Game Of Seduction

Chapter 18

"Are you going out on the hunt?" Sir Francis asks Brad as the morning breaks.

His team leader grins, pleased for the chance to get back into the saddle.

"Of course, Sir. I can't wait for the chance to put Ombre through his paces. Get some fresh air, and some sport."

"Aren't you lads coming?" Espera asks cheerfully. "Might as well join you before I start my own mission, Sir Brad. Going up against the Jesuits-"

Ray makes a face. "Got a ton of translation to catch up on. Some of us have work to do, and can't be gallivanting all over the countryside in the company of Kings and Princes. Seriously, Brad have a good time. I know how you hate being cooped up in this place."

"What about you, Walt? I'm sure you'll welcome a chance to go on the hunt. This is meant to be one of the finest parks in France for game-"

"Can't. I'm under orders to attend the Lady Margot." He says tartly. "It seems since the male members of the household leave for the hunt, Lady Margot is at liberty to indulge in her love affairs. I, like Ray, have work to do."

"Slightly more pleasant work than Ray, I would say. I can't believe you're bitching and moaning about sleeping with Margot of all things." Sir Francis says with an edge to his voice. "After all, it's not as if you haven't already?"

Walt blushes most fervently.

"Fine. It seems Espera, Trombley and I will go on the hunt. If we hear anything whilst we are out, we'll report back in when we return. What are you going to do, Sir Francis?" Brad asks his boss.

"I have some correspondence to get through this morning, then Lord Ferrando and I have an appointment with the Queen Mother."

"An appointment with Catherine?" Walt asks, forgetting his sulk for a moment in his curiosity.

"Apparently she is very keen to converse with me about the terms of the treaty with home. Who knows, we might actually make some progress?"

Brad gets to the stables, and saddles up Ombre. He is surrounded by busy courtiers and their servants getting ready. His steed attracts nearly as much attention as he does, from virtue of its sheer size. Ombre seems like a throwback to those warhorses of old, magnificent medieval beasts who proudly carried those fabled knights into battle.

'A fine horse-' says one noble, eyeing Ombre in admiration. 'How many hands does he stand, my Lord?'

'Seventeen hands, I believe.' Brad answers. 'Pure bred from my farm back home. My Father bred horses, and I thought to follow him into that trade, but fate had a different idea.'

'A horse fit for a King.' Anjou remarks. 'May I have a go on him? Put him through his paces?'

Brad is loath to allow a cruel little worm like Anjou anywhere near his beloved horse. He's observed how he treats his own horses.

'With all due respect, Ombre can be very sensitive. It's best if you don't attempt to ride him unless he knows you. Maybe some other time, my lord Anjou?'

Anjou sulks, but Brad will not change his mind for the spoiled princeling.

As the hunt finally sets out with a thrilling burst of horns and drums, Brad rides with Espera and Henri de Navarre, who has joined the hunt from his lodgings in Paris. This is the first time he's seen the prince socially at close range and he decides to observe him to report to Sir Francis later.

'You've met my prospective bride. I haven't seen her for many years. What's your opinion of her?'

Brad doesn't have a good opinion of Margot not by any means, but there's only so much he can really say, whilst still remaining tactful.'A fine enough Princess. I'm sure she's very charming when she wants to be.'

Henri isn't offended by Colbert's opinion of his bride to be. He merely looks amused, not offended.

'I take it you're no fan of the Lady Margot then, Lord Colbert?'

'We can't all be madly in love with her. She'd get an incredibly swelled head otherwise.'

'It's funny, you sound exactly like my mother. She didn't have a great opinion of the princess either.' Henri laughs. "If Mother wasn't clucking about how tight she laces her stays, or her liberal use of rouge and paint at such a young age, she was appalled at her patronage of Brantôme and Ronsard. My mother-" Henri's mouth cracks into a smirk. "-was a very serious individual."

This intrigues Brad. His mother didn't approve? Jeanne d'Albret objected to the marriage? He'd love to know more, but so far Henri isn't forthcoming.

'Do you see this?'

As the court spot the boar tracks, Brad notes that the animal must be a giant of a beast. The tracks are clear, the damage to the undergrowth from its passing evident.

Suddenly the boar breaks cover and dashes past the lord and ladies.

"Jesus Christ, it's a godamned monster!" exclaimed one duke.

'We shall have some rare sport this afternoon.' Says the king, kicking his horse into a headlong gallop. "Now for the chase!"

"Your Majesty, slow down. Please?"

Charles turns back, his eyes shining with the bloodlust. It's disconcerting for Brad to see such a delicate and frail man consumed by the emotion, like he's burning up inside.

The boar bursts from the dogs in a desperate effort and charges towards the king with a deafening squeal. It's mouth foaming with rage and horns lowered, it heads straight for the king.

"Jesus Christ. If anything happens to him-"

Charles's horse rears, but unfortunately he loses his balance and falls from the saddle with a curse. He groans as he lands on the forest floor.

