The carriages trundled on to the six-arched stone bridge across the Gave de Pau, the waters black under the star-sprinkled sky.
‘Surely the Unseelie Court cannot be trusted as allies?’ the black-garbed man said.
Henri laughed. ‘None of our allies can be trusted. That is the way of this world, Maximilien. The Unseelie Court want what they want. We have our own aims. Somewhere there is common ground. But when they have served their purpose, we will drive them out.’
‘You think you can manipulate them in that way? With all their power?’
‘Elizabeth has succeeded in England. We can too.’
The battle-scarred adviser cast an eye towards his master. ‘And this threat they hold over our heads, these Scar-Crow Men, has no part in your calculations?’
The King waved a dismissive hand and said with a hint of bravado, ‘There are always threats, my friend. We deal with each one in turn, as we always have. Now, will you greet our guests and bring them to our table?’
His features etched with concern, Maximilien gave a bow and strode from the chamber. Once the door had closed, Henri let his brave smile fall, lines of worry appearing on his strong face. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he left the chamber and descended the spiral stone steps to the grand hall. It was ablaze with candlelight, for he could not abide any shadows when confronted by those foul creatures.
Along the middle of the high, beamed chamber was an oaken table with a daringly constructed centrepiece, a representation of the chateau surrounded with peacock feathers, lavender, violets and other fragrant flowers picked from the gardens that afternoon. Beside it stood an enormous pie, the crust formed in the shape of a crown, gilt and silvered so it shone in the candlelight. It contained an entire salted stag, a goose, six chickens and a rabbit. The rich aroma of the cooked meats and gravy filled the air, with underlying notes of the subtle spices of northern Spain. That was only the appetizer. The kitchens had worked hard all day to prepare a feast grander than any enjoyed by the crowned heads of Europe.
It was all part of a play, Henri knew, but the Unseelie Court were at their least dangerous when they were flattered. For a moment, he surveyed the gold and silver platters, the sparkling goblets and jugs of blood-red wine until he was sure all was perfectly presented. On his way into the annexe, he paused before the large, gloomy portrait of Francois hanging over the great stone fireplace where fresh-cut logs crackled and spat. He bowed his head briefly, knowing the old King would understand. The path of the monarch was never easy.
From the adjoining chamber window, he watched the carriages draw up at the chateau’s main entrance, but he pulled away before the occupants climbed out. After long, tense moments, Maximilien knocked and opened the door of the annexe. Putting on a warm smile, Henri stepped into the great hall.
With his very first glance across the assembled crowd, he felt a deep chill. Was he surveying a tableau arranged from the contents of a crypt? Bone-white, cadaverous faces were turned towards him, black-ringed, unblinking eyes staring. Nothing moved.
The clothes were flamboyant, mirroring no current fashion but somehow capturing elements of the clothes worn by the King’s ancestors across the centuries: voluminous shirts, bucklers, tied breeches and jerkins on the men, large skirts embroidered in odd designs and studded with pearls and white jewels on the women, their necklines plunging, their hair sculpted and dressed with more glittering jewels. Yet the scene was drained of colour. The clothes were grey, and there was an air of decay about them; they appeared to be dusted with mildew and were worn and scuffed with dirt as if they had lain long in the ground. To accompany that notion, the air was filled with the oppressive scent of clay.
Yet this vision passed in the blink of an eye so that Henri convinced himself it had been an illusion. Now the men all appeared handsome with square jaws and sharp cheekbones, their skin still pale but touched with a faint golden glow. The women had full lips, their thickly lashed eyes gleaming seductively. The clothes, however, remained the same grey, worn, strangely cut styles. Henri felt an odd queasiness at the juxtaposition of grave and voluptuous life, and as he looked around the faces he saw an unsettling hunger there, as if he were part of the coming feast.
‘Welcome to my home, honoured guests,’ he boomed, throwing his arms wide and laughing with studied joy.
