Chapter 19

"Smack—!"

Mary's face was icy as she slammed the wardrobe door shut.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door, and the maids who heard the bell filed in, awaiting the Queen's instructions.

Mary stopped them from opening the wardrobe to help her get dressed. After thinking for a moment, she said, "Go down to the hall and bring Mary Seton over to help me choose clothes. After I'm dressed, summon Mr. Albert. I have a gunpowder bill that I need to ask him about."

Mary Seton arrived quickly and, on the Queen's orders, locked the door from the inside, leaving herself alone.

She is skilled at creating all kinds of exquisite and beautiful hairstyles, and she also massages her skin with rose and lavender essential oils. She is always in charge of taking care of the Queen's daily makeup and dresses.

At first, Seton thought the Queen, as always, wanted to discuss how to make the feather hat and jewelry look better. But when Mary opened the wardrobe door with a bad expression and saw the young man who was almost asleep inside, she was so frightened that she immediately covered her mouth.

"What... what's going on?" Seton asked.

Seton's first reaction was that it was an affair, but he quickly dismissed the thought in his mind.

The Queen was inseparable from the four of them every day; if she had any ambiguous relationship with this poet, she couldn't possibly be unaware of it.

“As you can see, Châteauroux got drunk and sneaked into my bedroom while the servants were busy at the banquet,” Mary said.

Realizing what had happened, Seton trembled and said angrily, "This bastard who dared to offend your dignity, I'll go and tell the guards to throw Xiatriaar into cold water to wash his brains. After he wakes up, he'll be given dozens of lashes!"

“Don’t call anyone else over. No matter how you explain it, seeing a young man in my bedroom will damage my reputation. As for Châteauroux, he’ll probably get his head chopped off,” Mary said, having regained her composure.

"Your Majesty, what should we do?" Seton asked.

"Help me get dressed in a presentable outfit. I've already called Mr. Albert over," Mary said.

Seton nodded, forcing himself to calm down. He opened the wardrobe door and kicked the sleeping Châteliaar hard. Then he took out his clothes and went to the compartment where the bathtub was placed to help the Queen tidy herself up.

After all that was done, Albert arrived.

As soon as he saw the unconscious Châteliar in the closet, he knew what had happened. With a cold face, he grabbed the poet by the collar with one hand, dragged him out of the closet, threw him on the floor, and then punched the poet hard in the face!

Xiatrial woke up in pain; anyone who was punched so hard would wake up in pain.

He got up from the ground, his face bruised, and shook his head, as if trying desperately to stay awake, but he couldn't stop the dizziness. Then he saw the graceful young queen standing there, took a few steps forward, and knelt down on one knee, swaying from side to side.

“I… hiccup… I, I’m here to explain my feelings to you, Your Majesty. I didn’t just meet you when you returned home. I met you long ago in the Seven Stars Poetry Society organized by Ronsard… hiccup… You, you were the radiant Queen of France back then, and I couldn’t get close to you at all… Please don’t send me away from Scotland. I don’t ask for anything else, I just want to be closer to you, even closer to you, and I only ask to gain Your Majesty’s favor…” Châteauroux said.

Before Châteauroux could finish speaking, Albert rushed up and punched him a few more times, making the poet cower and cover his head!

“You self-righteous idiot!” Albert said in a low voice.

Mary pressed her temples in exasperation and had to speak up to stop Albert's violence.

“That’s enough, don’t make any noise and disturb the others!” Mary said, thankfully the bedroom walls were thick enough to provide good soundproofing.

“…I will obey your command,” Albert said, still feeling a bit unsatisfied.

After obtaining Mary's permission, Albert tore one of her woolen coats into strips, tied up Chatelier, and gagged her tightly to ensure she couldn't make a sound.

“If Count Mori knew about this, he would immediately order Châtelia’s execution, but I do not wish to atone for my mistake with the poet’s life. Therefore, I have no choice but to let you take the poet away secretly, Mr. Albert. I hope you will not betray my trust,” Mary said.

Maitland is too cunning and cautious, and Mary has always been half-believing him. Boswell is currently loyal, but he is rough and unrestrained and may not be able to keep secrets well.

After much deliberation, Mary decided to ask the Italian man to handle it for her.

Even if this blond youth had many secrets, he was still just a foreigner without noble blood in Scotland, and Mary could order him to be thrown into prison at any time without any resistance.

Albert smirked and said cheerfully, "I won't let you down; it's my honor to serve you."

Seton, who had been watching from the sidelines, twisted his hair and pointed to a large wooden chest containing mink furs in the corner of the room, saying, "How about we put Shatterial in that chest and take it out? Just say that Your Majesty doesn't like that bulky chest and wants it thrown out to be burned as firewood."

