*Paul Van Dyke, Catherine de M&dicis. (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1922), I, 23.
Around the stern were sculptures in high relief, gold on a black ground, and on the prow a lantern of polished metal shone. The awnings were of purple embroidered cloth; the rooms hung with silk and cloth of gold. The rowing benches were chained to the sides with silver chains and the crew of three hundred rowers were dressed in damascened satin in the royal colors of red and yellow/'
Pope Clement VII and thirteen cardinals whose pages were dressed in coats of green velvet met the fleet at Nice where His Holiness distributed rich gifts among the members of the French Court. Then on to Marseilles. In spite of the air of sanctimony and edification aboard the royal galley, there was gay laughter as well and frolicking. Many of Catherine's "ladies" were far younger than she; moreover, few had ever before been at sea, and the novelty of their adventure kept them in gales of amusement. Three of the little girls were dark-skinned, captured from Barbary: Marie-the-Moor and Agnes-and-Margaret-the-Turks, brought along to lend an exotic air. If any were homesick, bewildered little girls they were too conscious of their good fortune in being part of the train of the Duchessina to admit it, and it was a gay, chattering party of pretty girls that tripped down the gangway behind the impressive aggregation of clergy when they reached Marseilles.
Here Catherine, wearing gold brocade and mounted on a bay mare, rode with quiet dignity, head high, through the throngs gathered to welcome her. She was painfully aware of the critical gaze of the multitude, the shrill cries of "There she is! There's the Italian woman!" a name she bore proudly,
but came to dread for the connotation of contempt the French somehow injected into it.
Finally, on October 28, 1533, the fourteen-year-old Catherine de Medici became the Duchess of Orleans. The bridegroom was two weeks older than his bride, a solemn, rather melancholy lad who was considered wise for his age. And Catherine, uncertain scattering that she was, shunted from glittering pillar to magnificent post, felt that here at last was a friend, young like herself, someone she could trust. She fell deeply, unalterably in love.
The match, however, was frowned upon by the French Court. The bride s dowry still seemed unpardonably small coming from the heiress of the Medicis; again, though a Duchessina, she was still the daughter of bankers and tradesmen, and her intrusion upon royalty of feudal origin was considered little less than shocking. She was not spared the thrusts and lightly veiled insults of the Court and only her innate tact, a characteristic for which she was always to be remembered, kept peace between her and her tormentors, But a thin, cold shaft of bitterness slid silently into her young heart and coiled there. Her position and her husband's were relatively unimportant at Court, so in those early years her reactions to anything were of minor interest to anyone but herself.
Then the Dauphin died and she found herself and her young husband but one step removed from the throne of France. So, sitting on that breathless August morning, listening to the gathering storm, Catherine quietly appraised the prospect. Who shall say that it was not in that hour of full
realization of royalty's might that Catherine de Medici determined to be the mightiest of them all?
Almost from the day of her arrival, Catherine had won the affectionate regard of her father-in-law, Francis L He was a great respecter of art and literature. Hadn't he brought the aging Leonardo da Vinci to Amboise to add to its endless list of beauties? Didn't he own Mona Lisa? He was aware that a knowledge of the New Learning was essential to anyone calling himself an intellectual, and this in turn called for some comprehension of Greek. Catherine had perfected her own knowledge of Greek to the astonishment of the entire Court. His Majesty, watching the quiet absorption with which his young daughter-in-law bent over her books, smiled in rueful admiration.
But even greater than his respect for her learning was his high regard for her riding. Catherine was one of the most skillful horsewomen of her day. At that time the sidesaddle was unknown; the equestrienne sat sidewise on her mount with her feet resting on a small wooden platform or "footboard" as it was called. Catherine invented the horn for the saddle to give the rider balance, and had her makers of "horse furniture' fashion one to her liking. It became popular at once and soon in France, England and Italy the new sidesaddle was being adopted by noble ladies who found it not only safe and comfortable but flattering as well.
The King was a tireless hunter himself and, because he delighted in being surrounded by pretty women, he organized what he called his "Little Band," a select group of
women of the Court who joined him in the hunt. So proud was the King of Catherine's skill in the saddle and of her knowledge of fine horses that he insisted she join his "Little Band" and took great pleasure in having her ride beside him, outdistancing the others, skimming over the most perilous jumps. On one occasion she was thrown and painfully bruised and His Majesty's tender concern for her was such that she said to one of her ladies, "In all Christendom I think there is none kinder than His Majesty and none more fortunate than I to be his most humble servant/'
But for all her learning and all her skill in the saddle, Catherine was deeply troubled. As the years passed and no children came to her and the Dauphin an ugly rumor started, a threat to her marriage. Certain busybodies at Court suggested both to the King and to the Dauphin that she