"Your Majesty!"

"Damn it, Lord Colbert he's trapped underneath the horse." Henri shouts. "I hope he isn't injured!"

Brad leaps off his horse to aid the king before the boar goes on the attack.

"François, Help me, my brother!" the king calls, scarcely hiding the panic in his voice as the boar squeals threateningly, pawing at the ground.

Alençon has a cruel smile on his face as he levels his arquebus.

'Yes, take out the boar!' cries Henri. 'Who care about sport, as long as the king is safe!'

There's a glint in the younger man's eye that bodes trouble. He turns his gun and fires at the hind quarters of Charles's horse. The horse makes a terrible sound as he goes down.

Brad is appalled at the spite, the senseless waste of a fine grey horse. What the hell is the young prince thinking of? It can't be a bid for the throne? Even if the worst happened and Charles died, it wouldn't be Alençon who got the crown. It would be Anjou. What possible reason would he have for harming the king? Unless they were both working together. Having made some dreadful diabolical bargain to rid themselves of their royal brother. Brad resolves to consult Sir Francis at the first opportunity.

'Ventre-saint-Gris, what are you doing?' cries out Henri. 'You're not meant to shoot the godamned horse! You're aiming at the boar, you i***t!'

'Maybe, that's exactly what I wanted?' Alençon laughs nastily as he spurs his horse and gallops away.

"I think," Alençon murmurs to himself, "that Anjou is King of France, and I am next in line. That's good enough for me!"

The boar's tusk has indeed grazed the king's thigh when a hand in an iron glove dashes itself against the mouth of the beast, and a knife is plunged into its shoulder. The animal squeals, eager to take on this new challenge and forgetting the king lying on the forest floor.

'Spear!' Brad bellows, taking charge quickly of the situation. A weapon is thrust at him. It's long enough to keep out of danger range as long as the animal doesn't decide to make any suicidal last charges. He only hopes it's reinforced enough. If it's not, and the spear breaks, it won't just be the king who's in danger.

'Help me, Henri. We're going to try and trap this monster. Divert it away from the king." he shouts at one of the shocked attendants. "Assist his Majesty! Get him a new horse and make sure he is safe!"

'Of course. What do you want done, Lord Colbert?'

'We're going to try and confuse this mean old cuss. Try and lead over to that rock."

Henri yells, a wild savage sound. Brad notices he's throwing his voice in different directions to confound the boar. He approves. Henri de Navarre is young and inexperienced but he takes direction well and even shows a undeniable amount of initiative. This shows me a great deal about his potential to rule. Sir Francis has certainly nailed his colours to the right mast.

The boar looks from Henri to Brad with mean cunning eyes, trying to decide which to attack first. It tries for a few feints, being driven back by Brad's spear.

"C'mon you mean bastard. Commit yourself!" mutters Brad watching his opponent.

Brad thrusts the spear into the boar with all his strength. It squeals and struggles, but it's well and truly caught, pinned against the rock. Blood jets out of the wound, spraying Brad and soaking his doublet. Brad wrinkles his nose. In this heat, it'll be a couple of minutes before he starts to reek like a butcher's shop at the end of trade.

'Is it dead?' Le Rochefoucauld yells.

Brad plants his foot firmly on the dying boar, the light fading from its furious little eyes. 'It is now.'

"Hack off its head!"

Charles is still shaking after his frightening experience, but he focuses on Brad who's drenched in the blood of the boar, his linen shirt stiff with blood and stained scarlet.

'You saved my life-' he says, his aristocratic voice soft with wonder. '-Lord Colbert, you saved my life. You killed that monster with nothing more than a spear. How can I ever repay you?'

'You don't need to repay me, Sire I was merely doing my duty. I would have done it for anyone. And I didn't do it alone. Henri de Navarre more than helped me."

"Thanks, Harry for your quick thinking and your help!" he says, shaking his cousin's hand fervently. He looks over at his younger brother, and a curious look spreads over his face. A look to make most men flinch. Brad sees an entirely different, darker side to the monarch; one he did not expect from such an affable, gentle man. "Alençon, for a first-rate marksman you made a most curious shot."

"Fear for you, my brother, I swear!" he cries out, his voice squeaking unpleasantly.

Charles gives him another distrustful look, but holds his tongue for now.

'Vive le Anglais!' de Rochefoucauld shouts, eager to diffuse the tense atmosphere. "Lord Colbert, the hero of Fontainebleau!"

Alençon looks as though he's swallowed a wasp. He can barely induce himself to join in with the cheers for Brad and Henri's valour. Brad notices the royal brothers swop a significant glance and resolves to find out more about a possible plot at the palace.

There goes my clean campaign, he thinks with a wry tilt to his mouth.

Trombley has enjoyed the hunt even though Brad has largely left him to his own devices. He was slightly disappointed not to have been there when Brad tackled that huge monster of a boar. That would have been an exploit worth boasting about!

