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had to go, and the prisoners were released. Navarre could see no way of avoiding it, for he certainly had no wish to annoy the King of France, and Margot, in her present temper, was capable of cutting off her own nose to spite her face and carrying out the threat.
    Perhaps he would be able to forgive the man later and quietly return him to his former status. But the incident put Henry in a bad mood and he did not visit the Queen for some days after that. How he longed, at this moment, for his dear little Dayelle.
     
    Mademoiselle de Rebours thought the King might ultimately learn that it was she who had betrayed the Queen, and decided it best to break this news to him herself. She went to him in tears begging his forgiveness. ‘Did Monsieur Pin tell Your Majesty that it was I who brought him word of the Catholics attending Mass?’
    ‘Ah, was it indeed?’ Henry was intrigued. ‘No, he said nothing about his source.’
    She glanced up at him with frightened eyes, damp with false tears. ‘Oh, dear! Have I then condemned myself? I did it for the best. I was thinking only that it seemed a dangerous thing for the Queen to do. I was but mindful of her safety. You will not tell her it was I? You will protect me, Sire?’
    Navarre narrowed his eyes and considered the woman with interest. She was pale and rather thin, not at all the voluptuous beauty which normally attracted him, although not unhandsome, and there was a fragility about her which reminded him a little of Dayelle. But this woman was no innocent. He knew that Mademoiselle de Rebours had enjoyed two previous admirers, the Comte de Frontenac and his old friend and general, Damville. But he so hated to see a lady in distress.
    Besides, it would surely be highly appropriate to find consolation with a lady from his wife’s suite, since he was vexed with her.
    He put an arm about the woman’s shoulders and drew her close to press a kiss upon her brow. ‘Fear not, your secret is safe with me. Come, why don’t we walk a little in the gardens.’
    And so it began.
     
    Margot was no fool, and soon discovered that the secretary Pin had learned of the presence of the people in the chapel from one of her own ladies, and how that woman was now occupying her husband’s bed. Furious at being doubly betrayed she called Xaintes, another of her maids-of-honour, a woman who was both voluptuous and experienced, and particularly attractive to men.
    ‘I dare say you have heard the gossip.’
    Xaintes lowered her gaze. ‘It is rife, Madame.’
    ‘Indeed! Rebours is a malicious girl who has done me a great disservice. She spies on everything I do and I would have you do the same with her. Report to me everything she does, everywhere she goes.’
    Xaintes willingly complied, but the result was that she too caught Navarre’s eye. Margot was highly amused and gave the King every encouragement. Rebours was furious, believing, quite rightly, that Margot had deliberately planted this rival for the King’s affections in order to make her jealous, and had succeeded.
    Margot had been barred by her gender from ruling France, although she felt quite certain she could have done far better than any of her brothers: François II who had died at just sixteen, Charles IX whom she had loved dearly but the poor boy had carried a fatal flaw of madness, and now Henri Trois who surrounded himself with pretty boys, lap dogs, monkeys and a doll-like, obedient queen. Margot had made the decision long since to devote herself to Alençon, her younger brother, instead, although he too had his flaws, being somewhat deceitful and cowardly. The relationship had created much jealousy and soured relations with Henri still further.
    But now she was done with all of that and hoped instead to support her husband. She wanted to be his helpmeet, be indispensable to him, even if fidelity was not part of the deal. One day, perhaps, she might be Queen of France at his side.
    For that reason, if no other, Margot told