My first attempt at writing the Cardinal. This is not really going to be a love story in the conventional sense. I've a feeling it won't end well. Descriptively I'll try to be as accurate as possible although the female character name is my own invention. A bit of info about The Cardinal...Born Armand Jean Du Plessis Cardinal/Duke of Richelieu and Fronsac, in 1585, he was a nobleman in his own right, consecrated as a bishop in 1607 aged only 22. He was created Cardinal in 1622 aged 37. He was also foreign secretary or 'first minister' to Louis XIII, and wielded great power. He died, aged 57 in 1642.
The story will be in four parts, or episodes. It is very thin on plot, and concentrates solely on the two main characters. The story opens at a May masque ball in Louis XIII's honour. The Cardinal is on the lookout for a new mistress.
MY LORD AND MASTER.
CHAPTER ONE.
THE CHOSEN ONE.
A swirl of colour and music as the revellers packed the hall. They drew apart as the King and his Consort entered. One by one they swept their bows and curtsies as the Royals passed by.
Armand Jean du Plessis, resplendent, all in red, skirted the periphery of the room like a predatory jackal, a minion by his side, whom he whispered to, confidentially, from time to time, hand raised to his mouth.
His eyes searched the throng, darting across the faces of the women, until he saw the one that took his fancy. He spoke quietly to his servant again, and, seemingly satisfied with the information received, he left with a theatrical swish of his cloak.
Minette d'Auvergne was minor nobility. Originally from a good family, she and her siblings were, nevertheless, tainted by association, as their mother had been banished, following an affair. Her father, having contracted small-pox, died the following year. Facing penury, she was sent to court, in the hope she may attract a wealthy husband. The man whose attention she attracted, however, was not in search of a wife, and was one of the most powerful in all France.
The apartments of Cardinal Richelieu were a series of rooms, one leading into another. Heavy doors to each room represented a physical barrier to the one beyond, and the more powerful and familiar one was, determined which of these rooms they were permitted to enter. The chief reception room was where foreign dignitaries, emissaries and ambassadors were received. A withdrawing room, led from that, where Armand could retreat, to take food or rest, or relieve himself, in between greeting guests.
There was a robing room, in which his servants would prepare him and dress him for the day, or where he could change clothes if necessary. The final doors were to his private, or privy chambers, which only his man-servants, a chamber-maid, his most trusted confidants and his mistresses were admitted. Here, His Eminence, worked and rested, cleansed himself and performed his religious devotions.
It was into this inner sanctum that Minette was shown. The servant left her, and she stood alone in the centre of the chamber, gazing around her, nervously. Lit by many yellow wax candles, which flickered and danced in the draft; the room was rich and well appointed. A large mahogany desk stood to one side, a heavy leather covered chair beside it. Tapestries and fine hangings adorned the walls. On the far side there stood a small altar; covered in a fine Honiton lace cloth, from England. Candles in tall holders on either side, a silver sensor burned with a pungent incense; behind these rested, a religious triptych, depicting the crucified Christ in the centre, the Virgin Mary with the Christ child on the left, the Fleur de Lis, the emblem of the Kings of France, on the right, shimmering in the candle glow. Resting open, on the table top, held with beaded book weights was a beautifully illuminated psalter; bound in softest cow hide, pages of vellum, adorned with scripture written using a stylus with the finest of nibs.
On a raised dais stood a vast bed. Posts in each corner hung with deep red damask. Horsehair mattress, the finest linen sheets from Flanders, topped with a silk coverlet, all the way from the Far East, embroidered with birds and flowers in a myriad of colours.
Through a side door, another room could be glimpsed, containing heavy oak chests and a wardrobe for clothing. Porcelain ewers contained water for washing and ablutions, all the trappings of luxury. The Cardinal was known to be a fastidious man.
The doors opened, to admit Cardinal Richelieu himself. She turned to face him. He was handsome; tall, lean and rangy. Grey hair, curling slightly under his zucchetto. Exquisite hands, under a lace cuff, long dexterous fingers, a ring on the little finger of the left. A large, heavy, gold cross hung on a chain around his neck.
His face was taciturn, intelligent grey blue eyes burned with interest, as he regarded her, touching his moustache and beard as he did so. Tongue licking the lips of his, rather cruel, mouth.
She watched him intently.
"Cast down your eyes woman." He said, crossing to stand in front of her.
Minette lowered her gaze to the floor.
"Do you know why you are here?"
"No, Your Eminence."
She did not dare glance up.
"I have a proposition for you." He continued, in a matter of fact manner.
"The sight of you pleases me, and I am looking for a distraction. What is your age?"
"Twenty, Your Eminence."
Slowly, he began to move around her. She was young...he liked them young, and innocent. The older they were, the more experienced; the harder it was to subdue them, control them and make them his.
"I will take care of you, you will want for nothing, if you please me. But do not accept this lightly. In return I demand complete control, complete loyalty, you will become mine and mine only. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Eminence."
Minette felt her cheeks flush and her heart beat faster.
"If you do not accept my terms, now is the time to say so. Otherwise, do you agree to my proposal?"
She raised her eyes, just a little, her voice sounded distant, even to herself. She would be secure, have a degree of status. Be warm and fed and clothed. Have a place to live. The alternative was poverty, hunger, even prostitution. How could she refuse?
"I accept." She replied.
He stood in front of her again, close enough for her to feel his breath.
"You will submit to my will, you will do everything I ask of you. You will answer to me always. I will own you, command you, you will be subservient to me and me alone. Is that clear?"
Unsure of her voice now, she nodded.
"Speak!" He demanded, pulling up her chin with his hand, and bringing her eyes level with his own.
"I accept." She whispered.
He let her go, and stepped back.
"Undress for me."
She locked eyes with him, but his glare was ice. Cold and calculating.
With trembling hands she began to unlace her bodice. Unfastening her stays, she removed them, then her chemise, exposing her breasts. Her skin was fair; milky white, soft, beautiful.
Not daring to look up, she fumbled, loosening her skirts, then her petticoats and let them drop.
She blushed with shame at her nakedness, as he began to circle her again.
Petite, fair, with bright blue eyes and an open, expressive face. Tiny waist, little hands, pert and smooth, untainted and ripe for the plucking...he smiled to himself.
A stroke down her spine, to her buttocks; made her gasp sharply. His hand grazed across her bosom, pausing at her nipple, then moving on.
"Have you known the feel of a man?" His voice was thick, not more than a deep rumble.
"No, Your Eminence."
Behind her again, she felt his hand fondle her backside once more, she was expecting him to touch her intimately, and inwardly braced herself for the contact, biting her lip, instead she felt the cold sensation of leather. The strap passed between her legs and around her body, fastening at her back. The harness clicked into place.
"My maid servant will be your maid servant. She is in my employ and is loyal to me. She will see to it that you do not transgress. She will help you wash and dress each day. You will wear this whenever you are not with me. It will only be removed when you are here, or wherever I am when I send for you, or when you bleed. No one will touch you but me. You will not touch yourself. You are mine. Am I clear?"
Tears began to form under her lashes. She trembled.
"Yes, Your Eminence."
"Good! Dress yourself...you are to be ready whenever the carriage comes for you. Please me, and all will be well, disappoint me and you will pay dearly. You are dismissed."
A servant appeared, seemingly without being summoned.
Minette was escorted, with the maidservant, to a fine carriage. After a short journey, they alighted at a modest residence. Neat, clean and furnished with taste and finesse, she entered her new abode. Her new life.