De Guise and de Nevers are quite an entertaining pair though, muttering about the fellow hunters in bitchy sotto voce. He shakes his head about the blatant two-facedness of these French. If he was honest, he had to agree with Brad. The sooner they were out of this gilded paradise with its host of temptations, the better.

He wanders off for a s***h, and overhears the two nobles talking more quietly. Trombley decides to stay concealed and see what he can pick up. He even brings out a couple of slates and a stylus to take notes, just like he's observed Ray do when he's on surveillance. Just because he needles him doesn't mean he can't take notes and mimic the guy. Brad seems to approve of practically everything he does. If only Lord Colbert would be like that with me! He thinks to himself.

'Shush ! We never know who may be listening.'

'Out here?'

'Have you heard from the English partner yet?' asks de Nevers.

De Guise makes a scornful sound in the back of his throat. 'He didn't succeed, as far as I can work out. We're going to have to carry out phase two of the plan, once their suspicions have been laid to rest.'

'Our great experiment-' De Nevers says knowingly. 'How are you going to deal with the Englishman?'

De Guise sounds amused. 'We need to eliminate him. Just in case he decides to incriminate his masters.'

'As I understand, Lord Cecil is still trying to investigate. How are you going to get close to him when he's still in custody?'

'I have my ways and my means, don't worry about it, dear brother.'

'I've had a report come in from our venerable brothers. They've got expert help to solve our problem. The Florentine believes he is close to a solution, but he requires more funds-'

'More funds? We're paying him a bloody fortune.'

'We can afford it, which is more than can be said about the Valois.' They both laugh at that c***k. '-Nevertheless if he starts getting greedy, I'll have a word.'

'Any more news?'

'Anne-Marie tells me that the Queen–Mother has given her a rather interesting assignment.'

'What?'

'Catherine wants to know what Sir Francis is up to at court. She doesn't trust the English-'

'She's getting her to seduce Sir Francis? He seems hardly the type, does he? Perhaps the old lady is finally losing her touch-'

'Oh no, it's his companions that Catherine is highly interested in. The ones cutting a swathe through court at the moment. Every woman casts her cap at them, wanting to lure them into their beds like Margot and Lord Hasser. '

'That i***t-' retorts De Guise. 'Margot is just using him to make a point.'

'The king seems to want Lord Colbert as yet another Protestant friend. It was bad enough with Le Rochefoucauld, but if this newcomer gained advancement those heretics would have far too much influence at court. Charles is weak. He listens to anyone with a strong enough personality to dominate his. Lord Colbert is dangerous-'

"Dangerous?"

"He doesn't give a damn about any of us. How can we influence a man who barely hides his disdain of court? What has such a man got to lose?"

"I doubt anything will come of it. If it was going to happen it would have by now. Charles may promise, but until he actually gives him anything I don't think we should worry." De Nevers tries to reassure his brother.

"What about Henriette and the assistant, Louis? I hear rumours that she flirts with him."

"She flirts with everyone, it hardly surprises me-" De Nevers says dismissively.

'What if it's more than flirting? You know she's a bit of a loose cannon. Margot's influence, I assume-'

De Nevers laughs. 'I'm not concerned. She's too clever to do anything as stupid as fall in love. She loves the prestige of joining our family too much to risk it on a fling. At most, it'll be a f**k, pure and simple and I can hardly begrudge her that. I haven't been faithful to her for a day of our marriage.'

Trombley is riveted by the casual discussion of court and plots. This is excellent. Sir Francis will be pleased with me. He tries to write as small as possible so he can fit as much detail as possible on the slate.

'Are you sure you aren't losing your grip on Margot? She still wants you? She is still prepared to defy her family for you?'

'Of course she does-'

'It's just that she seems quite in lust with this Lord Hasser. He's a handsome man, no denying it. And she did ignore you in the Volta, to his favour-'

'Do I look worried?'

'Maybe you should be-' counters the other man slyly, obviously trying to get back at him for that c***k about his wife.

De Guise laughs. 'It's Catherine wants her to be distracted before the wedding. She's going along with it for the moment. But rest assured the jade still wants me.'

'What about the troubadour?' asks de Nevers. 'You know she's attached to him. Henriette tells me she still sleeps with him. Not often, but still-'

If de Guise sounded disparaging about Walt, he sound positively jealous now. 'She tups the Englishman on her mother's orders. It means nothing. As for the troubadour, she swives him to ensure his loyalty.'

'They've been together for a long time. She trusts him. Does she trust you? She tells him everything.'

De Guise is silent for a moment. Trombley imagines that he's smirking. Or sulking. Either is possible.

'-And he has not the wit or intelligence to capitalise on it. Nathaniel Fick is a dreamer. His head is in the clouds half the time. It's never occurred to him he could use his position to make himself a fortune. But he does not. He's not interested in court intrigue or advancement, only writing his songs and mooning over the Lady Margot. A woman he can never have. Trust me, de Nevers, I have nothing to fear from a man like that .'

