Chapter Eleven: The Aftermath
Francis paced before the desk in his study, trying to calm his temper before speaking. However, as he turned and saw Kenna tending to his brother's battle wounds, the nights events replayed in his mind. He couldn't hold back. "What were you thinking, Bash? We invited the King of Navarre as our guest of honor and you welcome him with a fist! I cannot believe this is happening."
Bash's eyes flamed. "I wasn't thinking. Is that what you want to hear, Francis? How could I possibly think straight when that pig had his hands all over my wife?"
Francis shook his head and continued pacing with a clenched jaw, to avoid saying anything he'd regret.
Kenna started weeping. "This is all my fault."
Bash kissed her cheek. "No, it's not."
She shook her head. "Francis, please don't blame Bash for this. Antoine has something against him and used me as bait to get to him. After the fight he didn't appear that drunk at all. I just know he was faking it."
Francis stopped and rubbed his chin. Thinking back, Antoine did seem quite lucid as he and Louis managed to pull Bash off of him. He hurled insults and threats and didn't even stagger as he marched away from the party. Could it all have been some elaborate scheme his cousin was trying to pull off? Francis looked back to Kenna. "May I speak with Bash alone for a few minutes?"
Kenna pursed her lips, obviously not pleased. "What is so important that you can't say in front of his wife?"
"Please," Bash whispered and tucked a strand of Kenna's hair behind her ear. "Go back to our chambers and wait for me. I'm sure we won't be long."
She nodded and reluctantly went although she shot Francis a look of contempt on the way.
When they were alone, Francis slumped into the chair behind his desk and let out a deep sigh. "Do you agree with Kenna's conclusion? Did Antoine bait you into fighting him?"
Bash nodded. "Yes, I believe he did. Antoine still blames me for his older brother's death. It was during the war and I was ordered to kill him by our father, but he wants his revenge. He'll use any means necessary to do it."
"He wants me to throw you into the dungeon and have you whipped, Bash. Honestly, we're lucky he didn't demand your head."
His brother's blue green eyes grew intense and he threw his hands up in the air. "Well, do it then. Have me punished, if it will benefit the realm. Do it."
Francis stared at him for a moment, considering his words. His brother was innocent. He only did what any husband would have done— what Francis himself would have done if someone had their hands on Mary. "No," he said shaking his head. "No…you're my brother and I'll stand by you no matter what."
"Even if it causes a war?"
Francis tapped his fingers on the desk. "War might be inevitable if what you say about Antoine is true. You both know he has always wanted the French throne for himself. Maybe he never wanted peace after all."
"I suppose Kenna and I should cancel our trip to Paris until things calm down. Maybe I could talk to Antoine and try to smooth this over."
"No, I think the damage has already been done. It would be best if you and Kenna were away from court right now. Take your trip and hopefully by the time you return the worst of the storm will have passed."
"I hope so," Bash whispered with downcast eyes.
After his brother left, Francis headed back to his chambers to check on Mary. When he entered the room, she appeared to already be asleep in bed with her back to him. He crawled under the covers and wrapped his arm around his wife's growing abdomen. He'd been working so hard to ensure their child would grow up in a time of peace and not war. Now he feared it had all unraveled in one ill-fated evening.
Mary sighed and turned to face him. Even in the dim light he could see her face held a ghostly pallor. "How did things turn out?" When he stayed silent, she furrowed her brow. "How are Bash and Kenna? Please tell me or I'll assume the worst."
He ran his finger down her cheek. "They're fine. Bash is a little bloodied and bruised but that won't stop them from heading to Paris first thing in the morning."
"It's probably for the best they're going to be away from court for a while. But what about Antoine and Louis?"
Francis paused, not wanting to worry her any more, but the unyielding look in her eyes told him he'd better say something or she'd fret about it all night. "Antoine and Louis are planning to leave in the morning, but let's not worry about that now. We'll give him time to calm down and then I'll travel to Navarre myself and talk with him."
"Louis and I used to be good friends. Maybe I could talk to him and…"
"No," Francis interrupted, not willing to let Mary throw herself into a stressful situation while carrying their child.
"Right now, you need to stop worrying about them and concentrate on your health."
