The Medici Queen aka The Devil’s Queen

pressed my scented kerchief to my nose. The Huguenots reacted to Navarre with expressions of hope, gratitude, and respect; at the sight of Anjou and me, their faces turned away, lips twisted with disgust, as if they had just looked on something vomitous.

We proceeded up the creaking wooden stairs to the second floor, the whole of which served as the Admiral’s vast, open bedchamber. Although the room was larger than my own bedchamber in the old, crumbling Louvre, its low ceiling gave the impression of more cramped quarters; the effect was enhanced by some fifty men who had congregated around their wounded leader’s bedside.

Navarre led the way. His fellows parted willingly for him, with murmurs of gratitude, yet were it not for Navarre’s warning gaze, they would have hissed at me. We made our way to Coligny, in a bed of ornately carved cherrywood.

The Admiral was markedly pale as he lay propped up by pillows. His right hand, cradled carefully in his lap, was heavily swathed in bandages; Doctor Pare had been obliged to cut away the dangling index finger while the patient was fully conscious, and Coligny was exhausted from pain and blood loss. His blond hair, dark with sweat, clung to his scalp; his eyes, narrowed with misery, did not brighten as we approached. Pare stood at the head of the bed, white-haired and leonine, his yellowed gaze protective. The windows had been shut for fear a breeze might bring a chill and hasten infection; the room was stifling. I could smell the blood.

“Your Majesty,” the Admiral murmured at the sight of Navarre; when Charles stepped forward, Coligny repeated the phrase.

“My father,” Navarre said softly and bent down to kiss the top of the Admiral’s head. “I have not ceased praying since I heard the news. Is the pain bearable? Is there anything the doctors can do to ease it?”

“It is not so bad,” Coligny whispered, but his grey lips trembled. I had wanted only to kill him; I had not meant for him to suffer.

“I have sent fifty bodyguards to you,” Navarre said, “so that you will be safe and can spare your own men to find and punish whoever has done this.”

“Mon pere!” Charles exclaimed. “May God himself strike me dead if I do not find the bastard who has done this to you, and see him drawn and quartered! Forgive me! If I had only listened to you this morning, this would not have happened…” He began to sob.

Coligny held out his left hand, the fingers spread and trembling; Charles clasped it.

“There is nothing to forgive,” the Admiral whispered. “It is God’s will.” Relishing his role as martyr, he directed a feeble, beatific smile at my son.

“I swear to you, mon pere,” the King gasped, “I will not rest until you are avenged.”

We have lost him, I thought as I stared at Charles; it had all turned upside down. Had Coligny been killed, the King would have grieved but ultimately accepted the death. Wounded, Coligny could play upon the King’s sympathy; the situation had grown more dangerous than ever.

“My heart breaks to see you suffer, Admiral,” I said loudly as I stepped closer to the bedside. “His Majesty is right-a full investigation will be launched and the perpetrator brought to justice. I, too, have been praying all morning for your protection and recovery.”

Coligny’s face lolled toward mine. “Have you?” he whispered.

Though dulled by pain, his gaze bore through me. He knew, I realized. He knew and was determined to exact revenge, but I kept my head high and did not flinch beneath his scrutiny.

Edouard sidled closer to the bed. “The perpetrator will be found quickly,” he said. “I, too, have sent men to help you-fifty of my finest arquebusiers. The street has been cleared of Catholics; you are surrounded by friends. Already we have launched our inquiry: As you know, the shot was fired from a property owned by the Guise family. We are attempting to locate the Duke for questioning.”

Charles unclenched the Admiral’s hand. “Guise? Impossible! I was playing tennis with him this morning.”

“We must not rush to conclusions,” Edouard replied calmly, “but we must examine all the possibilities.”

“Admiral,” I asked, “what of your hand?”

“Ah,” he said. “The finger… I wish the doctor’s scissors had been sharper. It took three attempts, but the finger is gone.” He paused as Charles, Edouard, and I groaned at the thought. “Forgive me, but I must request permission to speak to His Majesty in private.”

Coligny, damn him, knew that we had no choice. I turned to Charles, floundering about for the right words to make him refuse the Admiral without revealing my guilt. There were none.

Charles waved dismissively at Edouard, at me. “I’ll call for you when we are done.”

I could do nothing save take Tavannes’s proffered arm and, with Edouard flanking me on the other side, turn my back to Coligny.

We took three steps away from the bed and were obliged to stop. A giant with an arquebus slung by a strap over his shoulder stepped into my path and stared down at me, his tiny eyes full of loathing.

“Make way for Her Majesty,” Tavannes snapped.

When the giant did not yield, the old Marshal shoved him. Edouard immediately filled the gap, and we managed to push our way forward a few more steps-men in wrinkled black linen encircled us and began to close in. They did not genuflect to us royals; their glares revealed hatred, and their hands rested upon the hilts of their swords.

One of them-a haggard man of thirty-approached us. He, too, had his hand upon the hilt of his long sword, and as he neared, Edouard tensed beside me. I touched the Dauphin’s arm in warning, lest he draw out a hidden dagger: We were outmanned and would quickly lose any fight.

The Huguenot’s face was thin and sharp as a hatchet; when he spoke, his red chin beard wagged.

“There will be Hell to pay for what you have done,” he hissed. His breath was so fetid, I turned from it.

Someone behind him added, “God punishes murders.”

A different man, with a goiter the size of a tennis ball on his neck, stepped forward to stand beside the red- bearded soldier. “We don’t need God.” His eyes were blue, like Coligny’s, and just as mad. “We will strike them down.”

He swung an arquebus from his shoulder and nestled the stock against his chest. He took a step closer and touched the elbow of my sleeve with the barrel.

Now they will kill us, I thought. I was furious with myself for not realizing how dangerous the situation had become.

“Mannerless bastard!” Edouard shouted. “Touch the Queen’s person again, and I will kill you!”

“Do you want war?” the red-bearded soldier hissed. “We will give you war!”

The owner of the arquebus cried out, “You lure us to your Catholic city, so you can slaughter us like swine! But we will kill you first!”

“I married my daughter to one of your own,” I countered haughtily. “How dare you suggest that we would harm the Admiral! The King loves him as a father!”

My voice must have carried. I heard Navarre’s shout; the men dropped their hostile gazes to the floor and withdrew as he hurried to my side.

“Madame la Reine,” he asked, with disturbing formality, “did they harm you?”

Edouard pointed. “He touched her with the barrel of his arquebus!”

Navarre turned to the implicated man and drew his arm back to slap him; I caught his upraised arm.

“Don’t punish him,” I said. “Feelings are running high enough.” I looked back in Coligny’s direction. “Please,” I said to Navarre, “will you escort me back to the Admiral?”

When I arrived, Charles was sitting on the edge of the bed, his jaw set, his brows knit in a formidable frown. He looked up at me, his eyes narrowed with mistrust.

“Your Majesty,” I said softly, “Admiral Coligny is surely exhausted. We must let him rest.”

Charles was ready to contradict me, but Doctor Pare, who had been standing at the head of the bed, spoke up suddenly.

“Yes,” he said. He caught my gaze and immediately looked away, as if afraid his own might be too revealing. “It is difficult enough for him, with all his men here. It would be best, Your Majesty, if he were able to be quiet for a time.”

“Very well,” Charles said, with sullen reluctance, then turned to Coligny. “But I shall return soon, mon pere. God keep you in the interim. You have all my prayers and my love.”

“As you have mine,” I said to the Admiral.