#valois tapestries

[latristereina]

Elephant, circa 1576

detail: Francis, Duke of Anjou, Margaret of Valois, Henry II, Duke of Lorraine

Quintain, circa 1576, Henry III in the foreground

Polish Ambassadors, circa 1576

Tournament, circa 1576

Barriers, circa 1576

Journey, circa 1576

Fontainebleau, circa 1580, Henry III and Queen Louise of Lorraine in the foreground

Water Festival at Bayonne, circa 1580-81, depicts festivities at the summit meeting between the French and Spanish courts at Bayonne in 1565

The Valois Tapestries

“The series is composed of eight tapestries, woven with wool, silk, silver and gilt metal-wrapped thread, commissioned around 1575 by Catherine de’ Medici to an unidentified Brussels atelier, based on cartoons by Lucas de Heere from drawings by court painter Antoine Caron.” (x)

The tapestries are in the Uffizi Museum in Florence (x)

[scotianostra]

22nd February 1540 saw Marie de Guise crowned Queen Consort of Scotland at Holyrood Abbey in Edinburgh.

James V’s first French bride, Madeleine of Valois, died in the summer of 1537. James had travelled to France to meet his first bride Madeleine but also had the opportunity to meet Mary of Guise. It was reported that Mary of Guise was second in his affections.

Mary avoided the marriage to James’s maternal uncle Henry VIII and went on in May 1538 to marry James by proxy in Paris, and later married him in person after her arrival in Scotland. Mary brought with her a dowry given by Francis I of France, father of James V’s first bride, and it was large enough to be of the same value as a French princess.

Of Mary of Guise, Margaret Tudor, the King’s mother, wrote to her brother Henry VIII, “I trust she will prove a wise Princess. I have been much in her company, and she bears herself very honourably to me, with very good entertaining.” Mary lefte behind her three-year-old son, who was now the Duke of Longueville, the half brother of the future Mary Queen of Scots, in the care of her mother, Antoinette de Bourbon

Mary’s coronation happened on this day 1540. She was pregnant at the time with her first son by King James.

A new crown was made for the occasion, which was set to take place in Holyrood Abbey. Ladies were summoned from all over Scotland to attend. The abbey was hung with tapestries, and items moved for the occasion from the Holyrood Palace chapel to Holyrood Abbey. A thirty-gun salute marked the occasion, and fireworks were lit at the other end of the Royal Mile up the hill at Edinburgh Castle. Mary used a gilded sceptre for the coronation, too.

Mary had a second son in 1541 with James V, and tragically, both of her sons died on the 21st April 1541, the elder boy being not quite a year and the younger being only a few days old.

Mary of Guise was Queen Consort of Scotland for less than five years before her husband died after the Battle of Solway Moss. This famously left the couple’s six-day-old daughter, Mary, as Queen of Scots. Mary of Guise had the Queen of Scots smuggled out of Scotland and to France when the child was about five years old.

Mary of Guise served as regent for her daughter from 1554 until 1560, while the Queen of Scots was being raised at the French court,

She passed away in 1560 and her body was returned to France and given to her sister Renee, abbess of the the church of Saint-Pierre-les-Dames, Reims, where she was interred in July 1561. A marble tomb was erected with a bronze statue of Mary, in royal robes, holding a sceptre and the rod of justice in one hand.

The tomb was destroyed during the French revolution.

[opera-simplified]

Opera Simplified #7: Les Huguenots—Part II

Les Huguenots

(The Huguenots)

Opera Simplified #7

The Basics:

Music: Giacomo Meyerbeer

Libretto: Augustin Eugène Scribe and Émile de Saint-Amand Deschamps

Premiere: February 29, 1836; Salle Le Peletier (Opéra national de Paris), Paris, France.

Based on: No direct source material except history, although some scenes (though not the plot as a whole) are likely very loosely based on scenes from Prosper Mérimée’s 1829 novel Chronique du règne du Charles IX (Chronicle of the Reign of Charles IX).

Setting: The French province of Touraine (Acts I-II) and Paris, France (Acts III-V); August 1572.

Characters:

Marguérite de Valois, Princess of France, sister of King Charles IX, and soon-to-be Queen of Navarre—soprano

Urbain, her favorite page—soprano*

Valentine de Saint-Bris, her favorite lady-in-waiting—soprano*

Raoul de Nangis, a Huguenot nobleman—tenor

Marcel, his servant and formerly grandfather’s ward, also a seasoned soldier—bass

Le Comte de Saint-Bris, Valentine’s father, leader of the Catholic noble faction, and governor of the Louvre—bass-baritone

Le Comte de Nevers, Valentine’s fiancé, a Catholic nobleman—baritone

Tavannes, also a Catholic nobleman—tenor

Cossé, another Catholic nobleman—tenor

Thoré, yet another Catholic nobleman—tenor

de Retz, still another Catholic nobleman—baritone

Méru, there are way too many extra Catholic noblemen in this opera—baritone

Maurevert, *sigh* ditto except he’s a Special Plotting One in Act III—baritone

Léonard, Nevers’ valet—tenor**

Bois-Rosé, a Huguenot captain—tenor

A nightwatchman—bass

Two ladies-in-waiting—sopranos

Two Catholic girls—soprano and mezzo-soprano

Two Roma girls—soprano and mezzo-soprano

Three monks—tenor and two basses

Henri de Bourbon, the Huguenot King of Navarre and Marguérite’s eventual husband—silent

*Note: While Urbain and Valentine were intended to be sung by sopranos, both roles have a history of being cast with mezzo-sopranos, although this is much more extensive in the case of Urbain than of Valentine.

**In some productions and recordings, Léonard is turned into a trouser role mezzo.

The Opera, Very Simplified: “Way out yonder somewheres, the Lord’s great heart must break at seein’ how men treat one another an’ say they’re doin’ it all for His sake.” -Carlisle Floyd, Susannah, Act I, Scene 5

This is Part II, aka Acts IV and V. If you haven’t read Part I (Acts I-III), here it is. Go read that first.

THE OPERA (or at least the last two acts of it):

ACT IV:

Evening, August 23. A hall in the Comte de Nevers’ townhouse in Paris. Portraits of Nevers’ ancestors and relatives line the walls. A large door and a Gothic window are at the back. On the left is a door leading to Valentine’s private apartments. On the right is a fireplace and a closet, the entrance to which is covered by a tapestry. Also on the right is a large window overlooking the street. Valentine enters alone and collapses onto a sofa.

Valentine: AT LAST I’M ALONE AT HOME **

wait. oh no. NOW I HAVE NOTHING TO DISTRACT ME FROM MY SORROW SO I GUESS I’LL VENT BECAUSE I HONESTLY REALLY NEED TO DO THAT

DAD THE REST OF MY LIFE IS GOING TO BE A LIVING NIGHTMARE BECAUSE YOU KNEW I’M IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE AND YET YOU MARRIED ME OFF ANYWAY

AND AS FOR YOU, GOD, YOU TURNED A DEAF EAR WHEN I BEGGED YOU TO HELP ME AND YOU ALLOWED THIS MARRIAGE TO HAPPEN ANYWAY AND I’M TRYING MY BEST HERE SO AT LEAST HAVE SOME PITY ON ME AND LET ME FORGET RAOUL BECAUSE OTHERWISE I JUST MIGHT LOSE MY MIND

I can’t stop thinking about Raoul; I spend my days crying and dreaming about him! And that only makes me feel more horrible, because I know it’s a sin to even think about him, much less be in love with him, and I want to forget him so badly, but I just can’t!

I hear his voice constantly everywhere—even here, in the very house I share with my husband, and it’s like I can’t hear anything else, not even the voice of my conscience, of God!

And that makes me feel the worst of all: I can’t even pray without thinking about him! I‘m trying with everything I have, I go and kneel before the altar and try to pray like a good Catholic, but every time, I see his face! GOD I JUST TRY TO PRAY BUT I CAN’T WITHOUT PICTURING HIM AND SEEING HIM EVERYWHERE

I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW RAOUL HAS THIS HOLD ON ME I CAN’T EVEN FOCUS ON GOD BECAUSE OF ALL THIS SO IT’S USELESS TO TRY TO ESCAPE HIM BECAUSE MY MESSED-UP BRAIN IS JUST GOING TO KEEP THINKING ABOUT HIM ISN’T IT MY GOD I CAN’T HELP IT I WANT TO FORGET HIM SO BADLY BUT MY MIND ALWAYS GOES BACK TO HIM AND I CAN’T HANDLE THIS ANYMORE

*Raoul appears in the back doorway and Valentine sees him.*

ARE YOU KIDDING ME

Please, God, just let me have ONE (1) GOOD DAY????????

God, somewhere: Oh my God, you again? Give it a rest, buddy!

Raoul: Yes…it’s me…look at me, coming here in the middle of the night like I’m a criminal or something…BUT I CAN’T HANDLE THIS ANYMORE I LOVE YOU AND I’M GONNA DIE OF DESPAIR

Valentine: WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE

Raoul: I WANT WAFFLE FRIES

Valentine: It’s 1572, those don’t exist yet, and I’m honestly kinda frightened WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME

Raoul: Nothing…only to see you one last time before I DIE

Valentine: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE GOING TO DIE ALSO SERIOUSLY WHY ARE YOU HERE DID YOU FORGET THAT MY DAD AND/OR MY HUSBAND COULD BE HERE

Raoul: Nope, I’m well aware of that.

Valentine: THEY’RE BOTH STILL REALLY MAD AT YOU AND IF THEY FIND YOU HERE WITH ME THEY’LL KILL YOU SO LEAVE SO YOU DON’T GET KILLED

Raoul: Actually, the part about them finding me here with you and then killing me is my exact plan.

