Hello to all my readers. Here is at last a new chapter. This is one of my favourite, since it takes place in Paris and some of my characters are speaking French. Don't worry, I added the translation at the end of each line in French.
My apologies if I have stopped leaving reviews on ffnet, but things have been... somewhat hellish at home and at the office as well, and I did not wander much on the site.
Now, here's the show! :)
XXIV. A season in Paris
21st of January 1538, London
The proposition transmitted by ambassador Castillon was intriguing enough to deserve attention. King François was suggesting a meeting in Paris, gathering, in addition to himself and the Queen Regent of England, representatives from the United Provinces, and several German princes. A kind of informal alliance already existed between the French and their guests; it was only a matter of making it official. Nonetheless a rather touchy subject remained: who would in fact rule the country during the Regent's leave? Anne stubbornly refused to leave her uncle in charge; she was not sure she would be able to reclaim the power on her return. No way she could let a Pole come close to the seat of power, for the very same reason. Officially, Uncle Norfolk was too valuable to the fleet and was left to his ships, while the Poles were requested to make themselves useful by equipping one or two regiments. That would warm the Plantagenet cardinal's heart when he heard about it... Finally, Anne decided to let the council treat everyday business, under the lead of Chancellor Audley. He was seconded by a whole army of competent administrators. The Regent could thus leave the country with her chief minister without anxiety.
"- And Ralph? I will need him there", Cromwell worried.
"- And I need him in Edinburgh to make sure our good neighbours will not ally with Spain in case of open conflict. Nothing guarantees they will follow the French this time."
He protested out of habit, but had to admit she was right.
# #
27th of January, Dover
The few ladies-in-waiting the Queen Regent was taking with her looked positively green at the mere idea of boarding one of the ships moored in the harbour. The poor women had certainly never tried anything worse than a barque on a placid lake or the Thames. Anne did not make such a fuss. She had already travelled from Dover to Antwerp, from Antwerp to Boulogne and from Le Havre to Southampton, following her father and his embassies. The steep stairs and the deck were almost like old friends to her. Cromwell did not seem anxious either at the prospect of crossing the Channel in mid-winter.
# #
8th of February, Paris, the Louvre
The rooms given on the previous day to the English delegation were quite clearly one suite that had been hastily remade into rooms and antechamber with removable dividers. At least, the small area of the rooms made them easier to warm, Anne thought as she kicked her shoes off and sent them flying under a chair. Coming in winter also spared her the rather... particular smell of Paris during the hot season. Though London was not much better. She sat heavily on her bed. Within two days at most, her father would be back from the United Provinces with the Dutch delegation. She would have to watch everything she said and did... The regent glared at the other beds set in the room. Her ladies-in-waiting would be sleeping by her side. This excluded any kind of "distractions" during their stay in Paris.
Despite this drawback, Anne was happy to be back in the Louvre, which was slowly leaving his armour of medieval battlements to take a more modern aspect. This being said, knowing the Parisians' rather rebellious temperament, the moats and portcullis would not disappear any time soon. Gardens were growing along the river under the influence of the duchess of Brittany, Catherine de Medici, who had brought some talented artists with her from Italy.
"- Maddie?"
"- Yes, Majesty?" Lady Dormer answered, running to her queen's side.
"- I will sup with the king this evening. Do you know where my brown dress is?"
It was sober enough for a widow, without being too gloomy, after five months of wearing only black. And François would be expecting to see her at her best. No one else was invited. Queen Eleanore would certainly be entertaining the rest of the English group... An interesting task for the very pious and Catholic Queen of France.
# #
King François had not changed much since Anne's return in England. His thick black hair had not a single thread of grey yet and he still took care of himself. He still had the same taste for light colours contrasting with black thread patterns, and Anne wondered if Eleanore made the embroideries herself, or if it was his current mistress doing the needlework. She bowed in a half-curtsey, and her colleague bent down his considerable height in answer, before leading her to her chair. She hoped he only wished to talk about politics. An attempt to seduction, so close to a resigned but still proud Eleanore, and a minister a little bit over-protective of "his" queen would only lead to unwanted frictions.
