Queen's Own Fool (8 page)

Eloise put a finger to her nose and nodded. “She took every powder and potion she could get her doctors to make. Some even say she resorted to magic. She is a de Medici, you know.”

A de Medici! One did not have to be Italian to know of them! Poisoners all. I would have to be careful around the old queen.

Eloise looked around, making sure no one could overhear her, then whispered, “The trouble with magic is that it cannot always be bidden. True, she has had children, but not a one of them in good health. The young king has had the pox and the flux and the ague. His ear is always leaking. He often finds it difficult to breathe.” She stopped, then nodded again at the line of royals walking up the aisle. “Look, here come her other children, Prince Charles and the Princess Elisabeth.”

As they passed by, I could see they shared their mother's features, but there was something very determined in her face they all lacked. She was a lioness, they lambs.

Back at the cardinal's palace I found myself rather lost amidst a new kind of bustle.

“What is going on?” I asked Eloise, who had become my only source of information.

“We will be leaving soon,” Eloise told me. “You with the queen's court to the king's great house in Blois, and me with the four Maries back to the convent.” She wrinkled her nose. “It is not so much fun there. Hard bread and hard stones to kneel on.”

“Leaving? But how soon?”

“Why, tomorrow. Did no one tell you?” Eloise asked. “The king and queen are but guests here.”

“No. No one told me,” I said. I had known that the king and queen were guests, of course. It was the first thing that Jacques had told us. But I had not thought they would move on so quickly.

“Guests—even royal ones—are like fish who stink after the third week!” Eloise said. “There, that is my little joke. Do you think I might become a fool, too? Then I could stay at court instead of returning to the convent.”

I was too stunned to answer.

She babbled on. “There is much packing to be done today. The wagons and carriages must be loaded first thing in the morning. You would be amazed how much those four brought with them, even from a convent. Gowns and laces and shoes and combs and jewels.” And off she went.

Here I was, just learning the stairs and hallways of this great house. How would I ever find my way around another?

9

WIT

L
ater that afternoon, when the light was beginning to fade, I received a summons to go to the queen. I had convinced myself she had forgotten me already. She hadn't sent for me since buying my freedom, and I was only a peasant's child dressed in borrowed velvet after all.

But when I was brought into her chamber, her face lit up. “Ah, La Jardinière, my little lady of the garden,” she greeted me. “I am glad you have found your way.”

She remembers,
I thought.
She may be a queen, but she does not forget the little folk who love her.

A thick rug covered the floor and a warm fire burned in the grate. Still, drafts seemed to find their way into the passages and halls like mice squeezing through cracks in the stonework.

The four Maries were seated close to the fire, chatting as they worked on their embroidery. Sitting near them, Princess Elisabeth talked to her mother, the dowager. The king was on his knees playing with a pair of terrier puppies, holding out tidbits of food between his fingers and chuckling as the dogs jumped for the morsels. His color was no better than when I had seen him in church, but he was animated with the dogs.

By the fire, the dwarf lolled on cushions. Her humped shoulder cast strange shadows on the far wall.

I made the best curtsy I could. It felt clumsy in the new dress and my father's boots, but at least I remembered to do it.

“Have you been keeping yourself busy?”

“Not really,” I admitted, as I straightened up.

“Not really, Your
Majesty,
” the dowager said, looking up, her voice stern.

“Not really, Your
Majesty, ”
I said quickly. “I am not certain what my duties are. I do not know what things to pack or where to put them. And I have so little myself that ...”

Queen Mary crooked her finger towards me and waited to speak again till I was by her side. She put her hand on mine and drew me to a cushion by her chair. Then she looked into my eyes and whispered fiercely, “You have only one duty, Nicola, and that is to be yourself. Be honest at all times, even when everyone else is telling me only what they think I should hear.”

“That does not sound like any sort of work at all, Madam,” I said. “Are you sure there is not more I can do for you?”

“You will be surprised at how difficult it is to do as I ask,” she assured me with that same quiet intimacy. “But it is all I want.”

I must have blinked uncomprehendingly at her because she went on.

“My governess taught me that when a Roman general celebrated his victory with a parade through the city, a slave was always beside him to repeat in his ear, ‘Remember, thou art but a mortal.' Now you are no slave, Nicola. But you must speak such truth to me. You must remind me that as queen I rule over all the people. And that I am as human as they. That is your duty, child.”

“To tell you that you are a mortal? Who would believe me?”

She smiled broadly at me. “More than would believe you if you said I was a dancing dog, I hope.”

“Dog?” echoed the king, looking up. “Did you say something about a dog?” His eyes were still puffy and close up I could see how badly his face was scarred with the pox.

The dwarf gave a series of short yips like a frantic pup, and Princess Elisabeth broke out into gales of laughter. The dowager only pursed her thin lips and looked annoyed.

Ignoring them, Queen Mary spoke directly to the king. “My dear, you remember Nicola, the girl I found in the garden.”

“In the garden?” King Francis had turned back to feed his dogs. “Ah—yes! The one who fell under the table. The one who had some clever things to say.”

The queen clapped her hands. “Tell him. Tell him, garden girl, your answer to the riddle, the three-legged dog.”

Feeling like a performing dog myself, I did as she asked.

The king screwed up his face, puzzling over what I had said. “Can a dog really be taught that?” he asked the queen seriously. “We have never seen any of ours walk on two legs. Maybe we should teach them.”

“No, do not do that!” I burst out without thinking, worried that he might also think to cut off the dogs' legs.

There was a sudden swift intake of breath from the four Maries.

The dwarf shook her head back and forth, back and forth. There was a broad impish grin on her face, as if she knew that now I was in for it.

The dowager's face was unreadable.

