Read Online The Wild Queen by Carolyn Meyer - Free Book Online Page B

of bitter disappointment. “Why may I not go too?” I asked Madame de Poitiers, who replied in a soothing manner, “The king believes it is better this way. Your mother will likely be very tired after her sea voyage. When she has rested and recovered, she will be all the more ready to greet you.”
    I had no more success persuading Queen Catherine, though she did seem sympathetic. “Dear child, if it were up to me, you would be the very first to throw your arms around your beloved mother and receive her grateful kisses. But the king believes it is the son’s duty and privilege to greet his mother first. Then it is the daughter’s turn.”
    â€œBut I am a queen, and my brother is only a duke!” I protested. “I should take precedence.”
    Queen Catherine gave me a long, searching look. “Sometimes,” she said, “precedence is everything, and sometimes it means nothing at all. Be patient, Marie. You will soon see your mother, and you will forget this little delay.”
    I agreed, though reluctantly, for I saw no reason why a son should be more important than a daughter, especially when the daughter was a queen.
    During the long days of waiting, Monsieur Amyot hovered over me as I prepared, memorized, and rehearsed a formal address welcoming my mother. After two years in France, this would be my first public speech. In flowery language, I was to inquire about the state of the church in Scotland. Next, I was to turn to the Scottish nobles in her retinue and exhort them to be loyal to our country and grateful to the king of France for the protection he offered me and my realm. When I had finished, I was to step aside and allow the queen mother to reply.
    We learned that the French fleet carrying my mother and her entourage had encountered foul weather. Then, after a harrowing journey of twelve days, the French galleys sailed into the harbor of Havre de Grace on the north coast. It was the nineteenth of September. Six days later my mother and her court, accompanied by my brother François, rode into Rouen.
    At my first sight of my mother, every word of my fine speech flew out of my head. I heard my tutor nervously prompting me, but I remained dumb. My mother smiled encouragingly At last I found my voice and had managed to stammer only the first two or three phrases when my mother uttered a loud cry, reached out, and pulled me to her bosom. Half suffocating in the brocades and velvets of her gown, I heard the shuffling of the startled dignitaries nearby. After a time, we regained our composure and I finished my ridiculous speech. I cared about none of this! I simply wanted it to be over! When the ceremonies finally did come to an end, we rushed into each other’s arms and wiped away our happy tears.
    Everyone said I had played my role to perfection.
Only two years ago the child did not speak a word of French that anyone could understand.
My mother’s pride in me was evident. She could not let me out of her sight.
    The king had taken care to arrange every kind of fête and pageant to honor my mother. We watched from a gilded pavilion built on the banks of the Seine and decorated in brilliant blue silk. Dozens of colorful banners fluttered from gilded poles. Horses pranced by, wearing headdresses that transformed them into unicorns. Men in slave dress pushed wheeled platforms carrying tableaux portraying King Henri as a Roman emperor surrounded by his children. Costumed actors fought make-believe battles. Giant papier-mâché elephants thrilled the children, who believed they were real.
    The crowds seemed immensely entertained by the pageantry. Out on the River Seine a mock sea battle was set to take place when disaster struck. Without warning, a barrel of gunpowder exploded on the deck of a ship. The ship sank, drowning members of the crew. I was painfully reminded of the collapse of the drawbridge when I first arrived in France. I had wept then at the loss of