Chapter 4

“Dad, you’re wearing tights.” I had to stifle a giggle as we met in the hallway, lined up and readied to be properly “announced” at the ball.

“They’re hose, my darling girl, and you’re just jealous,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye.

“Yeah dad, you’re right. Actually, I have a really cute mini-skirt those would go with perfectly, can I borrow them sometime?” I winked at him as he put my hand in the crook of his arm, mom on his other side.

We looked around the enormous gallery where we stood. We were above the king’s Hall and would have to make a grand entrance via the staircase. Imagine Scarlett in “Gone With the Wind” or any other movie with women in massive dresses that “float” down the stairs to the ball. I guess that’d include Cinderella too, right? Yeah, the movies make it look so simple.

“Dad,” I whispered nervously. “I’m totally going to biff it down those stairs and make us the laughing stock of this whole affair. I can’t even see my feet.”

“Honey, you’ll be just fine. Remember the steps aren’t as steep as they are in architecture today. Follow my lead, I shall make sure you glide like the perfect princess.”

I tried to contain my nerves by watching the people below us. They all looked so elegant in their period costumes and the room itself was magical. It glowed with lights; 21st-century ones, I might point out. I don’t think they trusted us with candles like there would have been back in the 16th century. I wouldn’t trust us either. The lights flashed on the rich colors of fabric swirling around as people danced. Deep purples and golds, reds and greens. It was like a painting that had come to life.

“It’s magical,” I whispered under my breath. My dad heard it anyway and turned to me with a smile.

“It is, isn’t it?”

I zeroed in on the musicians in an alcove across from us, stringed instruments filling the space with sound. It only added to the magic of the evening as music always does for me.

Then it was our turn at the top of the stairs. There was an official looking man dressed in a red jacket and black “hose” as my dad called them, wearing a poofy hat with a rather large feather sticking out of it. I was intrigued by the feather, as it seemed to whack the poor man standing to his right every time he moved his head. The man would wave it away and rub his nose as if trying to stifle a sneeze. The whole thing made me want to laugh. I had to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep a straight face as Official Feather Man stated: “Lord and Lady Blanchett of Normandy, and Mademoiselle Blanchett.” My dad had given them a “Frenchified” version of our last name, along with where our ancestors hailed from France. Again, I tried not to laugh as I steered clear of the feather and headed toward the stairs. My dad, true to his word, kept hold of both my mom and me as we descended, sorry, floated down the grand staircase into the king’s Hall. I think I held my breath the entire way and let it out at the bottom, with the staircase behind me and without having made an embarrassing scene. You know, like rolling down the stairs and knocking everyone else out of the way in a giant emerald green bowling ball fashion.

“See?” my dad said, “Told you we’d do just fine.” He smiled at me and patted my hand, still in the crook of his arm.

We looked around the room. This would have been the place where the king would have received guests, held court, settled disputes, and well, held dances and whatever entertainments suited him. Opposite the stairs, up on a dais, stood the thrones of the king and queen of France. They were cordoned off with a thick red velvet rope, probably because everyone, myself included, was dying to sit in one. There were windows on the right side of the room, the heavy draperies pulled back to show off a magnificent view, the Loire River sparkling in the twilight. And to my left, there were French doors that stood open leading out to the most beautiful garden terrace I had ever seen.

The sculpted gardens were in full bloom, and every single tree and shrub was draped with twinkling fairy lights. Also not 16th century obviously, but magical just the same. The dancing continued outside as well. Tables were set up with elaborate dishes and the food looked more like sculptures than food that was supposed to be eaten. The garden was huge, not just one garden really, but a series of gardens connected by pathways. I’m not talking about gardens filled with veggies and stuff like that. In these gardens, every bush was sculpted into a shape, the shapes offset by paths. It looked like a giant drawing of geometrical designs. Not that I could see them all now as the sun was setting and the fairy lights truly started to shine.

