The Medici Queen aka The Devil’s Queen

When he entered my room, I handed him the sealed document in lieu of a greeting. “You have received a letter from Rome, Your Majesty. From Luca Guorico.”

“Do I know him?” he asked wearily, settling into a chair as he took the letter. He had spent a long day in his cabinet discussing plans for the war, first with his loyal old friend Montmorency, then with Francois of Guise-the two advisers were so politically opposed that Henri did not meet with them together, as the discussion would quickly degenerate into argument.

“The famous astrologer,” I prompted. “The one who said my uncle Giovanni would become Pope.”

“Ah,” he said dismissively and slipped the letter into his belt. “I will deal with the machinations of fate later. I am done with serious thinking for the day.”

“Please!” At the unintended sharpness in my voice, he glanced at me in mild surprise. “Please,” I said more gently, “will you not at least look at it?”

“Catherine, you brood too much about these things.”

“Monsieur Guorico also wrote to me.” I settled into the chair beside him. “He has discovered something in your stars and means to warn you.”

“Warn me of what?”

I looked pointedly at the letter in his hand. “He did not tell me.”

“I will read it then,” he sighed. He opened the letter and scanned it. As he read, a line above the bridge of his nose gradually deepened.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “He warns me against single combat-against duels, not battles, so there is no danger in my going to the front. And it is nothing I need worry about for many years.” He refolded the letter and stuffed it into his belt.

It was impertinent even for a queen to violate the King’s privacy, yet I could not restrain myself. “Please, Henri, I must know what he has told you.”

“Look at the fear in your eyes,” he chided. “You have gotten yourself agitated over nothing. Why do you continue to believe in such things?”

“Because astrology is like medicine, Henri-a gift from God to aid the suffering. I have seen the proof with my own eyes.”

He snorted. “It’s that sickly looking magician who shadows you like a ghost. Why do you surround yourself with such people? There’s nothing of God in him-he looks more like he speaks daily to the Devil.”

“Monsieur Ruggieri saved my life in Florence,” I countered hotly. “He gave me a talisman. I never would have survived without it.”

“You would have survived just as well with nothing.” Henri shook his head. “That man fills your head with strange notions. I’ve a mind to send him away.”

The French doors leading to the balcony were shut; night had left the glass unrevealing, but I studied a point far beyond it.

“When I was a girl,” I said quietly, “just before the rebels imprisoned me, Ruggieri gave me a talisman for protection.” Henri began to interrupt, but I stayed him with my hand. “He also told me that I would never rule Florence. He said that I would move to a strange land and marry a king.” I did not add what had finally convinced me: Ruggieri’s summoning of my dead mother, and her prediction that Ser Silvestro would rescue me. Henri remained silent, but one corner of his mouth quirked with ill-concealed skepticism.

I continued. “He also spoke to me about the dreams that have tormented me since that time. I dream that you lie bleeding and I must save you, but I don’t know what to do. You speak to me in French-and always did, even before I learned the language. The day we first met, I recognized you, because I had already known you for years.”

“Catherine…” Henri’s tone held both disbelief and dawning amazement.

“I have tried…” I faltered as a wave of emotion broke over me. “All my life, I have tried to understand what I must do to protect you. It’s what God means me to do. So don’t scoff, and don’t push me away.”

“Catherine,” he said, this time gently. He could see that I was distraught and took my hand.

Tears slid down my cheeks, though my voice remained calm. “That’s why I wanted Ruggieri to come to France-to save you from evil, not to bring it-and that’s why I’m so curious to know what Luca Guorico told you. I would die for you, Henri.”

I did not say, I have already killed.

We were silent a long time-I, struggling to gather myself, he, clasping my hand.

“Then we will not send Monsieur Ruggieri away, since his presence comforts you,” he said at last, “though I do not believe in his methods.” He took the folded letter from his belt and handed it to me. “Because you are so desperate to help, I will not hide this from you.”

I unfolded it with an unpleasant thrill.

Your most greatly esteemed Majesty,

My name is Luca Guorico. Her Majesty Donna Caterina may have told you that I am a horoscopist who focuses my art on determining the fate of illustrious persons.

After studying your stars, I must warn you urgently to avoid all combat in an enclosed space. Duels and single combat present the greatest peril, and could lead to a mortal blow to the head.

This danger remains constant but will be magnified greatly a few years hence, in your fortieth year, as the result of an evil aspect made by Mercury to Mars as the latter moves through your ascendant, Leo the royal lion. I warn you in hopes that foreknowledge and caution will allow you to survive this treacherous period. This is quite possible, for my investigation has revealed that you survived an earlier period of comparable risk without incident.

May God bless and guide you and see you safely through all hazards.

For a few moments, I sat with the letter open on my lap before turning to Henri, who now sat beside me.

“Promise me that you will never go to war again,” I begged.

His brows lifted. “Of course I’m going. I must lead the troops. Didn’t you read the letter carefully? War doesn’t occur in enclosed areas, and I’m not challenging anyone to a duel.”

The same anguished helplessness I felt in the dream tugged at me. Henri was so close, yet there was nothing I could do to keep him there beside me; he would-like my mother, my father, Aunt Clarice, and King Francois-slip too easily from life into shadowy memory.

“War is unpredictable. What happens if you find yourself in a building, faced by a single assailant?” I demanded. “If I lose you…”

“Catherine,” he soothed. “We’ve only just found each other, after all this time. I promise that you won’t lose me. Not now.”

“Then take a talisman with you.”

“I need no such thing,” he answered gently. “If God sent you to protect me, then He will hear you. Pray for me, and that will be enough to bring me home safely.”

He would not listen when I tried to explain that God did not hear my prayers.

Twenty-seven

Before he left for the war in the northeast, Henri appointed me his regent. With the country mine to run, I discovered that I had both the taste and the aptitude for it. My memory was keen, and I enjoyed the exercise of recalling each word uttered by Henri’s advisers. Coupled with my gentler, more diplomatic method of governing, this talent won me support and admiration. I pored over each letter Henri or his generals sent from the front and made sure that funds and supplies were constantly available for them; I even grew bold enough to offer military advice.

Victory came quickly; within months, the towns of Toul, Verdun, and Metz were ours. My husband distinguished himself in battle, as did Francois of Guise, and the campaign further solidified the friendship between them.

Henri left for war in late January and returned to my arms in late June, brimming with optimism. By August I