The Guise of the Queen

Chapter 2

Differences in opinions have cost many lives: especially true in the field of beliefs. This is dramatically evident in the country at large and the town of La Rochelle in particular. Protestants assume that the Pharisees are the Catholics who have made Christianity a legalistic dogma, while we Catholics think they are self-righteous and use God’s free grace as an excuse for their sinful discrimination and hatred, the prisoner contemplated.

Protestants assume that the Pharisees are the Catholics who have made Christianity a legalistic dogma, while we Catholics think they are self-righteous and use God’s free grace as an excuse for their sinful discrimination and hatred, A gnawing scratching noise, low, but distinct, woke Lanval. He sat bolt upright and squinted in an attempt to focus in the gloom of his cell. His gaze fell on the cause of the sound: a fat brown rat, some ten inches long. The voracious rodent rocked to-and-fro on its haunches, its front claws digging into the fabric of the filthy straw palliasse that served as a bed, its strong slender tail extended behind it for balance. Unaware of Lanval’s attention, the omnivorous creature feasted on residual grain and chaff inside the mattress, its furry cheek flaps expanding as it chewed and swallowed. Now sensing the man’s presence, it froze then raised its head in a single sudden movement, deep dark eyes challenging, sharp yellow incisors bared, a soft hissing escaping through its open jaws.

Lanval got slowly to his feet and sent it scurrying away with a violent kick. It leapt through the bars of the grille that imprisoned the man and made off down the tunnel.

His uninvited guest dispatched, and alone again, Lanval Aubert lay down on the bed. They had put an iron shackle, tight, around his left ankle, fixed by a heavy chain to a ring set into the wall. He reached down and moved it slightly up and down, hoping to ease its chaffing against his skin.

‘I don’t understand why they’ve chained me up like this…it’s not as if I’m a murderer or a r****t…nothing of the kind. I still can’t believe how I’ve ended up thus…still, not much I can do about it.’ A maelstrom of disjointed thoughts raced through his head, sometimes in the present, sometimes in the past, but all contributing to his painful confusion and despair.

‘I don’t understand why they’ve chained me up like this…it’s not as if I’m a murderer or a r****t…nothing of the kind. I still can’t believe how I’ve ended up thus…still, not much I can do about it.’ Curly blond locks either side of a broad forehead, searching blue eyes, a slender nose and even white teeth: he presented a handsome young man of some thirty years, strong of body and spirit, which ne needed to be in this soul-destroying dungeon.

The cave was rough-hewn rock, three walls supporting a domed roof. The sturdy iron-barred front with its hinged door provided no protection from icy draughts, vermin and foul odours that rose from the open sewer running down the middle of the tunnel floor. The darkness, whether day or night, confirmed to Lanval that he was incarcerated underground. Had he required further proof, water dripped incessantly from the roof and down the walls rendering the cave dank and musty.

After sentencing, the sergeant had tied a cloth close over his eyes and he was led out of the courtroom. Two burly court officers took his arms and marched him through the streets, such that he became disorientated. For all he knew, he could have been near the barracks to the north or the Tour de la Lanterne to the south of La Rochelle town. He heard a door creak open, then they dragged him down a flight of stone steps. The officers only removed the blindfold as they pushed him roughly into the cave and threw him onto the mattress. He blinked, bewildered and afraid.

Tour de la Lanterne “Not so brave now are you, Aubert?”

Lanval did not answer, one officer continued,

“Get undressed!”

“What? What do you…”

A vicious slap to his temple sent him reeling.

“Boots, belt, tunic! They’ll fetch a pretty price and you’ll not be needing ‘em where you’re going.”

The wretch had no choice but to follow the order. He sat, shivering and n***d, at the men’s mercy. They both laughed out loud, their guffaws reverberating in the confined space.

“Put that on!” came the instruction, the guard pointing towards a heap in the corner – a head to foot shapeless sackcloth nightshirt.

“That’s better, isn’t it? A crown of thorns on your head and you could pass for Jesus getting ready for the cross!”

Again, they erupted into cruel laughter.

“Hey, don’t forget to chain him.”

