Queen's Play - Dorothy Dunnett [259]
‘Lord d’Aubigny,’ said Henri of France, ‘will not leave this realm. Is that sufficiently clear to you all?’
Anne de Montmorency, Marshal, Grand Master and Constable of France, avoided looking at the Queen; by a stroke of good fortune they were without Madame de Valentinois just now.
The conference was over. They knew where they stood, though the arguments over dates and dowry would go on for a long time yet. Magnificent, manly and frank, my lord of Northampton on his King’s behalf had demanded the Queen of Scotland in marriage with his master Edward of England, and had introduced the subject with a short homily of the kind familiar to all diplomats abroad.
His Majesty daily showed himself the towardest prince that ever England had to be her King. The estate of the realm was in good case, and quiet. The Commissioners on the frontiers of Scotland, as they knew, had concluded peace with the Scots. Ireland grew daily towards a good policy: justice and law were being set in good hand in parts where before they were unknown; the base money had been called down and commercial exchange had been reformed. Now, said the Marquis, looking King and Constable straight in the eye, now was the ripest time to carry out the age old promise between his nation and the Scots, and join their two monarchs in promised matrimony.
‘No,’ said the French monarch politely and at even greater length. She was affianced, as everyone knew already, to the Dauphin. ‘We have been at too great pains and spent too many lives for her,’ the French King replied.
And that was over. Northampton, withdrawing without ever having advanced, asked for and was granted the hand of the Princess Elizabeth, Henri’s daughter of six, for his junior King. Provided a suitable dowry could be agreed.
The matter was at length finished. The compact of mutual alliance and defence was virtually sealed. And here in the privacy of his chamber was his Constable, producing witness after witness and argument after argument to demand that Stewart of Aubigny should be put under arrest.
The accusation was true. Even the wronged boy of the Spanish prisons could understand that; its very obstinacy in being blatantly true blinded him with rage. However the Constable gentled him, however calmly Catherine reasoned, the hurt pride was there. Stewart loved him.… Had loved him, once.
‘You have appropriated Scotland today for your son,’ said the Constable painstakingly. ‘To keep by your side Mary’s murderer would be an insult no nation would bear.’
‘Let her leave, the Queen Dowager, if she does not like it. Let her take her begging train back to Scotland.’
‘Insult her people?’ asked the Constable.
‘Insult her family?’ said Catherine’s collected voice.
‘Then,’ said the Constable thoughtfully, ‘there is the charming M. Thady. He will wish satisfaction, and no doubt will expect a reward. My men are daily discovering interesting news of M. Crawford of Lymond. You know he owns the manor of Sevigny?’
‘He is my dear sister the Queen’s,’ said Henri.
Catherine smoothed her fine dress with small, thickly ringed hands, and pursed her big mouth. ‘My guess is—not yet,’ she remarked.
There was a little silence. ‘Then we shall make of Sevigny a comté,’ said the King; and Catherine, smiling, played with her jewels. ‘It is in my mind also to give his lordship of Aubigny work for his company of lances to do, on the frontiers.’
The Constable shifted his elderly bulk. ‘Yes. But he must be shown, Monseigneur … It must be publicly understood that …’
‘As you know,’ said Henri abruptly, ‘we have placed a ban on duelling in this kingdom. A ban not as perfectly kept as I should like.… It does not apply, of course, to sport in the tilting ground, with blunted steel. Before supper, we had planned a display of this kind. It shall be held in place of the water pageant. Advise Lord d’Aubigny and M.… M. de Sevigny that they will be permitted to relieve any hard feelings between them harmlessly in this fashion … and that Lord d’Aubigny, since