*Footsteps are heard outside.*

Valentine: THERE ARE PEOPLE COMING GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE

Raoul: NOPE I’M STAYING HERE AND I’LL WAIT FOR THEM TO FIND AND KILL ME

Valentine: RAOUL THAT IS LITERALLY THE WORST IDEA OF ALL TIME

*She cracks open the door and looks into the hallway outside.*

RAOUL MY DAD AND MY HUSBAND ARE COMING AND IF THEY FIND YOU HERE I’LL BE DISHONORED AND RUINED FOREVER SO AT LEAST FOR MY SAKE PLEASE HIDE

*She hides Raoul in the closet. In the nick of time too, because almost immediately Nevers and Saint-Bris enter with four other Catholic noblemen.*

Saint-Bris: The Queen Mother has told us all to meet here. We’re all here, so, as she requested, it is now time for me to tell you about these plans, which have been in the making for a long time and which are protected by God!

Valentine: (Huh? I have a bad feeling about this…)

Saint-Bris: Valentine? What are you doing here?

Valentine: …I live here?

Saint-Bris: You. Out. Now.

Nevers: Hold up a second, why does she have to leave? I mean, I have no idea what our plans are beyond “religious matters that the royal family is getting involved in”, but she’s as devout a Catholic as any of us, so there shouldn’t be any issue with her learning about the supreme orders of our Queen Mother and our God!

Saint-Bris: …Fine.

*The nobles, including Nevers, gather around Saint-Bris.*

Do you want to save our country from going through more war?

Nobles: YES WE DO

Saint-Bris: Do you want to strike down the enemies of our government and our faith, enemies that lurk within our country and threaten to destroy our homeland?

Nobles: THAT SOUNDS AWESOME AND WE ARE SO READY TO DO THAT

Saint-Bris: Good! The sword of God’s wrath is now hanging over those very same enemies—within the next day, the Huguenots, every last wicked one of them, will be wiped off the face of the earth.

Valentine: (WAIT WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!)

Nevers: *stunned* But…who condemns them to this?

Saint-Bris: God!

Nobles: GOD!

Nevers: And who’s going to kill them?

Saint-Bris: We are!

Nobles: WE ARE!

Nevers: *horrified* We are? WE ARE???????????

*Saint-Bris looks at Nevers distrustfully and then begins a speech of the distinctly “lofty way of describing unspeakable horrors” kind, conspicuously aiming his words towards Nevers.*

Saint-Bris: In this holy cause, I will obey my God and my King, no questions asked, no misgivings, no fear! Count on my courage; I pledge my word and my faith to you!

Nobles: ALMIGHTY GOD SAVE OUR FAITH!!!! WE OBEY OUR KING!!!!!

Nevers: (WHAT ARE THEY SAYING????? I ONLY PLEDGE MY WORD AND FAITH TO WHAT’S HONORABLE AND GOOD)

Valentine: (How can I stop them? God, strengthen me, give me courage, and have mercy on me! Almighty God, have mercy on us all!)

Saint-Bris: *turning back to the nobles* Can the King count on you?

Nobles: YES HE CAN WE SWEAR IT

Saint-Bris: I’ll be leading you all; can I count on you too?

Nobles: WE WILL FOLLOW YOU

Saint-Bris and Valentine: (What??? Nevers isn’t saying anything!)

Valentine: (What is he going to say? I’m afraid…)

Nevers: *exploding* It’s all fine and good to fight on the battlefield, but NOT TO KILL UNARMED, DEFENSELESS PEOPLE JUST TRYING TO LIVE THEIR LIVES!!! To murder ordinary people in the dead of night, stabbing them with daggers like cowardly, common assassins—that’s not right, and I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT!!!

Saint-Bris: BUT THE KING HAS COMMANDED IT

Nevers: He may command me to, but I will not listen. This is dishonorable in the highest order, and I will not do it! I will not betray myself, my honor, my family, or anything I stand for!

*He gestures to the portraits on the walls.*

You see these portraits of my ancestors? I look at them and I see the glory of my heritage—I count many soldiers, but no assassins! And I’m not about to become the first!

Saint-Bris: So you’re betraying our faith?

Nevers: NO! But I refuse to join in this slaughter! And I will save my sword, the symbol of my nobility and honor, from such gross dishonor! I will not let it be used in this slaughter!

*He breaks his sword over his knee and throws it on the ground.*

Now take it! Here it is! LET GOD JUDGE BETWEEN US

Valentine: THANK YOU FOR BEING A GOOD PERSON FROM THIS MOMENT FORWARD I’M YOURS AND NO LONGER MY FATHER’S anyway come here I have to tell you something—

*Before she’s able to pull him aside and tell him what she was going to tell him [and we never find out what she was going to tell him], the door opens again and a crowd of constables, magistrates, and leaders of the city militia enters.*

Saint-Bris: *pointing to Nevers* Arrest the Comte de Nevers, my son-in-law. Hold him in jail until tomorrow. Until then, all of you will answer to me for him.

Valentine: (May Heaven calm my father’s wrath!)

Saint-Bris and Nobles: IN THIS HOLY CAUSE I WILL OBEY MY GOD AND MY KING NO QUESTIONS ASKED NO MISGIVINGS AND NO FEAR

Valentine: I’M FILLED WITH TERROR AND I CAN’T HANDLE IT GOD HAVE MERCY ON ME

Nevers: My cause is the truly just and holy one! I can and I must stand against this, I must stand up and resist my King!

*Nevers is arrested and led out through the back. Saint-Bris threateningly signals to Valentine that she must leave the room, so she goes into her private apartments but stands at the door, listening. A large group of nobles enters.*

Saint-Bris: You all have shown your devotion to God, our country, and the faithful people of our city by coming here today and answering God’s call. Now, we have a lot of logistics to get through for this operation, so EVERYONE LISTEN UP

Spread out through the city later tonight, when it’s dark and no one else is out. Get on every last street, and make sure that no one hears you. And then, there’ll be a signal—I will tell you about that in a moment—and at that signal, it will all begin!

Everyone Else: WE’LL ALL START AT THE SAME TIME

Saint-Bris: Now, it’s time to talk targets.

*He points to a man in the crowd.*

You, de Besme, and your soldiers will surround the Admiral’s house. LET HIM BE THE FIRST ONE TO DIE ***

Everyone Else: YEAH LET HIM BE THE FIRST ONE TO DIE

Saint-Bris: *pointing to another man in the crowd* Go to the Hôtel de Nesle! All the other Huguenot leaders will be there tonight, throwing a party to celebrate the wedding of Marguérite de Valois and the King of Navarre! ****

Everyone Else: YEAH GO TO THE HÔTEL DE NESLE AND KILL THEM ALL

Saint-Bris: ALRIGHT EVERYONE LISTEN UP THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT

When the bell of Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois rings for the first time, everyone be absolutely silent and very careful, and get your soldiers and weapons ready. *****

*He points to another man in the crowd.*

But you, run through the city and rouse the alarm! I’m counting on you to be discreet so the Huguenots don’t suspect anything!

*He addresses everyone once more.*

And when that holy bell rings for a second time, that will be the true signal! AT THAT SIGNAL OF HEAVEN’S VENGEANCE WE WILL ALL RISE UP AND KILL EVERY LAST HUGUENOT

God, who already hears and blesses you, will lead you! ONWARD CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS

*He leaves the room for a moment. Valentine pokes her head out the door on the left as everyone gets into place.*

Valentine: OH GOD HOW CAN I HELP HIM HE HAS TO LISTEN TO ALL THIS AND HE CAN’T EVEN GET OUT I WANT TO RUN TO HIS SIDE BUT IT’S WAY TOO RISKY

DEAR GOD THIS IS SO DANGEROUS PLEASE SAVE RAOUL AND LET ME DIE INSTEAD

*She goes back into her apartments. Saint-Bris returns with three monks, who carry baskets filled with white scarves and set them to the side.*

Saint-Bris and the Monks: GLORY BE TO THE GREAT GOD OF VENGEANCE AND TO THE FAITHFUL CHRISTIAN SOLDIER WHO SERVES HIM BY THE SWORD

*All the noblemen and city officials kneel as they draw their swords and daggers.*

Holy weapons, which will soon be soaked with unclean blood, by which God the Most High will strike down His enemies, be blessed!

*The monks bless the weapons.*

Everyone: GLORY BE TO THE GREAT GOD OF VENGEANCE AND TO THE FAITHFUL CHRISTIAN SOLDIER WHO SERVES HIM BY THE SWORD

*Saint-Bris points to two of the items he is wearing: a white scarf tied around one arm and the Cross of Anjou.* ******

Saint-Bris: Let all of us Catholics wear this white scarf and this unblemished cross so we can distinguish ourselves, Heaven’s chosen, from the others!

Saint-Bris and the Monks: SHOW NO MERCY START KILLING AND DON’T STOP KILL EVERYONE WHO FLEES OR TRIES TO HIDE FROM YOU

Everyone Else: STRIKE THEM DOWN

Saint-Bris and the Monks: IF ONE OF THEIR FIGHTERS IS BEGGING YOU FOR THEIR LIFE—

Everyone Else: STRIKE THEM DOWN

Saint-Bris and the Monks: SHOW NO MERCY KILL THEM ALL LET THEM ALL DIE BY THE SWORD AND THE FIRE INCLUDING THE ELDERLY AND THE WOMEN AND THE CHILDREN

ANATHEMA UPON THEM!!!

Everyone: ANATHEMA UPON THEM MAY THEY ALL BE DAMNED IN HELL

Saint-Bris and the Monks: God does not know them!

