The Greatest Sinner Ever

Chapter 8

The weakened world regenerates

Long-lasting peace reigns everywhere

People travel by air, across land and sea

Then there will be war again

The locked door of the study was forced open, and Anne stepped into the room with trembling knees, afraid to find her husband dead inside. After she had arrived home, the maid had informed her that the scholar had urgently requested to not be disturbed for any reason. He was conducting an important experiment. But now she felt it had taken too long. He hadn’t been out of his study for days and now it seemed like her worries were justified. She found her husband lying on the floor.

“He’s dead!” she wailed.

“Couldn’t you just knock?” Michel asked. He was surprisingly lucid. For a moment she was speechless, but then she got very angry.

“You’ve kept yourself locked up for three whole days! We called you so many times, we knocked, we wailed, and you wouldn’t open the door. I couldn’t stand it another minute!”

“I’m fine,” he calmly assured her.

“You could have been dead,” she continued, still very agitated. “I had no choice but to act. And, by the way, the queen wants to see you. I thought you’d probably want to know about that.”

“That is good news, indeed! I’ll get packed right away,” and he started to get up to get ready.

“Don’t be an idiot; first you’re going to spend a few days getting your strength back. You look horrible,” she shouted and her husband promised her he would take it easy for a few days.

“Where did Daddy go?” three-year-old Pauline wondered the next day at breakfast.

“Daddy’s taking care of the hereafter,” César answered.

“Pass the bread please,” Father asked. His son passed it to him.

“I think he was playing tricks again,” Paul said, daringly.

“Your father is losing his hair, but not his mischief,” Anne agreed. Her husband took a drink of fruit juice and was amused by the banter.

“Your father is going to visit the queen soon,” Mother informed everyone. “Paul, let go of César!” Paul had quite the temper and was often restless.

“I hope the queen is not too pretty. Cause then we would never see Daddy anymore,” Madeleine commented.

“I only want your mother,” he reassured her. “And anyway, the queen is already married to the king.”

“Well, I’ve heard that marriage is just a sham,” Anne remarked. “And there are plenty of mistresses at the court.”

“What are mistresses, Mom?” Pauline asked.

“They are woman who are not married to a man, but love him anyway,” she tried to explain simply.

“Then there are a lot of mistresses around this table,” César joked. His parents laughed and then started to clear the table.

“Would you stay with André a minute,” Anne asked. Her husband, who was back to normal, kept an eye on the baby while she went to shake out the tablecloth in the garden.

The first part of The Prophesies had been a big hit at the king’s court, and Queen Catherine de Medici requested the immensely popular astrologer to come to her palace to give her a consultation. A greater honor could not be bestowed, and Nostradamus granted her wish. Because Paris was a long way off, he would have to be away from home for about a month. He said goodbye to his family with a heavy heart.

“Here, guys, forget-me-nots,” but his kids were already running outside, because they were busy with other things. Father loved them all, no matter what they did, but he felt most connected to César, a bright boy, to whom he might be able to pass on his knowledge some day.

“Be careful. There is always a lot of hate and envy at the court,” Anne pressed upon her husband.

“I’ll stay out of it all,” he promised and after a big kiss, he picked up his suitcase and climbed into the waiting carriage. The guest to the royals would take the opportunity to visit his publisher, Chomarat, in Lyon too.

He arrived two days later. His publisher shook his head in disbelief when he saw the famous writer walk into his office, unannounced.

“I will have to get the guest room ready,” he stammered.

“Great, thanks. I’m only staying for one day, though, because I’m on my way to Paris.”

“Then I will show you around the office right away,” and he gave him a tour of the Maison Thomassin. The topographers were also taken aback by the surprise visit and awkwardly made room for their exalted guest. At the printing press, their boss began to speak nervously.

“Your success is partly due to this invention,” said Chomarat, holding on the revolutionary device tenderly, as if it was his own child. He asked one of the workers to put some ink on the template for the cover of The Prophesies. He did as he was asked.

“Now I will show you how it works,” Chomarat resumed and he placed the inked form on top of the bottom plate. “And then we place some paper on top and you may make the print yourself...” Nostradamus started to turn the plate down with a winch.

“I wish being under pressure was this easy,” he said, jokingly, but before anyone had a chance to start laughing, the publisher cried out in pain. His thumb had got stuck and his guest quickly turned the plate back.

“Let me have a look at that,” the latter requested. Moaning, Chomarat showed him his wounded thumb.

“Do you have some bandages?”

With his face twisted in pain, he pointed to his office. They went there and after a bit of searching, found a small piece of bandage.

“You won’t be able to write by hand for a while,” Michel said, as he bandaged the thumb.

“I’m a printer, not a writer,” Chomarat grumbled. He had now recovered from the shock and the men went back to the work floor. Once there, Nostradamus turned the plate down again, so that it was firmly pressed against the piece of paper and then turned it back again.

“Botched up work must now be a thing of the past,” he chuckled and then had a look at the wet print.

