Royal Road to Fotheringhay - Plaidy Jean (хороший книги онлайн бесплатно .txt) 📗

He was tall and his beard was curled as she had never seen a beard curled before; his hands moved expressively; his eyes flashed and sparkled as they rested on the little Queen.

“This is an emissary from the King of France,” said the Queen-Mother, and as she spoke those words she seemed taller and prouder than ever before. “He comes with greetings from the King and my brothers.”

Mary was enchanted with the newcomer. She decided he was very pretty and unlike any man she had seen before.

He sank to his knees very gracefully, not as the Scottish nobles knelt; he took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Your Majesty’s most humble servant,” he said. He continued to hold her hand.

Then he rose and turned to the Queen-Mother. “Forgive me, Madame,” he said in French, but Mary’s French was good enough to understand him, “I am struck dumb by such enchanting beauty.”

The Queen-Mother was smiling. She called him Monsieur l’Amiral. There was much talk and laughter and the little Queen saw that other strangers had come into the chamber, and they too had curled beards and gay tongues and spoke quickly—far too quickly—in the French tongue.

She retired to her apartment after a while, but no sooner was she there than her mother entered. Mary had never seen her look so excited.

She too talked French, and so rapidly that Mary had to beg her to speak more slowly.

“This will not do,” cried Marie de Guise. “What will your uncles say if you cannot speak French fluently? You must do so before you step for the first time on the soil of France.”

Marie de Guise’s eyes had filled with tears and, in spite of the fact that there were others present, she abandoned ceremony and taking her daughter in her arms she held her tightly.

Then Mary knew that she was to leave for France—not in the distant future—and that these strange men had come to escort her there.

THERE WAS a bustle of preparation; there was a packing of baggage; and all this was done at the utmost speed.

Now and then the Queen-Mother found time to talk to her daughter, to tell her of the wonderful future which was being planned for her. “You are going to my people. The Most Christian King himself will be your father. The Queen of France will be as your mother; and your grandfather, the great Duke of Guise, and your grandmother, who was Antoinette de Bourbon before she became Madame de Guise, will be there, with your uncles, to greet you.”

She had to make this child understand the importance of what was about to happen to her. She was the Queen of Scotland, but a greater throne was coming her way. His Most Christian Majesty was offering her the crown of France through marriage with his son. A great and glorious future was to be hers, and the child would be worthy of it. Surely her beauty must startle even the French.

“Listen to me carefully. The English are close at hand; they have captured some of our towns. They know that our kind friend, the King of France, offers you marriage with his son—and that is the very thing they are anxious shall not take place because they want you for their King Edward. Henri Deux, the King of France has sent ships to Scotland. When we go to Dumbarton you will see those mighty ships, and they have braved the storms and the English fleet to come to us. King Henri is our friend. He is anxious that there shall be great friendship between his country and ours. He has sent these ships to take you back to France.”

“And shall you come with me?”

“I cannot come, my darling. I must stay here. But you will have many of your friends with you. All your little Marys shall go. I shall come to visit you. The King—your new father—will not wish you to be lonely. He wants you to be very happy.”

Mary was too excited to be afraid. She was going to the most beautiful country in the world. But when she looked into her mother’s face she was immediately sad. Poor Maman, she would stay behind. Poor Maman, who must also lose her daughter.

Mary threw her arms about her mother’s neck.

“I will not go, dearest Maman. I will stay with you.”

“That is nonsense, my child.”

“But you will be unhappy if I go. I would rather never see France than make you unhappy.”

“Why, you foolish child, it makes me the happiest Queen in the world to know you go to France. It is what I wish for you. I shall come to see you soon. The King says I must. He is very kind.”

“I wonder what the Dauphin is like.”

“Francois? He is the same age as yourself… or almost. Your birthday is in December and his in January. Some queens have to marry men old enough to be their grandfathers and others have to marry those young enough to be their children.”

Mary began to laugh. “That must be very funny.”

“Royal marriages are never funny.”

“No, Maman” said Mary seriously.

“The Dauphin is not very strong. You will have to be careful not to tire him in your play.”

“Yes, Maman?

Already Mary had decided that she would make the care of the Dauphin her special task.

HER MOTHER took her on board the ship. With them were the four Marys—now very solemn and demure in their heavy capes. Lady Fleming bustled about them, her lovely face flushed with excitement, forgetful of her widowhood, keenly aware of the admiration directed toward herself even when it came from the humblest sailors.

The Queen-Mother made her daughter walk before her onto the King’s galley. Behind them came all those who were to form part of the little Queen’s entourage in her new country. There would be so many of them, Mary thought, that it would be almost like being at home.

As they stepped aboard, accompanied by Admiral Villegaignon, a tall man came toward them and knelt before the Queen so that his eyes were on a level with hers. Mary knew him, for he was the Sieur de Breze, the French King’s ambassador at the Scottish Court.

“Your Majesty’s servant,” he said. “My master has commanded me to act as your French governor until I have conducted you safely to his presence.”

She answered in her high piping French which, with its faint Scottish accent, delighted all these Frenchmen: “Rise, Monsieur de Breze. It gives me great pleasure to greet you.”

She held out her hand, from the wrist of which the circles of infant fat had now almost, but not quite, disappeared. He kissed it, and again she was aware of that admiration which all the French seemed to show when they looked her way.

He stood up and she said: “What does this mean? What will you do as my French governor? Will you teach me?”

“There is only one thing I wish to teach Your Majesty, and that is that all France will take one look at you and fall in love with you.”

It was extravagant talk such as she was unaccustomed to hear, and she was a little bewildered, but delighted all the same. It was true, she was sure, that the French were all that she had been led to believe.

Her mother was smiling, so her French must have passed the test.

Now the Queen-Mother spoke. “Monsieur de Breze, I shall wish to know all that happens during the journey. I shall wish to know as soon as possible that my daughter has arrived safely in France.”

He bowed gracefully. “Madame, I will protect your daughter with my life. Messengers shall be dispatched to you; they shall reach you if they have to sink every English ship to do so.”

How vehemently they spoke, thought Mary. How they smiled! How their eyes flashed and how their hands moved with their voices! Strange men! Monsieur de Breze smelled of violets, or was it roses? His golden beard curled enchantingly. She admired him every bit as much as he admired her.

How happy she could have been if she had not had to part from her mother! But Queen Marie was smiling bravely, although at the last she let affection triumph over ceremony. She held her daughter tightly in her arms, and Mary saw the tears glistening in her eyes.