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For the past two days Louise had restrained herself, but today she could no longer contain her hope. Since her monthly flowers had started, she had been as regular as the cycle of the moon, except once. Then she had carried Margot, her gifted daughter, who at two could already repeat the whole of her Hail Mary. Today was the seventh day that her courses were late. As she knelt at mass with the rest of Anne’s ladies, she prayed she carried the son Friar Francis had promised her three years ago. It was much too soon to tell Carlo or even mention her suspicions to a midwife, but she could pray—and ask the goddess of fertility to bless this son growing inside her.
As they returned to the queen’s suite, Louise observed that the sun sparkled through the windows that lined the corridor at intervals. While the other ladies settled, she removed herself discretely and returned to the chambers she shared with two of the other attendants who waited on the queen that day. Opening the coffer that contained her belongings, she lifted the top tray and placed it on her bed. With the key she wore on a gold chain around her neck, she opened the small, elaborately painted box within. From it she took a linen bag and opened it to make sure it contained three wax candles, a few bay leaves and small a copper bowl, the size of a circle made of her thumbs and first fingers. Replacing everything but the bag inside her coffer, she got to her feet. Checking once again that she was alone, she fastened her woollen cloak, put on leather boots, hung the bag from her waist, and pulled her hood up to hide her face.
Leaving the central dressing room shared by all the ladies-in-waiting, she entered the long corridor. Without haste, as if exactly where she should be, she walked to the garden exit. There, she tugged on mittens and stepped into the fresh air. Looking around, she was pleased to see the entire garden area deserted, as she had expected it would be. She stood, inhaling the sharp winter scent. No snow covered the gravel garden paths, although a light layer sparkled on the lawns, flower beds and bushes arranged in geometric designs. For the past two summers, choosing the designs and plants for these grounds had been the queen’s favourite pastime. Louise smirked, for she had benefitted from its bay shrubs that she had been using for her charms since she arrived in September for her stint as lady-in-waiting.
She started down a path toward the distant cluster of evergreens at the far end of the long grounds, as had become her monthly habit since she arrived. This was her second visit in January, an unusual event. But this time she was excited, hopeful—even grateful. And, as always, tingling with the spurt of energy that came when she courted danger.
In the enclosed opening within the embracing cover of pine trees, she inhaled the pines’ fresh scent while she peeked through their shield. No one was about. She checked carefully on all sides before she began her ceremony. Crouching, she removed the paraphernalia from her bag. Gathering some snow, she mounded it into the small bowl. She set two candles down, one red and one green, and spaced them equidistant at the ends of the bowl on either side of it, placing them so they would not tumble. Taking the yellow candle now, she struck her flint and caught the spark on its wick. When it flared, she righted it and cupped it in her hand, until the flame was steady. Then she used it to melt the snow in the bowl and next dropped a couple of bay leaves onto the water. Finally, she set the yellow candle in front of the bowl, forming a triangle with the other two candles.
She admired the perfect arrangement for a time before moving on with the ceremony. She began by calling Mother Goddess and the Virgin Mary. Both, she believed, protected women while they were increasing—or so her mother-in-law had convinced her. How else would women have survived the dangers of childbirth before Our Lord came to save us, if there were no Mother Goddess? Maman Marguerite had said.
Then Louise chanted the incantation she had been using ever since she recognized she must bear another child if she were to fulfil Friar Francis’s prophecy.
With one mind I call for thee
With one mind I long for thee
Son of Earth, Wind, Fire and Sea
Into my life I welcome thee
Virgin Mother send him to me
She repeated one decade of the rosary and repeated the incantation. And a third time she continued the ritual, after which she pinched out the candles and rose. Her knees ached from crouching, but she felt uplifted, convinced that she had been heard and blessed. With reverent care, she returned her implements to their protective bag and went back to the Château.
* * *
WHEN SHE ENTERED THE ladies-in-waiting’s common room, she was unpleasantly surprised to encounter Catherine de Brézé.
“What are you doing here?”
The young woman blanched. “Th-the mother of maids sent me. Sh-she was worried when we noticed th-that you were not with us.”
“How long have you been here?” Louise recognized her voice was sharp.
Mme Catherine answered, her voice hardly more than a whisper. “N-not l-long.”
