Queen's Own Fool by Jane Yolen Page B

such a terrible punishment. But I could not follow his argument, for much of it was in Latin, which was like—but not like—the Italian I knew.
    Suddenly a great fear took hold of me. The Maries had told me that the queen wanted someone amusing. But I was fool indeed if I thought I could be witty enough for this company. And if I failed, would I be judged a traitor to the queen if not to God? Would I be beheaded as Uncle had said? Or burned at the stake? I hardly heard a word more of the sermon, but sat trembling like an alder leaf, all those questions rattling around in my head.
    Then, suddenly, mass was over, and we all stood while the royal party trooped down the aisle towards the door. They walked slowly, and were very grand and very, very frightening.
    Because I now realized how my very life depended upon pleasing them, I turned to Eloise and asked, “Who are they all?”
    She giggled, naming each as they went by. “The king and queen, of course,” she said, nodding at the first two.
    â€œThose I know. And the next man, with the white plume?” He had been sitting at the high table when we had performed. His handsome face was only slightly marred by a long scar.
    â€œThe Duke de Guise. He received that scar in battle,” Eloise added. “He is the bravest man in France.”
    â€œBraver than the king?” I asked.
    Her voice dropped to a scornful whisper. “The new king is a boy. He knows nothing of fighting. He is not his father.” Then she put her hand partly over her mouth. “I did not tell you that.”
    â€œI am as silent as one in the grave,” I said.
    â€œWhere we both will be if you repeat what I said.”
    I shivered. “I am only curious who they all are,” I said. “I do not wish to spread gossip about them. But to please them, I need to know them.”
    She nodded. “The duke is Queen Mary’s uncle,” Eloise told me. “The cardinal, too.”
    I remembered thinking how much the duke and the cardinal had looked alike sitting together at dinner and nodded.
    Eloise continued. “Since the old king died, the cardinal and the duke have been running the government. The old queen is not happy with either of them. But of course what can she say now?”
    â€œThey must be very important men,” I hazarded.
    â€œMore important than the king, some people say.” Eloise raised an eyebrow, then nodded at the next to walk by, the purse-mouthed dowager. “The old queen Catherine, the dead king’s wife.”
    â€œShe looks fierce.”
    â€œShe is fierce.” She leaned even closer, her voice dropping till it was scarcely a whisper. “After marrying the king, she was found to be barren.”
    â€œBut ... she has children. Sons and daughters.”
    Eloise put a finger to her nose and nodded. “She took every powder and potion she could get her doctors to make. Some even say she resorted to magic. She is a de Medici, you know.”
    A de Medici! One did not have to be Italian to know of them! Poisoners all. I would have to be careful around the old queen.
    Eloise looked around, making sure no one could overhear her, then whispered, “The trouble with magic is that it cannot always be bidden. True, she has had children, but not a one of them in good health. The young king has had the pox and the flux and the ague. His ear is always leaking. He often finds it difficult to breathe.” She stopped, then nodded again at the line of royals walking up the aisle. “Look, here come her other children, Prince Charles and the Princess Elisabeth.”
    As they passed by, I could see they shared their mother’s features, but there was something very determined in her face they all lacked. She was a lioness, they lambs.
    Back at the cardinal’s palace I found myself rather lost amidst a new kind of bustle.
    â€œWhat is going on?” I asked Eloise, who had become my only source of