*Everyone with weapons holds them up, and as if it’s even possible, become more whipped up in the frenzy as they run forward.*

Everyone: GOD WILLS IT GOD COMMANDS IT SHOW MERCY TO NO ONE

GOD WILL GRANT US FORGIVENESS FOR OUR SINS IF WE SERVE HIM BY SLAUGHTERING HIS ENEMIES SO LET THE SWORDS GLEAM AND LET THE HUGUENOTS’ BLOOD FLOW BECAUSE WE WILL BE REWARDED IN HEAVEN FOR DOING THIS

GOD WILLS IT GOD COMMANDS IT SHOW MERCY TO NO ONE AND HE WILL GRANT US FORGIVENESS FOR OUR SINS IF WE SERVE HIM BY SLAUGHTERING HIS ENEMIES

GOD WILLS IT SPARE NO ONE HE WILL FORGIVE US GOD WILLS IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Saint-Bris: WAIT EVERYONE SHUT UP I HAVE SUDDENLY REALIZED THAT THERE MAY BE PEOPLE LISTENING IN ON US

A Monk: YEAH EVERYONE WHAT HE SAID SHUT UP

Saint-Bris: MAKE SURE NO ONE BETRAYS US

A Monk: WHAT HE SAID

Saint-Bris and the Monks: Let’s all leave without making any noise! But first…

*The monks signal for everyone to kneel and then bless them. The people rise after they have been blessed by the monks.*

Everyone: IN THIS HOLY CAUSE I WILL OBEY MY GOD AND MY KING NO QUESTIONS ASKED, NO MISGIVINGS, AND NO FEAR!!! COUNT ON MY COURAGE I PLEDGE MY WORD AND MY FAITH TO YOU

alright everyone now we really need to be quiet but we’ll start at midnight! don’t make any noise! make sure nothing betrays us and that they don’t find out about this! let’s go! but first…

*Despite having literally just said they need to be quiet, they choose to scream the next three words as loudly as possible.*

GOD WILLS IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

alright everyone we start at midnight! see you then!

*Everyone leaves. Raoul cautiously lifts the tapestry to make sure everyone has gone and then runs to the door at the back, but stops when he hears it being locked from outside. Valentine comes in through the door on the left.*

Valentine: WHERE ARE YOU GOING

*She tries to stop him.*

ANSWER ME RAOUL

Raoul: Where am I going?…I have to go help my brethren! I HAVE TO WARN THEM ABOUT THIS SO WE CAN STOP THEM FROM KILLING US ALL

Valentine: DO YOU WANT TO KILL MY FATHER AND MY HUSBAND???

Raoul: I MUST PUNISH MURDERERS

Valentine: But…it’s useless…they’re armed in the name of God—

Raoul: DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT

Valentine: I DON’T KNOW THIS IS JUST REALLY MESSED UP

Raoul: And this is the God that your religion worships! A God who orders you to massacre your fellow human beings, your fellow Frenchmen!

Valentine: DON’T BLASPHEME GOD IS MERCIFUL AND CARES ABOUT YOU HE WANTS YOU TO LIVE

*Raoul tries to find a way out of the room.*

DON’T LEAVE

Raoul: BUT I HAVE TO

Valentine: YOU’RE GOING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED

Raoul: BUT I’LL BE BETRAYING MY HONOR AND MY FRIENDS IF I STAY HERE

Every second, our destruction is coming closer, time is running out—just let me leave!

Valentine: BUT YOU’LL BE DEFENSELESS OUT THERE AND THEY’LL KILL YOU DON’T LEAVE RAOUL

Raoul: Valentine…

Valentine: YOU’RE THE ONLY GOOD THING IN MY LIFE

Raoul: THEY’RE ABOUT TO KILL ALL MY BRETHREN

Valentine: IF YOU GO I’LL DIE

Raoul: THERE ARE MORE IMPORTANT PRIORITIES HERE PLEASE JUST LET ME LEAVE

Valentine: I am going to figure out how to get you to stay here!

Raoul: I HAVE TO LEAVE YOU MY HONOR DEMANDS IT

Valentine: RAOUL PLEASE FOR MERCY’S SAKE JUST LISTEN TO ME

Raoul: I HAVE TO LEAVE

*Raoul frees himself from Valentine’s arms and runs toward the door (even though it’s locked), but she follows and stops him.*

Valentine: SO HELP ME GOD YOU ARE NOT GOING TO STEP OVER THAT THRESHOLD I WON’T LET YOU

Raoul: Don’t you know…I’m guilty of sin just by being here alone with you, listening to you?

Valentine: YOU DON’T THINK THAT I KNOW THAT??? But I do it anyway, because at this moment I only see you, and my only thought is that your life is in grave danger!

Stay here, Raoul! Since you love me, if nothing else, I’m begging you, stay here for my sake…IF YOU DIE THEN I’LL DIE TOO STAY HERE!!!!!!!!!

*She starts sobbing.*

Stay here—I love you!

Raoul: You love me? You love me??? YOU LOVE ME????????

WHAT RAPTURE AND BLISS IT’S AS IF YOUR WORDS CAME FROM HEAVEN ITSELF I CAN DIE HAPPY AT YOUR FEET RIGHT NOW

Valentine: …shit. Did I really just say that?!

Raoul: *ecstatic* You said it…YOU SAID IT!!!

You said it—you love me! It’s like a star has begun to shine in the darkness of my life…I’m reborn, this is the pure air of heaven itself…There, forever, forgetting, forgotten…You said it—you love me!

Valentine: OH GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE

Raoul: Speak again, make this moment last even longer, it feels like a dream, an indescribable dream…if it is a dream, let me never wake up!

Valentine: WHAT HAVE I DONE

Raoul: SPEAK AGAIN AND MAKE THIS MOMENT LAST LONGER IF IT’S A DREAM I NEVER WANT TO WAKE UP AGAIN

Valentine: OH GOD THE HOUR HAS STRUCK IT’S DEATH AND THERE’S NO FUTURE

Raoul: IF THIS JOY I FEEL IS A DREAM LET ME NEVER WAKE UP YOU SAID IT YOU LOVE ME

Valentine: DEATH HAS COME THE HOUR IS STRUCK THERE’S NO MORE FUTURE

Raoul: Night of love…

Valentine: Night of death!

Raoul: I HAVE A GREAT IDEA LET’S ESCAPE PARIS TOGETHER AND RUN AWAY WITH EACH OTHER

Valentine: NO THAT’S A TERRIBLE IDEA AND I’M TERRIFIED

Raoul: YOU SAID IT YOU LOVE ME

*He tenderly draws her toward the door.*

Come…let’s run away…

Valentine: No…stay here…

Raoul: Come…let’s run away…

Valentine: No…stay here…

Raoul: Come! Come!

*In the distance, the bell of Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois tolls for the first time. Raoul remains lost in the moment.*

Do you hear that?

Valentine: IT’S MAKING MY BLOOD RUN COLD

Raoul: It’s a cry of rage, rising from the darkness…

*He puts a hand to his face as if waking from a dream.*

Wait a second, where was I?

Valentine: You were by my side, Raoul!

Raoul: OH FUCK NOW I REMEMBER THAT BELL IS THE SIGNAL FOR THE MASSACRE NO NO NO

*He frees himself from Valentine’s embrace.*

NO MORE LOVE OR ECSTATIC BLISS I HAVE MASSIVELY FUCKED UP BY STAYING HERE WITH YOU I CAN SEE MY BRETHREN BEING SLAUGHTERED BEFORE MY VERY EYES MY FRIENDS NEED ME SO I CAN’T STAY HERE AND LISTEN TO YOU ANYMORE

I HAVE TO GO DEFEND THEM OR DIE WITH THEM

Valentine: YOU’RE JUST GOING TO COMPLETELY IGNORE OUR LOVE AND RUN OFF TO GET YOURSELF KILLED??? OVER MY DEAD BODY!!!

Raoul: NO MORE LOVE OR ECSTATIC BLISS I HAVE MASSIVELY FUCKED UP BY STAYING HERE WITH YOU

Valentine: RAOUL I THINK YOU’RE LOSING YOUR MIND WHY ARE YOU COMPLETELY IGNORING ME I’M TRYING TO MAKE SURE YOU DON’T DIE I’M ALSO GOING THROUGH A LOT OF SHIT WITH ALL THIS AND BESIDES YOU CAN’T DEFEND YOURSELF FROM THE POWER OF TRUE LOVE

Raoul: I CAN SEE MY BRETHREN BEING SLAUGHTERED BEFORE MY VERY EYES MY FRIENDS NEED ME SO I CAN’T STAY HERE AND LISTEN TO YOU ANYMORE I HAVE TO GO DEFEND THEM OR DIE WITH THEM

Valentine: RAOUL AT LEAST LISTEN TO ME OR ELSE I’LL DIE RIGHT HERE AT YOUR FEET

*The bell of Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois tolls for the second time. Valentine throws her arms around Raoul in an attempt to restrain him. The Saint Bartholomew’s Day Massacre begins.*

Raoul: THE END HAS COME THE HOUR HAS STRUCK HEAVEN WILLS THAT I MUST DIE AND MY FRIENDS NEED ME SO I HAVE TO GO DEFEND THEM

Valentine: *as if about to lose her mind* NO NO NO NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Raoul: YOU’RE TRYING TO STOP ME BUT SO HELP ME GOD I AM GETTING OUT OF HERE

Valentine: I’M NOT LEAVING YOU

Raoul: GOD GIVE ME COURAGE

Valentine: HERE JUST GO AHEAD AND STAB ME TO DEATH

*Raoul drags Valentine to the window.*

Raoul: LOOK LOOK SEE WHAT’S HAPPENING OUTSIDE SEE THOSE BLEEDING CORPSES

*Valentine finally realizes the true extent of what is happening.*

Valentine: OH GOD I’M LOSING MY MIND THIS IS ABSOLUTELY MONSTROUS AND EVIL

Raoul…they’ll kill you…have mercy…I feel like I’m dying…

*She faints.*

Raoul: VALENTINE WAKE UP I DON’T LIKE THIS VALENTINE WAKE UP!!! HEY, HELLO???