“Marvelous! But what’s that little devil doing there on the last line?” Chomarat was surprised and came over to stand next to him and also saw the irregularity.

“What rascal made this change?” he said, angrily. But no one on the staff seemed to have done it. Their boss ran to the supply of his client’s books. For a minute he had visions of thousands of reproduced devils, but thank god, all the covers were okay. They corrected the print template and after all the commotion, the litmus test was passed. The author was very happy and looked at his own work again, which was getting published here in several languages. His books were being eagerly received all over Europe. Afterwards, he and the publisher went to a restaurant and chatted a bit more about improvements to the current version.

The next day, the journey to Paris was resumed. Everything went smoothly and three days later they drove past Fontainebleau. It wouldn’t be long now. Suddenly, a group of horseback riders surrounded the carriage and forced it to stop.

“Bandits!” the frightened coachman called out, but it turned out to be police officers and, reassured, he followed their directions. An officer soon explained to the passenger what was going on.

“Your route has been changed; you will be escorted to the palace in Saint Germain en Laye.”

“Why the change?” Nostradamus wanted to know.

“The royal couple changes residence every so often.”

“So, we have yet some distance to go.”

“My apologies for the inconvenience.” Officer Morency sat down beside him and they continued on.

“People sure do a lot of traveling these days,” the police officer began to harp, while he was taking off his riding boots. “The world is flourishing after those dark ages and is now making rapid progress.”

“See those migrant birds up there, flying north?” Michel interrupted.

“Yes, why?”

“They can do it ten times faster than we can.”

“So what are you trying to say?”

“That I was born in the wrong time period…”

“I still don’t get it,” Morency said.

“Oh, don’t mind me; I’m just feeling a bit grouchy. Probably just tired,” the scholar apologized.

“I will leave you alone, Doctor. I suppose everybody pesters you all the time.”

“Well, now that you mentioned it, I must say, the intrusiveness is getting worse every day. In my own town, I can’t even go out in public anymore. But, you go ahead and keep talking, because pleasant hours fly fast.” Morency spoke about his career and his retirement coming up.

“You will be arrested and jailed before your career is over,” the clairvoyant suddenly said. The officer looked at him, crestfallen.

“What are you saying? Right before I retire?”

“Keep your chin up. A peace treaty will give you your freedom back.”

“I don’t know what to make of all that, but I will keep it in mind. Amazing you can see those things!”

“Well, events just kind of hang in the air and I observe them, the way a bird feels a storm coming. Except, humans, in contrast to animals, usually cause their own miseries.”

“Unbelievable. Do you see your own future too?” the officer asked, impressed.

“Personal matters, unfortunately, cloud my vision.”

“Well, I appreciate the warning. Are you Catholic?”

“Yes, why?”

“There is political battle going on here between the Catholic House of Guise and the Calvanistic House of Coligny. The queen has chosen the Guise’s side. So, you’re in the right place. But beware of the Parisian courts, because they are fanatic and look for the slightest excuse to convict anyone. And I am thinking particularly of your publications.” A rain shower, just starting, was tapping on the roof of the carriage and the men chatted till the end of the ride.

There it was, finally: Saint Germain en Laye. The town that kings enjoyed so much because of the pleasant climate and which was surrounded by huge forests. The minute the carriage came out from underneath the foliage, the weather cleared up. Then they bumped alongside seemingly endless royal gardens under construction.

“The gardens will have terraces with a view across the Seine,” Morency remarked.

“It looks like it would take a whole day just to walk through it,” Michel responded.

“Yes, about that and then there are about five thousands hectares of forest. Henry II is a fervent hunter.” The carriage was now moving past the new palace, which was still surrounded by scaffolding. Cartloads of materials were moving to and fro and groups of workmen were working on the construction. The guest, however, was taken to the old castle, situated just behind it.

“I wonder how many rooms this place has?” he asked, when the colossal palace came into view.

“Over four hundred. The new one will have even more,” his companion answered. The police officers on horseback veered off and the carriage stopped at the entrance. The men got out and walked towards the towering entrance doors, which were opened by two valets. They entered the magisterial entrance hall, where two spiral staircases were elegantly entwined.

“My job is done. Good luck!” the officer said sincerely. The scholar said goodbye and sat down on a gilded sofa and examined the interior while he waited. Wherever he looked, every spot was decorated with the utmost care. Even the ceiling was decorated. And to think that the new castle was to become the real showpiece...

A head valet asked him to follow him to the throne room, where the guests were generally received. The royal couple were waiting for him on their golden thrones. Between them hung a striking painting of a woman with a mysterious smile^*.

“Nostradamus, so glad you are here,” Catherine de Medici spoke resolutely, and her guest bowed deeply, as custom demanded.

