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together.’
    She troubled him somewhat, this beloved niece of his, as there was a paradox in her. Marie longed for marriage and was needy for love, yet she bore some of Joanna’s hauteur, and was instinctively distrustful of men. A natural reaction, perhaps, to losing a mother so young, and considering the mysterious circumstances of her death. Outwardly proud, but emotionally vulnerable. ‘You are strong and healthy. Once you have given Henry a dauphin for France, he will look at no other woman.’
    Marie hoped and prayed that would be true. She did not think she would be very good at sharing. She remembered the suffering her own mother had endured at the hands of the scandalous Bianca, her father’s young mistress. And her own, after the unexpected and convenient death of Bianca’s husband had allowed the two lovers to marry.
    As if a neglectful father had not been bad enough, her young life thereafter had been ruled by the tyrannical regime of an overambitious stepmother. Marie knew that it was expected for a king to keep a mistress, but she made a private vow that she would never allow herself to be so ill-used.
    Henry was well aware of Rosny’s machinations on his behalf but had chosen to ignore them. He never questioned his advisor as the minister had been with him a long time. Born at the Château de Rosny near Mantes-la-Jolie of a noble Flemish family, Rosny had been brought up in the Reformed faith. As a young man he’d been presented to Henry of Navarre in 1571 and remained loyal ever since. Now he worked quietly and speedily, using every means at his disposal to bring about the marriage of his sovereign to a European princess worthy of sharing his throne. No obstacles had been put in the way of a successful outcome as the King was too taken up with the delectable Henriette to pay proper attention. So on Rosny’s return from signing the articles with the Italian Ambassador, who had recently arrived in Paris, the King asked, with careless curiosity, where he had been these last few days.
    â€˜We come, Sire, from marrying you.’
    Henry stared at him, too shocked to speak. It was some moments before he could find the words to demand an explanation.
    The superintendent of finance answered in bland formal tones, as was his way. ‘I mean that I have come from meeting with Baccio Giovannini, an envoy from the Grand Duke of Tuscany. It took a few days of negotiation but, as a consequence, the articles of marriage are signed for Your Majesty to marry with his niece, Marie de Medici, and a dowry agreed.’
    Henry sank into a chair as if his knees had given way, only to at once leap up and start pacing about the chamber, nibbling on his nails, lost in thought. He paused before Rosny. ‘There is no way out of this?’
    The minister raised a brow in polite enquiry. ‘Why would you seek one, Sire? Your Majesty had agreed that you must marry, for the sake of the nation. The treasury has been saved.’
    â€˜There is no escape?’
    â€˜None that will not greatly offend or create possible conflict with the Grand Duke, as well as leave us in a poor bargaining position against the Duke of Savoy. A contract will be drawn up and signed, and a proxy marriage held in due course, in Florence, before the princess sets sail for France.’
    â€˜Can it not be delayed a while longer?’ He was thinking of Henriette, and how she had hopes of fulfilling her part of the bargain by giving him a son in just a few months’ time.
    â€˜No longer than it takes for these matters to be arranged: a few weeks, a month or two at most.’
    Henry continued his pacing, scratching his head and muttering to himself. Finally reaching an acceptance of his fate, he heaved a great sigh and slapped his hands together. ‘Very well then, so be it. There is no alternative, since for the good of my kingdom you say that I must marry.’
    â€˜I am glad to see Your Majesty so