What should I do?…This is all just so terrible…Can I still resist her tears?

*The bell begins to ring again.*

NO I HAVE TO LEAVE

*Valentine begins to regain consciousness.*

MERCIFUL GOD PROTECT HER *******

*He jumps out the window to the street below. Valentine screams and faints a second time.*

Notes

Act V: **

Scene 1: ***

Shortly after midnight, August 24, the grand ballroom of the Hôtel de Nesle [one of the previously-named targets]. The Huguenot nobles have all gathered to throw a party for the celebration of Henri and Marguérite’s wedding. Much dancing ensues. Henri and Marguérite briefly appear with their royal entourage, including Urbain, and are greeted by the Huguenots before they leave. The bell of Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois rings repeatedly, but the Huguenots, unaware of what is happening outside, continue dancing until a loud noise is suddenly heard outside. Raoul rushes in, pale, disheveled, and covered in blood.

Raoul: TO ARMS EVERYONE THEY’RE SLAUGHTERING ALL THE HUGUENOTS AND THE FAR BANK OF THE SEINE IS OVERFLOWING WITH BLOOD AND THE GANGS OF HIRED ASSASSINS WILL BE HERE TO KILL US AT ANY MOMENT NOW

By the light of their torches, I saw soldiers running everywhere to slaughter us all, all in a frenzy…and in the darkness they were screaming “STRIKE THEM DOWN! GOD HAS CONDEMNED THEM!!!”

I saw unarmed warriors be murdered in the street…and the Catholics attacked Coligny’s house! With a thirst for vengeance in whatever hearts they may have had and with their cowardly daggers, they stabbed him to death—a thousand blows!

*He gestures to his clothes.*

HERE IS COLIGNY’S BLOOD

Huguenot Nobles: OH GOD THAT’S HIS BLOOD

Raoul: WHAT A MONSTROUS CRIME IT’S UNHEARD OF

Huguenot Nobles: THIS IS COMPLETELY UNHEARD OF WHAT A HORRIBLE CRIME ****

Raoul: …But we will not go down without a fight! VENGEANCE!!! IN COLIGNY’S NAME, VENGEANCE!!!

LET’S GET OUR WEAPONS AND FIGHT BACK AND GO TO THE DEFENSE OF OUR MARTYRS AND HEROES

Huguenot Nobles: LET’S GO

Raoul: WAR FOR WAR LET’S AVENGE THE SLAUGHTER OF OUR BRETHREN WITH THE BLOOD OF THEIR MURDERERS

Huguenot Nobles: THIS MEANS WAR

Raoul: LET’S GET OUR WEAPONS AND FIGHT BACK AND GO TO THE DEFENSE OF OUR MARTYRS AND HEROES

Huguenot Nobles: YES LET’S DO IT

Raoul: WE ARE NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS SITTING DOWN WE WILL FIGHT BACK AND AVENGE THIS MASSACRE

Raoul and Huguenot Nobles: YES LET’S GO GET REVENGE AND HELP DEFEND EACH OTHER AND WE’LL DIE TRYING IF NEED BE

*Raoul and the other men draw their swords. Everyone runs out of the Hôtel through every possible exit.*

Scene 2:

Shortly after the previous scene. A cemetery on the outskirts of Paris, with a Huguenot church in the background. Bullets have shattered some of the glass in the church windows. On the left is a door leading to the interior of the church; on the right is a gate that overlooks a crossroads. A group of Protestants, led by Marcel, hurriedly builds a barricade to protect the area. Marcel, who has been wounded, helps everyone else get inside the church and then frantically begins to search the area for Raoul, who appears soon after.

Raoul: MARCEL IT’S YOU I THOUGHT I RECOGNIZED YOU THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE

Marcel: MY GOOD MASTER RAOUL THANK GOD I GET TO SEE YOU AGAIN

Raoul: YOU WERE WOUNDED?!?!?!

Marcel: What does it matter?

Raoul: I WILL AVENGE THIS

Marcel: You really think you’ll be able to? We’re surrounded on all sides by the Catholics. This church is the only Huguenot church in all of Paris that they haven’t taken yet. This is our last refuge. The women, the children, all the defenseless are inside the church right now, waiting for death.

I know you want to be the hero, Raoul, but try as we may, there’s nothing we can do to stop this. All we can do now is share their death.

*They turn to go into the church, but Valentine, disheveled and out of breath, runs in with a white scarf on her arm and two more in hand.*

Valentine: WHERE ARE YOU GOING

Raoul: TO GLORY

Marcel: TO MARTYRDOM

Valentine: NO YOU’RE NOT GOING TO DIE GOD HAS INSPIRED ME AND HAS GUIDED ME TO YOU SO I CAN SAVE YOU

Raoul: WAIT DO YOU ACTUALLY HAVE A WAY TO SAVE US

Valentine: Yes!

*She hands them the extra scarves.*

Tie these white scarves onto your arms. The soldiers will let you through their lines and you’ll have safe passage all the way to the Louvre! Thankfully, I did a little extra planning just a bit ago and I got the Queen Mother to agree to let you be spared, if you want… *****

Raoul: Hold up. Is there a catch?

Valentine: …Yeah. You kinda sorta have to convert to Catholicism once you get there.

*Raoul and Marcel throw the scarves down.*

Raoul: NOPE NEVER I’M NOT BETRAYING MY FAITH IF I DID AS YOU ASKED I WOULD BE DISHONORED AND I STILL COULDN’T EVEN BE WITH YOU EVERYTHING KEEPS US APART AND ALSO YOU’RE MARRIED TO SOMEONE ELSE

Valentine: Actually, about that…let’s just say I can love you now without it being a sin.

Raoul: Wait, what?

Marcel: I hadn’t gotten the chance to tell you yet, but the only reason I’m not dead right now is because Nevers, that truly noble warrior, saved my life from a Catholic attack! He was so brave…and the Catholics murdered him! He is dead, God rest his soul.

Raoul [and also probably about half the audience]: WAIT NEVERS IS DEAD??? ******

Valentine: WE DON’T HAVE TIME TO TALK ABOUT THIS WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE

Raoul: Duty…love…what am I supposed to do? I CAN’T CHOOSE

Marcel: RAOUL FOR CRYING OUT LOUD

Raoul: Marcel…can’t you see that I actually have a chance of having a future, a life full of happiness with the woman I love?

Marcel: Can’t you see the hand of God that is stopping you?

Valentine: COME ON LET’S GO

Raoul: NOPE I’M STAYING HERE WITH MARCEL AND WE’RE GOING TO DIE FOR OUR FAITH

Valentine: SO, THEN, I’LL HAVE TO WATCH YOU DIE???

I’ll have to endure exile, without you, on this earth where we have suffered, where we have loved? Me staying here without you—YOU REALLY BELIEVE THAT?!?!?!

GOOD LORD NONE OF YOU MEN UNDERSTAND WHAT TRUE LOVE IS SO VERY WELL THEN I AM A WOMAN AND I WILL SHOW YOU WHAT TRUE LOVE IS

When we are so, so close to being together, you want to escape me through death? NOPE THAT IS NOT HAPPENING NOT ON MY WATCH I DON’T KNOW IF I’LL BE RISKING MY SOUL BUT COME HEAVEN OR HELL NO MATTER WHAT I’M NEVER LEAVING YOU AGAIN

EVERYTHING HAS TURNED UPSIDE DOWN AND I DON’T RECOGNIZE ANYTHING ANYMORE

You curse my faith…I embrace yours!

Now God can act in accordance with His will—we will be together on earth and in eternity!

WE’LL BE UNITED TOGETHER FOREVER ON EARTH AND IN ETERNITY

*She takes off her scarf, throws herself into Raoul’s arms, and bursts into tears.*

Raoul: OH MY GOD THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER

Marcel: (The Lord has shed His light upon her!)

Valentine: My faith is yours, my faith in God remains the same—but they will damn me for converting! Marcel, you’re a true father to me, bless us both in my new faith!

Raoul: There are no ministers here, and you’re the only other person I’d trust with uniting us in the sight of God.

Marcel: You don’t even have to ask—the answer is YES! I ACCEPT THIS HOLY TASK WITH THE GREATEST JOY

Let your old servant be your minister today!

*The refugees begin to sing their hymn in the church.*

Huguenot Refugees: O Lord, You are the strength and only support…

Marcel: Listen! The martyrs of the faith are praying…

Huguenot Refugees: …of we defenseless souls who implore You…

Marcel: …and they sing the praises of the Lord…

Huguenot Refugees: …as the eternal tempter arms himself against us today!

Marcel: …while awaiting death!

Huguenot Refugees: Come save us once more!

Marcel: You two, here in this place of sorrow…answer as if you were before God!

*Raoul and Valentine kneel before Marcel, who silently prays before beginning the ceremony.*

Do you know that by joining your hands here, I am blessing a farewell, a marriage that will only be fulfilled in death?

Raoul and Valentine: We know that we will only be united in Heaven.

Marcel: Have you cast aside everything tying you to this earth, any hopes you may have had for this life? Does faith alone live on in your hearts?

Raoul and Valentine: Yes, at last faith reigns peacefully in our hearts!

Marcel: Will you be able to look death in the face without trembling in fear? And whether you’ve lived in the faith all your life or this is your first day, will you have courage and not deny your faith…even in the face of martyrdom?

Raoul and Valentine: God gives us courage by giving us love!