“Henry, this is that famous astrologer from the Provence, who has been causing such a commotion,” she informed her husband. “He used to work as a physician, and saved many of our subjects from the plague.” The king gave the illustrious countryman a sidelong glance. His white countenance contrasted sharply with his black wide-brimmed hat with the brown feather.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, for form’s sake. Another one of those intellectuals, well, he’s your visitor Catherine, you take care of him yourself, he thought to himself. Michel saw right through his pretenses; what the king really wanted to do was to go hunting.

“I’m very curious about your talents,” the queen, who was wearing a leather cap, resumed, “and I would like you to come to my private living quarters tomorrow morning at eight o’clock, to further discuss it.”

“Certainly, Your Majesty.” He thought she was a lot more intelligent than her husband.

“On Monday next week, there will be a feast,” she continued, “in honor of the marriage of the Duke of Joyeux and the Lady De Vaudemont, and tonight there is a banquet. We invite you to attend both.” Michel’s heart skipped a beat when he heard the last name of his first wife.

De Vaudemont; unbelievable. The bride must be a sister or niece of Yolande’s. My former relatives will not be happy when I show up there, he thought. An inevitable confrontation hung in the air. The king passed gas and was wriggling uncomfortably on his golden seat.

“Thank you very much for the invitation, Your Majesty. I will be sure to attend.”

“Our guests are expected to join in with the court dancing, after the performance. Do you know these dances?” Catherine asked.

“Not at all, Your Majesty.”

“Then our ballet master will teach you the required steps, some time in the next few days. But tonight we shall see each other at the banquet,” and she ordered her valet to see the astrologer out of the throne room. The summoned dance teacher promised to start with dance lessons that same day, but first the guest would get the opportunity to take some rest.

Somewhat recovered from the heavy trip, Nostradamus walked to the ballet studio, where Balthazar was waiting for him.

“Still travel-worn, Sir?”

“A little, but some movement won’t do me any harm.”

“I will also teach you some courtly skills, since these are inextricably connected to the dance.” His guest thought that was fine and started by taking off his over-frock.

“For the court dance, clothing actually must be impeccable,” the young ballet master giggled, “but in any case, it looks like you are looking forward to your first dance lesson,” and he put the coat back on.

“Do you know anything about the dance?”

“Dance is the female hunt and hunting is the male dance,” the scholar answered.

“Well, I will hang that proverb above my bed,” Balthazar giggled again. He was an easy fellow to get along with.

Slippery as an eel, Michel thought, on closer inspection.

“Okay, we’d better get started, because the De Vaudemonts will be here in two hours; they are my next students.”

“Do you know the De Vaudemonts well?”

“No, I only know that they belong to the nobility. Our queen uses every opportunity to organize a party,” Balthazar said unabashedly, and he began the lesson.

“A courtier must have a general education, but above all, he is expected to be able to move elegantly. Everything that is done at court must be done gracefully and effortlessly. Stiff movements or visible exertion are considered sinful.” The gentlemen moved to the dance floor.

“At the ball, the dancing will follow set patterns. For example, like this,” and while the ballet master counted the beat, he demonstrated a few steps.

“At the same time, you have to follow the social rules. Follow me, please,” and Michel copied a Pas de Bourré.

“That’s quite challenging,” he said when his legs got all tangled up together.

“I will give you a series of exercises on paper, which will help you control your motor functions,” the instructor suggested.

“Good, that will give me something to do. I suppose ballet is Catherine de Medici’s favorite activity?”

“You’re right. Nobility can be recognized by one’s posture, according to your queen. Unfortunately, her husband disagrees with her, and it was she who brought the refined manners to the French court. She brought a varied company of cooks, artists and musicians back with her from Florence, after the wedding. You will get to meet them,” and they continued dancing. Just when Michel thought he got the hang of something, he got all mixed up again and the affectionate ballet master would take him by the hand. In closing, they practiced a figure dance, after which the first lesson was over. Tomorrow they would continue.

It was late in the afternoon and Michel walked outside to get some fresh air. He walked through a park, where several gardeners were planting shrubs. In passing, he looked at the development of the new castle up ahead. Behind a flower bed stood a courtier, who suddenly began to wave wildly at him.

Well, well, if it isn’t that marquis De Florenville. My past is once again coming to haunt me.

It was indeed the castle lord who had tried to trick him in the past and the marquis excitedly rushed over to greet him.

I guess he’s reformed now that I’m famous, the astrologer thought scornfully.

“What a privilege to see you again,” the blue-blood greeted him.

“Yes, it’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it certainly has, and we haven’t gotten any younger, have we?”

“Do you still go to Strasbourg?” Michel asked.

“Lately I’ve been staying primarily at the court, for political matters,” De Florenville answered, while the sun disappeared behind the horizon. It was getting colder now and the scholar indicated he wanted to go back inside.

“What kind of political matters are you occupying you?” he asked, when they entered the palace together.

“Well, that’s a long story...”

“We’ve got an hour before the banquet starts,” Michel said, and the marquis began to talk.