Louise realized that Catherine was terrified of her; it did not matter why. Good. She could use the woman to solve a problem that had been worrying her ever since she had learned that the court would go to Lyon. She would not go with it. Because both Anne and Marie de Rohan would come to Cognac with Louise, neither would be able to report on the queen for her, just when she had started being useful. Last month, Anne de Rohan had gone to Nantes when Louise stayed in Amboise and had told Louise all about the ceremony of vassalage when she returned.
Mme Catherine’s fear was a blessing. Louise had learned the details of the twenty-year-old scandal that had rocked her family and the court from Carlo after he had encountered Mme Catherine’s brother, Baron Louis de Brézé, at the Christmas court. Louise was certain the threat of exposure was just the thing to induce the girl to be her eyes in Anne’s chambers. Her fear would keep her silent.
“I have been wanting to talk to you privately,” Louise said, taking her by the arm. If it was possible to look more frightened, Louise could not imagine how. “My dear, you do not look well. Come with me. There is a spot in the library where no one will disturb us. You need a quiet place to recover.”
Although Catherine resisted, she stopped as soon as Louise said, “I want to talk to you about your late mother. It must have been so distressing for you.”
Louise said nothing more until they settled into a high-backed desk behind the shelves of precious books at the back of the library where they could not be seen.
Catherine turned a white, strained face to the countess.
Louise smiled. “I hear your Papa is living now with your brother, Sire Louis? Do you visit him?” When Catherine shook her head wordlessly, Louise continued brightly, “I think I would be afraid of my papa if he had murdered my maman. Even if he had found her in bed with another man. And his milk brother, no less. What a betrayal.”
“H-how do y-you know about that?”
“But my dear, it was the talk of the court at the time. My husband told me all about it. Your mother being royal and all. Even though she was a bastard, and old King Louis forced your father to marry her. But to murder royalty! They could have executed him. It is fortunate for him that Old Spider King Louis favoured him so. And that he ran to Louis and wept on his feet, begging forgiveness. And that Old Louis despised women so. But you wouldn’t dream of repeating that, would you, my dear? No, I thought not.”
Catherine fired up. “You make it sound as if . . . as if no other woman was ever unfaithful.” Her voice trembled again. “My father was unfortunate. He found them together and lost his temper. It was a crime passionnel. And he has paid for it ever since. If he had not been so angry, if he had not . . . if he had discovered what she was doing some other way, he could have sent her to a convent for her whole life and it would have been justice.” She stopped; her voice choked with tears.
“Well, let us say no more about it. King Charles—or should I say Madame la Grande, when she was regent—freed him. I wonder if the king has even heard the story, for he was just a toddler.” Louise leaned back. “I imagine few at court these days know anything about it, for most are too young.”
“Countess Louise, what do you want from me?” Catherine’s voice hitched.
“Did you know I would return to Cognac when the court leaves for Lyon?” When Catherine looked relieved, Louise smiled. “Yes, I am disappointed, as well. But since I will be away, there is a small service you could perform for me if you would be so kind. I will no longer be present among the queen’s ladies, able to keep abreast of events. If you could keep me informed, I would be so appreciative.”
“Wh-what do you mean? Inform you how?”
“The usual way, my dear. Letters. Couriers, by word of mouth, if the content is too sensitive to put in writing.”
“I-I could not. Queen Anne has been too . . . too good to me, and my family.”
Louise gazed at her speculatively. She had not expected the mouse to show any spine. But she would buckle eventually. “Does the queen have terrible secrets to hide? I was not aware.” Louise leaned forward, wearing an expression of keen interest.
“No. No. No, I did not mean that! I am not suggesting anything of the kind.”
Louise sat back, looking puzzled. “Then what harm can come of doing as I ask? I am curious merely about comings and goings while I am from court. What is happening during this exciting time when the French army sets off to war in Italy? Who will be regent? Where will the court stay? These are not secrets, my dear. There is nothing shameful about them. Not like the secrets in your past.”
Tears sprang to Catherine’s eyes again. “As you say, Countess. Of course, I will keep you informed. Can I go now?”
“Let us leave together. I think you would do well to return to your room and rest. I will explain your absence to the mother of maids.”