One of the males rose from the foot of the table, stepping away from his place to approach the King with slow, languid steps. He sported long silver hair with a streak of black running down the centre, and was uncommonly tall and painfully thin, towering over Henri by a head, yet there was a graceful strength to his every movement. His eyes flashed emerald. Clinging to his arm was a hairless, ape-like creature with golden eyes. It stared at Henri too long, too hard. The Fay bowed, but undercut the show of respect with a faintly mocking smile.
‘And we are honoured to be in the presence of such a formidable ruler as Henri de Navarre. News of your prowess has reached even to our distant homes,’ the guest said with a slight sibilance. ‘My name is Lethe. I am the most senior member of the High Family here this evening. Some of my brothers and sisters have accompanied me, but sadly not all. There is pressing business across this world that requires the attention of my other siblings.’
The King bowed in return, continuing to smile though his breath was tight in his chest. ‘You have shown me great respect in bringing so many of your family here to my home,’ he said.
‘That only shows what great importance we place upon events now unfolding, and the value we see in having the great Henri de Navarre alongside,’ the spokesman for the Unseelie Court replied.
With a knitting of his brow that suggested irritation, Lethe studied Henri closely as if he had read the King’s thoughts, and then he swept an elegant arm towards his companions. ‘Come. Let me introduce you to the other members of my family.’
The tall, thin man led the way to a beautiful woman who sat at his left hand, shining hazel hair tumbling around her bare shoulders. Her allure extended far beyond her appearance. Everything about her drew Henri’s attention. She eyed the King with a look he had only ever seen in the brothels of Paris, but then she shifted that very same glance to her brother. The tips of her fingers brushed Lethe’s gently, the touch crackling like a summer storm with such passion that the French monarch was repulsed. ‘Malantha is our ambassador to the court of King Philip of Spain,’ the thin man said, holding his sister’s gaze.
‘You are a handsome man, King Henri. I look forward to enjoying your company,’ she breathed.
The monarch found the clear suggestion in her words almost obscene, though he continued to smile politely. ‘I am sure even a man of such devout ways as Philip finds you entrancing,’ he said with a bow. Malantha and Lethe exchanged a knowing glance.
Sitting opposite the seductive woman was a man so grotesquely fat he occupied two places. His head was shaven, his piggy eyes peering out beneath a heavy brow, his nose squashed, his lips plump and broad. Thick rolls of flesh fell from his jowls to his shoulders and he was naked to the waist, so that he appeared to be carved out of wax. His huge, hairless belly glistened with sweat. He was as ugly as the other members of the Unseelie Court were decadently beautiful. His eyes brightened as they fell on Henri. ‘You are a handsome man,’ he said in a buttery voice. ‘I heard the women were drawn to you, and now I see why.’
Chilled by the manner in which the fat man eyed him, Henri gave a curt bow.
‘Brother Globelus enjoys many pleasures,’ said Lethe, laughing. ‘His hunger is never sated.’
The King hid the relief he felt at moving on to the fourth and final member of the High Family present, but his unease returned just as quickly when he found himself beside a man with long jet-black hair and a sallow complexion, his beard and moustache waxed into points. The stern figure’s black eyes flashed with unconcealed hatred, but he would not let his gaze linger on Henri for even a moment. ‘Lansing,’ the Unseelie Court’s spokesman said. There was an odd note in his voice that made the French monarch think even Lethe was unnerved by this brother. ‘He speaks little, but sees all.’
The tall, thin man chose to ignore the other members of the Unseelie Court seated around the table and the ones watching with dark eyes from the far end of the great hall. Henri felt the tension in his chest ease when he could finally take his seat at the head of the table.
‘Eat, then. Enjoy all that this house has to offer,’ the monarch announced, pouring himself a large goblet of wine. But not one of the Unseelie Court made a move towards the food before them. They all continued to watch the King with those eerie, unblinking stares. Henri took a long draught to calm himself and then asked, ‘How goes your business in England?’
