Chapter 21

"Look, Maman, this I've painted for you!" Little Margot held up a painting where Catherine, with a lot of imagination, could identify a horse on. With a valorous smile on her face, she placed a kiss on her youngest daughter's forehead and then awe-strickenly inspected the picture.
"Thank you, my sweetling. What a beautiful horse," she praised her little girl and meanwhile tried to hide her concern. She suspected, no, she rather knew that this last meeting between Henry and her children was more risky than she even wanted to admit and the exhausting tension she was feeling since she'd had this fateful conversation with Francis had left her nerves strained to the breaking point.
"It looks more like a mule," Charles, who had risen from his sitting position, commented matter-of-factly while leaning over her shoulder to look at his sister's artwork.
"Not a donkey," Margot protested in the cutest, most pouting way.

Catherine glanced at Charles and lovingly stroked her little one's back to reassure her.
"Charlie doesn't seem to know the exact difference between a donkey and a horse. I'll have to take him to the stables more often." Francis, who sat on the floor next to Henri and was busily setting up an arm of miniature soldiers with his brothers, looked over to the table where his mother and Margot were sitting and conspiratorially winked at his sister.
"I want to come to the stable with you as well!" Henri demanded loudly and in his zeal the boy knocked over half a battalion of his soldiers.
"I'd rather stay with Maman and wait with her for the baby to come," proclaimed Margot, palpating Catherine's stomach with her little painted hand.
"But that'll take quite a while, darling."
Catherine couldn't bring herself to rob her boys of their illusion by explaining that they wouldn't go to the stable with their older brother in the near future. They wouldn't get to see Francis for quite a while because their departure was imminent.

Saddened, the Queen of France stroked over the raspy parchment in front of her and allowed herself to escape into her bleak toughts for a second. She was afraid of the things to come and of this final farewell that would change her life forever.
Not only would she lose her husband and the father of her children, but also her crown that would no longer belong to her the moment Henry took his last breath.

As if he had guessed her dark thoughts, Francis rose and approached the table where she was sitting. In a comforting gesture he laid his warm hand upon hers and sank to his knees in front of her.
"We can still call it off, mother," Francis conceded, but Catherine vehemently shook her head. She knew that he was only talking about this last family meeting and not about Henry's impending elimination.
"No, Francis. No."
"I'm worried about you," her eldest said quietly, as not to frighten the little ones. Touched by his considerate behaviour, Catherine freed one of her hands in order to stroke his cheek.
"I'd feel better if you would lie down again, as the doctor and Nostradamus have advised you" he added, but Catherine just shook her head.

"If I spend one more day in bed, I'm also running the risk of losing my mind. Don't worry, Francis. I'm fine." At least as fine as circumstances allowed her to be. Anyway - good enough to leave her bed. And Catherine enjoyed finally feeling like a human being again, wearing other clothes than a night or a dressing gown. If only it weren't for her physical weakness and those damned mood swings, that were certainly related to her current condition.

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation between mother and son. Catherine, who was about to rise, was gently but surely being pushed back into her chair by Francis.

"No, you stay here. First I want to check on his condition before I'm letting him near you or the little one." Francis' care touched and frustrated her at the same time. She understood his concern, the extend of her last encounter with her husband was still fresh in her memory, but his exaggerated caution also left her feeling powerless. Well, perhaps it was time to get used to that feeling. Because sooner rather than later she would be exactly that.

A powerless widow, pregnant with a madman's child, being at the mercy of her son and his future wife.

Her nerves were tense and she thought she could feel her innards shrinking with nervousness. Catherine attentively tried to listen to what was being said outside the door but she couldn't hear a word.

It took them a few minutes, then the door to her chambers was opened and Henry, closely followed by Francis, crossed the threshold. His face brightened as soon as he saw her.
"A family reunion! What a wonderful idea," he enthusiastically exclaimed and approached her with his arms wide open. Even before Catherine had fully risen, her husband was already pulling her into a tigh embrace. "You're back on your feet," Henry remarked and before she knew it, he was eagerly pressing his lips against hers.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see that Francis was already moving towards them in order to remove him from her, but she signaled him not to intervene for the time being. For the duration of the blink of an eye, Catherine gave in to the familiar, now kind of bitter feelings her husband's touches still sparked in her, but then she withdrew herself from his arms.
"Aren't you going to greet your children?" she asked in a calm voice, bringing some distance between the two of them. Henry first looked at her, then at his little ones, who stared up at their father with big eyes.
Margot slipped from her chair and rushed towards Catherine, burying her little face between the wide skirts of her dress. In a soothing gesture, the Queen stroked her little girl's hair and at the same time she gave her sons an encouraging smile.

"Oh yes, the children," Henry muttered and looked from one child to another in irritation as if unsure abouth what to do with them.
"Hello father," Charles was the first to pluck up his courage and got up from his sitting position. In an awkward gesture, Henry drove his fingers through his son's dark hair and nodded at the boy.
"You're getting big, young man. You're more like your father in that way." Henry winked at Catherine as if he had made the funniest of jokes. "But what else to expect from a boy who bears the name Henri?"

