Chapter 19

The Mouse Trap

 

 

 

Journal Entry

 

“Gaudin was waiting for me in our room, with good news about the progress he had made with de Frontenac. The Chevalier knew three things about Jeanne de Navarre: she was as committed as her mother, Marguerite d’Angouleme had been to the patronage and encouragement of young poets and playwrights, she was a sympathiser with the reformed religion and protector of its better known practitioners, and she was a patroness of the Comte de Montgomery.

“When Gaudin intimated to de Frontenac that he had a poet friend, who was on familiar terms with Pierre de Ronsard, François de Belleforest and others in Queen Jeanne’s circle, and who was also a subject of the Protestant Queen of England, de Frontenac fairly jumped at the opportunity to make his acquaintance. Gaudin suggested that they meet in the student quarter, since his friend was an Englishman and better connected with poets than with courtiers. Accordingly, de Frontenac agreed to be at Les Deux Ramiers, a respectable tavern on Rue Traversiere at eight in the evening, the very next night.

“Everything was in motion. Gaudin would walk with the Chevalier from the field of Les Tournelles, where the tournament arrangements were being finalised, and would insure that he passed only the less disreputable streets, to insure that de Frontenac would not be frightened away from the area. Dormoy’s job was to locate a table, towards the back of the dining room, so that he and Gaudin could sit de Frontenac between them. Gaudin would then encourage as much ale down de Frontenac’s throat as he could. All the while, Dormoy would regale him with bogus prophesies of his future prowess with the renowned Scotsman and Captain of the Guard. At the appointed hour, I would burst in with the ravishing Julie on my arm, dressed to distract the prayers of an archbishop, but without the tell-tale trappings of her ancient profession. I was to ask Julie to conceal the vile of Brother Anselm’s potion in the heavenly cleavage between her magnificent breasts, so as to play her part in the drama that was to ensue. Once the script had been committed to everyone’s memories, the players were all ready for this day to finally come to an end.”

 

***

 

“As the summer evening fell, Dormoy arrived early and took possession of a large, secluded table toward the back of Les Deux Ramiers. Gaudin and de Frontenac entered shortly before eight, in animated discussion about the up-coming tournament at Les Tournelles.

“‘I hear the Prince de Condé is a formidable adversary, both with lance and sword,’ commented Gaudin, while he quickly scanned the room for the location of Dormoy’s table. ‘He is said to be one of whom even Montgomery himself ought to beware!’

“‘No, no, no. Our Scots Captain will overcome any knight in the King’s service. He trained most of them, so he knows their tactics and their weaknesses. He’s training me, you know, to be one of the most highly skilled and renowned of the King’s retainers,’ proclaimed de Frontenac as he swaggered to the table to which Gaudin steered him.

“‘Still in all, I would watch out for the Spaniards and the Germans. The King is too quick to trust them, in my opinion,’ added Gaudin furrowing his brow and playing the part of one in possession of some special knowledge.

“At that moment, our footsteps sounded at the threshold, and presently, I pushed the oaken door open and stood to one side for the shaft of radiant light that swept in through the open door. As if drawn by some magnetic force, all heads turned to gaze upon the source and centre of that radiance, the delicate white fingers, the hand, the sleeved arm and sloping shoulder up to which every eye in Les Deux Ramiers travelled as in a trance. Her ink-black hair cascaded onto her shoulders and rippled from side to side as she walked, with a gentle undulation of her hips that ended all conversation at her approach.

“Her face was turned toward me, at whom she smiled with careless abandon and an arched eyebrow that said she knew she was beautiful and that every eye was wide with thirst to drink in her sweetness. She laughed silently at something I whispered to her, raising a hand almost in time to cover her moist rose-pedal mouth. I swept her toward my friends’ table with effortless gallantry and stood directly over de Frontenac, the better to permit him to gaze up at the slim and undulating shape of the woman.

“De Frontenac looked as if someone had just shattered a wooden beam on his head. His eyes were glazed and his mouth was open, like one who wanted to speak but couldn’t. He drew in breath, through his open mouth, but then proceeded to suspend all voluntary and involuntary activity, without even allowing himself a chance to exhale.

“Dormoy and Gaudin rose, at the approach of the lady, but de Frontenac remained immobile until, after Julie and I had stood there for what seemed like several minutes, he clumsily roused himself and nearly knocked over his stool in his haste to get to his feet. It was then that I noticed what de Frontenac wore, around his waist: a white scarf upon which he had affixed the salamander pin – his prize from one of his many conquests - to impress his new friends. I was thankful that Testagrossa was not there.

“No one seemed to know what to say or do next, until Gaudin broke the silence in order to make the introductions.

“‘This is my friend, Henry Howard, the English poet I was telling you about, but I am afraid that I do not know who might be this lovely vision that so adorns his arm this evening.’

“I bowed and extended my hand in Julie’s direction, making a most theatrical gesture. ‘May I present the Lady Juliette, a bishop’s daughter, as I am given to understand, whose father has bestowed upon her a rich love of learning and letters and an even richer dowry to insure a well-placed and suitable marriage.’

