The Serpent and the Moon: Two Rivals for the Love of a Renaissance King (17 page)

After three further months of discussion, François and Marguerite decided on a ruse to frighten the emperor into making concessions. They pretended that should François be kept in Spain indefinitely, the king would abdicate to secure the future of the French monarchy, that the dauphin would then be crowned in all haste and the emperor’s prisoner would lose his value. The king wrote an act of abdication in favor of the dauphin which he gave to Anne de Montmorency, who had been exchanged for a high-ranking imperial prisoner of the French. This message was addressed to the regent and stated that should anything happen to Madame Louise, then the regency should pass to his “most dear and beloved only sister” during the minority of the heir to the throne. For this reason, François was anxious about the safety of Marguerite—he did not want the emperor to hold another hostage—and insisted that she leave Madrid at once. Traveling in easy stages in a comfortable litter, Marguerite received word from François not to risk being caught in Spain after December 25, the day her safe-conduct would expire. Marguerite immediately took to horse and galloped for the border where a French escort waited—arriving just one hour before the pass became void. Marguerite was safe and the king’s letter of abdication was no longer required.

F
RANÇOIS I never had any intention of abiding by the Treaty of Madrid. Despite his promises sworn on the gospels, he reasoned with his courtiers that just as the emperor had broken his promise to release him as he lay seriously ill in his prison cell, so too could a king break his word to a treaty forced on him under duress. In fact, the thought of reneging on his sworn promise so distressed François that once again he fell ill with a raging fever. There would be a high price to pay if the king violated the signed agreement.

To guarantee that François I kept the peace once he returned home, the treaty stated that either his two eldest sons, or the dauphin and ten of François’ most senior courtiers (including Louis de Brézé), were to be sent to Madrid for an indefinite period. To be a hostage for the king was indeed a dangerous honor as François I had already secretly declared to his staff in December, prior to the signing of the Treaty of Madrid on January 14, 1526, that he had no intention of adhering to it.

It was Louise de Savoie who chose to send the two little princes into exile rather than her son’s ten most important courtiers. What use was the throne to him, she reasoned, if he had no advisers or senior nobles by his side? She desperately wanted her son back in France, and the idea of having to serve as regent until the dauphin came of age in five years was not practical—her health would not hold. Madame Louise insisted that François return and take charge of his kingdom. Finally, at the end of December 1525, the king agreed to the Treaty of Madrid, accepting the horrific sacrifice of sending his two eldest boys into captivity in place of himself. Louise knew her son well, and realized that the conclusion of such an ignominious treaty was certain to push him to war again.

There was only one more aspect of the treaty to complete before the exchange of hostages. François I was to meet his new queen. As was so often the case, there had to be a dynastic bond to cement an important agreement between two nations. The Treaty of Madrid stipulated that the king of France must marry the virtuous widow, Eleonore of Habsburg, queen-dowager of Portugal and sister of the emperor. (When he heard of this condition, François exclaimed he would happily marry the emperor’s
mule
to be back in France again.) It would seem the libertine king was condemned to marry saints. Furthermore, Queen Eleonore’s daughter, Maria of Portugal, was to be betrothed to the dauphin. This condition would at least bring the poor dowager-queen Eleonore some joy, as she had been forced to leave her son and daughter in Portugal when her husband died and return to Spain alone.

Marriage to Eleonore was the only part of the Treaty of Madrid that was palatable to François, since she was only twenty-seven and rather attractive. At the age of eighteen Eleonore had been obliged to marry the seventy-year-old king Emmanuel “the Fortunate” of Portugal,
so the prospect of a union with the young, dashing, and handsome king of France had considerable appeal for Eleonore as well. Earlier, the emperor had offered his sister to Charles de Bourbon. Although we have no sure knowledge of Eleonore’s feelings, faced with a choice between that somber traitor, who would have reduced her title to duchess, and the handsome, thirty-two-year-old Chevalier King, it seems obvious whom she would have chosen. It was Marguerite who urged the conclusion of this part of the treaty. She surmised, quite rightly, that an alliance by marriage between her brother and the emperor’s sister would speed the king’s release. In fact, the emperor was so fascinated by Marguerite’s charm and ability that he sent a letter to Louise de Savoie proposing himself as
her
future husband.

