There was nothing of importance in the coffer.

‘Get up!’ commanded the King. ‘We will search the bed.’ Anjou quickly took a paper from under his bolster and screwed it up in his hand.

‘Ah!’ cried the King. ‘This is it. Hand me that paper, Monsieur.’

‘I will not!’ cried his brother.

Anjou tried to reach for his sword, but Catherine cried out in alarm, and before either of them could touch the weapon, she had seized it.

‘If you do not hand me that paper at once,’ said the King, ‘I’ll have you taken to the Bastille. Madame, I beg of you, call the guards.’

Anjou threw the paper on to the floor. The King picked it up and read it while Anjou burst into loud derisive laughter. It was a love letter to Anjou from Charlotte de Sauves.

The King, scarlet with mortification, threw the paper at his brother. Catherine picked it up and read it. She smiled; she had read it before.

But the King was sure there was a plot, even if he had failed to discover it. ‘He shall be kept under lock and key,’ he said fiercely. ‘In his own apartments . . . yes, but under lock and key.’

He strode out, followed by Catherine; he called the guard and told them that the apartments of Monsieur were to be kept locked, for that gentleman was a prisoner.

The first thing Anjou did when his brother and mother had left him was to send one of his guards to his sister to beg her to come to him at once.

Margot came and she and her brother wept in each other’s arms; but there was no sorrow in their tears. They were furiously angry and determined to be avenged on the tyrant.

The feud had started again in all its old fury.

This is not the way, Catherine told the King; but his mignons were delighted with the feud. They hated Margot; they feared Anjou; and they enjoyed a quarrel.

Catherine however decided that there must be a reconciliation, and at length she prevailed on both sides to bring this about. She accordingly staged one of those farces—at a ball, or a banquet—where enemies met, kissed and pretended to be friends, swearing eternal friendship with hatred in their hearts, while the gullible looked on and said ‘All is well’ and the cynics set the smiles of pleasure on their faces and sneered inwardly.


* * *

It was not long before Margot had planned her brother’s escape. The plan was dramatic, since it was Margot’s; and as soon as she had conceived it, she was all impatience to put it into action.

‘We must be very careful this time,’ Margot whispered to two of her women. ‘Such plans have a way of reaching my mother’s ears. If she discovered what we have in mind, it would make everything very difficult; but if she discovered the means

I intend to employ, it would make the plan impossible of achievement’

Catherine did discover something of the plan, but, fortunately for Margot, neither her method nor the date when she intended to carry it out.

There were guards posted at all exits from the palace; all staircases were watched.

Catherine sent for her daughter and questioned her closely.

‘You know, my daughter, that I have given my word to the King that Monsieur shall not go away, that there shall be no attempt at escape?’

‘Yes, Madame.’

‘I am a little perplexed. There seems a certain coming and going between your, brother’s apartments and yours.’

‘We love each other, Madame.’

‘In a seemly fashion, I hope.’

Margot looked innocent. ‘Madame, how could love between a brother and sister be unseemly?’

‘You know full well how that could be. You know that there are some who say that your love for Anjou is such a love.’

‘Madame,’ said Margot maliciously, ‘you have been listening to His Majesty’s mignons.’

‘I am rejoiced to hear that it is just wicked gossip, my dear. What plans are being made for Monsieur to leave court?’

‘Plans, Madame? Dare I say a second time that you have been listening to gossip?’

Catherine gripped her daughter’s arm, and Margot flinched with the pain; she now looked like a younger Margot who had been very much in awe of her mother. She has not changed so very much, thought Catherine. She can still be afraid of me.

‘You may say that if you will, my daughter; but I think there is often some truth in gossip.’

‘Madame, do you not think that if my brother had made a plan for escape he would have confided it to me? I am his greatest friend. He would never do anything without consulting me. Why, if he escaped, I would be ready to answer for it with my life.°

‘Consider what you are saying!’ retorted Catherine. ‘You may well answer for it with your life.’

‘I should be ready to,’ said Margot with dignity.

That conversation might have been alarming to some, but not to Margot. She felt that, as her mother suspected a plot, the only safe thing to do was to carry it out as soon as possible. She decided on that very night. As for answering for her part in it with her life; that might be the wish of the King, but Catherine would never allow it to happen. And all because I am the wife of that erring husband of mine! thought Margot with a chuckle. All because I may one day be Queen of France! So, husband, you have some uses!

She went quietly to her room and her coucher proceeded. Anjou, with two of his friends, was in her ruelle. He was not under strict personal surveillance, as the palace was so well guarded, and was allowed to go from his own to his sister’s apartments, or those of his mistress. It would be supposed that he was with the latter this night, instead of reclining, fully dressed and booted, on the satin-covered couch in Margot’s ruelle.

Margot lay in bed excitedly waiting for the sounds in the palace to end, and for that silence which would mean that all had retired for the night.

At length, when all was quiet, she sprang out of her bed, and, whispering instructions to her women, with their help took a long rope from a cupboard. This rope had been smuggled into the palace by a young boy whose duty it was to bring her clean clothes from the washerwoman, and who was ready to die if necessary in ordet to serve the beautiful and romantic Queen of Navarre. To this rope, Margot had already attached a weighty stick, and this was let down from the window.

Anjou slid down the rope and his two friends followed him. Then Margot and her women drew up the rope.