Once they had taken their seat, François gave an order to one of the servants waiting by the door, and the man quietly left the room.
"Cela fait... cinq ans, si je ne m'abuse", the king commented, "que nous nous sommes rencontrés à Calais." (It has been... five years, if I am not mistaken, since we saw each other in Calais. )
Anne nodded.
"- Je vous ai naturellement écrit au décès de votre époux, mais permettez-moi de renouveler mes condoléances de façon plus personnelle. Je sais par mes ambassadeurs qu'Henry n'était pas l'homme le plus facile du monde..." (Of course I wrote a letter when I heard of your husband's death, but allow me to repeat my condolences in a more personal way. I know through my ambassadors that Henry was not the easiest man to live with... )
You have no idea.
"- ... mais la situation dans laquelle il vous a laissée est si... inquiétante. Ceci dit, jusqu'à présent, vous gérez vos intérêts et ceux de votre pays avec beaucoup de succès." (... but the situation he left you is so... worrying. This being said, until now you have managed your interests and your country's in a successful way.)
Were you expecting me to be kicked out or hanged so soon?
It was likely. Without Spain's combative intentions, Anne would have not remained a month as regent. Kicking Gardiner out of the council was not enough. Lady Mary still had fervent partisans in the realm, that imagined her married to Reginald Pole. With some luck, this particular cousin would have understood why one of his nephews was now a « perpetual guest » at Court while his mother and brother were subjected to constant watching...
François went on with the reports sent by his spies. Almost fifty ships would leave Spain for England, and ten from the Netherlands. It was a lot compared to the twenty-five vessels of the English fleet. The fact that the Spanish ships would have to sail past three nests of pirates... my apologies, privateers, before reaching the English coasts might make the balance a little more even.
While the two monarchs were discussing strategy, the servants brought the different courses of the supper. François was not eating as much as Henry. A fine pâté of hare saddle with small pickled onions, a roasted chicken, some desserts and preserved pears, a plate of various cheeses to finish, and all that washed downs by an excellent wine from the Loire. When she left the king's chambers, Anne was feeling her head spin, and did not pay much attention to her surroundings.
"So? His French Majesty agrees to lend his help?"
Anne almost jumped.
"Thomas, how many times will I have to tell you not to appear without warning? One day I will die of sheer fear because of you! To answer your question, we only have to define more precisely the practical aspects of this help... once the Dutch delegates will have joined us. Why on earth are you so grumpy?"
He muttered something she could not catch.
"Aren't we a little jealous?"
He had a disenchanted expression.
"Who would not be?"
She patted his cheek with a lopsided grin.
"It is the advantage of being a widow. As soon as a man acts too forward, the woman just has to gather her dignity and tell him no. Do not fret so much."
He relaxed slightly before offering her his arm and leading her back to her rooms.
# #
9th of February, the Louvre
If a Court without ladies was compared to a flowerless garden, then surely the French Court was the largest and most varied flowerbed. It even seemed there were more women than men in the Louvre. Most certainly because of the high number of princesses living in the castle: Queen Eleanore, Queen Marguerite of Navarre, Catherine duchess of Brittany, the other princess Marguerite (the king's daughter)... and of course the Queen of England. You could also see François' «friends » and their numerous handmaids. Interesting detail, all the noble ladies could at least read fluently, write, count and speak some Latin. Many of them had achieved further studies. Small wonder that England was, on that topic, considered a slightly barbaric nation.
Though a certain aura of sorrow surrounded all the place. The royal family was still mourning the short-lived Queen of Scotland, Princess Madeleine, who had died during the previous summer, and some thought unbecoming that King James should chase after a new wife with such haste, a wife who would certainly be Marie de Guise, of Lorraine. This being said, Cromwell thought, the Scottish king had to marry again and quickly, to produce an heir, or his kingdom would fall into the hands of his Tudor cousins. It would be an excellent operation, the minister calculated while walking along the gallery bordering the Seine. Elizabeth and Mary were James' closest royal relatives. They could claim his throne.