“De Frontenac had by now composed himself and bowed, in his turn, to both the lady and me. ‘My delight in making your acquaintances is beyond my capacity to render into mere words. I relish only the gift of knowing you – both – all the better.’

“‘My Lord is generous both in words and in sentiment,” replied Julie, with a modest lowering of her eyes. ‘May our acquaintance flower under the husbandry of thy eloquence to become a rich and fruitful garden.’

“Gaudin could see that de Frontenac was practically salivating into his tankard, and he had all he could do to suppress a sardonic burst of laughter, right in his face. Meanwhile, Julie and I continued to play him like a musical instrument. At every opportunity, I mounted praise for the lady’s every ample attribute in choicest courtly prose, while the lady’s practised movements and utterances tantalised and teased the young chevalier to a fever pitch of excitation. We talked of chivalry and jousting and the destiny of great nations and their still greater leaders, but the conversation always seemed to return to the consummate beauty and incandescent passion of the women who would inspire them to great acts. That this radiant ember of womanhood – and the generous dowry that her father evidently held aloft – might impel him to his certain destiny and ignite him in a burning conflagration was as clear and certain to de Frontenac’s imagination as was the burning lust with which he now desired her.

“Finally, I drew in a breath and decided that it was time to spring the trap. I rose and looked around the table as if I were making ready to go. ‘I must return to my writing. I feel especially inspired tonight,’ I added, looking lasciviously at Julie.

“Dormoy push back from the table and sprang to his feet next. ‘The Master has been very perturbed all day,’ he blurted out, as if he had just remembered something. ‘I must go to listen to him. He keeps talking about a lion, a golden cage and a wooden shaft. He says that it will happen very soon, maybe tomorrow.’

“‘He’s probably just got a splinter in his ass, and he needs to go the privy to pull it out,’ remarked Gaudin, before remembering that he, too, needed an excuse to go. ‘In any case,’ he added, ‘I must be off to the stables. Tomorrow will be a big day at Les Tournelles, the “Tournament of Peace”, you know. You’d better get your sleep, my lord,’ he advised de Frontenac, with a glance toward Julie.

“‘But we cannot leave the lady unescorted, so discourteously,’ de Frontenac protested.

“‘You are a true friend and a true knight, mon seigneur,’ I responded, with yet another theatrical bow. ‘I leave her in your capable and chivalric hands and trust her to your good offices. See to it that she is safely returned home,’ I added with just a hint of emphasis. With that, we all rose, bowed and went out, except for Julie and de Frontenac.

“The chevalier was at a total loss as to what to do or say next, but Julie took control with all of the skill and prowess of her art. She held his eyes hypnotically fixed on hers, and although her mouth spoke words his ears heard none. It was as if her thoughts drifted into his consciousness soundlessly, like a dream, and although he had much to say to her, he found that his tongue could not utter a word. There was mention of a stable and caretaker’s shack nearby, and he rose, at her command, having completely surrendered his volition to her, walking to the door and into the night as if he were in a trance.

“We three conspirators knew where the prearranged rendezvous would take place, and we hid in the bushes next to the ramshackle structure out of sight from the narrow alley that led there. The couple approach slowly, with only the whispered rustling of Julie’s skirts to betray their presence. Once the Chevalier and his lady were inside, we carefully moved up to the shack, the better to be able to peer through openings between the boards that allowed both air and light to freely enter, although the door was shut.

“We saw Julie help the knight to recline on a bed with a hay stuffed mattress, while she artfully removed his doublet and threw it to one side. From a box in a corner, she produced a loosely corked bottle of wine and two goblets into which she poured their refreshment. She begged him to turn away for modesty’s sake, while she worked with her bodice to secure the release of her tightly bound breasts. While de Frontenac’s face was averted, she lifted the vile of liquid from between her breasts, uncorked it and poured the entire contents into the goblet of wine closest to the Chevalier.

“By the time she gave him permission to turn around, the vial had been toss aside and the goblet, she had prepared for him, was in her hand. She held it out for him, having raised it to the level of her bosom. She was Eve, enticing him with the fruit of his ruin, and the man could do nothing but desire and accept what was offered.

“De Frontenac grasped the cup, greedily, and took a deep swallow to quench the dryness in his mouth which his longing for her had evoked. Julie took her own goblet, then, and sipped daintily before sitting down beside him on the hay. Reassured, de Frontenac drank deeply again and closed his eyes to savour the warmth that he felt within him. The feeling overwhelmed him like the pounding of a wave and the pull of the undertow, and, for the life of him, he could not will his eyelids to open again. Surrendering completely to the languorous feeling that suffused his every muscle, he lay back on the lumpy mattress and slept like a spent lover.

“Julie lifted her gaze towards a large crack in the wall timbers and winked where she knew that her friends would be concealed outside. With hurried footsteps, Gaudin, Dormoy and I burst into the room, full of smiles and leers, and examined the limp body of the Chevalier. Satisfied that he would offer no resistance, I produced an empty burlap feed bag from the adjacent stall, which the three of us slipped around the ankles of the sleeping knight and pulled up the length of his body, like hose. After loosely tying it over his sleeping head, we hoisted the sack and balanced it on Gaudin’s broad shoulders so that he could lug it like a slab of meat to its next destination.

