indicate a brighter future. There was a small library where we were staying, and my large trunk of books had been stored there. I slipped on my dressing gown and stole outside.
My apartment was on the third floor. A spiraling outdoor staircase connected it to a courtyard on the second floor, which housed the King’s and Queen’s apartments as well as the library. I hurried silently down the staircase, lamp in one hand. It was a still, clear, star-littered night in late November, with a huge waxing moon that cast shadows in my path. My dressing gown provided little warmth, and the stone banister was freezing beneath my bare hand; my teeth were chattering by the time I reached the second-floor courtyard.
I scurried through the large entryway, flanked by two tall junipers, and nodded to the guards, accustomed now to my nocturnal excursions. After several moments of digging through the library stacks, I was able to find the second volume of Agrippa. I tucked it beneath one arm and, with the lamp in my other hand, went back out into the night.
I did not get far. Before I moved past the junipers flanking the recessed entryway, I heard laughter floating through the still air. It came from the loggia that opened onto a terrace behind the King’s apartment; the terrace looked out onto the very stretch of courtyard I needed to cross.
Instinct prompted me to lower the lamp and wait in the junipers’ shadow. The laughter grew louder as a woman’s form, backlit by the moon, ran out onto the terrace.
A man’s voice called to her from the loggia. “Anne! Anne, what are you doing?” The King’s indignance was tempered by slightly drunken good humor. “It’s freezing cold!”
She spread her arms and whirled, a dark silhouette dressed in nothing but a chemise that ended above her hips; she was bare from the waist down. Her loose hair fanned out about her shoulders. “It’s wonderful! I feel revived! You had me sweating so.”
“Anne…” His Majesty’s voice turned petulant.
“Francois,” she mimicked, then laughed. “Come take me here, beneath the moon.”
He came to her-his black form tall and thick, hers small and spritelike-and lunged suddenly for her with a roar. She ran from him at first but let him catch her easily at the terrace’s edge. She put her palms upon the waist-high stone railing, facing it, with her back to the King.
“Your Majesty, claim your prize.”
He went to stand behind her, his hands on her hips, ready to enter her, but she pulled away, suddenly coy. “Only if you promise to heed my advice.”
He groaned. “Woman, don’t torment me…”
“Louise is a lovely girl, don’t you think?”
“You’re lovelier.” He put his hands around her waist and lifted her to her tiptoes in the hope of piercing her, but she wriggled around to face him.
“He’s been through so much sadness,” she said, suddenly serious. “He deserves a beautiful woman with royal blood.”
“Don’t vex me, Anne. I want nothing to do with the Guises. Henri’s cousin Jeanne-she’s almost of marriageable age, and brings with her the crown of Navarre. She’d be a much better match for him. But Catherine is a sweet girl. Give her time, and let’s not speak of this now…”
“It must be Louise,” she countered firmly. “She would give you grandchildren who would unite the Houses of Guise and Valois. No more struggles between them for the Crown…”
Francois sighed, a bit annoyed; his dark silhouette stilled. “This is very premature. I haven’t even made up my mind yet.”
“But you
“Enough!” Francois commanded.
Their forms merged in a kiss, then the King abruptly turned her so that her back faced him and bent her at the waist. She clutched the stone railing as he pushed his way inside her and began to thrust.
She let go a little gasp, then a laugh; her breath rose and hung above her head, mist in the cold night air. “Francois! You’re like a bull!”
I blew out my lamp and averted my eyes. For agonizing moments I listened to their passion. Soon I began to shiver uncontrollably, not entirely from the cold.
Twenty-one
I didn’t read Agrippa’s book on astrology that night; my mind and heart were racing far too swiftly to concentrate on anything but what I had overheard. Instead, I lay awake, staring up at the tapestry canopy over my head.
Without children, without Henri’s heart, I had no defense and no supporters. King Francois would petition the Pope and have the marriage annulled on the grounds that I was barren. Mine would not be the first royal union to end in such a manner. I would be banished-to Italy, I supposed, though I could never return to Florence so long as Alessandro ruled.
And Henri-my beloved, faithless Henri-would no longer have me by his side to protect him, as I was meant to do. Without me, he would die just as he had in my dream, bloodied and helpless.
I was not on particularly close terms with God, given my hard early lessons that the universe is neither safe nor just. But I prayed to Him who ruled the stars and planets. I promised that if I could remain near my darling Henri, I would be willing to surrender anything, including every last scrap of my pride.
In the morning I rose exhausted but resolute and penned a short letter to His Majesty requesting a private audience. I would not, like my enemies, resort to a whispering campaign, going about to the King’s favorites begging for their support. Francois had called me his daughter; he had claimed to be my father and my friend. I would speak directly to him, or to no one at all.
The reply came quickly. The King agreed to see me directly after the morning ritual of his dressing.
I wore no jewels that morning, only black mourning for the Dauphin. His Majesty received me alone in his private cabinet, accessible only by royal invitation. It was cramped but handsome, the walls covered in carved panels of glowing cherrywood, some of which hid compartments for the storage of secret documents. A large mahogany desk dominated the room; on its polished surface rested a map-of Provence, where the fighting was, I supposed-but it had been scrolled so that I could not see what was marked there. Apparently I could not be trusted with state secrets.
Francois sat behind the desk. His long face was marked by excess, the cheeks heavy and ponderous, the eyes puffy. The white that had appeared in his temples upon the Dauphin’s death now glistened in his dark beard as well. He was dressed simply, for work and not pleasure, in a plain doublet of black.
“Catherine. Please, sit.” His mouth smiled, but his eyes were guarded.
“If it please Your Majesty, I will stand,” I said. I hoped my suffering would be over quickly.
“As you wish,” he said. Knowing what I had come to discuss-and thinking his position contrary to mine-he was consummately regal. He was prepared to behave as a king, to do what was best for France; to achieve that aim, he had abandoned even those of his blood to his enemies. I, a newcomer and foreigner, had no hope.
I abandoned all pretense. I said, “Your Majesty, I love you. And I love your son. I know I am a liability to you both now. And so…” My voice broke; I silently cursed myself for my weakness. When I had gathered myself, I looked up at Francois again. His expression was hard, cautious.
“And so I will not object to the repudiation. I accept that you must do what is politically expedient, and I harbor no resentment.”
His jaw went slack. My unexpected words disarmed him.
“I only ask…” The words caught in my throat, which tightened. I repeated the words, and when the barrage of tears came with them, I lowered my face to hide them and forced myself to continue. “I only ask that I be allowed to serve in whatever lowly capacity pleases you and your son. That I not be sent away. I would happily serve the woman who becomes Henri’s wife. If only I could stay…”
I sank to my knees; I covered my face and sobbed. I was humiliating myself, yet I did not care. I thought of