Margot was almost choking with the laughter she dared not allow to be heard. Such adventures were the delight of her life. But she reminded her women that they must immediately rid themselves of the rope, for as soon as Anjou’s departure was discovered, her apartments would surely be searched and such a rope would betray not only them but the method of Anjou’s escape.

‘Who knows when we may need such a rope again?’ said Margot. ‘But I doubt not that, if I should need one, I should find an adoring young boy to bring me another. Now . . . let us set about destroying the evidence, my friends.’

To burn the rope was more difficult than Margot had antici- pated. It was so thick that it was impossible to cut it, and it was necessary to put it on to the fire by degrees. This was slow work, and in a burst of impatience, Margot ordered the women to put the entire rope on the fire. ‘The bigger the blaze, the quicker it will be over,’ she said.

She was right when she said the blaze would be big. The flames roared up the chimney. The ladies tried damping down the fire, but that was of little use; and they stood round watching with apprehension.

Suddenly there was a loud banging on the door. It was one of the outer guards who had seen smoke and flames coming from the chimney.

There was temporary panic in the ladies’ apartment; but Margot quickly recovered. ‘Go to the door,’ she commanded, ‘but do not let him in. On no account let him in.’

‘Madame, he will awaken the whole palace.’

‘Tell him that you made too big a fire. Tell him I am sleeping and that you dare not waken me. Ask him to go away quietly for your sake, and tell him that you have the fire under control.’

Margot stood listening to the whispering at the door. The man went away and her frightened women returned to her. But Margot sat down, rocking to and fro in an effort to smother her laughter. Nothing was quite so enjoyable as danger.

They stood round the blazing fire, watching it roar up the chimney.

‘Let us pray that that guard does not point out the blaze to others. Let us hope none notices the smoke. If any does and the palace is aroused, depend upon it I shall be a prisoner tomorrow, and my brother will be captured.’

But luck was with them. The rope had become a charred mass before the chimney was thoroughly alight; and after a few moments of real anxiety, the conspirators knew that they were safe from discovery through a burning chimney.

‘He will be far away by now,’ said Margot. let us retire to our beds. Remember! We have to pretend this is a normal night.’

Margot was not, however, left long in peace. Before daylight there was a banging on her door and when, in terror, one of her women opened it, she faced two members of the King’s Guard.

‘What do you want?’ she demanded. ‘What do you mean by knocking on the Queen’s door at this hour?’

‘The King’s orders,’ was the answer. ‘The Queen of Navarre is to come to His Majesty’s apartments without delay.’

Margot rose. She noticed that there was just the faintest streak iSf light in the sky. If all had gone well, Anjou would by now have found the spot where Bussy was waiting for him with horses ready, and they would be miles away. She was not afraid. She was beginning more and more to rely on her resourceful mind, her quickness of thought in an emergency.

Her mother was in her brother’s bedchamber, and they both looked at her malevolently as she entered. The King’s face was livid; he looked old at this hour in the morning when his toilette had been neglected.

‘So,’ said Catherine coldly, ‘here is the breaker of promises, the one who aided her brother’s flight.’

‘Traitress!’ cried the King, completely lacking his mother’s restraint, and yet not terrifying Margot as Catherine did. ‘I’ll have you imprisoned. You shall not be allowed to go free . . . to flout me . . . to aid my enemies. You shall be whipped. You shall be ‘

Catherine laid a hand on his arm, restraining him; she came close to Margot.

‘Your brother has escaped,’ she said. ‘And you, I dare say, have not forgotten our conversation of yesterday?’

‘No, Madame,’ said Margot, her eyes innocent. ‘I am as astonished as you are.’

‘Do not lie to me!’ cried the King.

‘God forbid that I should lie to my King. But I do.not think Your Majesty should be unduly disturbed.’

‘Not disturbed! He has escaped once more. He has gone to gather an army which he plans to lead against me.’

‘Nay, Sire; I was to some extent in my brother’s confidence, and this much I know: his one desire was to carry out his plan for the Netherlands. If he has escaped it is to do this. And that, as Your Majesty must agree, would further your own greatness.’

Margot cast down her eyes while Catherine studied her daughter. ‘Clever Margot!’ thought Catherine. Of course she had helped her brother to escape. Of course she was guilty. But she certainly knew how to be calm in the face of danger; she knew how to think quickly and how to say the right thing. It was a fact that she had, to a certain extent, succeeded in mollifying her brother by reminding him of that dream which had been Coligny’s and enchanted them all, the dream of a French Empire. If Anjou had escaped because he wished to fight for his country against another, and not to plunge his own land into civil war, then his flight was no real calamity.

‘Let your sister retire to her apartments,’ said Catherine. ‘We shall soon discover whether she has spoken the truth; if she has, all will be well. If not, we shall know how to act.’


* * *

Margot had been right when she had said that Anjou had wished to escape from the court that he might carry his war into Flanders. News came of certain successes which he had gained there. The Protestants had readily made him their leader; gleefully he had accepted the role and, in his grandiloquent manner, had promised them his devotion, declaring that he would do all in his power to help them regain their liberty. The Flemings rallied to him, declaring their belief in him. Catherine waited—not without scepticism—for results. The Flemings had suffered great cruelty at the hands of the Spaniards and had been without a leader. Could her weak, conceited son bring them the victory to which greater men had been unable to lead them? Catherine had not such a high opinion of Anjou’s abilities as he himself and the Flemings seemed to have. There was nothing to do but await news; and meanwhile there was a good deal to worry her at home, the chief cause for anxiety being the mignons.