“My friend Erasmus, whom I’m sure you remember, felt that certain parts of the Bible were not translated correctly from the Latin,” he told, while they walked through the corridors. “He then translated the Greek New Testament and had it published. The German Luther elaborated on this and his Protestant movement blew over to France. A few Huguenots from Strasbourg asked me to represent this movement in Paris and I could not refuse them. Hence I am here. Have you ever heard of the Colignys?”

“Yes, I heard about them recently. But doesn’t that make you the political enemy of the royal family?”

“From a formal point of view, yes,” De Florenville agreed, “but the king does not bother with politics and Catherine thinks that the Guises are too powerful. She actually tries to get closer to us. That wicked witch, pardon my French, set the Guises and the Colignys up against each other.”

“I didn’t know there was such inclination towards Protestantism,” Michel said.

“Well, it is growing on a daily basis, especially in Northern France. There are even some supporters among the royal family. But tell me something else; what are you doing here?” and the marquis looked at him expectantly.

“The queen has asked me for a consultation,” the seer revealed.

“Ah, and what were your findings?” the politician asked, fishing for spicy details.

“I am not going to speak to Her Majesty until tomorrow, and I am not at liberty to discuss the content of the consultation with anyone. Professional confidentiality. What I can tell you is that the king is not interested in astrology.”

“Well, everybody knows that!” the marquis waved off his comment. “Henry II happens to be interested in absolutely nothing. But it has been whispered that he has taken possession of all of the church treasures to build the extremely expensive chateau. See, that’s the trouble with Catholics, they’re so hypocritical. Except for a few good ones, of course. Stealing from the Church is not a problem for me; I think it is far too powerful anyway…” The scholar was becoming quite well informed about the political snake pit through all this gossip and he felt he had heard enough.

“I still need to get changed. See you at the banquet,” he cut off the conversation and then climbed up the central spiral case to his room on the third floor.

A little while later, the groomed seer entered the dining room, where a grand banquet had already begun. Two long, exorbitant tables were set up, with about five hundred guests seated around them. The celebrity was escorted to the royal couple’s table by an usher. The two were each seated at the head of the table, so there was quite a distance between them. The other table was for members of the lower nobility, which was where the marquis had also taken place. The astrologer was seated across from the De Vaudemonts, surprisingly, and when they saw their former family member, they stiffened. They nudged each other in astonishment to alert each other to the arrival of the calamity prophet. They were Yolande’s brothers and sisters. Although they had become old and grey, they were easily recognizable. Their parents had probably died. The bride turned out to be Elise, the daughter of Désiree, and by her side was Duke Van Joyeux. They still hated Michel and his presence spoiled their feast. All kinds of delicacies were being served, in the meantime, and the summoned astrologer managed to enjoy them, despite the sour faces across from him. The queen now proposed a toast to the future bride and groom and everyone unanimously raised their glasses. Only the king didn’t, because he was too busy amusing himself with some of the ladies-in-waiting. Michel was able to discern from bits and pieces of conversations around him that Catherine was descended from a rich bankers’ family and that the French royal family would be strengthened by this. Henry II was cleverer than he seemed. After the guests had eaten their fill, boredom set in and the conversation became caustic and repressed. The subject changed to politics and with lots of Guises and Colignys in the room, the tension began to mount. During one fierce dispute, Nostradamus was asked to predict the religious future of the royal house. There was a great deal of interest; everyone wanted to know what the explorer of the heavens would say about this.

“In eighty years,” he spoke eloquently, “I see a sun king being born in this palace.”

“But will he be a protestant?” pressed De Coligny, the leader of the group with the same name.

“He will be a Christian anyway,” the seer answered cautiously. Nevertheless, things got out of hand after that, and a shameless argument ensued. Michel decided he had had enough, after the dessert, while the queen looked on despondently.

The next morning, he visited Catherine de Medici in her private quarters. She had clearly decorated the room according to her own personal taste, because it was full of paintings of rich ancestors, posing in front of their residences in Florence.

“Come and sit beside me,” the queen ordered, and Michel sat down on the sofa.

“Would you like a treat?” she asked, while she held a bowl of candied fruit in front of him.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” and he picked out one of the exquisite candies.

“And are you enjoying your stay here, so far, aside from that quarrel last night?”

“Well, I am certainly impressed with all the grandeur and magnificence.”

“That’s the idea. A lot of money is spent on seemingly useless matters, such as parties, triumphs and palaces, but this is how we attempt to impress foreign ambassadors, so that we can do better business. And with the money earned, we can strengthen our army.”

A cunning woman, he understood. I’m sure she leads the country from behind the scenes.

“I have requested you to come here,” she resumed, “because I would like you to draw up a horoscope for me. Everyone is talking about you and I am very curious to find out what the stars have to say about my life. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, I certainly can, but I will need the exact data of your birth.” Catherine immediately ordered a valet to go and get the birth documents.

“How many hours will it take?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, it takes several weeks; I don’t have the necessary equipment with me and I can only work properly at home.”

