Chapter 18

Although the conversation was brief, Mary was very satisfied with the outcome.

Trading empty promises for real aid from the Pope is an incredibly worthwhile deal.

If one day in the future, the Pope sends an envoy to ask her when she will fulfill her promise and expel Protestants en masse?

Mary, who was already prepared to break her promise, could only say that shamelessness is an essential quality for a politician, and she was striving to become a qualified politician.

In fact, the reason why Scotland, with its poor national strength, was able to withstand England's iron heel for so long was entirely due to the tireless efforts of its previous kings to seek aid from France and Rome.

The Vatican and France were also happy that the Scots were stabbing England in the back, and were quite generous in providing aid.

Mary is now merely continuing the fine traditions of her predecessors.

At Mary's request, the waiter who was pouring the drinks kept a safe distance while he was talking to the ambassador.

She spoke softly to the ambassador, and their conversation was quick and efficient. After their brief conversation, the banquet was still in full swing in the hall.

Scotland doesn't have as many formalities as France. While nobles are enjoying various wild birds and wine, young men and women are already dancing to music.

Having been idle in the court for a long time, Châteauroux finally had the opportunity to display his talents.

He and another dark-skinned youth, a follower of the Marquis of Moreta, collaborated, playing instruments and singing their own poems together. Their perfect harmony drew praise from many.

And that poem was actually a sonnet expressing his love for the Queen!

Then Châtilliaar sang out loud:

My muse

You are the law that judges me

You are the master of my destiny.

The moment I gaze at you

Cupid's golden arrow pierced my heart.

You stole my breath.

And you remained unmoved.

If the shadow of death looms over me

It must be because I can't get your love.

Let my soul gradually wither

Mary "..."

Sitting in the center of the table, surrounded by people, Mary concealed her fluctuating emotions, calmly took a sip of wine, and began to consider whether to be simple and direct and simply drive Chartreux out of Scotland.

She had been back in Scotland for months, deliberately cooling off Chartreux, never meeting or speaking to him privately, waiting for the poet to give up and return to France.

Unexpectedly, his feelings, like a volcano, grew hotter the more he suppressed them, until today at the banquet when he unleashed such a powerful move on her.

Mary sincerely hoped that the nobles present would ignore the performance, but unfortunately, things didn't go as planned.

This unique recitation of poetry, a bold declaration of love to the Queen, quickly drew everyone's attention, eliciting applause from the still-naive young people, as well as whispers from the elderly and devout priests.

People began to whisper among themselves, discussing the relationship between the Queen and the poet.

Were they simply kings and their servants?

Standing in the center of the hall, Châtelia put down his violin and bowed deeply to Marie.

“I salute you, Your Majesty, who possesses my entire soul and emotions,” said Châteair fervently.

Under the watchful eyes of countless people with differing intentions, Mary could not show any joy, pride, or anger, as that would only hasten the spread of rumors. She could only nod and smile, saying, "Your performance has brought me and all the guests present boundless joy. Poet, what reward would you like?"

“I ask for nothing in return from you,” said Châtillia.

“You ask for nothing in return, but I cannot ignore the hard work of my subjects. Tell me, what do you want? If you want nothing, then I will reward you with ten years' salary, or I will introduce you to a virtuous unmarried lady so that we can have a good marriage,” Mary said.

Compared to Chartreux's somewhat frivolous and fawning manner, the Queen of Scots's reply was dignified and appropriate, and subtly distanced herself from the poet, implying their mutual innocence, which softened the expressions of some of the rigid monks present.

Mary hoped that Châteauroux would understand her unspoken meaning, but to her surprise, he took a step forward, raised his head and said, "Since you have been so generous in asking, Your Majesty, my only wish is to dance with you later."

For a moment, Mary wasn't sure if her smile had stiffened even slightly.

“…Yes, I grant permission.” Mary replied as calmly as possible, deciding to send Châteauroux to France on a sailing ship the next day.

She only hoped that this swift resolution would prevent any scandals.

No one noticed that in a corner of the hall, Albert Durst, the deputy captain of the Scottish Guard, stood in the shadows of the curtain, his fists clenched, desperately suppressing his displeasure.

...

The first dance after the ball officially began was led by Mary.

For Mary's first dance, she did not choose Châteliar as her partner, but instead chose a guest from afar—the Marquis Moreta, the envoy from the Duchy of Savoy.

The dance partner was a reasonable choice, and the dance was performed properly. After the first dance, Mary immediately danced a second dance with Count Morley and a third with Maitland.

After the three dances, it was already late, and the guests' attention had been diverted to other things, no longer looking in their direction. Only then did Mary take hands with Châtelia, who had been waiting anxiously beside her, and step onto the dance floor.

Originating in southern France, the minuet is elegant, graceful, and popular in various European courts.

Marie and Châtelia were both experts in this art, and even though they had never danced together, they could still exchange moves and cooperate perfectly.

Unlike their perfect physical coordination, the queen's expression subtly conveyed cold displeasure, while the young poet was radiant with joy and barely contained excitement.

Châtillia noticed Mary's expression and explained cautiously yet confidently, "Forgive my impertinence, Your Majesty, but I can't think of any other way to attract you and make your jewel-like eyes reflect my image. I know that telling the truth will displease you, but I still want to say that even knowing you will be angry, I will still invite you to dance with me in public, so as to gain a brief, private moment with you!"

Mary's mind flashed back to the fate of Châteliar, who was beheaded in her previous life. She sneered and shook her head as she said, "You're not reckless, you're ignorant. Châteliar, you're very bold, but you don't know what kind of consequences such boldness will bring you. It's an ending you simply cannot bear."