*Marcel blesses Raoul and Valentine as the Huguenot refugees inside the church begin to sing again.*

Huguenot Refugees: O Lord, You are the strength and only support of we defenseless souls who impl—

*At this moment, the singing is suddenly cut off as the Catholic soldiers break into and barricade the church from inside so no one else can get in or out. Loud shouts and the sound of weapons are heard from inside; torches and weapons become visible through the church windows. The Catholics have begun their assault on the church.*

Catholic Soldiers: RECANT OR DIE HEAVEN COMMANDS IT YOUR TIME HAS COME SO RECANT OR DIE GOD WILLS IT

Huguenot Refugees: NO!!!

*Valentine rushes over to the windows and peers inside.*

Valentine: THESE ARE WOMEN AND CHILDREN!!! I KNOW YOU CAN’T HEAR ME BUT STOP IT YOU MONSTERS OH GOD THEY’RE KILLING EVERYONE

Huguenot Refugees: *singing their hymn* NO!!! GOD, DEFEND US!!!

*A round of shooting is heard from inside the church.*

Valentine: THEY’RE STILL SINGING

Raoul and Marcel: THEY’RE STILL SINGING

Catholic Soldiers: WE MEAN IT RECANT OR DIE HEAVEN COMMANDS IT YOUR TIME HAS COME SO RECANT OR DIE GOD WILLS IT

Huguenot Refugees: NO!!! NO!!!!!!!!

Valentine: THEY’RE KILLING THESE PEOPLE WHILE THEY’RE PRAYING OH GOD THEY’RE EVEN KILLING THE PEOPLE WHO ARE OLD AND SICK THEY’RE KILLING EVERYONE

Huguenot Refugees: *singing their hymn* NO!!! WE WON’T RECANT!!! GOD, DEFEND US!!!

*A second round of shooting is heard from inside the church. The Catholics and Huguenots continue screaming and singing inside the church as the former group gradually shoots down the latter.*

Valentine: THEY’RE STILL SINGING

Raoul and Marcel: THEY’RE STILL SINGING

*Valentine, in desperation, falls to her knees and begins to pray.*

Valentine: GOD YOU CAN DO ANYTHING SO HELP THEM…

Catholic Soldiers: RECANT YOU HERETICS

*A third round of shooting is heard from inside the church. After that, it is silent.*

Valentine: Our prayers are in vain…

Marcel: They sing no more.

*Raoul, Valentine, and Marcel all go completely silent, realizing what this means, and they put their heads in their hands and begin to weep. Suddenly, Marcel rises, his face beaming with rapture.*

LOOK! LOOK!!!!!!!!!!

LOOK HEAVEN HAS OPENED ITSELF UP AND IT IS SHINING GLORY TO GOD THE DIVINE TRUMPET HAS SOUNDED

Raoul and Valentine: (Look, his face is shining with light…)

Marcel: AND THE ANGELS ARE PLAYING A MATCH TO LEAD THE SOULS OF THE MARTYRS TO GOD

Raoul and Valentine: (His head is crowned with lightning! And his voice echoes through space—it’s like he’s one of God’s archangels!)

Marcel: These harps that I hear…

Raoul and Valentine: WE’RE WATCHING AND LISTENING

Marcel: …are showing me the way!

Raoul and Valentine: HE’S SHOWING US THE WAY

Raoul, Valentine, and Marcel: I’M FLYING THERE MYSELF THIS IS SUPREME BLISS

SWEET DEATH HOW I LOVE YOU FAREWELL TO THIS WORLD OF TEARS AND GRIEF

*A round of shooting is heard outside the cemetery gate. A group of soldiers tries to force the gate open but it does not budge. Some of the soldiers leave to get reinforcements.*

Catholic Soldiers: RECANT OR DIE HEAVEN COMMANDS IT AND GOD WILLS IT

Valentine, then Raoul and Marcel: NO!!! I’M NOT AFRAID OF YOU BESIDES NOTHING MORTAL REMAINS IN US

Catholic Soldiers: RECANT OR ELSE

Marcel: LOOK HEAVEN IS SHINING THE DIVINE TRUMPET HAS SOUNDED

Marcel, then Raoul and Valentine: GLORY TO GOD

Catholic Soldiers: (THEY’RE NOT AFRAID?!?!?!)

*The soldiers smash the gate in and swarm the cemetery.*

Raoul and Valentine: LOOK HIS FACE IS SHINING YOU COULD SAY HE’S AN ARCHANGEL

Marcel: THE ANGELS ARE LEADING THE MARTYRS’ SOULS TO GOD

Catholic Soldiers: RECANT HUGUENOTS RECANT OR DIE

Raoul, Valentine, and Marcel: WE’RE NOT AFRAID OF YOU AT ALL

*The soldiers offer them white scarves and Crosses of Anjou.*

Catholic Soldiers: RECANT!!!!!

Raoul, Valentine, and Marcel: ABSOLUTELY NOT HAPPENING

*The trio join hands and slowly walk forward, offering themselves to their would-be murderers. The Catholic soldiers involuntarily recoil, stunned at their sheer courage.*

HOSANNA DEATH I LOVE YOU HOSANNA FAREWELL TO THIS WORLD COME DEATH I LOVE YOU GO AHEAD AND STRIKE US DOWN

Catholic Soldiers: RECANT GOD WILLS IT RECANT OR ELSE YOU’LL DIE

Raoul, Valentine, and Marcel: HOSANNA COME DEATH FAREWELL WORLD

*Enraged, the soldiers surround Raoul, Valentine, and Marcel, separating them by force.*

Catholic Soldiers: RECANT OR DIE

Raoul, Valentine, and Marcel: WE’RE NOT AFRAID OF YOU GO AHEAD STRIKE US DOWN

Catholic Soldiers: DO YOU RECANT????????

Raoul, Valentine, and Marcel: NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*Raoul and Valentine manage to break free from the soldiers and run into each other’s arms, but the soldiers separate them again.*

FAREWELL WORLD

Catholic Soldiers: FINE YOU’LL DIE THEN

*The soldiers drag Raoul, Valentine, and Marcel through the remains of the gate. The moment they enter the crossroads, there is another round of shooting.*

Scene 3: *******

Just after the previous scene. A quay by the Seine; the sky is filled with stars. Bells ring in the distance as another band of Catholic soldiers sweeps the area.

Catholic Soldiers: LET US WIPE OUT THE HUGUENOTS WITH FIRE AND SWORD NO MERCY BECAUSE NONE OF THEM ARE INNOCENT AND ALL OF THEM MUST DIE

SOLDIERS OF THE CATHOLIC FAITH LET US HUNT DOWN AND KILL ALL THE HERETICS

*Valentine and Marcel rush in with Raoul, who has been mortally wounded.*

GOD WILLS IT GOD WANTS THEIR BLOOD

*Saint-Bris enters from the opposite direction with several of his men.*

Saint-Bris: WHO GOES THERE

Valentine: Raoul, for mercy’s sake, don’t say any—

Raoul: I AM A HUGUENOT

Valentine and Marcel: SO ARE WE

Saint-Bris: SHOOT THEM IN THE NAME OF THE KING

*The soldiers shoot Raoul, Valentine, and Marcel. Raoul and Marcel are instantly killed. Valentine is mortally wounded. Saint-Bris steps forward to take a closer look, and then…*

Saint-Bris: Ah—what do I see here…?

MY DAUGHTER?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

*Valentine just barely manages to lift herself up.*

Valentine: Yes, it’s me! I go to pray for your soul…I’m going to pray for you!

*She dies.*

Urbain: *in the distance* MAKE WAY FOR THE QUEEN OF NAVARRE

Catholic Soldiers: LET US WIPE OUT THE HUGUENOTS WITH FIRE AND SWORD AND LET’S HUNT DOWN AND KILL ALL THE HERETICS

*Marguérite and her entourage (including Urbain), enter on their way back to the Louvre.*

GOD WILLS IT!!!!!!!!!!! GOD WANTS THEIR BLOOD!!!!!!!!!! YES, GOD WANTS THEIR BLOOD!!!!!!!

*Marguérite stops, horrified at the sight of the massacred Huguenots, and tries to stop the soldiers, but they ignore her. She sees Valentine’s corpse and screams in despair.

The Saint Bartholomew’s Day Massacre continues.*

THE END

Notes and Appendix

One Final Note:

If you are reading this, then in Paris time it is at or past midnight on August 24, 2022.

August 24, 2022, is the 450th anniversary of the beginning of what has become known as La Saint-Barthélémy, also known as the Saint Bartholomew’s Day Massacre.

The first night of the Saint Bartholomew’s Day Massacre, the night which ends our story here, was really only the beginning. In the end, the Massacre took the lives of tens of thousands (estimates as to exactly how many tens of thousands vary, and range up to one hundred thousand [100,000] slaughtered, but you get the point) of Huguenots in the late summer and early fall of 1572.

The author would thus like to dedicate this Opera Simplified, and in particular the last two acts, to not only all the victims both known and unknown of the Massacre, but to all victims of genocide and all victims of other acts born of hatred and bigotry, particularly on the basis of religion.

May they all rest in peace, and may atrocities like this never happen—or be allowed to happen—again.

[travelwithflere]

“Ode De La Paix”: the left side of the painting is inspired by "Fête nautique sur l'Adour", one of the Valois tapestries currently on display @chateaufontainebleau. In 1565, festivities were organized in Bayonne to celebrate the sustainable peace between France and Spain. Originally designed by Antoine Caron, an artificial whale represents War, successfully attacked from various boats, while from a barge, fashionably dressed courtiers look on, sporting outfits last seen at the 2022 Met Gala. In the foreground, Ronsard, who helped plan and design the 1571 royal entrance in Paris, converses with Marguerite de Valois and Charles III of Lorraine. Just above the group, the updated replica of a sumptuous gold gift presented by the city of Paris to Charles IX, features the royal family topped by a plastic dolphin toy. Oil on canvas, 2022. #valoistapestries #renaissance #antoinecaron #tapestries #tapisseriedesvalois #whale #pierrederonsard #partylikeavalois #odedelapaix #ronsardlere #oilpainting #fredericlere (at Trôo) https://www.instagram.com/p/CeMjklbLRo7/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[chicot-premier]

Just to let you know

I am still alive and I will be reblogging my series of posts from last year about the Valois Tapestries starting tomorrow. So stay tuned for a blast from the past for this blog and the history of the Valois family.