“No, we don’t want him running about his new home. So, that’s the job done and we’ll leave you in peace to enjoy your stay, courtesy of His Honour, Judge Boivin.” A key turned ominously in the door and they left Lanval’s hole in the rock. He pulled on the rough garment, eager to cover his body against the bitter cold.

Thus, began Lanval Aubert’s confinement and he soon lost track of time: no sun to herald the morning, no dusk to announce the night. Food, such as it was, came at no regular point in the day; no-one passed through the tunnel except a sullen brute of a man who would push a cup of water and a crust of bread under the grille. He also emptied the wooden pail, that was a toilet, into the rushing stream outside the cell. Lanval soon lost all hope of conversing with him. But, suddenly, he realised exactly where he was.

‘The sewer! There’s only one in the entire town…now…the stream rises near the Place des Armes and flows into the gutter that’s cut into the Rue Saint-Come. Then it becomes the Rue Réaumur and goes underground near the Préfecture, not far from the port. That’s where the gaol is so I must be somewhere underneath it. Yes, I’ve got my bearings now, for what good it will do. Those streets are where the wealthy Huguenots have their fancy residences – how I hate them, with their church services and bibles all in French and priests dressed in plain robes, fornicating with the womenfolk - and all this with the blessing of their God!’

‘The sewer! There’s only one in the entire town…now…the stream rises near the Place des Armes and flows into the gutter that’s cut into the Rue Saint-Come. Then it becomes the Rue Réaumur and goes underground near the Préfecture, not far from the port. That’s where the gaol is so I must be somewhere underneath it. Yes, I’ve got my bearings now, for what good it will do. Those streets are where the wealthy Huguenots have their fancy residences – how I hate them, with their church services and bibles all in French and priests dressed in plain robes, fornicating with the womenfolk - and all this with the blessing of their God!’Lanval’s contempt for the Huguenots was a feeling shared by the great majority of Catholics in the Kingdom of France at that time.

He sat on the palliasse, leaning back against the rocky wall of his cell, drank a little water that remained in his cup from the previous day, and resumed his thoughts.

‘Our Catholic brothers and sisters in Paris did a good day’s work last year when they put three thousand Protestants and their sympathisers to the sword – to protect our holy cause from the protesting minority. Ay! They may be few in number but they are still dangerous and not to be trusted. I don’t know how they ever became the ruling class in our town…here, they must exceed us by ten to one…so, did I not have the right to help my fellow believers, even if it has jeopardised my very survival?

‘Our Catholic brothers and sisters in Paris did a good day’s work last year when they put three thousand Protestants and their sympathisers to the sword – to protect our holy cause from the protesting minority. Ay! They may be few in number but they are still dangerous and not to be trusted. I don’t know how they ever became the ruling class in our town…here, they must exceed us by ten to one…so, did I not have the right to help my fellow believers, even if it has jeopardised my very survival?Damned rich Huguenots! They can empty their privies straight into the sewer so their waste is swept away, sparing their houses and delicate nostrils from foul smells, while we poor souls do not know such luxury. We have to leave our chamber pots right outside the front door and the night soil men don’t always come, so our houses stink…sometimes for days!’

Damned rich Huguenots! They can empty their privies straight into the sewer so their waste is swept away, sparing their houses and delicate nostrils from foul smells, while we poor souls do not know such luxury. We have to leave our chamber pots right outside the front door and the night soil men don’t always come, so our houses stink…sometimes for days!’The sound of clinking keys jolted him out of his daydream. The gaoler, bald-headed and swarthy, arrived outside his cell, gave him a toothless grin and proclaimed,

“Here’s your supper, papist dog! More than you deserve is how I sees it, but you won’t be getting many more of ‘em.’

A small pitcher of water and a dry crust, as usual, was his meal and the gaoler resumed,

“You’ll soon be fed as the Lord sees fit and He won’t be as generous as we are, that’s for sure!”

Hewe The brute was leaving when Lanval called out,

“Gaoler! Guard! A minute of your time!”

“What is it? I’ve got other duties to be seeing to.” There was malice and disdain in his voice: La Rochelle hated its Catholic population with a rancour that defied any spirit of tolerance advocated in the Bible.