When Trombley and Brad return back to base, he submits his report.

"De Guise and his brother said all this?" questions Sir Francis.

"Yes, Sir. They believed themselves to be completely alone so they spoke quite freely." 

Trombley turns and gives Nate a curious look which Brad notices. He wonders what that's all about but he hasn't time to pursue it now.

As Sir Francis read through the notes on the slate, a smile of satisfaction spreads across that wily face.

"This is highly informative, Trombley. Well done, we can definitely use this. I'll get onto to Lord Burghley straight away and tell him to boost the security detail for Funteyn and his family. We won't let de Guise and his minions get to him."

The next day, Brad meets Charles and Henri in the garden.

"Ah, just the man I wanted to see-" says Charles with a gracious smile.

"Your Graces-" Brad bows in deference to the two kings.

"Henri and I are thinking about going for a ride. I wondered whether you would like to join us."

"Certainly, my Lord." Brad wonders what this could be about, but both monarchs seem to be good-natured at the moment.

"Where are we going?" asks Henri.

Charles gives him a serene smile. "You'll see. All in good time, cousin-"

Brad pays attention to the king's tone. Very mysterious indeed.

'This is our little secret-' Charles says with a smile.He knocks on the door of a tiny homely little cottage. The curtain twitches and a pale face peers out for a moment, before it's pulled back into place.

The door opens and a young woman with long chestnut curls stands there. She has a sweet welcoming face with a genuine smile.

Charles takes her hands and looks into her eyes with a fond smile. Brad sees that he appears less harassed than he has ever seen him. He might even say he looks happy.

'Come in and welcome, dearest.' she says. The little lad clinging to her skirts stares up at them with big golden hazel eyes, sucking his thumb. He must be two years old, maybe three.

It's not until they enter the cottage that Brad notices how like the king's those striking eyes are. This must be his mistress and their young son.

The lad holds up his arms to be held and cuddled by his father. Charles ruffles his long dark curls as he buries his face in the velvet of his father's doublet. They are like a little secret family. No wonder the king wants to keep this from court, from his real family.

'Marie, ma cherie-' Charles says, kissing her, his voice full of love. 'I have some friends for you to meet. I know you get lonely here, my love. This is my brother to be, Henri de Navarre and Lord Brad Colbert from England.'

She blushes. 'Pleased to meet you, Sirs. I'll get you some refreshment. You must be hungry and thirsty after the hunt.'

They make their way into the small homely kitchen. There's a rich gamey stew bubbling in the pot, fresh wheaten bread and butter straight from the oven and a jug of foaming ale. Good honest hearty food, a world away from court. No wonder Charles seems to sit straighter, breathe easier, smile more here. This is probably the only place where he can truly be himself. He realises his good fortune that Charles trusts him and Henri enough to share with them this secret double life.

'You should be very nice to these gentlemen, Marie. They both saved my life today at the hunt.'

Her eyes grow wide with fear. 'Oh, Charles!'

"It was magnificent!" he says full of boyish enthusiasm. Brad hadn't realised that the king was quite so young. Little more than a lad. "We were chasing a boar. I twisted my ankle and my horse was shot. The boar grazed my thigh! I was in danger but Lord Colbert and Henri teamed up to kill it."

Marie's eyes well up with tears. She tries to dash them away, but the men notice her unhappiness.

"Marie? My love?" There's a tenderness in Charles's voice as he gathers her to his chest for comfort. "What ails thee? Why are you so upset?"

"I don't like to think of you in danger, my lord." She says, her eyes filling up with tears. "When you said the boar wounded you? I couldn't bear it!"

He sees her agitation and strokes her back in contrition. "I'm sorry, Marie. I know you worry about me. But Lord Colbert saved my life."

A smile breaks out on her face, and he can work out what Charles sees in her. Marie is no great flamboyant beauty like those bold rapacious women at court. Her charm isn't in her face or figure, but her sweetness and her vulnerability. Her sunny smile and kind gentle heart. Perhaps she suits this king, still so young and unformed very well.

"I am so grateful to you, sir." She sinks to her knees and kisses his hands. Brad is embarassed by such naked excess of feeling. He pats her on the head, trying silently to encourage her to rise from her abject position.

"He is so dear to me." she says softly, clasping his hand close to her damp face.

They eat heartily, appetites whetted by the hunt.

'So Lord Colbert, what brings you and your team to my fair court?'

Brad doesn't relax his guard, not for a moment. 'Sir Francis employs me as his assistant and secretary while he is deep in negotiations.'

Henri laughs. 'A secretary? You certainly don't look like any pen-pusher I've ever met!'

Many other men would be intimidated by the prospect of being interrogated by two crowned and anointed kings, but not Brad Colbert. He takes it in his stride. 'After years of fighting and active service, I decided that a quiet life has some appeal. Besides, Sir Francis has a mind to train me as a statesman which suits me perfectly.'

