smiled at his own subtle wit, then leaned forward to read the title of the volume Micheline had chosen. "Roman de la Rose! An inspired choice. 'Twill do you good to read of romance. I've worried that you might have forgotten such pleasures!"
Micheline hardly knew how to reply. When the king reached for her hand and kissed it, the uneasy flush in her cheeks intensified. "I mustn't keep you from your bath, sire. Au revoir."
Francois watched as Micheline walked under the archway leading to the elaborate gardens. The sight of her hair, gleaming in the sunlight, and the gentle sway of her hips made him sigh. Finally he turned and went to join Thomas inside the bathing room. Quickly the two men shed their soiled garments and walked down the flight of wooden steps that led to the great square pool. It was five feet deep, with two spouts that provided hot and cold water. Priceless paintings and statuary decorated the perimeter of the room.
"Ah!" exclaimed the king. "Could heaven itself be sweeter?"
St. Briac ducked his head under the water and emerged to shake the cool droplets from his hair. "I must agree, sire, that God Himself would doubtless be content here."
Servants appeared with jeweled goblets of strong red wine and plates filled with crusty bread, oysters from Cancale, strawberries from the king's greenhouses, and tempting little wedges of Auvergne cheese. The men, hungry after their exercise, ate contentedly.
"I feel that life is finally settling into place after the changes of recent years," Francois reflected.
St. Briac watched him plunge into the water and swim across the pool. Indeed, there had been changes. Two of the king's young sons, who had become hostages to Emperor Charles V in place of their father, had been ransomed in 1529 after three years. The negotiations for their release had been effected by two women, one of whom was Louise de Savoy, the king's mother. "The Ladies' Peace" had ended years of war, but in return for the safe return of his sons, Francois had to reconfirm his marriage by proxy to Charles V's sister Eleanor.
Francois had paused to rest against the gilded edge of the pool beside his friend.
"The death of my mother continues to grieve me," he said suddenly.
"Yes, sire. But it has only been a year, and she was your trusted advisor. You continue to adjust."
At length, Francois remarked more jauntily, "I do find myself intrigued with this subject of change. How boring life would be if nothing ever changed. Take women, for instance...."
Biting back a smile, St. Briac waited, knowing what was coming.
"Here at court," the king continued between bites of strawberry and cheese, "the women change like the seasons and most are forgotten. A few, however, stand out like roses in a field of daisies."
"Ah. Yes."
"One lady in particular..."
"Micheline?" he wondered innocently.
"Oui!" Francois averted his eyes, and took a long drink of wine. "Micheline has made an entrancing change in the court. Apparently you lust after your wife alone, my friend, but even you must admit that Madame Tevoulere is a female of exceptional loveliness." He sighed, smiling. "Most astonishing, however, is her mind. I can discuss even Roman history with Madame Tevoulere! My own complaint is that she continues to maintain a certain level of reserve when in my company. Could it be possible that she is immune to my charms?" He laughed at such a ludicrous notion, but his tone took on a low urgency. "Thomas, couldn't you speak to her? Assure her that I only wish to know her better?"
St. Briac's amusement waned. "Sire, if you imagine that I can intercede, I must dispel that notion. Aimee is trying to help Micheline recover from the shock of her husband's death, to learn to enjoy life again. She would not want her heart broken, even by her king."
"How can you suggest that I could harm so glorious a creature as Madame Tevoulere?"