Since the widowed Queen Eleonore resided at Illiesca, between Madrid and Cáceres, both king and emperor arrived there on February 17, 1526. The Spaniards were justifiably proud of Eleonore’s brunette beauty—and her “pretty, full lips.” The next morning, the bride and bridegroom met in a little house in the Calle Mayor where François had been billeted.
⁷
When Eleonore saw him and made to kiss his hands in greeting, the king declared himself charmed and gallantly countered that he would prefer to kiss her lips.
⁸
The betrothed couple spent the night there. In the morning, the emperor asked his sister to dance for the king, and it is said that François was truly enchanted with her.

Following this brief encounter at Illiesca, the future queen of France bid her husband-to-be and her brother farewell. Both king and emperor departed on their separate ways, the one to France, the other to his own wedding with the pretty Isabella of Portugal. Despite signing the Treaty of Madrid, François I was still not living as a free man; in fact, his guards were increased. At San Sebastian near the border, he wrote to the emperor asking whether Eleonore could join him soon, preferably before Holy Week. Eleonore must have pleased François as it was customary for Catholic couples to abstain from intercourse during Lent.

_____________________

1
. Philip Chabot, seigneur de Brion, comte de Charny et de Buzançais, prince de Châtel-Aillon.

2
. Montmorency’s antagonism to Doria was such that eventually the captain changed sides and fought for the emperor.

3
. The 4th duke of Infantado, Don Iñigo Hurtado de Mendoza.

4
. Marguerite was not yet queen of Navarre at this time.

5
. Frangipani, or Ferdinand Frangepan de Veglia, belonged to one of the great families of Croatia. He was a great-grandson of Alfonso V, king of Naples, and is an ancestor of the current Prince of Wales.

6
. The county of Valentinois had been raised to a duchy by Louis XII, which might explain why Diane was referred to by that name before 1548, when she did indeed receive the title.

7
. It is still there today.

8
. To greet even a stranger with a kiss on the lips was normal practice in the sixteenth century.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Hostages

T
he time had come for the royal hostages to leave their beloved Amboise, their sisters Elizabeth and Madeleine, little Charles too young to appreciate their plight, the baby Marguerite, as well as the many young friends who lived with them there by the Loire. There is no record of how or when the two boys were told they were to take their father’s place as hostages against his word, but as their aunt Marguerite was at Blois in early February, it was likely that she undertook this unenviable task. Their journey was most probably presented to them as an adventure as well as a duty; they would be ransomed very soon and treated according to their rank just as their father had been. The little princes began their journey toward the Pyrenees accompanied by their grandmother the regent, her court, and her ladies, among them Diane de Poitiers whom they knew so well, and their own staff, including their dwarf.

Louise de Savoie had aged noticeably during her son’s imprisonment. She knew that her behavior toward the Constable had been responsible in part for all the misfortune that had befallen France and her efforts as regent had ruined her already fragile health. Madame Louise
suffered badly from gout and many stops were necessary to ease the pain of the jolting litter. The cortège made slow progress.

As honored hostages, the two princes were able to take their personal suite of one hundred and eighty with them to Spain. However, the main escort of soldiers and all the court, who had come to welcome home their king, were not permitted to go further than Bayonne, which they reached the night of March 15. François’ imminent arrival created a carnival atmosphere, and the cruel fate of the princes was almost forgotten. The dauphin, François, was eight years old; Henri was six. The dauphin was bright, like his father, and eager for adventure. The general air of celebration appealed to him; he was distracted by the glamour of the costumes and the large escort of soldiers who had arrived at Bayonne with them.