"A man of action and a man of politics-'

"Yes." Brad replies. "I think it's important that the people who make policy, the decision makers have some kind of practical experience. They should know how to fight, how to motivate people to give their best in service of their country."

"A radical idea-" says Henri, although Brad notices he is paying close attention to his opinion. Perhaps there's more to Henri de Navarre than the rough Béarnais lad, eager for a tumble, taking nothing serious.

"An important one, Sire. I think it only fair that you shouldn't ask your troops to do something you do not know how to do. Or aren't prepared to do yourself, if push comes to shove. Leaders must lead by example ."

Brad is about to leave, when he sees Charles lingering next to him.'Sire?'

'I was thinking about what you were saying about leaders leading by example, Lord Colbert.'

'Yes, Sire?' he prompts.

'D'ye think that's why the people like de Guise and Anjou better than me? Because they fought for the Catholic faith, and I press for peace?'

Brad isn't sure how to reassure the king. This is the root of his problem. He feels inadequate compared to a man like de Guise who seems from outward appearance to be the man he cannot be. The king that France needs so desperately.

Brad notices a distinct change the way the team are treated after the hunt. Once everyone realises that Brad has gained an important new friend and that Charles values his judgement, the courtiers flock round Brad, all eager to gain his favour. Frankly, Brad finds it irritating.

Queen Elisabeth sits by the fire working on her needlepoint. She furrows her brows over a stitch which refuses to lie right looking like a porcelain figurine, all golden hair and pink and white skin.

"My lady, good day to you." Charles says formally greeting his wife with a kiss to her fair white hand.

Brad can't help being struck by how similar Marie Touchet and Elisabeth are. Charles's two great loves. There is a meek, almost childlike quality they share. Even though he senses the king's heart is Marie's, he treats his queen with every possible courtesy. Perhaps in a strange way he loves them both.

"My lord-" she says, starting to rise from her seat.

"Please don't let me disturb you." he says to her with a brief kiss on her pale cheek. 

"This is Lord Colbert. He's come here from England in the service of Lord Walsingham."

"Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Sire." She says sweetly, looking up at him through gold lashes. "I hope you will have time to look in on our daughter?"

"Certainly, my wife." he says his hand moving over the swell of her heavy belly. She stares up at him adoringly.

Anjou sweeps in dressed in the very latest fashion. Charles's nose wrinkles with scorn as he sees his detested brother. It's either that or the cloying scent Anjou has smothered himself with.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be, Alexandre?" he says testily.

"Forgive me brother, I only sought to pay court to the Queen Elisabeth. You don't mind, do you?" he turns the laser beam of his attention to Elisabeth who looks uncertain of whether 'tis proper to accept the blandishments of the prince when her husband glowers so fiercely next to her. She gives the king an uncertain look.

As Anjou retreats from the conflict with a smirk, Brad notices Charles's hand still clenched convulsively on the hilt of his sword.

Rudy's watching the team go through their paces in the courtyard with a keen eye, shouting out encouragement and reproaches as he watches the team in combat.

"Very good, Brad. Remember to snap back for the riposte. If you're too committed that slight delay could be exploited by an unscrupulous opponent.Walt, try not to favour your right side so much otherwise it could develop into a habit." He shakes his head at Trombley. "You so nearly got it, Trombley. Good effort."

The lad looks slightly surprised at the unaccustomed praise. His cheeks flush slightly.

Nançay joins the team and observes them at work. There's no shame in being beaten by a team so well skilled in the art of combat. If this is their teacher, no wonder Lord Colbert made short work of me. Curious that they all purport to be nothing more than Lord Walsingham's secretaries. No wonder Catherine is starting to ask awkward questions about them.

"Monsieur de Nançay, what a surprise!" Sir Francis says, indicating for the group to come to rest. "Come, do join us for a moment."

"Her Majesty requests your presence Sir Francis for the archery tournament this afternoon. We will be gathering in the courtyard." Brad considers this to sound more like a command and a refusal is on his lips, when he notices Sir Francis catch his eye and shake his head.

"That's very considerate of her. We will be there." He says eventually.

Walt looks wary at getting more involved in Catherine's mind games. "Sir? Are you sure?"

"It's an ideal opportunity to observe de Guise. I know he is competing for the prize. He always does, and he usually wins it as well. I imagine Catherine will probably like you to compete too Walt, seeing the circumstances."

Walt tries to suppress a groan. Getting involved with Margot is making life very complicated.

Trombley perks up, looking more interested. "D'ye think we'll all get to compete? It's about time we got to show off our skills. We can take any of these Frenchies, Can't we Sir Francis? With our hand tied behind our backs."

Sir Francis considers the option with a furrowed brow. "I don't see why not."

"I'll let her Majesty know you've accepted her invitation." Nançay says with a businesslike flourish.

"Are you going to compete, Nate?" Ray asks.

