The Hostage Queen Read Online Free PDF Page A

Charles the King, I have agreed to allo w Huguenots certain rights of worship, albeit restricted to open fields outside of certain towns, and to private estates of the Huguenot nobles, but—’
    Alva brusquely interrupted. ‘To permit liberty of conscience by allowing as many varieties of religion as there are fancies in the minds of men can only stir up grievous treacheries and rebellions. Such pacifications have caused grave disquiet to the Catholics.’
    Not least the Guises, Catherine thought with some satisfaction.
    In truth, being prone more to superstition than religious zeal, she was interested in her own power rather than those of either faith. Her one objective was to keep her sons secure on the throne, and in order to achieve this happy state she would sup with the devil if needs be.
    Catherine fervently believed that her first duty was to her children. Hadn’t the great prophet Nostradamus himself assured her that each of them would one day wear a crown? The prophecy had become her guiding star in her quest for power ever since.
    Claude, her eldest daughter, had proved to be something of a disappointment – far too docile and gentle for her own good, yet claiming to be happy and content as wife of the Duke of Lorraine. But Elisabeth was Queen of Spain, mother of the Infanta Isabella, and hoping for a son next time.
    Charles had the dark good looks of all the Valois, and Catherine knew she must get him married soon, perhaps to Elizabeth of England. The boy had once fondly hoped for a match with Mary of Scotland, but his fancy for the girl was fading and she expected little resistance from him to take the older Queen. England was a prize worth having.
    While the boy King was physically strong, loved hunting and all field-sports, his health remained uncertain. Catherine suspected he had the same lung disease that had claimed his late brother, François II. He had a nervous disposition and was worryingly weak and unstable. Clever he may be, but if his wishes were thwarted by the smallest degree, his golden brown eyes would grow fierce, his manner turn brusque and uncivil, which could quickly deteriorate into a temper tantrum. He showed no sign of growing out of these childish fits; rather they seemed to be getting worse, often caused by jealousy of his brother Anjou.
    It was becomingly worryingly obvious that he too was tainted by the sins of his forefathers.
    Catherine accepted these flaws with resignation as she did not expect the boy to live long. When Charles ultimately succumbed to the disease that had claimed his late brother, Anjou, her favourite, whom she loved more than life itself – almost as much as she had loved his father–   would be ready and waiting to take his place on the throne and claim his due rights.
    Anjou, in Catherine’s opinion, was beautiful. At fifteen he was tall and slender, looking more Italian than French with his olive skin, long dark eyes and gracious mouth. His hands were as white and shapely as a girl’s, which, young as he was, he showed off to best advantage with sparkling rings and bracelets. Effeminate he might be, and some would say already showing signs of perversion, yet he was the cleverest of all her sons, brave and eloquent. Catherine believed that with her guidance, this most adored child would one day make a fine king.
    Far better than Francois-Hercule, the Duke of Alençon, the fourth and youngest of her sons, who lacked the regal presence, height, and handsome good looks of his older brothers. As a child the poor boy had suffered from a bout of smallpox which had left him sadly pockmarked. He had a tendency to be cowardly and deceitful, although Margot frequently defended him, saying it was only as a means of defence against the dreadful teasing he suffered at the hands of his siblings. Catherine supposed that in his favour it must be argued he was far less fanatical than his older brothers; more moderate in every way. He took after herself in that respect at