“Well, that is a misunderstanding on my part then, but okay, I will have to be patient. Is there anything you could tell me now?”

“I will first have to concentrate, Your Majesty.”

“Go ahead,” and Nostradamus closed his eyes. He soon entered other worlds and his head began to nod.

“I see ..., I see that the court ballet will experience enormous development because of your efforts. Special academies for dance will be founded.”

“That is good news. I adore the ballet. Do you see anything happening during my lifetime as well?”

“Something about Rome is coming through...”

“That’s quite possible. The late Pope Leo X, who was established in Rome, was my second cousin, Giovanni di Lorenzo de Medici.” The queen was sitting on the edge of her chair by now.

“Hmm, ruling is in your blood,” he mumbled.

“Do you mean that I will rule the country?”

“Yes, that’s coming.”

“But does that mean my husband will no longer be alive?” she asked, startled. Michel nodded sympathetically.

“Henry and I have a marriage of convenience, but I sincerely hope that this will not come true.”

“Nothing is written in stone, Your Majesty; everything is subject to change. But the divine ideas are revealed to me and every idea is true. It is only a question of how and when. If the seed of a beech tree receives little water or light, the beech will possibly never appear, but it will never be an oak.”

“Could you tell me what will happen to my husband? Maybe we can do something to prevent it.”

“It is not clear in my mind and I also don’t want to unnecessarily discredit your husband. But if your husband wants me to, I could look into it more deeply.”

“Slim chance of that,” she said, and then suddenly changed the subject; Catherine suddenly stood up and let her dress drop to her feet. Start-naked, she looked at him seductively.

“And, do you think I’m attractive?”

“Well…” he stalled, cautiously.

“Yes, I’m no longer a slender maiden.”

“For the real boss of France, you look very good,” and he bent towards to her.

“Hmm, and you smell nice,” he said, pressing his nose against her waist.

“I air my body every day,” she explained.

“I wish everyone was so wise. Alternating hot and cold baths is very good too,” and he stroked her buttocks. Catherine coquettishly enjoyed his touch.

“Well, your health is excellent,” the doctor said then. “You can put your clothes back on.”

“Gosh, you are almost as crafty as I am,” and, amused, she put her dress back on. The valet came back in with the birth documents.

“Our wish is for a strong, stable France and the maintenance of the power of the royal house of Valois,” the queen resumed, with a serious look on her face. “Can you advise me how my husband and I should handle the politically religious fractions in order to achieve this?”

“I will first draw up a horoscope for you, Your Majesty. After that I will give you some insights into your strong and weak points, after which you will have to put the knowledge into practice yourself. You see, I am not allowed to lead the life of another, no matter how much I want to satisfy your wishes.”

“Bon, I appreciate your integrity. We will leave it alone for now then. We shall see each other next Monday at the ball,” and she ended the conversation.

It was eleven o’clock in the morning, the time the theatre spectacle in honor of the wedding of Duke Van Joyeux and Elise de Vaudemont was to start. Wearing his simple knickerbockers, Michel walked into the gigantic ballroom and paraded through the extremely dolled up guests, some of whom he had already met in the palaces. All the ladies looked like works of art: very wide dresses with extravagant head dresses. The gentlemen too, were wearing fabulous hats or expensive wigs, and both sexes moved through the room with exaggerated formal movements. Someone pressed a program into Michel’s hand.

“Let’s see what it says,” he mumbled and opened it.

The famous astrologer had, of course, been noticed already and three eager ladies-in-waiting rushed up to him.

“Mister Nostradamus, how nice that you are here,” they called out, “and you like the ballet?”

“Well, I can’t really say I’m fond of it, but I am certainly curious to see the performance of my dance instructor in the piece Ballet Comique de la Reine,” he admitted.

“But the Ballet Comique de la Reine is the name of the company,” Angelique, the lady in the blue hat corrected him.

“What are they performing then?”

“Circe by Homer.”

“Ah, one of the best-known pieces from the Odyssee,” the scholar knew.

“De Beaujoyeux also did the choreography,” Collette, the lady in the pink hat butted in.

“I am not familiar with that one,” Michel said.

“It’s in the program,” she continued.

“I hadn’t had a chance to look at it yet, ladies,” and again attempted to look at the paper, when the third lady imposed.

“There will be singers, dancers, musicians, animals, circus artists and more,” she informed him. The room, meanwhile, had filled to the brim with thousands of courtiers and guests from the entire country.

“I suppose this is the first De Medici party you have attended?” Collette asked.

“Yes, indeed, this is my first time,” he acknowledged.

“You’d better brace yourself then,” Angelique warned. “The ballet alone takes four hours.”

“Four hours of ballet?”

“Don’t worry; during all the performances you can freely walk in and out,” Collette reassured him.

“I should probably help you familiarize yourself at the court,” Angelique offered.

“I know my way around here much better than she does,” said Collette, not letting her friend bully her.