Catherine briefly closed her eyes at this announcement. Henry couldn't even keep his children apart. But before she or Charles could react, Francis bawled out:
"This is Charles, father. Not Henri!" Her eldest could not hide his anger either from his mother nor from Henry, whose facial expression hardened instantly.

In order not to risk an escalation, Catherine moved between Francis and her husband and in a calming gesture she laid her hand on Henry's forearm.
"Henry, Margot and I are going to have some tea now. Would you like to join us?" she offered gently.
"Why not..." The King agreed and he scratched his chin lost in thought.

Relieved by him giving in, Catherine pushed her husband towards one of the armchairs and took a seat opposite him. Then she lifted Margot, who still seemed petrified and was glued to her skirt onto her lap and stroked the little girl's back in a calming manner.
"Did you hear that, sweetling, your father is going to spend some time with us?" she whispered. Only then did Margot timidly nod her head and Catherine waved at the servants, who started serving their tea with a variety of diffrent biscuits and tartlets.

"Drinking tea is such a girly thing," Henri explained, who rose from his position on the floor and looked back and forth between the set table and his small army of soldiers.
"Oh, then biscuits and tartlets are most certainly for girls only and not suitable for young princes." Catherine teased, who hadn't missed how avidly her son was inspecting the sweet treatst that had been served.
"No, maman, biscuits and tartlets are young prince's favorite food." A mischievous grin appeared on Henri's angelic face and at that moment Catherine saw so much resemblence to his father in her boy's face that brought some moisture into her eyes.

Before she could succumb to her emotions, Catherine took a deep breath and resolutely blinked away this treacherous moisture.
"Well, if that's the case...," she said and gave her son an approving sign to help himself with a treat. Charles also demanded a tartlet, only Francis did not budge from the corner where he had retreated to. His attention was still fixed on his father in a rather grim way.
"Perhaps your father would like to help you putting up your arms after his tea?" She knew she sounded tense and troubled, but neither Henry nor the two boys seemed to mind. Her suggestion even encouraged her boys to insist on Henry joining them in their game. When the latter agreed, Charles and Henri beamed ath him with happiness. This sight put a stab in their mother's heart.

What was she going to say to them once their father was dead? For even though Henry did not spend nearly as much time with his children as she wished him to do, they still loved him dearly. Just as dearly as she did.

So after he had finished his tea, she encouraged her husband to participate in the game his sons were playing in order to give her little princes one last positive memory of their father. Francis, who was still watching Henry like a hawk, gave up his position at the wall and went over to his mother where he sat down on Henry's recently vacated chair. While Margot was sleepily playing with her doll in Catherine's arms, mother and son silently watched the game that took place on the floor.

With growing concern, the Queen and the Prince witnessed Henry becoming more and more worked up about his miniature army, turning more agressive with each passing minute. His movements became erratic while he advanced his soldiers, his stony-faced expression grim.

"Children, enough of that. It's time for me to see if you've learned your Italian lessons," she said hurriedly and waved her boys over. They immediately put on sheepish faces and looked back and forth between their mother and father in a pleading way but Catherine didn't give in to their pouting.
"Now!", she insisted.
"Please, one second mother, I just need to... oh." In his eagerness to continue the campaign he had just started, little Henri's knee nudged some of his father's soldiers who, after a short fight against gravity, overturned and took even more soldiers with them while they fell.
"Now you have eliminated father's entire army," his brother Charles chuckled and rose. Then he threw a pitiful look in Henry's direction.

For the blink of an eye Henry's face was petrified at the sight of his destroyed troops, then his expression distorted into a terrifying mask of rage. And before one of the boys, Francis or Catherine could react, Henry reached out and hit his youngest son's face with so much force that send the child flying. His slight body crashed hard against the table.

While Henri was lying on the ground, whimpering quietly, Charles retreated with fear filled eyes from his father, whereas Francis jumped from his chair and threw himself at Henry. Catherine also jumped up – clutching a very frightened looking Margot to her chest - and hurried towards her abused child, who started to sob loudly as soon as she pulled him into her arms.

"You've gone completely mad!" Francis' angry voice filled the air, drowning out his mother's softly spoken words of consolation, while she was trying to calm down her little ones.
His shouts also alerted the guards, who rushhed into the room and came to their crown prince's aid since Francis was fighting a doomed battle against a rather violent Henry, who's eyes had a wild and dangerous glow in his fury.

"He destroyed my troops, my soldiers fell, all of them, which leaves France defenceless," Henry ranted, completely out of his mind, and managed to break loose from the hands that were trying to restrain him.
"What if England decides to attack us now?" His words echoed through her chambers while he tumbled towards Catherine, who was moving in front of her traumatized children to shield them with her body.

