By moving the court to the chateau of Amboise, the two Lorrain princes intended to set a trap for the leader of the party of the Reformation, the Prince de Conde, whom they had made the king summon to his presence. As vassal of the Crown and prince of the blood, Conde was bound to obey the summons of his sovereign. Not to come to Amboise would constitute the crime of treason; but if he came, he put himself in the power of the Crown. Now, at this moment, as we have seen, the Crown, the council, the court, and all their powers were solely in the hands of the Duc de Guise and the Cardinal de Lorraine. The Prince de Conde showed, at this delicate crisis, a presence of mind and a decision and willingness which made him the worthy exponent of Jeanne d'Albret and the valorous general of the Reformers. He travelled at the rear of the conspirators as far as Vendome, intending to support them in case of their success. When the first uprising ended by a brief skirmish, in which the flower of the nobility beguiled by Calvin perished, the prince arrived, with fifty noblemen, at the chateau of Amboise on the very day after that fight, which the politic Guises termed "the Tumult of Amboise." As soon as the duke and cardinal heard of his coming they sent the Marechal de Saint-Andre with an escort of a hundred men to meet him. When the prince and his own escort reached the gates of the chateau the marechal refused entrance to the latter.
"You must enter alone, monseigneur," said the Chancellor Olivier, the Cardinal de Tournon, and Birago, who were stationed outside of the portcullis.
"And why?"
"You are suspected of treason," replied the chancellor.
The prince, who saw that his suite were already surrounded by the troop of the Duc de Nemours, replied tranquilly: "If that is so, Iwill go alone to my cousin, and prove to him my innocence."He dismounted, talked with perfect freedom of mind to Birago, the Cardinal de Tournon, the chancellor, and the Duc de Nemours, from whom he asked for particulars of the "tumult.""Monseigneur," replied the duke, "the rebels had confederates in Amboise. A captain, named Lanoue, had introduced armed men, who opened the gate to them, through which they entered and made themselves masters of the town--""That is to say, you opened the mouth of a sack, and they ran into it," replied the prince, looking at Birago.
"If they had been supported by the attack which Captain Chaudieu, the preacher's brother, was expected to make before the gate of the Bon-Hommes, they would have been completely successful," replied the Duc de Nemours. "But in consequence of the position which the Duc de Guise ordered me to take up, Captain Chaudieu was obliged to turn my flank to avoid a fight. So instead of arriving by night, like the rest, this rebel and his men got there at daybreak, by which time the king's troops had crushed the invaders of the town.""And you had a reserve force to recover the gate which had been opened to them?" said the prince.
"Monsieur le Marechal de Saint-Andre was there with five hundred men-at-arms."
The prince gave the highest praise to these military arrangements.
"The lieutenant-general must have been fully aware of the plans of the Reformers, to have acted as he did," he said in conclusion. "They were no doubt betrayed."The prince was treated with increasing harshness. After separating him from his escort at the gates, the cardinal and the chancellor barred his way when he reached the staircase which led to the apartments of the king.
"We are directed by his Majesty, monseigneur, to take you to your own apartments," they said.
"Am I, then, a prisoner?"
"If that were the king's intention you would not be accompanied by a prince of the Church, nor by me," replied the chancellor.
These two personages escorted the prince to an apartment, where guards of honor--so-called--were given him. There he remained, without seeing any one, for some hours. From his window he looked down upon the Loire and the meadows of the beautiful valley stretching from Amboise to Tours. He was reflecting on the situation, and asking himself whether the Guises would really dare anything against his person, when the door of his chamber opened and Chicot, the king's fool, formerly a dependent of his own, entered the room.
"They told me you were in disgrace," said the prince.
"You'd never believe how virtuous the court has become since the death of Henri II.""But the king loves a laugh."
"Which king,--Francois II., or Francois de Lorraine?""You are not afraid of the duke, if you talk in that way!""He wouldn't punish me for it, monseigneur," replied Chicot, laughing.
"To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"
"Hey! Isn't it due to you on your return? I bring you my cap and bells.""Can I go out?"
"Try."
"Suppose I do go out, what then?"
"I should say that you had won the game by playing against the rules.""Chicot, you alarm me. Are you sent here by some one who takes an interest in me?""Yes," said Chicot, nodding. He came nearer to the prince, and made him understand that they were being watched and overheard.
"What have you to say to me?" asked the Prince de Conde, in a low voice.
"Boldness alone can pull you out of this scrape; the message comes from the queen-mother," replied the fool, slipping his words into the ear of the prince.
"Tell those who sent you," replied Conde, "that I should not have entered this chateau if I had anything to reproach myself with, or to fear.""I rush to report that lofty answer!" cried the fool.
Two hours later, that is, about one o'clock in the afternoon, before the king's dinner, the chancellor and Cardinal de Tournon came to fetch the prince and present him to Francois II. in the great gallery of the chateau of Amboise, where the councils were held. There, before the whole court, Conde pretended surprise at the coldness with which the little king received him, and asked the reason of it.
