f
Chapter 11 THE LAST VALOIS
, the troublesome little brother, tried with the continued help of his sister to run away. Humiliated hy Henry's casual forgiveness for the plot he and Navarre had shared, he found life at Court insupportable. It was almost as though the King had not thought Alengon or his plots important enough to worry about. Then, too, his mother's continuous supervision, her watchful eye on his departures and returns, this was infuriating. Finally, with Marguerite's help, he did manage to escape to the south where he began organizing an army of Huguenots, dissatisfied Catholics, and other malcontents into a band to be known as Protectors of the Liberties of France for the King.
Catherine followed and caught up with him, but for once could not influence him. What the monstrous, strutting little Alengon wanted was his brother Henry's word that he had
a right to be King should lie be victorious in Kis ambitious maneuvers. It was a covetous child's demand for toys he knew he should not have. Henry dared not antagonize him too much, nor dared he let him continue on his rampage, for with his following growing—on the strength of promises impossible to keep—he might easily split the kingdom into many small states with himself ruler of them all!
Then, as though to scotch this fantastic dream of Alen-£on's, Henry of Navarre made his own bid for supremacy. Navarre was well aware of his position as heir presumptive to the throne of France. He was also—at least for the moment—a Protestant. To gather the Huguenot forces to him at this time was all-important; Alengon's forays struck him as childish if infuriating. Like his young brother-in-law, he could be a "liberator' of the kingdom which floundered in a morass of savage waste and depravity.
Desperately the Queen Mother faced the impressive combined forces of her son and her son-in-law and finally in May, 1576, signed a treaty in the name of the King which gave the Huguenots a great victory, Alengon's ego a tremendous lift, and Navarre a gratifying sense of strengthened power.
Poor little Alengon! Though a conquering hero in his own eyes, he still was an irritating nuisance, nothing more, to his brother and his brother's mignons who ridiculed him in public and tormented him at Court. He had come home to the Louvre full of self-confidence and pride, but before he had been there a month he knew he could not stay if he were to keep his sanity. Both his mother and the King were determined to keep him where he could not stir up further
trouble and lie "became a virtual prisoner in the palace. But Marguerite, knowing no tetter way to exasperate her brother Henry, helped Alengon to escape by a rope let down from her own window!
To Flanders, to England where Queen Elizabeth gave him a jewel but continued to withhold her answer to his proposal of marriage, and so at last, his sickly body worn out, his dream of glory and of grandeur indescribable ended, he managed to reach his castle at Chateau-Thierry. There he died in June, 1584, aged thirty years. He wanted so very much to be known by a title which he never achieved, Duke of Brabant. Even in death he was thwarted, for his fervent request to be buried under his sovereign title was ignored, and on his tomb at Saint-Denis the name by which he was known in life is carved for all the world to see: Duke of Alengon.
With the death of Alengon there rose the inevitable question of King Henry s successor, and as Henry of Navarre, his Bourbon cousin, was the next in line, there the answer rested. But not for long. Navarre was a Protestant, a Huguenot, and never in the history of France had a Protestant King sat on the throne. It could not be.
And here, as in the days of Coligny, the name of Guise slid quietly into the picture. Henry, Duke of Guise, was still carrying the family banner in the general direction of the throne. He had been one of the founders of the powerful Catholic League organized to rout out the King's wavering religious leadership. Now he was sweeping Paris with a dramatic personal appeal very like his father's years earlier.
Added to this, Protestant Queen Elizabeth in England had just ordered his cousin Mary Stuart executed and this had stimulated the sympathetic devotion of the French for their idol The fact that Henry, their King, had done his best to stop the execution they chose to ignore. They loved Guise; they wanted Guise, no one else. Away with the decadent Valois! Away with the Bourbon succession!
The King was forced to leave Paris, but he returned and having endured every humiliation at the hands of Guise and his League, he came to one of his sudden, unpredictable decisions: the air of France must be cleared of strife, the strife which unfailingly followed in the train of the Guises. Henry, Duke of Guise, must die.
The Duke arrived to attend an early morning conference with the King at Blois. The conference would end, Guise was sure, with his getting one of his most contentious ultimatums: a joining with Spain in the restoration of the Inquisition. Thus far Henry of Valois had been refusing and only a week ago had said in ringing tones, "I won't have religion become a butchery or the altar of God's sacrifice a shambles/' Well, Guise reflected, chuckling, probably His Majesty had thought better of his high-flown refusal and was ready to capitulate.
Surrounded by retainers,