“I think that his lordship would prefer to practice discrimination,” the third lady-in-waiting outdid her competition. The ladies suddenly couldn’t stand each other anymore.

“I’m happily married and I have beautiful children,” the astrologer asserted.

“Good day, ladies!” He tipped his hat and continued on his way. The audience was on three sides of the performance area. Partly in the galleries, where the king and queen and the wedding couple sat and partly below, where Michel joined the crowd. The performance started and an impressive set mechanically moved into place. A dance choir performed an aubade for the newly married couple and acted out an allegorical treatment of conjugal love. After the modest tribute, the atmosphere became exuberant and colorfully costumed actors paraded back and forth. After some time, a cry of delight went through the room as a real elephant stepped out of the wings. All stops were pulled out. Various exotic animals trotted past, followed by hordes of marching soldiers, imitating a battle. The audience gazed at the spectacle in admiration and it raised the king’s spirits to see his armed forces. Henry II even rose from his chair for a minute when the captain of his personal guard entering into a duel with a Scot.

“Look before you leap,” Montgomery called out affectedly to his enemy. The two militia men stood and faced each other on the stage with full arsenal. The Scot began the attack, brandishing his sword at the captain, but he skillfully warded it off with his shield. It was an electrifying performance and the captain prepared for a counterattack. In all the excitement, the king forgot it was just a play and spurred Montgomery on from the balcony.

“Get him, Captain,” he shouted through the room. The audience decided to choose him as their favorite and loudly cheered him on.

Darn, now I know what will kill the king: a practice duel, Michel suddenly knew. Montgomery was distracted for a moment by the frenzied audience; the Scot cleverly took advantage of his confusion. He tried to viciously pierce the captain with his sword, but it glanced off his helmet.

“Missed!” the spectators shouted with joy.

“I think I’m going to have to lead my own guard,” the king grumbled to his wife. But Montgomery now took the lead and after a collision between the two warriors, the Scot fell down on the ground, after which the captain raised his sword over the head of his victim in victory. A red curtain fell in front of the stage and the possible deathblow was left to the imagination of the audience. While the set was quickly changed, everyone had the opportunity to get something to eat and drink. The political games still continued. De Coligny, who was standing in front of Nostradamus, gave an obvious signal with his hand, which caused several party members to silently leave the room, which was noticed by some of the Guises.

What a bunch of idiots, the scholar thought and paid no further attention to them. The entire stage again turned around spectacularly and the set for the Ballet Comique de la Reine appeared. The audience sat down again and saw the ballet master jump onto the stage first. Balthazar was playing the role of the sorceress. The story was acted out by the dancers, in pantomime. The ballet took a long time indeed and the courtiers regularly walked in and out of the room. Half-way through the performance Mercurius descended; the messenger of the gods was brought down with a winch.

It almost seems like Hermes is following me, the astrologer contemplated. Among a lot of noise, the dancers interrupted his reflections about the signs from above and then Balthazar showed off a ballet tour de force.

Oh dear, soon I will have to put my best foot forward, and Michel mentally went through the dance steps he would have to put into practice after the performance. When Circe by Homer was over, all the dancers jumped down from the stage and requested everyone to join them. The nobles streamed onto the dance floor, while the rest of the audience watched with interest. Michel also joined in with the bassa dance, which incorporated a lot of bows and turns. However, because of the geometric patterns and the tight clothing, the participants looked more like marionettes than like people dancing. The king and queen had come down from the balcony and were ceremoniously striding across the floor with the De Vaudemont family following in their wake. Catherine’s cone-shaped dress was so large that five grown men could have fit beneath it. Her husband wore long shoes, whose points were so long they kept everyone at a distance. After the basse dance, the queen got up to speak.

“Dear friends, please move to the side for a moment; I would like to request the bride and groom to come onto the dance floor and start the figure dance.” Elise de Vaudemont and Duke Van Joyeux came forward and the couple began to move elegantly to the courtly music. One couple kept getting added and the dancers formed long rows, which then formed into circles or triangles. Michel followed the figure dance from the sidelines. The dance was an especially esthetic pleasure for the spectators. The De Vaudemonts’ attention was now completely absorbed in the dancing wedding couple and they lost track of their sworn enemy.

I wonder when that low point of the evening will happen? the seer thought to himself, because the hidden tension was very perceivable to him.

“A danse-haute please,” Catherine suddenly ordered the musicians, as if she had heard his thoughts. It was the dance where everyone had to continuously switch partners by taking a little jump.

Aha, this will be the collision: a duet with one of the female De Vaudemonts, Michel smiled as he stepped onto the dance floor. Despite her enormous dress, the queen was also participating, and after changing partners a few times, she arrived in front of Nostradamus.

“I feel like we’ve know each other for years, Doctor,” she said coquettishly. Her favorite guest looked at her with a little twinkle and gracefully turned her around.

“My compliments!” she exclaimed, afterwards. “You really have the hang of it,” and she jumped to another dancer. While the scholar received a new lady, he saw that Elise would be his next dance partner. The bride had just come to the same painful conclusion and was desperately trying to make eye contact with her family members.

