The Queen and the Courtesan by Freda Lightfoot Page B

for the floor to swallow her up.
    Henriette was less easily discomforted. Knowing it was by royal command that she was even here, she placed herself at the Queen’s table at supper, attempting to ingratiate herself into the court ladies’ circle as if she had every right to be amongst them, even presuming to address Her Majesty directly.
    â€˜Ah, do you speak of the Savoy wars and Biron?’ she asked, catching the thread of their conversation and paying no attention to the sudden tears that sprang into Marie’s eyes, nor the chill condemnation of the courtiers around her. ‘Dearest Henry will not tolerate such a betrayal. The Marshal will lose his head over it, mark my words. Not that he will miss it if he does, as it is as empty as a rattling drum. Mayhap it would be better to deprive Biron of other parts which he might miss more.’ And she laughed, rather coarsely.
    The remark was greeted in silence by the ladies. Marie stared at her rival in cold dismay. Her insolence was beyond imagining. What in the name of heaven did her husband see in this grossly rude woman?
    â€˜I assume Henry has spoken to you of this matter?’ Smiling beatifically, Henriette’s voice lifted at the end to form a question. One Marie had no intention of answering. ‘Or mayhap you have not seen much of your husband in recent weeks? Indeed, he has been kept occupied elsewhere a good deal.’ Again that throaty chuckle.
    For a moment Marie was too startled to reply, but quickly recovering her self-possession, she turned to her ladies. ‘I fear I must plead fatigue. I have travelled far and need rest. We shall continue our most fascinating conversation another time, when there is less . . . distraction.’ So saying she rose, and calmly walked away to seek sanctuary in her own apartments.
    Marie’s one consolation was that, having maintained her dignity throughout, the sympathy of the court had swung very much back in her favour.
    Six weeks later Marie was able to inform the King that she was enceinte . He was as delighted as she. Was not this the epitome of all their shared hopes and dreams? The people too were excited when they heard the news, and would run after her coach, cheering and calling their blessings upon her.
    Madame de Verneuil quietly withdrew from court.
    Marie smiled to herself, feeling she had won a battle, if not the war, greatly relieved to be rid of her rival for a while. She turned with enthusiasm to embrace her new life. Much work needed to be done as the court was sadly disorganized, controlled by a few great ladies who held sway. These doyens saw her as merely the daughter of a minor Italian royal, not a great sovereign, and rarely deferred to her. This, Marie decided, must change.
    Nor did her husband exert sufficient influence over them. Since his accession, particularly following his separation from Marguerite, Henry had cared little about the glories of royalty. As a consequence the French Court had fallen into a sorry state, becoming one of the least splendid in Europe. In addition, it was evident that his earlier poverty had accustomed him to many privations. Nor had he been interested in the condition of his palaces, as Henry had rarely slept in his own bed, spending his time visiting the houses of the most wealthy of his courtiers, such as Zamet, Condé, and other dissipated sycophants. With them he could discard the restrictions of his royal status, and indulge his passion for gambling and womanizing.
    Marie hoped to change all of that too.
    As she waited patiently for the birth she began making improvements at the Louvre. She resolved to bring culture to the court. Masques and ballets were held, and the young nobles took part in a tournament at the Pont-au-Change, at which the Queen presented the prizes to the victors.
    Nor did the King appear unwilling to accept these changes. He seemed anxious to improve the splendour and display of his court, perhaps to