Free Daughter of Silk by Linda Lee Chaikin Page A

wide-rimmed style so fashionable at court, this one with a white feather. He had heard women describe his hair as the color of sun-ripened wheat, his eyes the hue of violets. He was admirably handsome, he knew this by the response cast his way from delectable feminine creatures who, if he chose to, he could collect like sweet plums on a silver plate. Ah . . . but he was no fool. He had seen the fall of his kinsmen, the Princes Antoine and Louis de Condé. He knew the biblical story of Samson well.
    He drew his straight brows together. He had his doubts the ladies at court would be able to capture Capitaine l’Olivier with their schemes as they had attempted with him. Several ladies-in-waiting and maids-of- honor had set about to trap him with their allurements. Not that all the belle dames at court wanted marriage. Nor did age matter to many. He had been but sixteen when the wrinkled old Duchesse la Belangée had tried to bribe him into an affaire d’amour while her husband was away from court on business. La Belangée had shown him a large ruby which had been given her when she was young and beautiful by Charles V of the Holy Roman Empire.
    “It is yours, mon petit. Just lie with me this night.”
    Fabien had acknowledged the ruby as fair but admitted he had too many rubies and diamonds already. The duchesse had not appeared offended or embarrassed by his inadequate refusal.
    “Are you then a sober Calvinist?” she had inquired suspiciously.
    He had offered a deep, elegant bow. “No, I am a Catholic, Madame.
    Am I to assume there are no Catholics sober?”
    Her silver brows had lifted. Then she had thrown back her head and laughed.
    It was well-known that the recent maitresse of King Henry, Diane de
    Poitiers, had been old enough to be his maman . Fabien, because of his position at court, knew that Catherine had despised her, and no sooner did Henry II lie dying from his ill-fated joust, than Catherine sent a mes-
    sage to Diane to return all of the jewels Henry had given her and to vacate the palais of Chenonceau.
    Yes, it was dangerous at court. There were more ways than one to spend the night in a lion’s den. The image of the belle Charlotte de Presney came to his senses — again. She was a physical temptation he found difficult to resist, though he felt an equal amount of contempt for her lack of fidelity to her husband. Fabien knew her husband, a sound monsieur, a soldier. Fabien did not fear his jealous rage, for he could well handle himself, but he feared for the foolish Charlotte, who did not perceive how near she played to the edge of a boiling pit.
    A light tap sounded on the door and his page, Gallaudet, entered, bowing. His page was unsmiling as ever, yet patient and dedicated. He was young and wiry, with hair as fair as platinum. His red, white, and blue Bourbon livery fit him well, as did his rapier, a gift from Fabien who had made certain he knew how to use it with expertise.
    “Monseigneur, a royal missive is sent to all courtiers. All festive events at Chambord are canceled without explanation.”
    Fabien took the missive and read the brief message:
    His Majesty and his Court will depart Chambord in early morning to journey to the fortress-castle at Amboise.
    The Marquis de Vendôme will please have his personal retinue prepared for journey in the morning.
    The change in royal plans confirmed his suspicions. “When was this missive sent out, Gallaudet?”
    “Not more than ten minutes ago, Marquis.”
    “Interesting, I assure you. So soon after the arrival of Guise with his cowled stranger. What do you make of it, Gallaudet?”
    “Trouble afoot, Monsieur.”
    “Go and see what else you can learn from the other pages, especially Guise’s page. Also, go to the armory and tell Nappier to see what he can discover from Guise’s men-at-arms.”
    Gallaudet bowed his head and turned to leave, but Fabien stopped him.
    “Have you seen Comte Sebastien Dangeau this day?” “No, Monsieur, I have not.