“The moment I saw you, the flame of love burned fiercely in my heart, driving me to chase after it desperately. The pursuit of romance is a poet’s nature, and what does it matter if I get burned in the face of such a flame? Your Majesty, if you wish to drag me away and whip me after this dance, I will do so willingly,” said Châtiliar.

“What if I were to behead you instead of dragging you away to be whipped?” Mary asked.

Châtillia immediately said, "I believe you wouldn't do that. I understand all the kindness and gentleness you hide beneath your cold expression, the way you cared about saving that old woman named Anna from the fire..."

Mary almost sneered and impatiently interrupted him.

“Tell me, what do I look like in your eyes right now?” Mary asked.

Xiatriar didn't understand how the topic had suddenly shifted to this, but answered without hesitation: "Your appearance is a hundred times more beautiful than that of an angel, your skin is like ice and snow, and your black eyes are like stars. When I look at you, it is as if I am seeing a legendary goddess."

“That’s your naiveté and foolishness. You only see me as a young woman, but every nobleman, bishop, servant, and messenger present sees me as the Queen of Scotland!” Mary said.

Overwhelmed with excitement, Châteliaar stumbled and nearly fell, but Mary caught him in time. She took a step back and changed her dance steps so that no one around could tell that something was wrong.

Châtillia tried her best to lower her voice, but she still couldn't help but whisper, "God is my witness, I have never coveted any wealth or glory, nor have I ever asked for any response from you. I love you only because you are Mary Stuart, not because you are the Queen of Scotland. To put it bluntly, whether you are a monarch or a common woman on the street, it is of no importance to me!"

“You don’t understand me at all, Chartreux. You’re like a blind man with his eyes covered, striding forward bravely, thinking you’re heading towards a paradise full of romantic fantasies, but you don’t know you’re heading step by step towards hell! Tomorrow, take a ship out of Scotland and go back to France, Chartreux. If you don’t do so, then I will order you to be expelled in the name of the Queen,” Mary said mercilessly.

The Queen's expression was as cold as frost, and her words were sharp and devoid of any warmth, leaving Châteauroux pale and swaying, unable to believe what she had just heard.

“You can’t…” Châtillia said excitedly.

Just then, the melodious music suddenly stopped, and the dance ended.

A tall, handsome figure strode over, almost squeezing between the two, separating Marie and Châtelia, and interrupting the poet's unspoken words.

Albert extended his hand to Mary, smiled, and asked respectfully, "Your Majesty, may I have the honor of inviting you to dance with me?"

Mary subtly moved her feet a few times, hiding them beneath her silk skirt, to ease her aching joints, before declining Albert's invitation.

Dancing is a very physically demanding activity, and she had already danced four dances in a row. Now she just wanted to find a place to sit down and rest for a while.

Albert was somewhat disappointed, but when Mary asked him to help her up, he cheered again, gentlemanly offering Mary his arm, and then walked across most of the ballroom to help Her Majesty the Queen to her seat.

“Chartelia has caused you trouble, and you don’t even realize it,” Albert said, God knows how much he wanted to punch that stupid poet in the face.

A king can have many mistresses and father many illegitimate children, and people will not take it for granted or find it strange. They may even envy the king's masculinity and charm.

However, it is best for a queen not to openly have lovers and then have romantic affairs, because she is to be a role model and symbol for her people, and therefore must demonstrate the purity and chastity of a woman.

A young and handsome poet living in the palace publicly confesses his love to the Queen at a banquet. This could be a big deal or a small one, but it would definitely cause trouble.

The Queen of Scots had many enemies, and anyone could make a big deal out of this.

The Queen turned her head to look at the vast wilderness outside the window. From Albert's angle, he could not see her expression, only her thick black eyelashes and melodious voice.

There wasn't much anger in that voice; instead, there was a hint of melancholy.

“Chartrear is a pure poet. Poets are not suited to stay in the court; they should be with art. The court, full of intrigue and scheming, will only ruin him,” Mary said.

...

After informing Earl Morrie and instructing him to continue hosting the banquet, Mary, who had rested for a while, left early.

Before leaving the hall, Mary took one last look at Châteauroux.

The young and handsome poet was huddled in a corner, chugging wine down his throat while reciting love poems to a wine barrel, clearly already drunk and out of his mind.

Her four ladies-in-waiting were still attending the banquet, dancing happily with others. Not wanting to deprive them of their enjoyment, Mary did not call for anyone and returned to her small cubicle in her bedroom alone. She then instructed her maid to fetch hot water for a bath.

The feeling of taking a hot bath after sweating profusely was indescribably comfortable. As Mary untied her metal corset, freeing her tightly bound waist, and then immersed herself in the wooden tub, she couldn't help but let out a comfortable sigh.

Fashion trends in other countries follow those of France, and now a slim waist aesthetic is becoming popular in France. To show respect at banquets, Marie naturally has to dress like this as well. Fortunately, she is slender and can barely bear it.

The maids walked lightly beside the bathtub, pouring rose petals and essential oils from France into the water, making the hot water fragrant.

Mary soaked in the bath with her eyes closed for a while. When the water was getting cold, she was too lazy to call the maid. She got up, put on her long underwear, and went to the outer bedroom.

Just then, Mary heard a faint breathing sound.

Mary immediately stood still, secretly hoping that she had misheard and mistaken the sound of the wind for breathing, but then a soft knocking sound suddenly came from inside the wardrobe, like an elbow hitting a wooden board.

Who is it?

Assassin or thief?

Mary felt a chill run down her spine in an instant. She rushed to the bedside, pulled the flintlock pistol from under her pillow, aimed it at the wardrobe, and rang the bell at the same time!

"Who is it? Show yourself!" Mary said coldly.

"Squeak—"

The wardrobe was pushed open by a hand, and a drunken Châteliael hid among a pile of clothes, looking up at Mary with a silly smile.