Minou was conscious of Piet’s eyes fixed upon her. No man could have worked harder to promote a message of tolerance, nor to attempt to bring those of differing faiths to common ground. Her husband believed not only that a permanent peace was possible, but also that the majority of women and men of France – Catholic or Huguenot – wanted it. He cited their own family as proof of it. While Bernard, like Salvadora, remained within the old faith, they had brought their children up in the light of the Reformed Church. If their family could manage to accommodate and respect one another’s differences over a decade of civil war, why not other families also?
‘Minou,’ Piet said lightly, ‘will you speak?’
Then he smiled and, even after ten years of companionship, her heart sang. She felt her indecision leave her. Whatever doubts she had, she owed it to her husband to be by his side in Paris.
CHAPTER SIX
‘My thanks for your patience,’ she said, looking around the chamber. ‘And I ask your forgiveness for my poor time-keeping.’
At the sound of her voice, everyone fell silent. Bernard turned in his chair. Aunt Salvadora folded her fan and placed it in her lap. Alis stopped pacing and stood beside Aimeric. Even little Jean-Jacques felt the gravity of the moment and stopped kicking his fat little feet as Marta sprang up onto the bench beside the nurse and whispered at her brother to be still.
‘I am grateful, too, that no one –’ Minou glanced at her daughter – ‘almost no one has attempted to rush me to make my decision.’
‘But you say we should always speak the truth,’ Marta protested.
‘Hush,’ said Piet, putting his hand on her shoulder. ‘Let Maman speak.’
‘It is an honour that our family has been invited to attend the royal wedding. For some –’ she looked at Aimeric – ‘to be present on this auspicious day is a matter of duty. For others, it is a matter of reconciliation.’ She looked to her husband, and he smiled his encouragement.
‘Catherine de’ Medici and Jeanne de Navarre. Two queens, two mothers, adversaries for many years. Through this marriage contract, they signal their intent to put aside their differences in order to rebuild a land fit not only for their children, but also for their children’s children. If Marguerite de Valois – Margot – can take the Protestant Henri of Bourbon for her lawful husband, then surely all Catholics can learn to live in peace with their Huguenot neighbours.’
‘Well said,’ said Bernard. ‘Is not that so, Salvadora?’
‘Indeed, it is.’
Minou looked at each of her family in turn. ‘You all know how hard I have found it to arbitrate between what I consider is in the best interests of our family, and what are our responsibilities to our friends and comrades. But, after much reflection, I consider it will be an honour to stand witness, after these long years of war, to this agreement brokered between former enemies.’ Her gaze came to rest on Piet. ‘That being so, I propose we should all accept the invitation and travel with you to Paris for the wedding.’
For a moment, as everyone in the chamber took a moment to absorb what she had said, the air seemed to shimmer and pulse. Then, Marta clapped her hands and the world came rushing back.
‘I am glad,’ Piet said, his eyes sparkling as he took Minou’s hand. ‘So very glad.’
Aimeric laughed. ‘Brother, did you not know what your wife intended?’
Piet flushed. ‘I was confident in your sister’s decision!’
‘As was I, though I admit as much on my own selfish account as for any nobler purpose. I am summoned to rejoin Admiral de Coligny’s entourage. He has stayed away from Paris of late – hence my liberty to return to Languedoc for these weeks – but now the King calls for him and he cannot refuse. Knowing you all are somewhere within the city walls will make the discharging of my official duties all the more pleasant.’
Minou smiled. ‘And it will be a joy to have the benefit of your companionship there, brother.’ She waved her hand, taking in the room. ‘Of course, there is no obligation for anyone else to come, though all are welcome.’
Bernard shook his head. ‘I am too old for such a journey, Filha. I shall return to Carcassonne and look forward to hearing all about it when you return.’
‘We will lack your company, but I quite understand. What of you, dear Aunt?’
Salvadora flicked open her fan, sending a single black feather dropping to the ground. ‘How you think I would deprive myself of such a spectacle, I cannot imagine! It will be the wedding of the age. Though the Queen of Navarre might be misguided in her faith, her son is a prince of the royal blood and was indeed born a Catholic –’
‘Though a convert to the Reformed Religion as soon as he could speak,’ Alis said under her breath.
‘He is a prince of the royal blood,’ Aunt Boussay repeated firmly. Her expression softened. ‘And to see Paris at last. Notre-Dame and the Sainte-Chapelle, where the holiest of the relics of the Passion are to be seen: the Crown of Thorns, a piece of the true Cross—’
‘Of old wood, more like…’
Minou muttered a warning. ‘Alis…’
‘Whenever my official duties permit me to do so, I shall be honoured to show you the sights, dear Aunt,’ Aimeric said quickly, frowning at his little sister.
Marta picked up the stray black feather and tickled Jean-Jacques under his chin, then slipped it into the folds of her skirt.
‘I, too, have given the matter due consideration,’ she said in her solemn voice. ‘I shall accompany you and Papa to Paris, not least of all to keep an eye on this little devil.’
‘Really!’ protested Salvadora. ‘Minou, you should not allow her to speak like—’
‘But he is!’ Marta insisted.
Salvadora pursed her lips. ‘Well, it is impolite to say so.’
‘All brothers are devils, Marta,’ Alis grinned, pointing at Aimeric, ‘which is why I, too, feel obliged to come to Paris. To keep an eye on him!’
Aimeric clamped his hand to his chest. ‘You wound me!’
‘Is that true, Maman?’ Marta demanded.
‘What is true, is that your Aunt Alis and Uncle Aimeric have spent a lifetime teasing one another! Pay them no heed.’
‘Come, sit with me, Marta,’ Alis said, leading her to the table. ‘We can talk of vexatious brothers and how to tame them!’
Piet turned to Aimeric. ‘Is it still your intention to leave tomorrow?’
‘Yes. I will travel via Chalabre to bid farewell to my wife, then ride on to join my comrades in Saint-Antonin. All being well, I should be in Paris by the end of June.’
‘Might you be able to secure suitable lodgings for us?’
‘For how long?’
‘Given the wedding itself is on the eighteenth day, I think we should aim to arrive during the first week of August – when, God willing, the city should not yet be too crowded – and depart after the celebrations are completed, a day or two past the Feast Day of St Bartholomew. That will allow us some three weeks in Paris.’ He looked to Minou. ‘That should be sufficient, do not you think?’
Minou smiled. ‘Quite sufficient.’