Page 99 of A Column of Fire
Clever, Alison thought. ‘So the Guise family will have the kingandthe palace.’
Pierre looked pleased with himself, and Alison guessed that might have been his idea.
She added: ‘So you have effectively neutralized the rival faction.’
Pierre said: ‘There is no rival faction.’
‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘Silly me.’
He looked at her with something like respect. That pleased her, and she realized that she was drawn to this clever, confident young man. You and I could be allies, she thought; and perhaps something more. Living most of her life at the French court, she had come to regard marriage the way noblemen did, as a strategic alliance rather than a bond of love. She and Pierre Aumande might be a formidable couple. And, after all, it would be no hardship to wake up in the morning next to a man who looked like that.
The party went down the grand staircase, crossed the hall, and walked out onto the steps.
Outside the gate, a crowd of Parisians waited to see what was going to happen. They cheered when they saw Francis. They, too, knew he would soon be their king.
Carriages stood in the forecourt, guarded by more of the Guises’ bully boys. Alison noticed that the vehicles were placed so that everyone in the crowd would see who got in.
Gaston Le Pin opened the door of the first carriage. The duke of Guise walked slowly forward with Francis. The crowd knew Scarface and they could all see that he had the king in his charge. This had been carefully choreographed, Alison realized.
Francis walked to the carriage, went up the single step, and got inside without making a fool of himself, to Alison’s great relief.
Caterina and Mary went next. At the step, Mary held back to let Caterina go first. But Caterina shook her head and waited.
Holding her head high, Mary got into the carriage.
*
PIERRE ASKED HISconfessor: ‘Is it a sin to marry someone you don’t love?’
Father Moineau was a square-faced, heavy-set priest in his fifties. His study in the College des Ames contained more books than Sylvie’s father’s shop. He was a rather prissy intellectual, but he enjoyed the company of young men, and he was popular with the students. He knew all about the work Pierre was doing for Cardinal Charles.
‘Certainly not,’ Moineau said. His voice was a rich baritone somewhat roughened by a fondness for strong Canary wine. ‘Noblemen are obliged so to do. It might even be a sin for a king to marry someone hedidlove.’ He chuckled. He liked paradoxes, as did all the teachers.
But Pierre was in a serious mood. ‘I’m going to wreck Sylvie’s life.’
Moineau was fond of Pierre, and clearly would have liked their intimacy to be physical, but he had quickly understood that Pierre was not one of those men who loved men, and had never done anything more than pat him affectionately on the back. Now Moineau caught his tone and became sombre. ‘I see that,’ he said. ‘And you want to know whether you would be doing God’s will.’
‘Exactly.’ Pierre was not often troubled by his conscience, but he had never done anyone as much harm as he was about to do to Sylvie.
‘Listen to me,’ said Moineau. ‘Four years ago a terrible error was committed. It is known as the Pacification of Augsburg, and it is a treaty that allows individual German provinces to choose to follow the heresy of Lutheranism, if their ruler so wishes. For the first time, there are places in the world where it is not a crime to be a Protestant. This is a catastrophe for the Christian faith.’
Pierre said in Latin: ‘Cuius regio, eius religio.’ This was the slogan of the Augsburg treaty, and it meant: ‘Whose realm, his religion.’
Moineau continued: ‘In signing the agreement, the emperor Charles V hoped to end religious conflict. But what has happened? Earlier this year the accursed Queen Elizabeth of England imposed Protestantism on her wretched subjects, who are now deprived of the consolation of the sacraments.Tolerance is spreading.This is the horrible truth.’
‘And we have to do whatever we can to stop it.’
‘Your terminology is precise:Whatever we can.And we now have a young king much under the influence of the Guise family. Heaven has sent us an opportunity to crack down. Look, I know how you feel: no man of sensibility likes to see people burned to death. You’ve told me about Sylvie, and she seems to be a normal girl. Somewhat too lascivious, perhaps.’ He chuckled again, then resumed his grave tone. ‘In most respects, poor Sylvie is no more than a victim of her wicked parents, who have brought her up in heresy. But this is what Protestants do. They convert others. And their victims lose their immortal souls.’
‘So you’re saying I will not be doing anything wrong by marrying Sylvie and then betraying her.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Moineau, ‘you will be doing God’s will – and you will be rewarded in heaven, I assure you.’
That was what Pierre had wanted to hear. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
‘God bless you, my son,’ said Father Moineau.
*
