Two Henriettas

Philip later fell asleep on Louis's bed. Fortunately, the bed was large enough to hold both a ten-year-old and an eight-year-old with ease. By the time Louis woke, it was evening, time for dinner. Just as Philip had said, Queen Mary of England had arrived at Versailles with her namesake daughter to join them. Henrietta was Louis XIII's sister, and an unfortunate woman as well. When she had first married into England, Buckingham, King Charles I's close confidant, had disliked her, while the King had dismissed many of her French attendants. For several years, Henrietta had been isolated and helpless in the English court. It was not until Buckingham died that she had the chance to draw close to that weak King and become his new spiritual anchor, thereby meddling in England's internal affairs. Charles I later obeyed her in everything, even lamenting that if she had been a man, she could have become the minister he trusted most.

Aside from meddling in state affairs, this Henrietta gave the English another reason for fury: she was a follower of the Old Faith, while most Englishmen believed in the New Faith. Where religion was concerned, neither side gave an inch. The followers of the New Faith deliberately called her "Queen Mary," and it was no flattering title, for Mary I of England had also been a follower of the Old Faith. In order to overthrow the New Faith established by her father, she had killed countless Englishmen.

But to distinguish her from her daughter, we would still call her Queen Mary.

To oppose Queen Mary and seek greater gain, both the English and the Scots were in rebellion and civil war. Charles I had no choice but to rely on Queen Mary's diplomatic skill to raise food and funds, in order to secure his position—under such circumstances, Queen Mary gave birth to her and Charles I's last child in a small seaport: Princess Henrietta.

The moment the child was born, the rebels tracked them down. Queen Mary had no choice but to flee back to France and take temporary residence at Saint-Germain. Princess Henrietta would not return to her mother's side until she was two years old. Queen Mary had originally hoped to obtain aid from her brother, Louis XIII, but before she even reached France, Louis XIII had died. France afterward was not particularly peaceful either; the princes and ministers each harbored their own designs. All she could do for the time being was hold her little daughter and while away the hours with needlework and reading.

Her heart was undoubtedly scorched with anxiety, especially in the past few months, when she had received no more letters from Charles I. She suspected that Charles I had already been captured, perhaps even killed. She had a witch at her side perform divination, but what appeared in water and fire alike was almost entirely ominous.

Worry and pain had nearly destroyed the woman completely. Though at dinner she was dressed with exceptional magnificence, as court custom, etiquette, and her status required, her face seemed veiled in gray mist, and her eyes were dim and lifeless.

Princess Henrietta was four years old this year. She had jet-black hair, brown eyes, and fair skin. After paying her respects to the King, she tried to sit in a chair on his left, only for Philip, Duke of Anjou—the younger prince, since Duke of Orléans Gaston was the elder—to shove her off it. She fell to the floor and began to weep uncontrollably.

Louis could only sigh.

"That is not her place," Philip said. "She is not qualified to sit there."

"By etiquette, that is indeed so." Though Queen Mother Anne did not like Queen Mary, her sister-in-law, or her sister-in-law's daughter, she still had to mediate somewhat. "But as relatives, you should be more cordial."

Philip gave a shrill, disdainful snicker, and the Queen Mother said no more. Like Louis, she was full of guilt toward this younger son, but she could not watch her sons fight one another. The struggle between Louis XIII and Duke Gaston had kept her terrified for more than a decade. If her own sons became the same, it would break her heart. Besides, she had heard that Queen Mary intended to marry Princess Henrietta to Louis. Though their statuses were suitable, Queen Mother Anne did not think Henrietta was the best choice, and her sister-in-law's actions made her feel coerced.

Queen Mary trembled from head to toe with rage, yet she had to endure it. Though France could not offer her husband Charles I much aid in England's civil war, she still had her son, Young Charles. If matters truly came to the worst, they would still need Queen Mother Anne's protection.

Princess Henrietta's crying stopped. Though still so young, she had already discovered that sometimes tears were worth nothing at all.

Dinner ended hastily in this stifling atmosphere.

Afterward, Louis did not look at the expectation-filled eyes of his aunt, Queen Mary. He gently declined Philip's company and walked alone around the small building for quite some time. In the kitchen yard, he saw a somewhat familiar figure.

"What are you doing here?" Louis asked. "The niece of a cardinal is hardly suited to a kitchen."

"And is a king suited to one?" Mali Mancini shot back.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Feeding rabbits."

Louis looked down and saw that at Mali's feet, rabbits were indeed piled in little clumps. They were plump and fat, ropes tied around their legs, their mouths working constantly.

Mali was squatting there without the slightest decorum. The grass she fed the rabbits had not been brought from elsewhere; she had sprouted it herself. Louis watched a small handful of grass seeds instantly grow into fresh, tender pasture grass.

"These rabbits are for eating," Louis said. "Our dinner."

Mali snapped off a blade of grass and struck him with it.

"Assassinating the King is a grave crime," Louis said, tossing it toward the rabbits' mouths. "Disembowelment, having your heart gouged out, then being torn apart by four horses."

"Hey!" Mali said. "I saved you before!"

"I rewarded you," Louis pointed out sharply.

Mali turned her face away.

"Why are you unhappy?" the young King asked gently. "Other than the rabbits, perhaps I could order them not to eat rabbits, though stewed rabbit is delicious."

"It's not about the rabbits," Mali said. "It's me... my problem."

"Tell me about it," Louis said.

"My father and my uncle," Mali said. "They came... and gave me a fierce scolding..." She complained indignantly, "They said I should not have exposed my identity... Yes, they said they did not send me to the palace to become a witch... They hoped I could become a great lady, you understand, the wife of a minister, perhaps even a duke."

Louis was a little surprised. He knew that many noble daughters and female relatives hoped to serve the Queen Mother, Queen, or princesses, using that as a bridge toward a brilliant and glorious marriage. But Mali was only... six, perhaps seven years old. Were they truly so impatient? Then again, if they had truly possessed noble character, why would they have arranged a marriage with Mazarin's elder brother at such a delicate moment? Just when Mazarin was beginning to win Richelieu's favor? The thing most held against Mazarin was his humble birth.

"When did they come?"

"Last night."

"I didn't hear any disturbance."

"They are Wizards, Your Majesty."

"I am the King."

"Wizards are not under the King's command." At this, Mali made a triumphant face. "Wizards obey only Merlin's will—of course, if Merlin truly has any will at all."

After saying that, she ran off, completely failing to see the grave expression that instantly came over Louis's face.