“So beautiful,” I breathed to my parents as we stood in the doorway overlooking the gardens. I noticed far off in the gardens what appeared to be a big teepee or tent made of wood. Pointing to it, I asked my dad what in the world it could be.

“Oh, that!” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with excitement. “That’s for the bonfire. Or what was called the chavande. It’s June 24th, remember. Midsummer! Otherwise known in France as the ‘Fête de la Saint-Jean,’ or Feast of St. John. This is what we celebrate tonight.”

My dad, he can get excited over the craziest of things. Sigh.

“Do we get to roast marshmallows? Make s’mores?” I asked, though I knew what the answer would be. Yep, there it was...the look down the nose again, one raised eyebrow. Well a girl could hope, right?

And then, promising my parents I’d meet them at the bonfire later, I was off and dancing with the group of kids my age. We all laughed and admired each other’s outfits. Or rather, the girls admired each other and couldn’t help laughing at the boys in their “hose,” the worst part being the “upper hose” with a codpiece hiding their boy parts. Seriously embarrassing. I supposed it did make for using the “necessary” a bit easier, but still. Thank goodness their jackets covered them for the most part, otherwise we’d all start laughing hysterically. Not easy to do when you can hardly breathe, remember.

Taking a break from the intricate dances we’d been practicing, we all filled our plates with the elaborate offerings of food: meats of every kind, mostly wild game that might have been served back then, along with various sides, breads, and sugary sweets. At least I could recognize the pastries. We sat outside nibbling on food and enjoying the cool evening air.

“Hey you guys, have you heard of the hidden tunnels that run below the castle here?” Alex, one of the boys in the group, asked us. I’d heard stories of course. I guess the others had too, as we all seemed to be nodding our heads.

“Didn’t King Francis the 1st build a tunnel that went all the way to the house he gave to Leonardo da Vinci?” I said. Pretty sure I had remembered that detail correct.

“Yeah, I think that’s right,” one of the others said.

“Well,” Alex nodded his head and paused to build anticipation for whatever he was going to share with us. His face was in shadows, but there was the sound of mischief in his voice. “I found the hidden door in the castle,” he whispered. Everyone started asking questions at once.

“Where is it?”

“Did you open it?”

“Did you go inside?”

“Was it spooky?”

“Shhhh! Quiet.” We all huddled closer as he described the place in hushed tones so as not to be overheard by the adults milling about. “It’s in the king’s bed chamber, hidden behind a tapestry.” There was a collective intake of breath. The King’s bed chamber was part of the exhibit, but petitioned off so that people didn’t jump on the bed or mess up the furniture. In other words, it was off limits to visitors beyond the path that went through the room and into the next. He told us he couldn’t get the door open without someone seeing him, but tonight, he’d stashed some tools in one of the rooms, ready to try again.

“So who wants to come with me?” he asked us, looking around the group, his eyes challenging each of us like a triple dog dare.

As much as I was curious about the tunnels and where they would lead, I wasn’t keen on getting caught.

“How could we do it without our parents looking for us? Not to mention being seen by the catering staff,” I ventured, as it seemed that everyone was a little afraid to commit.

“Easy,” Alex said. “The bonfire. Everyone will be distracted and far enough away from the castle. We’ll leave one by one and meet in the outer chamber of the room.”

“Wow, you’ve really thought this through.” I was surprised. I wouldn’t have had as much foresight to plan ahead as he had. “Okay.” I took a deep breath and before I had a chance to really, really think it through added, “I’m in!”

Well that’s all it took, one brave person to go first and the rest agreed readily. We made final plans and then dispersed, mixing with the other guests and biding our time until we could sneak away and explore the tunnels. I got more and more excited just thinking about it. I’m not normally the adventurous one, but hidden passageways? In a castle? Heck, yes! Did they really go all the way to what was now called the Clos de Lucé where da Vinci once lived?

I was about to find out.