Nate considers it for a moment. "Maybe in the archery tournament for a couple of rounds. It doesn't really appeal to me, and Daisy-" he flushes as he realises his telling slip of the tongue. "I mean, the Princesse doesn't like me to compete."

Brad pulls back the bow and aims at the target. The clean clear zing of the arrow rings out as it flies from the bow and zooms towards its target.

"Strike three." He mutters, pleased that he's acquitted himself well.

Charles goes up to the target himself to inspect Brad's shot.

"Dead centre. For the third time. Lord Colbert, I have to say that I'm impressed by your talent with a bow."

Catherine frowns as Margot presents the prize to the team with a smile and a public kiss for Walt. De Guise is furious he didn't even reach the finals. Everyone was there to witness his humiliation.

"You seem troubled, your Grace." De Retz remarks, watching her grim expression.

"What did you notice about our victors?" she says brusquely.

De Retz is rather taken aback by her sharpness. "The foreigners?"

"They're very skilled. Excellent shots, all of them. Every single shot on target. To within an inch of dead centre. Do you know how difficult that is?"

"Luck, that's all." De Retz hastens to reassure his mistress. "Sir Francis's men just seem to have the luck of the devil!"

"I'm willing to bet they all have a military background. They're soldiers. So what is Sir Francis doing with them in his entourage?"

When Brad goes to see the king that afternoon, he is stopped by his servant Etienne .

"Lord Colbert, I'm afraid this isn't a good time for you to visit. The king is indisposed."

"Indisposed?"

Etienne fidgets, unwilling to break a confidence."Can I rely on your discretion, Sir?" he whispers.

Brad hastens to reassure eager to get to the bottom of the mystery. "Of course Etienne."

"His Majesty is sometimes ill. He suffers from torments."

"Torments?" He wishes the servant would speak plainly. He hears an unearthly yell of rage and pain and the whine of a beaten animal from the room. What on earth is going on in there?

Brad decides to try the door. Heaven knows what is going on in there. Charles may do himself an injury.

"You can't go in there-" Etienne says, wringing his hands.

"Watch me-" Brad says decisively striding through the door.

Charles is lying on the floor, twitching and writhing as if a current runs through his body. There's foam gathered round his mouth and his glassy unseeing eyes are bloodshot. The beaten dog tries to limp to the door but it's welts are too painful and it lies, whining and growling by the threshold.

"Your Majesty?"

He sees the whip clenched fiercely in the king's hand and he realises what has happened.

"Put down the whip, Sire. You don't need it any more." He says quietly.

Charles stares at him unrecognisingly. Brad wonders whether he'll take the whip to him next in his frenzy.

"Lord Colbert?" He says hesitatingly as he lets Brad prise the bloodstained whip from his tightly clenched hands.

Brad is relieved to see the personality slowly come back into his eyes. The mild affable man he's got to know and develop some sympathy for is back. But for how long?

Charles flings his arms round him, holding him tightly. He can feel the tremble of his thin limbs. He's a tense bundle of frenetic energy coursing through that wiry frame, driving himself to the brink of exhaustion over and over again. To what purpose?

"Your Grace, what ails you?" he asks.

"It happened again, didn't it? The fear came over me." Those striking wide set eyes stare at him, so full of remorse and terrible regret. At this close range Brad finds the strong resemblance between Charles and Margot very disconcerting. The long straight Valois nose. The length of the straight dark lashes fringing the eyes. Despite the fact that her eyes are as dark blue as pansies, and his are that unusual golden hazel colour, they're very similiar in shape.

"The fear?"

"I am a bad person ." Charles's voice is low and raw with shame. "- I know I shouldn't have done it. I always regret mistreating my dogs. But when the fear is on me, I can't control myself. I don't know what I am doing until it leaves, and then-"

"You don't remember anything, your Grace?"

Charles shakes his head. "Nothing at all. Until I found myself on the floor and you standing over me." His voice falls low, raw and mortified. "It's all a blank. A void -"

Charles see the wounded dog and he drops to his knees. "My Risque-Tout! No! What have I done?"

The dog tries to sidle away in fear of his volatile master. Charles gets the blood on his shaking hands as he unsuccessfully tries to clean the wounds. Brad kneels down to help him. There's tears running down his face. "Oh Lord, help me! Didn't mean it! I didn't-" 

'You must excuse my frailty-' Charles's eyes are still bloodshot and his hands are trembling uncontrollably. "Damn it, I need a drink! Would you do the honours?"

'There's no need to apologise, Sire.' Brad says hastily, handing him the goblet of Burgundy. Charles gulps it down in a draught, while Brad watches him considering the next step to take.

Charles thrust the goblet back at Brad. His hands are shaking. "More. I need more-"

He'd heard rumours of Charles's weakness but until now hadn't had a chance to observe exactly what ailed the king. Seen his dark side at first hand.