A loony girl, just like the rest of her family, Michel assessed. She’s not going to play along. I wonder if she’ll bow out altogether? The eye-catcher of the day was furiously looking for ways to get out of the dance, but finally, she couldn’t really do anything but take the customary little jump and ended up in front of the seer.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, with a piercing look in his eyes and Elise pretended to faint. The people around them reacted emotionally when they saw the bride falling down and the musicians stopped playing. Duke Van Joyeux, much to his dismay, saw his wife lying on the dance floor and rushed over to her. His in-laws were suddenly riveted to the spot.

“Someone get the court physician,” he called out, panicking. The queen decided otherwise and resolutely walked to the place of the incident.

“Mr. Van Joyeux, there is already a physician present,” she said quietly.

“Dr. Nostradamus,” she continued, “as a physician, surely you can tell us what is wrong with the bride?”

“I don’t immediately see any objective changes, Your Majesty.”

“Please have a closer look at the lady,” she requested, and he bent over Elise and checked her heart beat, just for show.

“I’ll wangle it for you, girl,” he whispered and after performing a few more little tests he addressed the groom: “Your wife is suffering from a Vasovagale Synkope.”

“Oh, and what does that mean?” the duke stammered.

“It means that she fainted, and she will soon come to. She was probably just feeling a bit overwhelmed.” The king was interested in the incident now too and came to take a closer look at the slumped bride.

“Well, that’s not uncommon around here,” he remarked. At that moment Elise began to pretend-cough and started to make gestures of trying to get up.

“Can someone please help?” her husband asked anxiously. Family members rushed forward and helped the affected celebrant off the dance floor, where she was assisted onto a chair. Catherine ordered everyone to continue the party, and the festive atmosphere was restored. During the popular suites, the king unexpectedly got into the spirit of them and did a dance with his wife.

“You’re in a good mood today, Henry,” she said.

“Falling girls are good for me,” he joked and they turned around to the beat of the music.

“They’re not partridges,” she replied, when she faced him again.

“You are right, my dear wife. Shooting down partridges is much more exciting.” The suites came to an end and the De Vaudemonts left the room, sending one last murderous glance to the evil magician. After the festivities, there was a closing banquet, but Michel also decided he had had all he could take and left so he could get some sleep. It had been quite an eventful day.

The next morning, the scholar took leave of the queen, before going home. A valet saw him into her quarters.

“Is everything as you wish, Doctor?” Catherine, who was just meeting with her council men, asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty, but I am here to say goodbye; I am leaving shortly.”

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that. On the other hand, you will be doing my horoscope,” and she ordered the councilors to leave the room for a moment.

“I wanted to praise you for your actions last night,” she continued when they were alone.

“You mean that incident with Elise de Vaudemont?”

“Yes, indeed. You solved that problem very discreetly. Acting is not her strongest point. But why the resentment? It looked as though the De Vaudemonts were ready to drink your blood.”

“That is ancient history, Your Majesty. I was once married to a De Vaudemont.” He said it in a way that conveyed that he had no intention to supply any further details.

“Oh, well, all right. I wish you a pleasant return journey, Doctor. And I’m sure we will see each other again,” and she presented him with a generous payment for the work yet to be done. She said goodbye to him with a seductive wink. Michel had barely sat down in the carriage when he suddenly felt pain everywhere in his body. It felt as though all of his joints were on fire.

It must be gout, he diagnosed himself, worriedly. You will have a sick little bird at home, dear Anne.

During the long journey back, the inflammations kept flaring up and with great difficulty and in a lot of pain, he arrived in Salon de Provence. Feeling broken, he got out of the carriage and walked toward the front door, taking laborious little steps.

Oh, no, not again, his wife thought, as she watched him through the window and saw him struggling.

“I’d like you to go out the back door and go play outside for a while,” she instructed the children. They disappeared without argument.

“I’m afraid I can’t welcome you with joy,” she moaned at the entrance. “I hope they didn’t poison you,” and she caught her husband as he began to fall.

“No, this is much worse; it is becoming chronic,” he said. Anne barely managed to get him upstairs and into bed.

“Please stay and lie down with me for a while, I longed for you so much while I was gone,” he requested and she crawled under the blankets with him. He discharged when he felt her skin against his.

“Oh, this is doing wonders already,” and he fell into a deep sleep.

It took several weeks before he felt like himself again and then he got busy right away. In his study, he carefully began to draw up the queen’s astrological chart.

Let me see. She was born on April 23, 1519. She is a Taurus with a Scorpio ascendant, he understood from the tables.

“Some woman,” he mumbled, a little while later, when he was filling the twelve houses with the astrological signs. Calm, strong, shrewd, socially adept and with Jupiter in the fourth house, she is not going to lose her possessions. It is not easy to make her mad, although, with the Sun in the seventh house and the Moon in the tenth house? That will get repressed. She must occasionally get very jealous and when she does, she is not capable of being forgiving. Watch out! It looks like the House of Valois will be in trouble after her death. After he had completed the queen’s character description, he sent the horoscope to her right away.