[rhianna]

Fontainebleau, from the Valois Tapestries, c. 1576. Woven under the direction of Master WF, Brussels. Wool, silk, silver and gilded silver metal-wrapped thread; 395.5 x 338 cm. Gallerie degli Uffizi, Palazzo Pitti, deposit, Florence, Arazzi n. 473. Photo: Roberto Palermo

http://www.clevelandart.org/exhibitions/renaissance-splendor 

Renaissance Splendor: Catherine de’ Medici’s Valois Tapestries 

The Uffizi Galleries and the Cleveland Museum of Art

[figurationoftheinvisible]

My professor says that we are the woof, and the warp are the external forces of the world. We are the woof in the warp. The warp is history, it happens whether we partake in it or not. It was here before we arrived, and it will be here after we're gone. The term comes from weaving, I think he got the idea from Moby Dick.  

The warp includes: historical forces, objective categories, material categories moving history in a particular way. The means of the production and the relations of production, colonialism, imperialism, manufacturing industries, political movements, ideological forces, natural disasters, governments, etc etc etc. Art, music, theatre, civic institutions, education and religions are always there, playing their part. There are natural laws, hard survival limits we must contend with. Cultural forces: the idea that masculinity is defined in a certain way, the idea that femininity is defined in a certain way, that new genders are now defined in a certain way. The world is defined for us, not by any one force, but by what he's calling the warp of history. It just is.

Human beings take part in these historical forces. For example, the tailors and shoemakers became the radicals on the forefront of a 19th-century revolution because they lost their jobs due to the emergence of a mass-production industry they couldn't control or compete with. Writers and creatives generate works in response to it (like Charles Dickens’ empathetic portrayals of the working class of industrial London), and those in turn spur the public imagination. But every human being interacts with these historical forces to varying degrees. History is a continuous weaving of people with historical moments. Each individual goes through history in very different ways, but we are all going through history, a world into which we were born but that we did not choose. This interweaving creates the tapestry of history, and of our lives, and in this weaving, patterns emerge, patterns in history. Image: Unknown Valois weavers, Ball held in 1573 by Catherine de Medici in honor of Polish envoys, wool, silk, and metal-thread tapestry

[beardofkamenev]

Things that probably belonged to Owen Tudor:

Did you know that Owen Tudor’s illegitimate son, Sir David Owen (c. 1459–1535), bequeathed a number of valuable items in his will that may have once belonged to his father? These include:

Two chalices of silver and gilt with the “letters ‘OWEN’ graven on it” (4 marks each);

These were granted to the parish churches of Easebourne, Midhurst, Fernhurst, Lodsworth, and Wotton on the condition that the priests keep a early obit for the souls of Henry VII (David’s nephew, died 1509), Henry Owen (his son), Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond and Jasper, Duke of Bedford (his half-brothers, died 1456 and 1495), his father (Owen, executed 1461) and mother, his first wife (Mary de Bohun, died c. 1500), and “all Christian souls”.

A ‘trussing bed’ (travelling bed) of black velvet and russet satin, embroidered with wolves and swallows with the letters ‘O’ and ‘N’ in gold and “divers other flowers embroidered”, with matching tester and curtains;

The swallow (or martlet) was a device used by Owen Tudor, also found on Edmund and Jasper’s arms. During the Wars of the Roses, Owen’s swallow badge became associated with  other members of the Tudor family (namely Jasper and Henry VII), and was evoked in contemporary Welsh political poetry to signal the poets’ hopes for the restoration of British rule.

Three bowls of “silver pounced” with a cover and a wolf’s head with a ring in his mouth upon the cover, parcel gilt;

A salt of silver and double gilt, with a wolf upon the cover with roses and suns and the foot a root of a tree made of silver and gilt;

A chafing dish of silver “with a wolf’s head thereupon”;

The wolf was another prophetic symbol associated with the mab darogan (son of prophecy), destined to expel the Saxons from Britain. A mid-15th century copy of one of these prophecies describes the figure of “Owain” as “a wolf in the van[guard]” — an association that might have compelled Owen Tudor to take the wolf as one of his badges.

Five pieces of arras (rich tapestry), made with imagery of King Henry V, King Henry VI, the Duke of Clarence, the Duke of Bedford, the Duke of Gloucester, and other great men.

Leanda de Lisle speculates that these tapestries were likely gifted to Owen by his long-dead wife Catherine de Valois, the widow of Henry V and mother of Henry VI.

[histoireettralala]

Isabeau vs Yolande- Education and preparation.

Not much is known of the first 14 years of Isabeau's life and, had she not made such a spectacular match, she might have remained a minor genealogical footnote in the annals of the Wittelsbach clan. It was only with her marriage to Charles VI that Bavarian chroniclers started to take an interest in her: the Benedictine monks of either St. Ulrich and St. Afra's Abbey, Augsburg, or St. Emmeran's, the Imperial Abbey of Ratisbon (Regensburg), henceforth describe her as being endowed with "perfect virtue, remarkable beauty, graceful manners and most elegant morals." Isabeau had sufficient Latin to read her Hours, the Lives of the Saints, and the chronicled deeds of her ancestors, but her favored reading was of epic poems written in Bavarian, strong on the honor of the ducal court and exalting the virtues of womanhood. Isabeau benefited from none of the formative advantages enjoyed by Yolande of Aragon, rendering her ill-prepared for the turns of fortune's wheel that lay ahead of her. There seems to be little or no evidence that she had received any solid education in the responsibilities of the management of a princely household, let alone the government of an important duchy, much less a kingdom. Her mother, Taddea Visconti, died when she was 11, and there is no evidence as to any exemplary factual foremother or actual kinswoman from whom the young Isabeau might have drawn example or comfort.

[..]

Violant of Bar and her daughter, Yolande of Aragon, were fluent in several languages, the crown of Aragon being a multilingual conglomerate of territories; however, the ill-equipped and poorly tutored Isabeau appears not to have grasped even the rudiments of French and the three-year interval from her marriage to her coronation. Françoise Autrand relates that, in the aftermath of the gift-giving and ceremonials of Isabeau's coronation and her combined official entry with Valentina Visconti, while both Charles VI and Valentina, who had been meticulously brought up by her grandmother, Bianca of Savoy, spoke graciously to thank the assembled bourgeoisie and people of Paris for their gifts and good wishes, Isabeau reportedly remained silent. The wedding and coronation of Yolande, infanta of Aragon, was a distinct departure from the apparent afterthought of Isabeau of Bavaria's coronation. Although Yolande had married a cadet prince of the House of Valois, Louis II, Duke of Anjou, her husband, held titular rights over the the kingdoms of Naples and Jerusalem, an appellation, which, by virtue of his very specifically devised coronation, placed him spiritually above other European monarchs.

Zita Eva Rohr- Yolande of Aragon (1381-1442) Family and Power. The Reverse of the Tapestry

[olivia-longueville]

Royal eccentricity: the wrestling match of two kings

The history of wrestling stretches into ancient times.  It was first described in the Greek literature, including in Homer’s legendary literary works such as the Iliad and the Odyssey.  Greek wrestling was a popular form of martial art, and it was featured as a sport since the eighteenth Olympiad in 704 BC.  After the country’s subjugation by the Romans, Greek wrestling was highly influenced by Roman culture during the period of the Roman Empire.

                         Men wrestling, detail of an ancient Greek cup

In the Middle Ages and in the Renaissance era, wrestling was practiced by both the nobility and the lower classes.  The modern history of wrestling commenced with a rise of its popularity in the 19th century, and nowadays it is a sport for the masses.  During the Field of Cloth of Gold of 1520, there was a particularly remarkable wrestling match that happened sometime between the 7th and 24th of June 1520 between King Henry VIII of England and King François I of France.

The Field of Cloth of Gold took place near Calais between the monarchs of France and England in an attempt to preserve the peace established by the Treaty of London of 1518 (a non-aggression pact between the major European nations), and to create an alliance against Charles V, who had been elected Holy Roman Emperor in 1519.  In reality, this summit was a throw-down of riches and power in the guise of a constant competition between Henry and François.

At the time, François needed Henry more than his rival needed him.  After Charles von Habsburg had become the most powerful man in Christendom, France was encircled by the Habsburg territory.  Given the Spanish wealth and the might of their armies, François felt that his country could be in peril, so he was seeking allies against the emperor.  François was also intending to restore what he considered his rightful inheritance – the Duchy of Milan and a few other lands in Italy.  To change the balance of power in Europe, François needed to have Henry as his ally.

The two kings and their courts spent three weeks of partying.  They were involved in jousting, games, and lavish festivities; tents of gold fabric populated the area.  According to contemporary sources, 4,100 animals were slaughtered over the course of the meeting.  Malmsey and claret flowed from drinking fountains, and into the mouths of the French and the English.  The monarchs exchanged gifts and declarations of their “undying love and loyalty” to each other.  In the midst of all that spectacular entertainment, Henry once beat François in an archery contest, and as the wine and success went to his head, he challenged his Valois rival to a wrestling match.

A tapestry of  the meeting of Henry VIII and François I, circa 1520, Tournai

At first, François hesitated.  He was concerned that if he won the contest, his victory over the narcissistic and spoiled Henry would eradicate all his attempts to make the man his ally.  Nevertheless, Henry seems to have been insistent, and François, who was a man of chivalrous nature and high aspirations, finally consented to fight against his Tudor counterpart.  François could be as inebriated as Henry was, and his kingly ego did not allow him to refuse the challenge.