While he extrapolated on the topic, two courtiers emerged from the king's chambers and reached his position.
"Ah ! Messer Cremuel..."
Thus called, he came closer, and, identifying the woman, bowed before the duchess of Brittany and queen-in-waiting, Catherine de Medici. She was short, with a rather unpleasant face, but elegant hands, a very good taste in fashion and jewellery and, it was said, the most beautiful legs of the Court. She was also, according to the ambassador of England in Paris, very obedient and clever, and her father-in-law liked her well, enough to refuse to send her back in Italy, even though the princess had not yet managed to get pregnant... while the crown prince Henri had gotten one of his Italian mistresses with child. The man who escorted her, though, was completely unknown to Cromwell.
"- Gaspard, mon ami, pourriez-vous nous laisser un instant, je vous prie ?" Catherine asked. (Gaspard, my friend, could you please leave us for a moment?)
"- Naturellement, ma dame." (Of course, my lady. )
The young courtier - a tall, lean, blond man - of an age with the duchess, bowed and quickly took his leave. The minister watched him walk away with a measure of curiosity.
"Gaspard de Châtillon", the duchess said with a smile. "Un des nombreux neveux du connétable de Montmorency, et l'un des rares hommes de la Cour, avec Tavannes et le roi, qui ne me prennent pas pour une idiote. Mais ce n'est pas de lui dont je souhaitais vous parler. Ni de vos séjours en Italie, bien que l'endroit nous tienne à cœur à tous les deux, j'en suis certaine." (Gaspard de Châtillon. One of Commander Montmorency's numerous nephews, and one of the very few men at Court, with Tavannes and the king, who do not treat me as a stupid doll. But I do not want to talk about him now. Nor about your travels in Italy, though the place is so dear to us both, I am sure. )
The young duchess sat on a bench by a window above the Seine.
"Vous n'avez sûrement pas eu l'occasion de vous en rendre compte, but mais cette Cour est extrêmement divisée." (Surely you did not have the opportunity to notice it, but this Court is extremely divided. )
Wary, Cromwell waited for more.
"Sur la question religieuse", Catherine added. (Over religious matters. )
Ah, here we go...
"- Mon époux, les Guise, et la pu... et Madame de Poitiers sont farouchement catholiques et prônent une politique très dure à l'encontre des réformés. Je ne sais comment l'alliance avec l'Angleterre influencera leur ligne." (My husband, the Guises and the who... and Madame de Poitiers are fierce Catholics and advocate a very harsh policy against the Lutherans. I do not know how the alliance with England will affect their views.)
"- Nous sommes toujours un pays catholique", he objected. (We are still a Catholic country.)
"- Officiellement." "- Officiellement." (Officially.)
The word escaped them both at the same time. Catherine giggled behind her fan.
"- Hem... Lorsque mon époux deviendra roi, il pourrait être tenté de vouloir orienter la politique anglaise dans ce domaine." (Hem... When my husband becomes king, he may be tempted to try and direct the English policy on this topic. )
"- Un genre de chantage à l'assistance ? Intéressant. Seriez-vous favorable à une Réforme, ma dame?" (A sort of blackmail for assistance? Interesting. Would you favour a Reformation, my lady?)
"- Je suis avant tout favorable à la paix", Catherine said firmly. "Si cela veut dire faire bon ménage avec le camp réformiste, ainsi soit-il. Vouloir vous forcer la main n'est pas idéal pour une relation apaisée... L'empereur Charles est entrain de s'en rendre compte." (Above everything else, I favour peace. If it means going along with the reformist side, so be it. To try and force you is not the best for a peaceful partnership... Emperor Charles is beginning to understand it. )
The duchess of Brittany closed her fan and rose, ending the meeting.
No need to ask if she read her Machiavelli. I hope she will keep her place, it would be a shame to lose such a fine mind.
# #
10th of February
As anticipated, the Dutch ambassadors arrived in Paris with the Boleyns, father and son. Thomas Boleyn looked like a cat who had just swallowed a nice fat mouse. No need to ask him if his negotiations had gone well. Once the formalities had been fulfilled, he proudly announced that he had not even needed to pay the Dutch a bribe. The promise of favourable commercial contracts had been enough to convince them.
