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    â€œWe will be leaving soon,” Eloise told me. “You with the queen’s court to the king’s great house in Blois, and me with the four Maries back to the convent.” She wrinkled her nose. “It is not so much fun there. Hard bread and hard stones to kneel on.”
    â€œLeaving? But how soon?”
    â€œWhy, tomorrow. Did no one tell you?” Eloise asked. “The king and queen are but guests here.”
    â€œNo. No one told me,” I said. I had known that the king and queen were guests, of course. It was the first thing that Jacques had told us. But I had not thought they would move on so quickly.
    â€œGuests—even royal ones—are like fish who stink after the third week!” Eloise said. “There, that is my little joke. Do you think I might become a fool, too? Then I could stay at court instead of returning to the convent.”
    I was too stunned to answer.
    She babbled on. “There is much packing to be done today. The wagons and carriages must be loaded first thing in the morning. You would be amazed how much those four brought with them, even from a convent. Gowns and laces and shoes and combs and jewels.” And off she went.
    Here I was, just learning the stairs and hallways of this great house. How would I ever find my way around another?

9
    WIT
    L ater that afternoon, when the light was beginning to fade, I received a summons to go to the queen. I had convinced myself she had forgotten me already. She hadn’t sent for me since buying my freedom, and I was only a peasant’s child dressed in borrowed velvet after all.
    But when I was brought into her chamber, her face lit up. “Ah, La Jardinière, my little lady of the garden,” she greeted me. “I am glad you have found your way.”
    She remembers, I thought. She may be a queen, but she does not forget the little folk who love her.
    A thick rug covered the floor and a warm fire burned in the grate. Still, drafts seemed to find their way into the passages and halls like mice squeezing through cracks in the stonework.
    The four Maries were seated close to the fire, chatting as they worked on their embroidery. Sitting near them, Princess Elisabeth talked to her mother, the dowager. The king was on his knees playing with a pair of terrier puppies, holding out tidbits of food between his fingers and chuckling as the dogs jumped for the morsels. His color was no better than when I had seen him in church, but he was animated with the dogs.
    By the fire, the dwarf lolled on cushions. Her humped shoulder cast strange shadows on the far wall.
    I made the best curtsy I could. It felt clumsy in the new dress and my father’s boots, but at least I remembered to do it.
    â€œHave you been keeping yourself busy?”
    â€œNot really,” I admitted, as I straightened up.
    â€œNot really, Your Majesty, ” the dowager said, looking up, her voice stern.
    â€œNot really, Your Majesty, ” I said quickly. “I am not certain what my duties are. I do not know what things to pack or where to put them. And I have so little myself that ...”
    Queen Mary crooked her finger towards me and waited to speak again till I was by her side. She put her hand on mine and drew me to a cushion by her chair. Then she looked into my eyes and whispered fiercely, “You have only one duty, Nicola, and that is to be yourself. Be honest at all times, even when everyone else is telling me only what they think I should hear.”
    â€œThat does not sound like any sort of work at all, Madam,” I said. “Are you sure there is not more I can do for you?”
    â€œYou will be surprised at how difficult it is to do as I ask,” she assured me with that same quiet intimacy. “But it is all I want.”
    I must have blinked uncomprehendingly at her because she went on.
    â€œMy governess taught me that when a Roman general celebrated his victory with a parade through