Albert walked a few steps to the window, looked out for a while, and then turned back with a smile. “That’s a good idea, Ms. Seton, but people will still wonder why I would do the work of a valet… There’s an easier way. I can just carry him and jump out the window. That way, no one will be alerted.”

“This is the second floor,” Mary reminded her.

"My highest record for jumping off a building is the fourth floor, Your Majesty, please rest assured," Albert assured him.

Mary was even more curious about Albert's past, but unfortunately, now was not the right time to ask.

Although the blond youth had made a promise, just in case, Mary still sent Seton downstairs first, found an excuse to temporarily divert the guards by the wall, and then had Albert carry the not-so-conscious poet down from the window and leave along the base of the wall.

Before Albert jumped out of the window, Mary said, "I don't want to see Chartreux staying in the palace anymore. You keep him under guard. Tomorrow morning, go and get one hundred pounds for him, and then send him directly onto the sailing ship bound for France. Remember, you must see him board the ship and the ship set sail before you come back to report to me."

Albert seemed thoughtful, then asked, "Your Majesty, you have an unusual leniency towards Châteauroux. May I ask why?"

“No,” Mary said coldly.

Albert looked disappointed, braced himself against the rocks outside the window and jumped down. After a few nimble climbs, Mary only saw a dark figure sway slightly and disappear into the grove of trees in the distance.

...

The next day, when Marquis Moreta, the envoy of the Kingdom of Savoy, came to bid farewell to Mary, she made a request of him.

“Your attendant David Lidjo is an excellent singer, and my chapel is in need of a bass. Would you be willing to part with him and let him serve at the Scottish court?” Mary asked.

She was referring to the young man who sang with Châteliaar at yesterday's banquet.

Morita paused for a moment, her eyes showing contemplation and doubt, but she quickly said calmly, "Of course, it is his greatest honor to remain in the Scottish court and serve Your Majesty the Queen."

Mary then consulted David Leejo, who beamed with delight and seemed very willing to accept the job with an annual income of sixty-five pounds. He happily bid farewell to his former employer.

...

Albert helped the distraught Châteauroux onto the ship and watched as the sailboat sped off under the captain's command, disappearing into the deep blue sea.

After doing all this, he returned to the Queen's study to report.

“Before leaving, Châteauroux asked me to deliver a letter to Your Majesty,” Albert said.

Mary opened it and saw yet another sonnet.

What is burning in my heart?

It is the raging fire of love.

What have I truly fallen in love with?

She is a goddess forged from cold ice and snow.

Dazzlingly bright, yet icy and clear.

Ah~

Goddess, why can't I win your heart?

Flames fell on the snow.

Only left,

The temperature gradually extinguished.

...

Mary couldn't help but smile.

Châteauroux was truly a very talented poet. If given time to grow, he would likely have become a renowned master of poetry, just like his good friend and Marie's former teacher, Ronsard.

With that thought in mind, Mary tucked the little note into a book as a keepsake.

She still remembered how she caused the young poet's death in her past life.

At that time, she was still very naive and foolish. After returning to Scotland, she could not accept the rudeness of her homeland and missed France and her previous artistic life every day.

With this mindset, she simply left all the affairs of Scotland to the Earl of Maurice, only responsible for attending celebrations, and then hiding in Holyrood Palace, where she had a large number of luxury goods and works of art purchased for her, and held private balls and salons with a few friends every day to discuss various poems and art.

Châteauroux was one of her friends during that time.

The poet, equally enamored with her, wrote her many love poems, but she paid them no heed. She neither rebuked nor punished those poems; instead, she continued to chat, dance, and hunt with him as if he were an ordinary friend.

She even secretly enjoyed and felt a sense of pride in being admired and pursued.

Emboldened by this implicit indulgence, the poet finally made the joke of sneaking into the Queen's bedroom three years later.

She screamed in terror, alarming everyone in the palace and Count Morrie. To protect her reputation as queen, Count Morrie and all the nobles in the council unanimously agreed to behead Châteauroux.

Thus, Châteauroux died on the guillotine, bearing the blame for offending the Queen.

It is said that he was still reciting poetry loudly before he died.

Now, she has changed the course of Châtelia's life, allowing him to return safely to his homeland, France.

This shows that fate is not unchangeable.

Thinking this way, Mary felt even better.

Seeing the Queen's smile, the blond youth's smile stiffened slightly, and he asked, "Your Majesty, since that poet's admiration for you is genuine and makes you so happy, why do you still insist on sending him back to France?"

Mary quickly wiped the smile off her face, regaining her composure. She closed the book and placed it on the shelf, saying, "His continued presence in Scotland will ruin my reputation. As for his so-called affection, a matchlock musket is far more useful to me."

Albert was stunned.

After a few seconds, the blond-haired youth said softly, "...I understand."