In the early morning of March 17, 1526, the princes made their heart-rending, tearful farewells to their grandmother and her ladies. On this cold gray day, the normally ebullient Henri reminded the courtiers of his sad mother Queen Claude—shy, timid, and in tears. How this day would have broken her heart. Diane de Poitiers, whose own two daughters were almost of the same age as the princes, saw the miserable little Henri with his head bowed, tiny shoulders hunched, and tears running down his cheeks. She ran out of the crowd of ladies and held the little boy in her arms, murmuring gentle, soothing words, and then kissed him.
¹
The little prince was to remember her kindness and dream of her gentle beauty during the four loveless years he was incarcerated in a Spanish fortress. The comfort Diane gave the motherless Henri on that day eventually grew into a love that would only end with his death.

As dawn broke, two large rowing boats left opposite banks of the Bidassoa River, three miles upstream from the sea at San Sebastian. Both sides of the river had been cleared of people—farmers, shepherds, and soldiers evacuated as far as ten leagues away. Neither camp was taking any chances. The boat coming from the French side carried the princes, a French officer, and ten gentlemen armed with swords and
daggers. The boat from the Spanish bank carried the French king, a Spanish officer, and ten gentlemen similarly armed. Soon the barges, manned by the same number of oarsmen, reached a pontoon anchored in the middle of the river.

The king arrived first. It was twenty months since he had seen his sons, and as they landed, he embraced them together. François I loved his children and was at a loss for words as he held them. He had used them as pawns in this great diplomatic maneuver and yet was disarmed by their youth and misery. Moreover, he knew full well that their condition in prison would depend on his adherence to the Treaty of Madrid, a treaty he had no intention of keeping. Nevertheless, François reasoned that the fate of France must take precedence over that of his family. Tears welled and fell from the king’s eyes as he lamely promised they would be well treated and soon be ransomed. He then gave his sons a father’s blessing, and without looking back, was rowed to France.

From the French bank, the king stood and watched his sons disembark in Spain, but his joy at being back in France soon eased the pain of the parting. Mounting his horse, a fast Arabian, he left with all speed for Saint-Jean-de-Luz, exclaiming loudly: “God be praised—I am still the king!”

A
T Bayonne François found his mother waiting. To welcome her “beau César” back to France, the regent Louise had gathered together all the beauties of the court, including Diane de Poitiers. The king was surprised not to find his thirty-year-old mistress, Françoise de Foix, among them; Louise, who loathed her, had contrived to have her remain at home in Brittany. Instead, his mother presented to her son an eighteen-year-old, clever, blond beauty from Picardy, with the unfortunate name of Anne de Pisseleu,
²
who had been carefully schooled by Louise for this role. She was the daughter of the seigneur d’Heilly who, having been married three times, had thirty
children. The king was delighted with Anne.
³
For the next few months, both Françoise and Anne shared his favors, but as one can imagine, the atmosphere between the two women was arctic. Finally Anne won the king, and Françoise returned to her husband, while the king sent some cruel lines to his grieving mistress:

Anne, with her blond pallor and piercing blue eyes, was very different from her predecessor. Even though she had not been faithful to the king,
⁴
Françoise de Foix was a grand mistress, a distinguished beauty, and a true companion to him. Anne de Pisseleu was clearly only interested in what she had to gain from François—power, influence, and riches for herself and her large family.

The poet Clément Marot described her:

Perhaps captivity had warped the king’s sense of judgment, but Anne was, after all, the choice of Louise de Savoie, who felt that she had more control over the young girl than over the exquisite, more mature François de Foix. Louise had trained Anne de Pisseleu for three years as her lady-in-waiting, and at the regent’s court, Anne had served her apprenticeship in how to flirt and seduce.

In order to restore himself in the people’s esteem and affection, the
king of France decided to make a grand “progress” through his kingdom. By visiting his cities and larger towns he also hoped to raise enough money to refill the exchequer emptied by the recent wars and to pay the huge indemnity demanded by the emperor.