Historical accounts of the fight itself are scarce.  The two kings went in search of a suitable place for a match.  Imagine that they were both attired in their magnificent outfits!  Both men were renowned for their great height.  Henry excelled in Cornish wrestling (a style established in Cornwall in South-West England), while François wrestled in gouren (a style of folk wrestling that was established in Brittany), or Breton wrestling.   The main difference between these two styles was in the type of jacket used: the Breton jacket was tight, while the Cornish wrestler wore it loose.

François and Henry before the fight, from the Showtime series ‘The Tudors’

We don’t know how exactly the fight took place.  Most likely, the two courts assembled around their sovereigns, watching their sovereigns fight and each of them cheering their own liege lord.  Eventually, François outmaneuvered his counterpart and threw him to the ground.  Outwardly, the King of England took his defeat calmly, but inside he must have been boiling with anger, and perhaps, Cardinal Wolsey had to persuade his temperamental king not to destroy the Anglo-French friendship, just as it is shown in one of the episodes in the Showtime series ‘The Tudors’.

Without a shadow of a doubt, Henry’s egotistical soul could not forget and forgive his failure to beat François.  The French ruler’s victory became a harbinger of Henry’s future alliance with the emperor.  Within two years of the summit, Henry and Charles would join forces and declare war on France, and François would be captured at Pavia in 1525.  Nonetheless, years later, Henry would align with François again for the sake of his Valois counterpart’s support of Henry’s marriage to Anne Boleyn.  Royal friendships and alliances are fickle, aren’t they?

[heartofstanding]

What probably bad (but possibly decent) historical fiction novel should I read next?

The Bartered Queens, Freda M. Long (Isabelle and Catherine de Valois)

Brother Bedford, Brenda Honeyman (John, Duke of Bedford)

A Tapestry of Treason, Anne O'Brien (about Constance of York, Aumerle's sister)

Monmouth Harry, A. M. Maughan ( ~the~ novel about Henry V)

Follies of the King, Jean Plaidy (Edward II)

Epitaph for Three Women, Jean Plaidy (Catherine de Valois, Eleanor Cobham & Joan of Arc)

The King's Concubine, Anne O'Brien (Alice Perrers)

The Queen's Choice, Anne O'Brien (Joanne of Navarre)

The Fair Maid of Kent, Caroline Newark (Joan of Kent)

The People's Queen, Vanora Bennett (Alice Perrers)

Blood Royal, Vanora Bennett (Catherine de Valois)

The Queen of Last Hopes, Susan Higginbotham (Margaret of Anjou)

Stormbird, Conn Iggulden (Wars of the Roses)

(these are all books I own)

[scotianostra]

On 11th June 1560, Mary of Guise, Regent of Scotland, died.

A longer post than I am used to, but I think it is necessary to set the scene for the reign of Mary Queen of Scots and why she had such a torrid time as Queen.

Mary is perhaps best known as the Mother of Mary Queen of Scots but there was a lot more to her than this, she was a very powerful woman. From her description you can tell where her daughter got her looks and height, Mary at age of eighteen was tall and attractive with auburn hair, was married to Louis II of Orleans, Duke of Longueville, who held extensive estates in Normandy and the valley of the Loire. The marriage produced two sons unfortunately the Duke died of smallpox in 1537 leaving her a widow at twenty one.

Enter James V King of Scots who had also lost his spouse Madeleine of Valois, if you remember from a previous post Madeleine was a fragile woman prone to sickness, the harsh Scottish climate was blamed for her early demise aged just 16 but she had been a sickly child before moving to Scotland.

Also in the frame for Mary’s hand was a certain Henry VIII of England, Henry by now, he was now looking for wife number 4. An exchange between the two is said to have gone something like this, he remarked on her fine stature she retorted with the witty repartee that although her body was big, she had a very small neck, perhaps alluding to Anne Boleyn’s neck having the misfortune of connecting with and axe severing her head from her body!!

Mary was married to James of Scotland by proxy in Paris in May 1538 and at in person at St Andrews after her arrival in Scotland. The couple had two sons James born in 1540 and Robert a year later, the two died within a few days of each other in April 1541.

Meanwhile relations between James and Henry were at a low, Henry called James to meet him at York, Henry even sent his tapestries there in preparation of the meeting in September 1541, James snubbed him, saying his wife was pregnant and he did not want to leave her. The snub  might have been part of the reason that the armies of Scotland and England met at Solway moss the following year, it was a crushing defeat by the English and James died the following month, on his deathbed he would hear that his wife had given birth to Mary Queen of Scots. Although there were few soldiers killed at Solway Moss, more than 1200 of James’ army were taken prisoner, amongst them some of our top nobles. Henry was determined to impose his will on the weakened Scottish kingdom and permanently end its alliance with catholic France.The Treat of Greenwich was signed agreeing that the young Queen would be taken to England and brought up in the English court of Henry, then married to his son, it was largely agreed to by those nobles who were prisoners of the English, although not entirely.

The Scottish Parliament dissmissed the treaty out of hand and big bad Henry sent an army to lay waste to Scotland and force the treaty through, the phrase “I lyke not thys wooyng.” is said have derived from historian, Patrick Abercromby’s account of the war that followed, although it would not be popularised till many years later by Walter Scott, since then it was used regularly.

After a Scottish defeat at the Battle of Pinkie Cleugh in September 1547, French military aid weakened English resolve and increased the power base of Mary of Guise, who remained in Scotland, but to protect the young Queen Mary Stewart was sent to France in 1548.

The government of Scotland was first entrusted to James Hamilton, 2nd Earl of Arran, as Regent, like many before and after him he would change sides over the years, first being firmly encamped as a protestant before becoming a catholic and in 1554, he surrendered the regency to Mary of Guise. The Guises had trained her well in the craft of Government, but little could have prepared her to deal with the unreliable Scots, the reformation was in full swing and the Protestant Lords did not trust a catholic Regent. She had no confidante to turn to and communication with France took time. She had to rely on her family’s recognition of the strategic importance of a Scottish alliance for both France and the Catholic Church. Of course the Protestant Lords were unhappy that ties with the Catholics of France were becoming stronger but were encouraged by the crowning of Elizabeth I in 1548 and they hoped to gain advantage through this. The country was more or less in a state of Civil war as events leading to the Reformation took hold.

Among the Regent’s ambassadors were the Earl of Argyll and Lord James Stewart, Earl of Moray, both professed Protestants. When the Mary of Guise stationed French mercenaries in Perth, both abandoned her and joined the Lords of the Congregation at St Andrews, where they were also joined by John Knox. Even Edinburgh soon fell to them in July, as Mary retreated to Dunbar. On 25 July 1559 a truce and treaty promised religious tolerance, the truce did not last long.

The Lords of the Congregation had established a provisional government. However, Mary of Guise was reinforced by professional French troops, strengthening her hand and it looked at one stage as if she had the upper hand, victory was in her grasp. Fighting continued in Fife. All seemed lost for the Protestant side until an English fleet arrived in the Firth of Forth in January 1560, which caused the French to retreat to Leith. The following month the Scottish Lords of the Congregation signed The Treaty of Berwick and the Queen of England, sent an English land army into Scotland to join their Scottish allies in besieging the French at Leith.

She died of dropsy on 11th June 1560. Her body was wrapped in lead and kept in Edinburgh Castle for several months. In March 1561, it was secretly carried from the castle at midnight and shipped to France. Mary, Queen of Scots attended her funeral at Fécamp in July 1561. Mary of Guise was interred at the church in the Convent of Saint-Pierre in Reims, where Mary’s sister Renée was abbess. A marble tomb was erected with a bronze statue of Mary, in royal robes, holding a sceptre and the rod of justice in one hand. The tomb was destroyed during the French revolution.

Of Mary’s five children, only her daughter Mary survived her, and we all know what happened to her……..

This blog post here gives more detail on Marie here https://thefreelancehistorywriter.com/2012/10/01/marie-of-guise-queen-of-scotland/

Pics are of the Lady and plaques remembering her at Edinburgh Castle and South Leith Parish church, the stained glass is at The Magdalen Chapel in The Cowgate, the only the only stained glass that survived the Scottish Reformation in its original location.

[hunterartemis]

The Assistant: Chapter 14 (finale): Ainsi Tu Seras

Words: 9952 (my longest)

No summary for this one. Because of Spoilers!! (Doctor Who fans will get it)

Chapter Theme: (not one but 2): Together or Not at All, by Murray Gold: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Gam8ogWBLk

(the picture: Amanda Abbington as Mary Morstan in Sherlock. I do imagine her as Audrey Page, and she has all the qualities of her)

“Mum...” Maxine whimpered in the tears of joy, “is that you?”

Audrey didn’t reply her right away. She kept standing in front of her, still and serene. Her wide blue eyes all upon her daughter, her wand in her right hand and the tip on the left palm, like a small hunter crop; there was no joy of meeting her long lost daughter, neither the look of victory after killing of her daughter’s enemy. There was a coldness, the same coldness Newt used to see on Maxine’s face—as if what she has done was done out of a sense of duty, or obligation as if there was no passion behind it. Her crow’s feet moved a little as she smiled obligatorily.

“Hello, Maxine... it’s nice to finally see you.” Her eyes quickly veered towards the Paterfamilias of the Valois, Hrothgar, who looked like there was a ghost standing in front of him.

“I really like that look on your face, it’s just like I imagined” Audrey now looked at Maxine, “you know, I always knew you will turn out like me the moment you were born” she came closer to Maxine and stroked her face with her thumb, “in beauty, in intellect... and you know, mother’s instincts are never wrong—thank you for keeping me close for all those years.”