He knew Lord Ferrando and Lord Walsingham had referred to his problem but obliquely. Not daring to baldly say the truth: that Charles is clinging by his bloodied fingernails to his reason, and this nation is ruled by a functional madman.

The Next Day

"May we talk, Lord Colbert? In confidence?"

Brad sees no choice but to agree. Inwardly he wonders at what the king wants. It's not beyond possibility that he has worked out what the team are really doing at his court. One thing he has worked out since he has earned the friendship of the young monarch: Charles may be weak and unstable, but he sees a lot more of what is going on than many would suggest. He and the team would be fools to underestimate his intelligence.

"Let us walk into the forest. I find a man can discuss things more freely there than at the palace. There are too many eager ears here."

"Will you be –" Brad isn't quite sure how to refer to the king's malady to his face.

"Yes, before you ask. I am quite recovered from my 'episode', thank you, Lord Colbert." He says with as much dignity as he can muster. "I imagine you have questions you want answering."

"It is not for me to ask questions of you. You don't have to justify yourself to me."

Charles gives Brad a careful look."A very tactful answer, and one I would expect from a man like you."

Brad silently gives him the space to unburden himself. It isn't long before Charles starts to speak.

"I suffer from my health most terribly. It's important I try to live a normal life as far as I am able, do my royal duties as king. Otherwise there are people who would take great pleasure on taking advantage of my weakness." His mouth works furiously as his mind dwells on his relatives.

Brad tries to get him off the subject as it obviously upsets him. "People close to you?"

Charles leans close. "My brother is highly ambitious. In fact both of them are. They haven't forgiven me for living quite so long."

"You think they would attempt to harm you?" he asks carefully.

Is this paranoia, or is there something in Charles's fears? He recollects the mean pitiless look on Alençon's face as he leveled his arquebus on the horse. There's a lot at stake here and the links between the investigation and this fraught struggle grow stronger by the day.

"It's not a question of thinking, Lord Colbert. Anjou is a dangerous man and so is my redoubtable mother. You need to be on your guard against them. You and your team."

Brad stiffens. How much does the king know? He thinks, his mind working furiously.

Charles remains placid and affable as ever. "You intrigue her interest. She loves a challenge, and right now with your feats of skill and bravery, you are fair game. Trust me Lord Colbert, you do not want to be under her eye."

Brad notices the shudder that runs through his frame at the thought. It intrigues him.What can the king mean about his mother?

-0-

When Brad meets Coligny he cannot help his curiosity. This is the man who Catherine fears more than any other. The man who has gained the king's love. The Protestant leader of France.

Godfather makes the introductions. Brad notes that they know each other very well. Ferrando probably works with the admiral. It wouldn't surprise him if he was engaged in his dirty work.

"Ferrando, introduce me please."

"This is Lord Brad Colbert. He and his team did wonders in Flanders and the Netherlands. I believe it was his team who brought down the dam at Breda, evacuated the beleaguered inhabitants and preserved the entire area from the depredations of the Spaniards. And let us not forget, he saved the king that day at the hunt when he speared that boar. Lord Colbert, this is Gaspard de Coligny, Admiral de France."

Coligny gives him a once over. "Yes, I have heard of your sterling work for our cause. If only I could have men of your high calibre with us on our new venture."

Brad knows that Coligny and the king plan to send French forces into the Netherlands to aid the beleaguered people once again. A noble but controversial plan with many opponents – including the Queen Mother and de Guise.

"Your new venture?" he asks, polite as ever.

"I have discussed the plight of the unfortunate Netherlanders, and both Charles and I believe it is France's solemn duty to help alleviate their suffering under the cruel bullying Spanish. We must show our independence from them or risk being submerged into a monstrous Spanish Hapsburg alliance that would destabilise Europe for decades if not centuries. "

Brad wonders whether it is Coligny or the king who speaks. By the sounds of it, this sounds remarkably like Coligny.

"I can't help but wonder at his Majesty's stance on this one. He is a devout Roman Catholic, I believe. Everyone knows that the majority of the country are fiercely Catholic as well. This cannot be a popular move on his part. Noble, but not popular." He remarks.

Coligny's severe mouth cracks into an ironic smile. It sets off Brad's warning signals at once. "The King is an enlightened man. He understands the value of religious tolerance, Lord Colbert."

"But does the rest of the country agree with him? Does de Guise?"

"What is your concern with de Guise?" he says sharply.

"May I be frank with you, Admiral?" he asks, at a nod from Godfather.

"Yes, Lord Colbert?"

"Godfather and his partner Lord Walsingham have many concerns about de Guise and his activities abroad. We believe he is involved in an ongoing plot to harm our mistress Elizabeth. We have been asked to discreetly make some enquiries-"

Coligny gives him and Godfather a shrewd look. "'Asked to make some discreet inquiries?'" he quotes Brad with an ironical edge to his voice. "You mean you are spies, Lord Colbert?"

Brad stands his ground. "We are merely aiding Sir Francis. On a purely informal level."