Their delegation made a certain contrast with the French and English lords, all dressed in colourful clothes and warm velvets. The Dutch were wearing woollen fabric, unadorned white collars and high, black hats with a silver buckle. Most of them were wealthy traders. There was not a single nobleman in their diplomatic team, except Wilhelm of Nassau-Dillenbourg, born to an old aristocratic family and gifted with both numerous descendants and a great fortune that had earned him the nickname of « Old Rich Man ». He had denounced the Pope for the Reformation, and his compatriots were more numerous each day to do the same, which in return prompted Emperor Charles to come and put an end to this spark of rebellion in the flat country.
After bowing before the King of France and the Queen Regent of England, the Dutch ambassadors were led to the conference room, French and English diplomats on their heels. As she sat at François' right, Anne felt that the day would be very, very long...
Once she was back in her chambers with her minister, Anne found Gregory Cromwell waiting before her door, a paper in his hand.
"- What news can you bring that make you so impatient?"
"- A message from the Assembly of the Bohemian Lords, my lady", Gregory said, almost hopping in his good mood. "They will rise against the emperor. They have planned to launch the fight on the 21st of February."
"- Why on that day?"
"- It was on that day, in 1411, that the bishop of Rome excommunicated their great reformer, Jan Hus", the older Cromwell pointed out. "It is their way to wish a « happy birthday » to Rome and the emperor. And the piece of cake they wish for is the independence of their province."
"- God give them what they want, then; it would take one fine thorn out of my foot", Anne sighed.
# #
12th of February
"- Je me demande quand nous verrons la fin des exigences de ces satanés Hollandais", Admiral Philippe Chabot sighed, stretching his long legs. "Pardon, ma dame", (I wonder when we will see the end of those damned Dutchmen's demands. I beg your pardon, my lady.) he hastily added for Anne, who was collecting the notes she had taken during the last round of negotiations.
"- Il n'y a pas de mal", she answered. "Ils se montrent en effet assez gourmands." (There is no offence. They are indeed quite greedy.)
The admiral smoothed his long beard. He was very close to the king, Anne knew, and not only thanks to the offices he held at Court. The smart man had married Françoise of Longwy, daughter of one of François' half-sisters. The Chabots were relatively low-ranking nobles, so managing to link their House to the royal family, even through a bastard's daughter, was an impressive feat.
"- Votre Monsieur Cromwell a de la chance de bien les connaître", he went on. "Cela lui permet de les supporter sans se mettre en colère. Avez-vous jamais rencontré des gens aussi fâcheux ?" (Your Mister Cromwell is lucky to know them so well. It helps him bear them without getting angry. Have you ever met such irritating people?)
"- De temps en temps", Anne said. "Mon cher papa me presse depuis son arrivée de trouver un nouveau mari, pas trop élevé dans la noblesse, pour me décharger d'une partie de ma tâche. C'est un autre genre d'ennui, mais il vaut largement nos marchands." (From time to time. Since his arrival my dear father has urged me to find another husband, not too high-ranking, to discharge me from a part of my tasks. It is another kind of worry, but it has the same effect as our traders.)
The admiral laughed heartily at that, but promptly stopped when he saw Thomas Boleyn watching them with a sour expression on his face. Anne shrugged. Did her father fear she could be tempted by the admiral? Chabot was a rather handsome man, but he cared deeply for his Françoise. And she did not consider herself as « free ». She picked up her papers and left the room, Boleyn on her heels.
"- Do not let this pretentious twit try to seduce you", Lord Boleyn warned. "François must think he is the only one to do so. "
"- Do not worry so much, Father. I know how to behave."
She managed to get rid of him before coming back to her rooms. Her ladies-in-waiting were not back yet from their exploration of the castle, so Anne took off her jewels and her heavy formal cloak to pay a visit to her minister, and share what he had learnt during his discussions with the German envoys.