“Can you tell me…do you know when…”

“Speak up, man! Your lot isn’t usually slow to mouth off.”

“When will it be?”

“Ah, I get it…when? In your situation, Aubert, every day longer is a reprieve, don’t you agree?”

Lanval nodded, bowing his head, unable to look his guard in the face.

“Anyhow, His Honour has more pressing matters to attend to right now, unless you hadn’t noticed? You should know that better than most – I’m informed you have the ear of Catherine, herself, and some say even the King! Probably not true, but you can’t deny you’ve stood up in public for their plan to change us all into Papists.”

“I couldn’t say, but I’ve seen the way the Huguenots treat us as second class citizens: decent jobs are given to your kind, we’re the stuff of hurtful jokes, you encourage your children to not play with ours and – what causes us most to hate you – we’re forced to bury our dead in a graveyard without the town walls, as if we’re lepers or plague-bearers!” He spoke all this with his head still bowed as if he were addressing the ground beneath him, from which he thought he would receive a more sympathetic audience. He concluded,

“Enough of it all! It’s not my place to express such views. My fate is sealed, that’s the only certain event I can look forward to.”

The dullard concierge, with his clanking bunch of keys fastened to his belt, gazed hard at his prisoner. If Lanval had looked up he would have seen a countenance that was mellowing with his words, as if he was not aware of these iniquities that the Catholics had to face in La Rochelle on a daily basis. But, he did not comment, only thought,

‘Not right for a man like me to show kindness, that wouldn’t do at all. His Honour would soon see me out of work.’ He cleared his throat,

‘Not right for a man like me to show kindness, that wouldn’t do at all. His Honour would soon see me out of work.’ “Dunno anything ‘bout that. Anyway, eat and drink, you need to keep your strength up.”

With that, he turned and slouched off into the black malodorous tunnel, still jangling his keys, and disappeared.

Alone, Lanval Aubert felt fear for what laid ahead but he did not regret what he had done. He was proud of his Catholic religion whose scriptures he experienced by the clerics reading them out loud in church – he neither read nor wrote. The good King proclaimed the Faith through his messengers, the priests and, as he was the King’s subject, he followed the same belief. In this pit of despair, he reflected,

‘I only seek a life without conflict. I would not be shackled like a madman in a lunatic asylum if she had not betrayed me. How I loved her then, but detest her now. A plague of frogs upon her house! It would not bother me if these damned Protestants prayed in the next church – even in the next house – to me, were they to grant me that same privilege, but they do not! They revile us and we are forced to pray in a decrepit building beyond the woods, and when they are not about, in secret. We will never be equal in La Rochelle, nor in the whole kingdom, without bloodshed and strife.’

‘I only seek a life without conflict. I would not be shackled like a madman in a lunatic asylum if had not betrayed me. How I loved her then, but detest her now. A plague of frogs upon her house! It would not bother me if these damned Protestants prayed in the next church – even in the next house – to me, were they to grant me that same privilege, but they do not! They revile us and we are forced to pray in a decrepit building beyond the woods, and when they are not about, in secret. We will never be equal in La Rochelle, nor in the whole kingdom, without bloodshed and strife.’His thoughts were immediately confirmed as the ground above him shook violently, sending particles of rock and sand into the cell, filling the air. He covered his mouth and nose with his hands to avoid breathing in the choking dust, his eyes closed tight. The place then fell still, for a minute or so, but for the terrible ear-splitting din above him to resume. It was thus, relentless, every day and night – as far as he could distinguish one from the other – since his confinement in this devil’s cave. The bombardment by the King’s forces, from land and sea, was supposed to save them from the despised Huguenot majority. It had begun the previous year, yet, La Rochelle would not yield.

‘Lord help me. It was not my intention to commit a crime, but, here I am, condemned. I wish I knew when my end will come: under jagged rock or face to face with the hangman on the gibbet?’

‘Lord help me. It was not my intention to commit a crime, but, here I am, condemned. I wish I knew when my end will come: under jagged rock or face to face with the hangman on the gibbet?’The cave shuddered again.