The smell of food cooking rose up the staircase to the attic. Anne was busy in the kitchen!

I’ll have to go and take a closer look at that, Michel thought. He put down his quill and sauntered downstairs.

“The nutmeg is all gone,” she said, when he came in.

“I’ll pick some up at the market tomorrow,” he promised, as he sat down on a stool at the kitchen table.

“Hey, tomatoes!” he exclaimed, sniffing around.

“Ah, my lord is clairsmelling too,” she teased. “You’ll be getting some Spaghetti Bolognese on your plate in a minute. Probably a more simple meal than what you got at the queen’s palace, but it will have to do.” Madeleine came in.

“Is dinner ready yet, Mom?” she asked.

“Almost. You might as well go and get Paul and César now,” and her daughter ran outside.

“Antoine is coming to have a bite to eat with us too,” Anne informed her husband.

“That’s nice. I’ll set the table for the occasion,” he said, and walked into the dining room with the linen. The children came bounding in a moment later, full of zestful energy and ran to the set table.

“Hey, calm down, you guys!” Father warned, and he brought André’s highchair closer. Diane, the smallest one, was still being fed by the maid.

“What’s that weird sound I’m hearing?” Michel wondered out loud.

“That’s André with a rattle,” César said, “Mom bought it for him yesterday.” Father walked into the living room and saw the toddler playing with the tin toy. He took him into the dining room and put him into the highchair. There was a loud knock at the front door. That must be Antoine.

“The door is open!” Michel called and his brother came in.

“Hi Antoine, great you’re here.”

“Well, rising star, any news from the royal front?”

“No, I just sent the horoscope.” The lady of the house, meantime, put the spaghetti on the table and asked her husband to go and get a jug of wine from the cellar.

“Been picking up lots of taxes lately, Antoine?” Anne charged.

“I’ve been promoted to inspector,” her brother-in-law suddenly beamed.

“Well, well, we’re all so lucky, aren’t we? Congratulations. And are you in charge of our district now? Because in that case, we shall have to arrange a private meeting with you.”

“I really can’t treat anyone with favor,” he answered, seriously.

“I was kidding,” Anne explained.

They don’t exactly have the greatest sense of humor, those Nostredames, she thought, and she placed the low goblets on the table. Her husband came back in with the wine.

“Children, you will have lemonade today,” he said and they began to cheer.

“Your brother has just become inspector,” his wife informed him.

“That’s good news. Are we in your district now?” Michel asked, but Antoine wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I thought you couldn’t cook,” the inspector said to Anne a little later.

“I’ve learned my husband’s cookbook off by heart,” she confessed. “His book La Traite is even being published in Antwerp.”

“I would rather go into “retraite”!” the guest yawned. In the meantime, the children were slurping their lemonade and father served out the pasta.

“What is that?” Paul called out, eying the strange doughy strands suspiciously.

“It’s an Italian dish, son. Bon appétit,” he wished everyone. Pauline began to carefully separate the strands and her brothers followed her lead.

“It is delicious!” Michel praised his kitchen princess. It didn’t take the children long to discover the possibilities of the silly food and they did a contest to see who could suck up a strand the fastest.

“Don’t play with your food,” Father berated them, and they quickly bit them off.

“They sure listen well,” Antoine commented, taking a drink of spring water. “By the way, did you know that Bertrand is working on a prestigious project?”

“No, I didn’t. Did you, Anne?” But his wife knew nothing about it either.

“Bertrand is going to be digging engineer Craponne’s canal,” Antoine told.

“He is?” Anne said, surprised.

“Yes, our brother has grown into a big contractor. It is a gigantic project that will make him a lot of money.”

“Even when he was little, he was already renovating the house,” Michel remembered.

“The canal is supposed to make La Crau fertile,” his brother continued. “They have already started digging at the Durance and they want the channel to eventually reach all the way to Salon, but that will take years.” The maid came in with a crying Diana in her arms.

“Madam, I can’t find the pincers anywhere,” she said, nervously.

“They’re in the top drawer of the chest next to the hearth,” Anne said, and the maid disappeared.

“Michel, what do you think about paying your brother a visit?” his wife asked.

“ I think that’s an excellent idea.”

“I happen to already have a meeting scheduled with Bertrand in Saint Rémy tomorrow,” Antoine remarked. “I will tell him you’re coming.”

“I think it will be interesting to see him at work on his project,” Michel hinted. “What do you think, Anne?”

“Fascinating, but it is more than twenty kilometers away and some of those are through very rough terrain.”

“We can do it,” her husband said. “Ask Bertrand if he would mind.”

“Okay, I will,” Antoine promised. The pot of spaghetti was empty by now and the children went to play in the backyard.

“