She managed a weak smile and reached for his hand. "I'm fine. Please don't fret over my well-being."
He gulped down a lump in his throat. "How can I not be concerned, Mary? You barely eat as it is and now you can't keep anything down. Maybe we should fetch Nostradamus and see if he has anything to help your stomach."
Mary shook her head and he could see a stubborn gleam in her eyes in spite of the dimly lit room. "I don't want his potions to affect the baby, Francis. Besides, this will pass. I know it. Your mother said she was well into her fifth month while carrying you before her sickness began to subside. This is perfectly normal."
"Perfectly normal…" he echoed with a hint of doubt in his voice.
She kissed his hand. "Yes. Now there's only one more thing I need tonight."
"And what is that?"
"To fall asleep in your arms. This bed is so lonely without you."
"I'd love nothing more," he whispered and pulled Mary closer until her head rested on his chest. She let out a contented sigh and within a few minutes her breathing became slow, even and peaceful. He kissed her forehead and kept his arm wrapped around her belly with a smile on his face. What a treasure it was to hold his sleeping wife and child at the same time.
As Francis drifted out of consciousness, he vowed to protect them no matter what it cost him.
…
Mary's heart thundered as she journeyed down a dark corridor and approached the wing of the castle where guests stayed. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as the cool morning air send a chill through her body. When Francis woke up alone, he would be worried about her absence but Mary felt this was the only way to protect her family and country. She paused before a chamber door as a wave of nausea crept up on her. When it passed, she drew a deep breath and knocked.
The sound of shuffling feet came from behind the door. Then it creaked open. Louis stood before her— his face etched with confusion. He wore his traveling cloak and his bags were already stacked on the floor, ready to be loaded into the carriage. "Mary, what are you doing here?"
She gulped down a lump in her throat and managed a weak smile. "May I come in?" He looked reluctant but motioned for her to enter. Once they were behind closed doors Louis invited her to sit. She declined and stood by the door instead. "I can only stay for a moment but I wanted to speak to you before your return to Navarre."
Louis sat in a chair by the hearth and frowned. "I thought we settled everything during my last visit…when you chose Francis and asked me to leave court."
Mary sighed, realizing he obviously still had some hard feelings about the past. "I'm sorry I hurt you, but we were friends once, weren't we?" He nodded but didn't respond so Mary continued. "If you ever cared for me at all…please hear me out."
"I'm listening." Louis crossed his arms over his chest.
"This marriage and alliance with Elizabeth is foolish. She only hungers for power and won't stop until she controls Navarre and France."
"She offers us protection, Mary…and she's protestant. Your husband's policies against my faith have proven we need her protection."
Mary shook her head, remembering the edict that Narcisse blackmailed him into. Unfortunately, it was a secret she could never reveal to anyone. "Francis is doing everything he can to correct the wrongs he has done in the past. He wants peace with Navarre. He wants to help your country. I promise you."
Louis scoffed and studied a few glowing embers in the fire. "You can defend him all you want but his actions are the deciding factor. After the humiliation my brother went through last night, I believe our peace talks are dead. My brother and I must align ourselves with Elizabeth. It's best for Navarre."
"Louis please…" Mary begged with tears filling her eyes.
He crossed the room and opened the door. "I'm sorry, but you should leave now. Your husband will be wondering where you are." Mary nodded and walked out, wiping tears. "Mary?" She turned and looked at him one last time. "War is the last thing I want, but if it comes to that, I will never let anyone…not even my brother harm you or Scotland…but I can't promise the same for your husband or the Valois line."
Her heart sank, not realizing it had come to that point. Did he realize she carried part of the Valois line in her womb? "If you eliminate the Valois line, you'll me killing me as well."
His eyes filled with grief. "Then so be it," he whispered and closed the door.
Mary could hardly breathe as she stumbled back toward her chambers. Images flashed through her mind. Soldiers from Navarre and England gathered at the castle gates—Francis riding out to meet Antoine and Louis—cousin against cousin in a fight for the French throne. It was too horrible to fathom.
As she turned the corner, Francis came into view, his handsome face tainted with worry. He rushed toward her. "Mary, where have you been?"
Her abdomen cramped and she winced in pain. "Francis…" she murmured weakly and collapsed into her husband's arms.