White Heart Read Online Free PDF Page B

have a lifetime to atone for my sins once I took the veil. These are the stories I told myself.
    Unlike God, the cardinal of Sant’Angelo cared a great deal about pleasing me. Soon he had recruited 125 knights and soldiers to our cause. Robert de Gâteblé, Philip Hurepel, even Enguerrand de Coucy marched with us first to Tours, where Louis and I visited the monastery of Saint-Martin, the patron saint of soldiers—perhaps he would help us—and then to our castle at Loudun. In my first message to the rebels, I threatened to annihilate their camp, hang all the nobles, and dispossess their heirs unless they surrendered immediately. Their response: I must abdicate the throne and let one of them serve as Louis’s regent, or they would summon the English to take the kingdom by force. They would not, they said, submit to the rule of a woman and a child.
    “He claims to have an army of three hundred, my lady, all the finest swordsmen and archers in the land,” the messenger said.
    My resolve wavered. Three hundred men, mustered in so short a time—and in the cold of winter? And yet I could not back down. If I gave up the regency, Pierre would take the crown for himself and pass it to one of his heirs, depriving Louis—perhaps, knowing his ruthless nature, even killing him. So I sent message after message repeating my demand for surrender and, as Romano suggested, sent my troops to the river Dive under Louis’s command to await my order to attack.
    Although, as I now knew, their so-called army numbered only about thirty, Pierre stubbornly refused to give in. When he heard of all our knights and foot soldiers spread on the Dive’s opposite bank, however, he sent a special messenger to me. Imagine my astonishment to see Thibaut walk into the great hall.
    He did not look well. His eyes were bloodshot and his complexion was pale, and he had lost weight—which, believe it or not, detracted from his appearance. I studied him closely, wondering why he had come. Had he told Pierre of his wicked deed, and of the part I had unwittingly played? Thibaut was hardly a shrewd negotiator. Why would Pierre send him on so important a mission unless it were to unnerve me?
    I greeted him with a disingenuous kiss, which he answered with a clutch and a groan. “My beautiful lady! I had thought I might never embrace you again.”
    “Dear Thibaut, you know I can never stay away from you for long,” I lied. And lied. And lied. Already skilled in the art of deceiving Thibaut—a simple task with such a simple subject—I regained his loyalty as easily as if my words were table scraps and he a starving dog.
    “But I thought—after my deed—”
    “Shhh!” I placed a gloved finger gently on his lips. “Promise me that you will never speak of that again. I would not see one hair on your head harmed because of me.”
    “So you do admit—”
    “Shhh! Yes, cousin, I accept the blame for everything. I should not have plied you with promises and flattered you with falsehoods.”
    “Falsehoods?” he squeaked.
    “Dear Thibaut, can you ever forgive me? As much as I wanted to return your love, I could not—not in the same measure.” I summoned tears to my eyes. “How often have I thought that, could I only do so, I should be the happiest woman in the world. For there is no finer man anywhere.”
    “Of course I forgive you!” His face pinkened with sympathy. “And of course, you need not apologize about that”—my finger to my own lips now—“misunderstanding.”
    “I blame myself entirely for it,” I said. Then, in a whisper, “I beg you never to speak of it again, not even to me, not even to yourself— unless you wish to see your Blanche dangling with a broken neck on the gibbet of Montfaucon.”
    “Hanged at Montfaucon? No, lady, never!” He pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and mopped the beads of sweat popping on his brow. And then, Thibaut’s affections—and his large, well-equipped army—restored to me, I summoned