Coligny meets Brad's eyes, but he gives nothing away.

"What business is it of mine what you do?" Coligny shrugs. "You are on my side, you work for my interests, Lord Ferrando assures me. If you wish to meddle in affairs above your station, that is your own affair. As long as you do not interfere in mine-"

*

"His Majesty talks very highly of Monsieur de Coligny. I was just curious whether the feeling was reciprocated, Lord Ferrando."

Godfather gives him a little complacent smile. "I daresay he's fond of him in his own way. Charles is easily malleable and always has been."

"He calls him 'Father'?" Brad can't help but think this seems a rather one sided relationship.

Godfather leans forwards on his desk, fixing Brad with those penetrating blue eyes. "Coligny is a man of the world. He is loyal to the king as far as his faith allows him. But you must know how the Huguenot mind works, especially when the movement has become so radicalised under religious pressure. To their mind, monarchs forfeit their rights and abdicate their worldly power when they disobey God, according to their interpretation."

"Quite a change from the belief in the divine right of Kings." A veritable charter for rebellion. This is going to make our lives harder here.

"Where Coligny goes wrong is that he flaunts his power over the king and makes himself needless enemies."

"Enemies like the Queen Mother and de Guise-"

Godfather looks amused, pleased that Brad grasps the essentials so quickly. "It was different when we discreetly arranged financing from Basle and Strasbourg for the cause. Coligny was not so bold then-"

This financing from abroad has potential to be an explosive issue especially when he's seen the tension springing up in the city. Brad wonders whether it's wise to be involved, but since when have Command considered that before acting?

"Funds for the civil war. But he is obsessed with this bitter feud between de Guise and Montmorency. Coligny is in danger of losing his grip on the situation. We will not make the same mistakes, Brad."

"Is it really our place to interfere with politics? We are not French-"

Godfather gives him a grim little smile. "Yes, when our actions will have implications down the line. Then Ferrando believes we have every right to interfere. Indeed, it is our Christian duty. Remember Lord Colbert, everything is interconnected."

When Catherine lets her favourite son into her office that afternoon, his face is flushed in anger. She gets up to stroke his hair, but he shrugs her off.

"My child, what is wrong? You're so irritable." she says with her smoothest smile. "You know you can confide in me any time, don't you darling?"

He pouts as he collapses in the plush chair opposite hers and puts his feet up on the table.

"What troubles you, Alexandre?"

He's still sulking, lower lip pushed out in childish petulance. "I want a drink."

Catherine frowns, the grooves deepening between her nose and the corners of her thin mouth. It's a couple of hours before lunch, far too early to starting a drunken debauch."Do you think that's wise, my son?-" she starts mildly.

He looks up at her, a petulant challenge in those dark eyes. "Are you going to deny me?" he retorts.

Silently, she gets up and pours the wine into a chased silver goblet. Both know she has never been able to deny him anything. Not her favourite.

"Please tell me what worries you. It upsets me to see you like this."

He relents a little, turning to his mother. "Charles is furious with me, after the hunt. I knew Alençon would make a mess of it. He shot the horse, but the king was saved."

"Saved?" she says sharply, the lines to the corner of her mouth deepening. "Saved by who?"

Anjou takes a long draught of the rich dark red wine which stains his mouth. "Lord Colbert. He speared the boar right there, him and Henri de Navarre." he sulks, brooding on his brother's folly."I cannot believe he failed, Maman! Charles was right there. All he had to do is shoot!"

Catherine is wary of the foreigners. She doesn't trust Sir Francis Walsingham, or any of his team one inch. Not sweet innocent Lord Hasser. Not Lord Ferrando, clever and brutal, always with a finger in every pie. And certainly not Brad Colbert watching them all with those ice cold eyes, glacial and beautiful like an archangel sent down to judge them all for their sins."Why did he do it?"

Anjou is all impatience. "Who knows? Charles called Alençon in to account for his behaviour, and of course he grassed me up. To save his own neck. He would!"

"I knew it. I should have got you to do it, not him." she frets.

"I would not have missed, I assure you. But if I had, Charles would have me clapped in the Châtelet so fast-"

She gives him a mocking laugh and another rumple of his dark curls. Slowly, he allows himself to preen under her touch, mollified by her affection. "He would not dare to touch you! Charles is weak and worse than a fool. He scarcely has a mind of his own."

"He knows I am a threat to him, and if he hasn't worked it out then I'm sure Coligny will have told him. Charles listens to whatever that man says. He calls him father to our faces. How shall we endure this?"

"You know the trouble with you, my dear boy is that you are far too impatient. If you want to triumph over him you're going to have to learn to be far more strategic." Catherine says with a wickedly serene gleam in her dark eyes. "All the same, it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on the foreigners."

"The foreigners, Maman? What have they got to do with it?"

Catherine's mean smile broadens. "Trust me on this one, Anjou. They have everything to do with this."