"For heaven's sake, this was just a game, Henry," the Queen yelled at her husband but Henry seemed rather unimpressed for he drew his sword and was towering over them in the most direful way.
"Release him, Catherine. I don't want to hurt you. But this little traitor here needs to learn his lesson. I won't tell you again, wife."
"FATHER!" Francis warned him, what caused Henry to drive around at lightning speed. His blade only missed his elders by a hair's breadth.
"You," Henry yelled and gave Catherine's guards a dirty glare. "Back off! That's an order!" he spit and with one step he was at Francis' side and held his blade to his son's throat to give more substance to his demand.

"Henry, that's enough," Catherine demanded with a raised voice. A unyielding expression lay on her face while she pushed her children under the table to seek shelter there. Then she rose to her feet in order to face her husband. "These are your sons you're threatening. Our sons."
"Little usurpers. That's what our treacherous sons are!" Henry whispered and turned to his wife, who kept on approaching him fearlessly.
"They are just children", with these words her hands went to her lower abdomen, where she was carrying yet another of his children. Her husband's gaze followed her hands.
"Some among many. Replaceable. You are already pregnant with another child of mine, Catherine. I can give you as many as you'd like. Better ones."

His brutal, insensitive words forced the Queen to swallow hard, yet she courageously continued approaching her husband, hoping against hope that he would not start to threaten her life as well.

"No Henry! The mere thought of your hands on my body makes me sick. YOU make me sick," Catherine spat at her husband with the power of despair. She was wildly determined to die for her children now and here if necessary. For if she could only draw his attention away from Francis long enough, her son and the guards would be able to overpower him. And she was more than willing to make that sacrifice. Any sacrifice. For all and each of her children.

But instead of refueling his rage, her words evoked an expression of naked pain in Henry's eyes.
"Mother," Francis hissed in an attempt to warn her, but his intervention merely doubled the pressure of the sword blade against the young man's throat.
This sight broke Catherine's last restraint and she let her anger and despair get the better of her.
"You are sick Henry, terribly sick, and I won't tolerate you threatening my children for one second longer. Your own flesh and blood, born by me, born in pain. And now you are going to lower your sword and leave my chambers." When he didn't react, she shouted at him fervently: "HAVEN'T YOU HEARD ME?"

Frightened by her outburst, Henry actually lowered his sword and helplessly stared at his wife, his eyes wide with confusion.
"Good, and now you'll go. The children and I are going to leave by tomorrow, for I can no longer stand your presence. And there is nothing or no one who is going to stop me from leaving. Most certainly not you."
"But Catherine..." her husband stammered laboriously while his sword fell to the ground with a loud clinking noise. The Queen of France ignored his pleading stare but nodded at her guards instead, who approached their mistress' husband with grim faces and finally grabbed him by his shoulders.
"You can't just leave me! It's only you who's keeping these demons in my head at bay. I need you, I love you!" Henry desperately fought against the hands that were restraining him, but the guards didn't loosen their grips.

Catherine took another step towards Henry and the cold in her eyes turned his blood into ice.
"That's no love, Henry," she explained, but her husband just shook his head in denial.
"But it is. And I need you. I can give you everything you ever wanted. Everything!" Henry stopped and creased his forehead as if thinking about what he could offer her. Then his face brightened visibly. "Diane! You want me to have Diane executed? Or you can get rid of her yourself if you prefer."
"I don't care what happens to Diane, Henry," Catheirne hissed unconciliatory, all the while ignoring the stinging sensation in her lower abdomen that was slowly spreading through her body like a humongous wave. "Kill her, pardon her, take her back into your bed, for all I care!"
"Then what else could I offer you? Do you desire jewelry and beautiful robes? Ponies for the children? Or maybe a leopard? I'll give you everything your heart desires. EVERYTHING, you just have to stay!"

Catherine pressed her shaking hands firmly against her midsection and fought the fit of dizziness that was making her stagger.
"Mother, I think you should sit down" Francis said, who had been watching her attentively. He hurried towards Catherine and led her back to her chair despite her quiet protest. Once she was sittling, Catherine looked up at her husband's face that was heavily marked by pain and grief.
"I want Chenonceau."she demanded quietly.
"Then it shall be yours. Just don't leave me."

"That was enough excitement for one day. I want you to lie down, Maman. I'm going to send for Nostradamus. And you...", Francis moved close to his father and gave him a murderous glare.
"... you'd better take a leave now. You've certainly done enough damage." His tone was cold and cutting.

With a firm nod, Francis signaled the guards to show his father out. But before the men could escort Henry out of the room, Catherine raised again.
"Henry," she softly called after her husband, who stopped dead in his tracks. Then he slowly turned around to face her.
"If there was ever a time in your life where you have loved me, sincerely and with all your heart, then let Nostradamus check on you. If not, then there's nothing left for me but to pray for your immortal soul."

Here we go again. Another weekend, another chapter. Guys, I'm such a Cathry trash after seeing Megan and Alan in Paris. OMG. I still can't believe it.

This chapter is dark and heavy and I feel that I should apologize, but on the other hand that's where I need to go right now. And now I can promise you that all will turn out for the best and a lighter chapter will follow.

Thanks for sticking around and thanks for your reviews. You're the best!