Having finished writing, the Queen Mother, without looking, put her pen into the inkwell, running her eyes over what she had written. In one place she reached for her pen and vigorously crossed out and wrote something on top. Then, putting aside her pen, she leaned back in her wide chair. The hand with the pen drooped helplessly.- Nobody will believe me. Everyone will blame me,” she whispered, staring into space."Of course," came an insinuating voice from behind the curtains. You have committed many mistakes and crimes. Something actually, something is attributed to you. One atrocity more, one less - what's the difference? As soon as she heard the voice, the queen turned sharply in her chair, narrowing her eyes, looking at the newcomer. A young man of graceful and somewhat feminine appearance, with a smooth rosy face and fluff above his lips, approached her with a sly smile, holding a hat with a magnificent magnificent feather in his hand.- Who you are? the queen asked sha
Following the closing door with a mocking glance, Bertrand looked around the queen's study. The thick pile of carpets muffled his steps. The delicate aroma of the magnificent wax of the candles tickled the nostrils, and the richly decorated books delighted the eye. Running his fingers along the spines, he settled on a very simple pocket bible. The edge of it was worn out from frequent use, the pages were broken. Nearby lay a book in folio by Machiavelli on the sovereign and the state. Bertrand smiled. It was clear that this book was often read: in addition to the shabby binding, there were notes in the margins made by the queen's hand. A worthy student did not agree with the cruel and treacherous Italian in everything, but justified his position. Although she believed that in politics, weak rulers resorted to murder, but at the same time she recognized that that sometimes this is the only means to achieve the goal, although not the best. The proof is the murder of Jeanne d'Albret, th
At the door of her pet, Ekaterina knocked with the appointed knock. The door was opened by a young man with a smooth swarthy face, lively eyes and black curls.Lorenzo, is your father at home? the queen asked. The young man nodded and led the couple up the narrow stairs to the second floor. Knocking on one of the doors of the semi-dark corridor, he said: oh, a man with a smooth swarthy face, lively eyes and black curls.Father, this is your frequent visitor. He took the exclamation in response as an invitation to enter and opened the door for the queen. Entering the room, Bertrand seemed to find himself in the shop of a necromancer or an alchemist. Stuffed animals were hung on the walls, in which a crocodile, a hyena and a porcupine were guessed. Flasks, retorts, charts of horoscopes, charts of star observations, crystal balls of different sizes, crucibles, tongs and mortars with pestles, filled with some kind of dark substance, lay in disarray on the tabl
The massacre of the Huguenots in Paris lasted about three days. Bertrand's house, although it was near the Protestant quarter, where not a single Huguenot and not a single building remained alive, by a strange whim of fate was not touched by robbers or fanatics. Not considering it necessary to take risks, Bertrand spent the whole time of the pogrom locked up. Only once did he order the door to be opened, when a hurried knock was heard from the side of the back door. His silent servant let in a very young girl in a torn dress and wounded in several places. She sat down exhausted on the steps of the stairs and asked for asylum. Bertrand, who descended, carefully examined the random guest. If not for the soot on her face and the bloody wound on the severed arm, wrapped in a dirty, bloody rag, she could be considered a beauty. Green eyes, slightly slanted in a pale face, oddly harmonized with bright red curls. A closed dress hid a small, neat chest, and small shoes hid a
The massacre of the Huguenots in Paris lasted about three days. Bertrand's house, although it was near the Protestant quarter, where not a single Huguenot and not a single building remained alive, by a strange whim of fate was not touched by robbers or fanatics. Not considering it necessary to take risks, Bertrand spent the whole time of the pogrom locked up. Only once did he order the door to be opened, when a hurried knock was heard from the side of the back door. His silent servant let in a very young girl in a torn dress and wounded in several places. She sat down exhausted on the steps of the stairs and asked for asylum. Bertrand, who descended, carefully examined the random guest. If not for the soot on her face and the bloody wound on the severed arm, wrapped in a dirty, bloody rag, she could be considered a beauty. Green eyes, slightly slanted in a pale face, oddly harmonized with bright red curls. A closed dress hid a small, neat chest, and small shoes hid a
A young woman with a barely visible tummy, hidden by a pile of skirts and lace, swayed slightly and, fanning her face with an embroidered handkerchief, with her other hand grabbed the arm of a gloomy young woman who was standing next to her.My mistress, - she immediately responded. “Madame, are you unwell?”My head hurts terribly, Katerina, - The woman put a trembling hand with a handkerchief to her forehead. “I'm about to faint.” She swayed again.Damn stuffiness, - the gloomy woman said angrily. "Now I'll help you get out."But, the service, Katerina ... - weakly protested the exhausted beauty.I think Saint Anthony will not be very pleased if, instead of listening to the clergyman in his church, you fall into a swoon to talk to God directly. The beauty smiled weaklyYou say terrible things, Katherine. Okay, the Jesuits can't hear you.And they don’t even need to hear, - supporting the beauty by the waist, said the woman named Katerina. - Don't say a word to these papis
Why the hell is she sending someone at such an awkward time? Katherine heard as she approached the door. “What was La Rivière doing there all this time?” The man was clearly unhappy and was ready to use his fists. Katerina darted softly through the door and froze in the semi-darkness of the corridor. “But I tell you, dear lady, that there is no reason for a person to drive around in the dark. Now there is still spring mud everywhere. Let him go early tomorrow morning. Moreover, this dumb-headed La Riviere claims that nothing terrible will happen overnight.What if it happens, dear Fouquet? The woman's voice was full of doubts.And if it happens, madam, the king will know about it first hand. She had already sent her faithful squire away. I sent my messenger. What else made her want to write? Well, right, as if the bed is on fire under it!You are too hard on her, Fouquet.Harsh? I? Because some royal slut wants to get some royal tchotchka on her, the whole country can go to hell! And
It seemed to Bertrand that he had just laid his head on the pillow when he was awakened by a noise in the yard. Slowly getting up, he went to the window. His eyes were filled with business-like confusion. "What the heck?" He slammed his fist on the windowsill.You will break the window like this, - a cheerful voice was heard from the door.My king! Bertrand turned around sharply. - What does it mean?I decided to visit the poor thing, - the King went into the room and stopped next to Bertrand, looking at the servants scurrying around in the yard.Do you want to jeopardize your crown, your kingdom for the sake of? ..Shh, - the King put his finger to his lips. - This woman, nevertheless, bore me heirs. And one of them is declared the future king.And his brother? Bertrand turned to Heinrich and carefully looked into his eyes.And what happened to him?Both of your sons were born out of your marriage. And, for that matter, Cesar has more rights to the crown after you. Although, hi