“I suddenly remembered ‘The Queen of Poison,’ and, taking a few steps back toward the regally beautiful girl standing in the shadows, her breasts covered only by a camisole, I reached out to her aroused nipples, leaned into the dim shadow that surrounded her face and lingered on the soft, sweet moisture of her lips.

“It was time to move to the next stage of the enterprise. With me in the front and Dormoy in the back to balance the load, we three headed off in the direction of Le Pont St Michel to the Isle de la Cité and the grounds of the royal administrative offices. We halted at the mid-point of the bridge to give Gaudin a much needed rest.

“As I leaned over and peered into the dark, rushing waters, I thought about dumping the bundle into the muddy river beneath us. I became conscious of a smouldering fury towards this defiler of women, this pompous, lecherous spoiler, for which our sport did not sufficiently make answer. ‘Still,’ I considered, ‘I am neither his judge nor the chosen instrument of his punishment. Besides, there would be investigations and consequences if the son of the Comte de Nimes should wash up dead and neatly packaged, on the banks of the Seine.’ So the moment passed. I helped Dormoy to re-balance Gaudin’s burden, and our little party set out to complete the crossing of the bridge.

“On the other side, there were scores of serving men and kitchen menials bringing bushels and sacks of food up to the hall, and the three of us, in ordinary street clothes, blended in with the procession. Most of the others turned toward a side servants’ entrance, but we went on until we reached a small, grassy clearing on the approach to the main gate, still far to the side of the line of sight of the sleepy sentinels in the guard tower. We checked to verify that we were unobserved and eased the burlap sack to the ground.

“Despite our care, it landed with a decided thump, and we held our breaths for a long 30 seconds, fearing that de Frontenac might awaken and discover us before our sport was finished. He did not move. Suddenly, I was seized with the thought that the chevalier might be dead. Quickly, I untied the top of the long bag and was relieved to see that our captive’s face was flushed and that he was indeed breathing softly. I let out a deep breath of my own.

“Dormoy saw my look of concern. ‘How much did she give him?’

“‘The whole vial, I think,’ said Gaudin, also happy to see that he had not been lugging a dead man.

“The potential crisis having been averted, we set to work gently pulling down the burlap bag until it hung loosely around his ankles. Then, with even greater care, so as not to wake him, we began to remove his clothing until we had pulled off both his hose and the last of the burlap bag, first from one foot and then the other.

“I rolled the clothes into a bundle and stuffed them into the empty burlap bag. Before tossing the bag aside, however, I reached in and pulled out de Frontenac’s white scarf, unfastened the salamander pin and then returned the scarf to the bag. ‘This pin goes back to its rightful owner,’ I said under my breath.

“Now that the chevalier was completely naked, upon the grass, Gaudin pulled from his waist the cask of honey that Testagrossa had permitted him to borrow (the same one that the Huguenot family had given him the day of the St Germain Fair), which he proceeded to pour liberally over the genitals and chest of his victim. ‘By the time he wakes, every ant in Paris will be feasting on his meagre and inadequate parts,’ he said to the approving grins of us all.

“Morning came early, at the end of June, so we pledged to meet at full light on the steps of Saint-Séverin and accompany Gaudin to the tournament at Les Tournelles, where he would serve Gabriel de Montgomery by grooming the horses and following them with his shovel. Gaudin and Dormoy headed for the bridge, hoping to get at least a couple of hours of sleep before the next day’s events. Everyone had returned to his dwellings: everyone, that is, except for me. I searched the landscape till I found a lonely spot, dominated by an outcropping of rock, behind which I concealed myself to watch for the waking of the hapless knight.

“The dark of night soon turned to a luminous grey (the better to see the slumbering lump in the distance). Finally, a line to the east turned brilliant purple, then bloody red and still the drugged knight slept. Courtiers and dignitaries in fine cloths began to make their way to the hall’s entrance, on early morning business, and they stopped to gawk at the naked man, covered with crawling ants. Abruptly, an acquaintance of the Comte de Nimes recognized him and called his name out to a companion. People began to gather around, talking excitedly. With the rising buzz and commotion, de Frontenac stirred, awakened, and carefully opened his heavy eye lids.

“He sat up, slowly taking in the scene, before emitting a scream of panic and anger. He reached for the burlap bag both to wipe away the ants and cover himself. Then he stumbled to his bare feet, one hand holding the burlap bag to his navel, while his clothes fell from the bag to the ground in a disorderly heap.

“When de Frontenac found his voice, it was cracked, shrill, high pitched and punctuated by frothing spittle. Whatever he may have wanted to say was garbled and drowned in the swirling depths of a cry such as a mortally wounded animal might emit before falling on the lance, trapped and helpless at the end of the hunt. ‘N-O-O-O-O!! I’ll get all of you for this. I’ll hound you to the ends of the earth. My dogs will dismember you and make sport with your heads, to the end of my days, to the end of my days!’

“I leaned against the back of the rock, smiling to myself. ‘This was so much better than killing him!’ Then I began to wonder about what might happen next, and I decided to make my own way back across the bridge to the anonymity of the students’ quarter.”