Chapter 6 - Mother and Daughter
Closing the doors to Mary's chambers, Marie unloads on Mary.
"What was that? That display earlier was preposterous! Asking Francis to belong to you? Like a girl asking a boy to love her! Ridiculous! Be glad I was the only one who heard. Mary, you are not a girl. You're a queen!"
Fisting her hands, Marie paces like a caged animal in front of the bed while Mary laid on it, overlooking the window. The sun was going down. The night was stealing away the light, Mary feels like her life was slowly draining away, along with the light.
"Who, YOU, need all the options going your way! And don't even get me started on you and that bastard. What were you thinking, Mary? Or were you even thinking at all? Your uncle? What good is your uncle? You just had to be stubborn."
"And isn't it too harsh of you to ask Francis to love you? You obviously don't love him much as you say in your letters when you go and be with the bastard?"
"No!" Mary sits up suddenly, startling Marie.
"I love Francis! I will always love him. He will always, always be the one. I just can't marry him. I can't let him die. Mother, he'll die if he marries me! I can't have that. I won't have that. I can't live in this world if Francis dies, Mother. I can't. I won't." Mary folds into herself, putting her forehead on her knees, sobbing and chanting 'Francis can't die. Francis can't die. Francis can't die.'
Marie goes to her child, wanting to comfort her but doesn't know where to begin. "Who's threatening you? Mary, tell me! Is it Catherine? We'll get their heads for this. Tell me!"
Mary looks up at her, imploring. "Mama, please don't let Francis die. I can't live if he dies. I can't."
"Oh Mary, tell me. My child, tell me." Marie sits besides Mary. This time wiping her tears ever so gently. "What has happened? Tell me."
"A prophecy?!"
"You did all this, because of a PROPHECY?" Marie looked murderous and she was looming over her daughter. "You jeopardize your crown, your reputation, your dignity, your people, YOURSELF, SCOTLAND! For a prophecy?"
"Áylee is dead! Nostradamus said Aylee will never return to Scotland. I believe in the prophecy! I can't be the reason for Francis dying! I can't, Mama. I can't! I'd rather live without him than be the one holding him when he dies." Mary poured out her anguish. Why can't they understand? Francis is her happiness and if he dies, what good would she be? She's doing this to protect her heart. Protect Francis from her self. Protect her heart from her self.
"So you stabbed him in the back? Take his birthright and offer it to his bastard – brother? Why not Charles then? You just had to endanger the entire Valois – de Medicis family. Oh Mary, don't you realize you made Francis a target for assassinations?"
"No, Francis will not be harm – "
"Good God, Mary! Every monarch has enemies! Valois has enemies! More so with de Medicis! WE, Stuart and de Guise HAVE ENEMIES!"
"I know that, Mother! I've had assassination attempts too!"
"And you don't think, letting in a bastard be legitimize so that you can marry him will stop your so-called prophecy? Won't harm Francis? Won't give him and his siblings, more enemies?"
"Yes! He'll still be a royal and have the protection of King Henry and Bash and France."
"Tell me, Mary, do you know where Francis was during all this time? While you bask and be a teacher and mother and a lover to the bastard, where do you think Francis was?"
"I am not Bash's lover! How many times do I have to tell you? I am not his lover!" Marie just raised her left eyebrow at her daughter. "I – I don't know. But the squire has told us, he was well in Paris. Like I said, King Henry was looking after him."
"So you don't know then. For someone who says you can't live in a world where Francis dies, you don't even know what has happen to him."
"No, not all the details. But he's safe and alive and free."
"So you don't know who he has bedded?" Marie taunted. "You don't know who gave him pleasure. How many women he had in one night or two or three nights, huh?"
"I don't care how many women he's had." Mary lies through her teeth. "Just that his safe."
"Well, good. I was afraid you'd kill Lola. You know you can't kill Lola. Her father is funding some of Scotland's army. We can't have their support away from our reserves." Marie taunted a little bit more.
"You're a bitch, Mother!" Oh, Mary would like to kill Lola and every damn woman that Francis has had. Olivia, Natalia, that prostitute Bash took Francis to and took Francis' virginity away, every other girl. And she'd also like to kill his mother and her mother.
"Oh, you're jealous? Marvelous!" laughing at her fuming daughter, "But you don't have the right to be jealous, Mary. He's not yours anymore. He's mine. And I'm not jealous. Francis has never had a real woman of power in his bed. I'll be the first."
"Shut up, Mother! Francis and I were together! We made love several times. We made each other burn. And he'll never forget what we had. I know. Cause I'll never forget what WE had. And you can't take that away!" Mary shouted as she was holding onto her stomach.
"Ooh, the truth at last!" Marie was giddy. "So you're pregnant, then? That's good. We'll have to be very careful. We won't tell them about your baby. We do have to tie up loose ends. We'll make sure to keep it all clean. Now, where do you think in this castle, where Henry is most vulnerable?"
"No, mother. I am not pregnant. I wanted to be. Francis and I wanted to be, but, I'm not." There was pain in those words. And longing. So much longing.
"And you can't kill King Henry."
"Mary, I'm disappointed in you. Who says we're killing anyone? And all your trysts, you're still not pregnant? Poor you. Poor Francis. But that's not the point is it, Mary?" Marie looks over the window, watching the setting sun. "Point is, you could have had babies now. You could have had them. Together with Francis."
"I wish so hard I was, Mama. A boy with his blue eyes and golden curls or a girl with his wit and gentleness and my eyes. I can even see a child with your face and stubbornness, mother. And she'll be the bossiest child we have. We would have. We could have had. But I can't marry him or else he'll die. I don't want him to die. He can never die. He mustn't." And tears sprang again from Mary's eyes but Marie never saw it. The sun took hold of Marie's attention.
"I suppose its irrelevant now to say, how many times Francis has come close to death." Marie mumbles to herself. Its not like Francis will be in harms' way anymore. She'll make sure Francis will be protected in Scotland. Her daughter's happiness must be protected. At all cost.
"What?"
Outside the torches flared up, signaling evening has come.
"Oh, its time to prepare for the feast. Come on, let's get you prepared. I think the Pope has arrived. And he'd be at the feast. We have to prepare."
"Mother, what do you mean, Francis coming close to death?"
"Did I say that?" Marie lies.
Would it do good if Mary knows of how Francis was thrown off his scared horse and landed awkwardly on his back? Or the time Francis tried to rescue a little girl from a rabid dog and got bitten himself? Or that time, he got fever from the bite. Or that time an assassin, paid handsomely by Diane de Poitiers, disguised as a disgruntled drunk managed to swipe a knife towards Francis, but his lanky built and leather coat saved him.
"No Mary, I didn't say anything. Come on, let's prepare. The lights are up."
Two more to go...