# #
As usual, she found him sitting at a desk, reading notes. He rose quickly when she arrived, but she made him sit back, and took a seat for herself.
"- I hope our German friends will be less greedy that the Dutch, or the emperor will have taken London even before we are done with the negotiations."
"- I believe so", Cromwell assured. "After all, they just want a marriage in the royal family for one of their princes to give us their support."
"- Elizabeth is more or less betrothed to Charles of Orleans", Anne pointed out. "And Alice is still too young for that."
"- Oh, they would go for Lady Mary of one of Suffolk's daughters."
"- All of them being in the line of succession, one way or the other. Well planned."
Cromwell laughed heartily at that.
"- Speaking of the devil, does your uncle still annoy you about a new marriage?"
"- No, he finally gave up. No doubt he was afraid I would make good on my promise to choose someone like Knivert. This being said, my father has taken that topic in hands."
He lowered his head to hide the wide smile that came to his lips.
When he raised his eyes again, he found Anne watching him closely. Her well-known lopsided smile reappeared on her lips.
"- I have a present for you, that can be opened before Christmas", she said with an impish grin.
"- What did I do to deserve it, my lady?"
"- You are always here when I need you, you do not treat me like a fragile doll, you respect my intelligence, and not only the crown on my head..."
As she spoke, she had walked the distance between them, and was now so close he could smell the perfume she was always wearing, amber and rosewater. She slid her fingers between the links of his chain of office and pulled lightly on it to make him lower his head.
"You are my child's father..."
He looked back at her at that, only for Anne to pull again on the metal links of his chain to make him bend his neck. This time, he could not interrupt her, the queen's lips brushed his and her fingers left the chain to slide under the collar of his shirt.
That she could desire this as much as he did completely took him unaware, and some seconds passed before he rested his hands on her waist to pull her closer and prevent her from running away.
Not that she tried, mind you. She pushed him just to catch her breath. He helped her to sit on the desk, then began to caress lightly the long and gracious neck Anne let out a kind of small satisfied purr, then her hands pulled him close again.
"Good LORD!"
The outraged cry startled them so much that Anne slid from the desk to get back on her feet. From the sudden burning of her ears, she guessed she must have turned a nice shade of red, while Cromwell had become very pale.
Of all the courtiers who had come in France with them, it had to be Thomas Boleyn who found them. Behind him, George seemed torn between stupefaction and a growing hilarity.
"- How DARE YOU?" Boleyn yelled, purple with rage.
"- He dares nothing more than I allow", Anne retorted, quickly coming to her senses.
"- And where do you allow him? In your bed? Do you wish to be seen as your minister's whore?"
"- Ouch... that was low", George said, lowering his head.
"- I have been the king's whore, it would not make such a difference", the regent snapped. "And of this whore, Father, you were the procurer, because God knows you did all you could to put me in Henry's paws!"
"- Game to the queen", George commented.
"- Just keep in my mind, my lord father, that you cannot sell my body any more, and that I give it to whoever I wish! But if you truly want to check if your domains are doing fine, please, feel free to go on like this! I want nothing more than to send you away from Court."
Boleyn turned from scarlet to deathly pale. He put his hat back on his head and left, slamming the door behind him. George whistled with admiration.
"- I am really sorry..." Cromwell began.
"- We will resume this discussion another time", Anne cut him. "By your leave, my lords."
"- I will not tell you « hands off »", George said after his sister left the room. "But if you make her unhappy, I can... and I will kill you."
# #
27th of February, Calais
Anne had never been so relieved to return to England. The French stay had begun to turn sour. Nor François nor his guests had anything to do with it, but since her father had found her with Thomas, the atmosphere had been positively awful.
Luckily enough, the three delegations had managed to reach an agreement before the Queen Regent committed a political blunder by snapping her father's neck. The English and the Dutch would provide ships and crews, France would send guns, powder and officers to train the newly recruited sailors, not counting the regiments marching to the frontiers. The matter of Calais would be discussed after the war. If they won it.
Now they had to prepare England to receive Emperor Charles properly.