“I would not want any of the dogs to get into trouble....” I said, lowering my eyes. “I mean, if they should fail, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, do not worry about that,” he said. “We would never mistreat any of our dogs.” He patted one of the terriers on the head with great feeling. “It is all we can do to get some of our servants to walk upright.” He laughed, throwing his head back and making a high braying sound. Everyone laughed with him, the dwarf loudest of all.

I tried to join in but made a poor job of it. I sincerely hoped that the king's next joke would be funnier so that laughing would not be such hard work.

A servant suddenly appeared at the door ushering in the queen's two uncles. The duke had a sheaf of papers under his arm. They bowed deeply to the king, then the duke beckoned him to a table set with writing implements on the far side of the room.

“If Your Majesty can spare us a moment,” the duke said.

The king sighed. I could see he didn't really want to be bothered, but the queen gave him a gentle poke. So he stood and told the dogs to stay, but one of the terriers kept nipping at his heels.

“Yes, what is it now?” the king asked loudly as he crossed the room, making no effort to hide his impatience. Before either the duke or the cardinal could answer, he said in a sulky voice, “Mary, Mary, we want you here with us.”

The queen got up and walked quickly across the room, waving me to come along.

I dared a quick look at the dowager, whose hands suddenly gripped the arms of the chair with such strength, her knuckles went white. This time her face was easy to read. Then as if forcing herself back into an iron control, her face went blank. I wondered whether she was furious with the king, Queen Mary, or me.

The duke did not look pleased, either. Indeed, he clenched his teeth and the scar on his cheek brightened. But he did not dare tell me to go away. I was there at the queen's bidding. Instead he ignored me, placing a single piece of parchment on the table. Tapping it with his finger, he said with some urgency, “This is the edict we discussed the other day, Your Majesty. Concerning the heresy laws.”

The king looked puzzled, and squinted as if that might help him understand. So the cardinal explained, “Remember, you had decided that village houses used for illicit meetings should be razed.”

“Had we? We do not really recall. But if you say so ...” The king took the pen the duke offered, dipped it in the inkwell, then hastily scribbled something on the sheet of parchment. His writing looked a great deal like hen-scratches.

“I shall have the royal seal affixed and see that these measures are put into immediate effect,” said the duke.

I found myself shaking, as if taken by a sudden ague. “Are people's houses going to be burned down?” I whispered to the queen, but my voice was louder than I had intended.

She nodded.

“Houses of people as mortal as you, Majesty?”

The duke's scar grew brighter still, and the cardinal's face was practically purple.

Queen Mary put her hand on her husband's. “Burning houses, my dear? Is that what we are about now?”

“Yes,” the king said, “... but only ones that are misused. Is that right, Uncle?” he turned and looked at the cardinal, who nodded. “They can always have new ones built.”

“Not unless they are very rich,” I whispered again, quickly adding, “Your Majesty.” I added a curtsy for good measure.

The queen patted my hand.

“These are matters of state,” the cardinal announced, his great voice only moderated slightly. “Not the business of little girls. The head of a household does not consult his servants about where the furniture should be placed.”

“Nicola is my fool, Uncle,” the queen said, “and speaks only the truth. So, Nicola—what do you say to that?”

I dared a quick look at the queen. She was nodding at me, so I drew a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Even if he were not asked, a good servant would warn his master not to set fire to a chair. The flames might spread and burn the entire house down.”

The queen laughed delightedly and, after a second, so did the king. “So be sure and set your fires carefully, Uncle,” she said.

Neither the duke nor the cardinal looked amused.

“There are some other matters we should discuss in private,” the duke said. “They are not for women's delicate ears.” He nodded in the direction of the door. “Important matters.”

“Matters,” the king complained petulantly, “are
always
important. We were having a perfectly pleasant chat with the garden girl before you came in.” He nodded at me and smiled sweetly, which totally transformed his thin, homely, pocked face. “About dogs. And ... things.”

The duke raised an eyebrow and then suddenly realized who I was. “Ah—the little tumbler under the table.” He turned to the king, his voice dripping with condescension. “Your Majesty, the queen may call this child what she will, but such a peasant cannot possibly have anything of import to say to us.”

The queen's lips drew down into two thin lines. “Nicola, be mindful of your duty.”

I did not want to disappoint her. “I am certain everything the duke says is important,” I began carefully. “When the duke sneezes, it is a very important sneeze and everyone should listen to it.”

The king moved a hand to his mouth to cover a smirk.

“Have a care, girl, what you say next!” the duke warned me. The scar was an emblazonment on a pale field.

“Pardon me, my lord,” I apologized. “Everything you say is very serious, so I am certain you always have a care before you say anything at all. But as I am just a poor fool, nothing I say matters in the least, so I might as well just say the very first thing that comes into my head.”

“I do not think you can beat that argument, Uncle,” said the queen, laughing.

“And what about me, girl?” the cardinal asked, his round face unreadable. “Do I think enough before speaking to satisfy you?”

“I could not rightly say, Your Sanctity,” I admitted. “I did not understand a single bit of your sermon this morning.”

“Ah, but I was merely preaching the Word of God,” he said. He folded his hands over his belly, looking like a man who had just won at counters.

I was beginning to enjoy playing the fool and answered, “If God has only spoken
one
word—
the
Word—He must think very hard and for a very long time before He speaks, unlike a fool who thinks very little but talks without a pause.”

“Perhaps it would be a good idea to preach a shorter sermon next time, Uncle,” the queen teased. “Otherwise people might assume you have not been thinking hard enough.”

The cardinal's face got as red as his robe but he did not respond.

“Enough of this nonsense,” snapped the duke. “Such wit is for the dinner hour, not for the midday. And certainly not during a discussion of state matters.” He beckoned the king, who—rolling his eyes dramatically—followed.