Alas, Madame, you are doomed to disappointment.

He felt sorry for her and spoke gently to her when he took his farewell, complimenting her once more on her children, and adding that he believed she would never allow them to leave her care.

But when Francois knelt before him, looking so dignified that he brought tears to his mother’s eyes as she watched him, Louis stooped and picked the boy up in his arms.

“What a big fellow you are!” he said. “I’ll swear that when next we meet you’ll be showing me how well you can handle a sword.”

Francois’s eyes gleamed with pleasure. “A sword … for me!”

“Well, you’ll be a man one day,” said the King. “You may need one.”

Francois was delighted. Now he wanted a sword.

The chateau seemed quiet after the King had left. Jeanne de Polignac sensed Louise’s concern and tried to soothe her.

“One thing is certain,” she said. “Louis does not believe he will ever get a son because he would not concern himself with the upbringing of Francois if he did not consider him to be the Dauphin.”

There was comfort in that thought.

“But I shall not allow anyone to take him from me,” said Louise fiercely.

When Georges d’Amboise sought an audience with the King there was triumph in every line of the Archbishop’s plump body.

“Alexander is willing, Sire,” Georges explained. “He is concerned at the moment for his son Cesare, and Cesare needs your help. Alexander says—most diplomatically and in that veiled language of which he is a past master—that if you will please him, you shall have your divorce.”

“What are his terms?” Louis asked.

“Cesare is tired of his Cardinal’s robes. He fancies himself as a conqueror. There is no doubt that he arranged the murder of his brother, the Duke of Gandia. You will remember, my Liege, that that young man’s body was found in the Tiber; he had been stabbed to death. Alexander loved that boy, but he has given up grieving now. He has another son, and so besottedly does he love his children that he now gives all his devotion to Cesare and his daughter Lucrezia. He seems to have forgotten poor Gandia now that he is dead—at least he forgives Cesare for murdering his brother.”

“It may be that he wishes to see the Borgias triumphant. Tell me what he asks for Cesare.”

“You will remember, Sire, that when Cesare became a Cardinal Alexander prepared documents which proclaimed him to have been born in wedlock. Now he has prepared further documents. Cesare is his bastard and therefore, being of illegitimate birth, cannot be accepted as a Cardinal. Cesare will leave the Church, and he plans to come to the Court of France; he wants you to help him to marry Carlotta of Aragon, and he would be pleased to accept a French dukedom. He wishes to make an alliance with you so that you may join forces in attacking Italy.”

“Alexander knows how to drive a bargain.”

“He does, Sire. But you have always greatly desired Milan and have had a claim to it. Cesare would come with the dispensation which will dissolve your marriage; and all we should have to do is have the case tried here before judges whom you would select.”

Louis was thoughtful. “You are an able man, Georges. You should have your reward too.”

Georges smiled. “I understand that Cesare will bring, in addition to the dispensation for you, a Cardinal’s hat for me.”

“The Borgia knows how to make a bargain irresistible.”

“ ’Tis so, Sire. And you need the divorce, unless we are prepared to sit back and see young Francois mount the