In 1528, the king was at Rouen, capital of Normandy, to make his official entry into that city. He was the guest of his Grand Sénéchal, Louis de Brézé, who handed him the keys to the city. Instead of the usual rows of worthy gentlemen to greet him, Diane de Poitiers had arranged for a large number of pretty little flower girls, dressed in light Grecian shifts, to scatter rose petals before the royal procession. François was so charmed by this innovation and the splendid reception Rouen gave him that he decided to interrupt his progress, and invited himself to Anet for a few days’ hunting. Since the death of Queen Claude, Diane no longer held an official position at court, but she was with her husband at Saint-Germain-en-Laye where the court spent most of January, February, and March of that year.

Until the king’s visit in 1528, Diane had not been sure whether her father’s treachery, and the opprobrium of his guilt, would affect the king’s relationship with her and her husband. During his stay with them at Anet, François showed how much he admired Diane, her intelligence and culture. He was impressed by her tall, supple, fit body. She galloped with him on long rides through the forests, her blond hair tied in a snood of blue velvet ribbons joined with pearls, a short veil brushing the nape of her neck. As they rode in the forests, the king and Diane would stop occasionally to rest and talk, and she was relieved to sense his approval once again. She had so feared that her father’s treason would color their relationship, but her charm worked in her favor. The king remained longer than planned at Anet, and during his stay he invited Diane to take up another official position at court as a
dame d’honneur
(matron of honor) to his mother, Louise de Savoie.

It was during this stay at Anet that the king decided to form his band of twenty-seven maids of honor, “
La Petite Bande
.” Chosen for their looks and intelligence, these young beauties were to accompany his court wherever it went, and he invited the glorious châtelaine of Anet to be one of their number. In making his choices, François looked
to his sister, the incomparable Marguerite, as his ideal. The king would dominate the lives of these twenty-seven young ladies. He dressed them like dolls to his taste and paid for their clothes. A lady’s size did not disqualify her from joining the
Bande
(the rotund Madame de Canaples required sixteen “ells” [lengths] of silk to make a court dress when the average was eleven), but all had to excel in the saddle.

Princes could not choose their wives, but at least they could choose their companions and mistresses. It is certain that the king “sampled” a number of the ladies of his
Petite Bande
, but he was always courteous and treated all women with respect.
⁵
François I embodied the dichotomy of the time; despite his exquisite manners, he could be very crude in his jokes—even in the presence of ladies. Nor was he at all discreet about his conquests—but few at court could resist the dashing king.

T
HE little princes were put into the custody of two Spanish gentlemen: the Constable of Castile, Don Iñigo Hernandez de Valasco, and his son, the marquis de Berlanga, who saw to it that they lacked for nothing. The emperor’s gentle sister Eleonore, soon to become their stepmother, also kept a maternal eye on them. Initially, they were held in the duc de Frias’ fortress in Villalba, originally built for the Knights Hospitalers and big enough to accommodate some eight hundred men. The French suite, headed by René de Cossé-Brissac, consisted of seventy lords and officers and one hundred and fifty servants paid by the king to tend to his sons. The maître d’hôtel was Louis de Ronsard, seigneur de la Poissonnière, father of the famous French poet Pierre de Ronsard. Accompanying them was also Brissac’s wife and the boys’ tutor, Tagliacarno.

Although the captivity of the French princes began relatively agreeably, it soon became apparent to the French staff that François I
had absolutely no intention of ceding any territory to Spain. Moreover, the agreement to cede Burgundy was to have been kept secret until the king had a chance to inform his good people there. Unfortunately, this condition of the Treaty of Madrid had leaked to the Burgundians. The elders of Burgundy complained that they had not been consulted by the king, and simply refused to comply with the treaty. François I informed Charles V that he could not force them to join his empire. He pointed out that the emperor was not abiding by his agreements either—why had he not sent Eleonore to France?

The king called his first meeting of his senior councilors at Dax and asked their advice. He proposed that if they were unable or unwilling to raise a large amount of money to restore the princes to France, then he would willingly go back to Spain and take their place. It was not the first time the king had offered to abdicate—Louise de Savoie had refused to allow him to do so after Pavia.