Daughter of Silk by Linda Lee Chaikin Page A

turrets, broad f lat roofs, painted windows, and ample courts.
    Rachelle could well understand why Monsieur le docteur had recom- mended the boy-king come here for health reasons. From the moment she arrived she was impressed with the sunny little town of Blois that sloped sweetly downward toward the river Loire.
    “And yet this king, who appreciated art, killed ma oncle,” she said. “It took place before I was born at Lyon. Maman has told me of it. Oncle was one of the Reformers burnt in the Lyon square.”
    His mouth turned with some bitterness. “I am not surprised. I do not wish to sound hard, but kings — and queens — have a penchant for eliminating vexatious Huguenots.”
    She kept silent. “This way, Monsieur.”
    “Ah, the stairway. Catherine would have wanted some listening clos- ets near at hand. I recall a time years ago when her Italians, the Ruggerio brothers, visited here. Now I can imagine the reason for their visit —” His steps slowed to a stroll. “Do not hurry so, Mademoiselle. We are being watched. That unshackled fop near the fountain is the Spanish ambassador.”
    Light pressure of his fingers on her arm told her to pause. The Spaniard removed his sombrero with gold fringes and rubies and bowed in their direction. Fabien returned the acknowledgment and Rachelle offered a curtsy. Fabien drew her away, and she smothered a laugh.
    “What would Monsieur Ambassadeur do if he knew you called him a fop?”
    “I might also have called him a spy , which would not have endeared
    him to us.”
    “I doubt not that you are right, Marquis.”
    “As for what the fellow would do, I have not a clue, though I have heard he is a laudable swordsman.”
    She threw him a glance. “I have heard you are also, Marquis, a swordsman par excellence.”
    “With much credit due my master swordsman, Chevalier Nappier.” “But I doubt the day will come when you will have reason to use your
    skills against the Spaniard.”
    He lifted a brow. “This Spaniard? You are right. Ah, my disappoint- ments are many.”
    She widened her eyes. “Marquis!”
    “Why so shocked? Spain is the mortal enemy of every Huguenot. I would think you might look with favor upon certain Frenchmen decid- ing to take a few Spanish heads. I myself would not object unduly to harrying a few now and then. They are most annoying in insisting upon their divine right to light faggots and chain heretics to galley oars.”
    Rachelle sobered at the thought of the terrible religious wars led by le Duc de Guise and sanctioned by his brother the cardinal. In response to this divine right granted by Rome to rid France of its Huguenots, many had at first gone to their deaths meekly, singing hymns from the Geneva Psalter while being readied for burning at the stake. But when these burnings increased, women and children were added, followed by an entire Huguenot village; they rose up and appealed to their Bourbon princes and nobles ruling the districts where they lived. The Huguenots appealed to the Bourbons, who were themselves mostly Protestant, to come to their beleaguered cause and defend them from the wrack, the f lames, the hangman’s noose, the hatchet, and the molten lead poured down their throats. All because the Huguenots would not recant of jus- tification by faith alone in the righteousness of Christ apart from any religious laws, rules, and traditions of the state church.
    The Huguenots pleaded for their rights to be represented before the King of France by Prince Louis de Condé, Admiral Gaspard de Coligny, and the other Bourbon nobles. The Bourbon princes, sympathetic to the Reformation, honorably picked up the gauntlet of responsibility saying that noblesse oblige.
    Civil war threatened if King Francis and the Queen Mother con- tinued to allow the relentless attacks by Guise and his mercenary army financed by Spain’s treasure ships.
    “Rome has agreed that the wealth of the New World belongs to the King of Spain, who calls himself the