A stray tear that gathered in Maxine’s eye stooped to fall on her pearly cheeks, her eyes looked bewildered to an extent, almost maddening. Those words seemed to have an estranged effect on her, she felt that it was not the same mother, she knew who wrote all those letters, all those years ago “What are you talking about?” she exclaimed with a desperate whisper, “you’re my mother, the only relation that mattered to me in the world. All those years—after all those torturously lonely days filled with humiliation...” her voice strengthened with deep gratitude, “only you were the one who understood me... there is no word in the world with which I could say how much I love you.”

Everyone in the room stood in their places like marble sculptures to witness the events unfolding. Maxine wondered why anyone in the room hadn’t tried anything to stop that woman who killed the son-in-law of the French diplomat; how could they—it was a strange day in December, a strange gathering of wizards under roof of the Catholic church at the heart of Paris, a strange day that unfolded perhaps the most scandalous truths about one of the most reputed family in all of Europe. It is the nature of all man—noble, royal or common—to see an old power fall and shatter into pieces. There was a forbidden joy in that, like seeing a nun or a queen naked. There was an odd rush in that which stopped all senses to respond, keeping the eyes and ears extraordinarily acute for witnessing and for the recording that will surely be embedded into every living memory. And there was a common truth: a noble stays mute when noble is disrobed.

“So tell me, mum...” Maxine went a little closer to her mother, “so tell me you knew everything and killed Anatole to save me from him... tell me. Tell me that, or they will put you into Azkaban” her voice shook when she saw no change in Audrey’s face. Her distant vacant eyes were unreadable and suddenly smirk graced her thin lips.

“Don’t worry dear, that’s the least of my worries.” Audrey waved her words quite serenely and turned away towards the wedding guests, and now Maxine could really understand what was happening and why the ministers stood still. They had a mist about them, even the vapour of their breath froze still like they were in a photograph. Maxine turned to Newt and there he was: his sea-green eyes fixated into a glassy image of shock, looking up like some subject in a divine painting, just like Maxine saw him in Notre Dame.  She looked at Audrey with bafflement.

“Why is that?”

“Perpetuity spell darling...” Audrey spoke coolly, “everyone except you and I is locked in their previous time-stream. A high-level of magic, not even Dumbledore shall dare to try it.” She laughed on her own with a satisfactory vanity, “but then again not everyone is Dumbledore and delusional like him. Working as an Unspeakable has its perks.” She turned towards Maxine and found her daughter looking at her with disbelief.

“Oh c’ mon now, don’t pretend you aren’t used to all—breaking rules!” Audrey shook her hand in a casual manner, adding a bit of smile, a peculiar kind. A smile only smiled by an adult in front of a child, a smile to be faked to that child and repeated with ‘everything is going to be fine’. “I know how they raised you, I know how they pushed you aside and locked you up like the Dragon in the Tower. Oh, I know... I knew all the time when I had you. Because it was the same with me. Darling, muggles , and wizards are not very different—they detest anything that is out of the norm. I used to be locked up too... and one day, I had it enough, and next thing I remembered—I was standing beside my dead muggle parents.”

“So what do you want to say? I am like you?” Maxine threw the question with a challenge, “please... I am not an idiot. Yes, my step-family had been horrible to me, every day is a cold war. My so-called family refused to come to my failed wedding--” Maxine added sardonically after looking at Anatole’s dead-cold body with a mild disregard, “but it doesn’t mean I am like you. I am not going to kill my father just because he is a little bit too harsh on me—he is a diplomat and he being alive saved me a lot of shit--” Maxine pointed upwards, at the way where she displayed the memory tapestry, “in case if you missed—and he was actually there for me, now I have realised when you loitered around the shadows...” Maxine took a deep breath as if to gain some energy for something she was about to do “WHERE WERE YOU ALL THOSE YEARS I NEEDED YOU AT MY SIDE? WHERE. THE. HELL. HAVE. YOU. BEEN. WHEN EVERYTHING AROUND ME WERE FALLING INTO PIECES”

Audrey couldn’t speak for several moments, then when she gained her voice, her wide blue-eyed lowered, in guilt or in possible shame, “oh darling... if you only knew I had been through--”

“I understand you’ve been through a lot, but you are my freaking mother, and I need an explanation. My model family won’t tell me a thing, so I suggest you talk now.” Maxine venomously snapped as her rage spilled into her previous tears.

Audrey veered her eyes towards the stained glass window. Her face glowed in pink, blue and purple, softening her wrinkles and the tears that she was about to spill. She didn’t look at Maxine straightaway but at Hrothgar. Her wide blue eyes streamed with tears that seemed to be held back behind the dam of years of pain and resentment, “he was everything to me, the perfect person—so kind, so...compassionate. I alone and sad when I was sent to the French Ministry and he saw right through me. The amazing insight he had, he knew where and how to pluck a person to dismantle him which he rarely did—I knew I couldn’t be with him, he was a married man with a son, but he never abandoned me. He never hid anything from me, sometimes even ignored the calls from his wife and family because they NEVER CAME CLOSE TO UNDERSTAND WHAT HE WAS--” Audrey’s face reddened with anger, “I would have endured everything... being his secret, his mistress, but—he decided to take from me when I was promised that I would be married to him—he told me he was going to separate from Marguerite, but that coward...” Audrey’s emotions hardened into contempt, “backed out in the last moment... I stood here; right where you stood as English bride, alone on French soil, a heart full of love, and all I ever received was an arrest warrant and a walk of shame from Chateaux d’If, stripped off my love, my life, and my daughter...THAT MAN, THE LOVE OF MY LIFE... DID THAT TO ME” Audrey’s eyes were reddened with the ghosts of her past. But she did nothing, but to smile a crooked smile, like she had everything right all of a sudden, “so tell me I am wrong, an abysmal mother, a dutiless parent—but think of that wretched woman who was stripped bare, to her last dignity. I waited all those years, selected every possible scenario to arrange the situations to pave myself today in this abysmal church in Paris”

Maxine listened to her full story. Drops of tears rolled off Maxine’s cheeks as millions of possibilities seemed to fire in her brain: the sudden letters of Anatole a year ago, him finding his way back to her, the blue sealed letter in Romania, this perfect situation that compelled Hrothgar to marry her off with him—nothing was committed on Anatole’s whim. He was a megalomaniac, a sexual predator but he was never this grand. Moreover the codification of the Prison transcript, locked away safely but obscurely under the very nose of the British ministry, everything made sense: an Unspeakable operating right under the nose of everyone, incognito and completely silent, pushing people like pawns—the perfect candidate. And who else, who else would know in such details that if Hrothgar commanded his daughter to do something, she will be compelled to do so? The Mark happened after Anatole was convicted.

“You did all this... all of this... just to get to papa?” despair vaporised from Maxine’s lungs, “you used your own child... to get to the Father? What KIND OF MOTHER ARE YOU?”

“You make a mistake darling...” Audrey spoke in a cold and distant tone, “I was never your mother... I had no right over you.” Maxine felt it was like she was trying to gag whatever that was pressing to come out. If she knew her lesser, she would have suggested that it was bitter regret, but as she knew her better, she knew it wasn’t anything like that, “all because of a man that I love. But he forgot one thing, to kill me. There is a proverb in France; there is none deadlier than a woman wronged.”

The next scene happened too quickly to register into Maxine’s mind. Audrey rushed towards the statued figure of Hrothgar and took his face to embrace with her lips. Like a miracle, Hrothgar’s body sprung into the old life, tightly wrapped in Audrey’s embrace suddenly became wide-eyed and whimpered. It was the moment when Audrey stepped away from Hrothgar and her cornflower blue suit smeared with fresh blood. Maxine looked at her wide eyes and saw victory as well as unspeakable grief. The crowd behind her sprung into their instinctive panic, alertness and bustle, and before a flash of green light hit her behind, she managed to speak to Maxine for one last time.

“Forgive me, ma chere... and goodbye”

The surge of life that the nullification of the Perpetuity Spell brought was felt first as severe contracting pain in Newt’s chest; it was the first thing that he felt—a rib crushing pain, trying to squeeze the air out of his lungs. Unable to contain the feel, when he looked at Maxine’s way, clutching his heart, he saw a sweep of glittering white before his eyes. As his body registered to his current circumstances, he realised that Maxine lunged forward over the body of her dying mother. But that was not what it surprised him; even Maxine knew that Audrey was no more when the Green Light hit her—it was the action of his brother.

Theseus pushed three people out of the way, almost toppling Tina over, and Newt saw how he secured Maxine in his arms before she fell on the still body of her mother. Even though Newt was standing at the back, with his legs leaden on the floor, stupefied, he could clearly see Theseus’ right arm secured under her diaphragm and left on her décolletage. His shoulders were vibrating not prominent enough for other people to see but Newt knew that, and it was almost for her. Like a process of osmosis, Theseus’ whole body was absorbing her physical grief, and there will be no words in the world to describe the animal howls of violent sobbing of Maxine’s Valois. She was falling apart, piece by piece, and Theseus with all his being was keeping it together.

Although he felt somewhat relieved he felt very agitated towards the scene, because it was not what it was supposed to be. It was a cruel act, even for Theseus to do things to Maxine—she was deeply hurt, and he knew how it felt. Because he felt it every time when Leta walked alongside Theseus; Newt knew Maxine was no different than him in this matter, so why now—why this publish display? However as he attempted to step forward, breaking from his stupor, he felt Tina’s hand firmly grasping him.

“Let him...” Tina said looking towards Theseus and coming a bit closer to Newt. Her liquid black eyes glistened with slight moisture that had a bit of sadness. A surge of guilt washed over Newt’s entire being as Tina touched Newt’s lip with her quivering thumb and it reddened with the Mark of Maxine’s lipstick, “he has suffered long enough for that wretched woman...”

“What do you mean?” Newt looked puzzled, and Tina suddenly turned his head towards Theseus, “does your brother look like he is faking it? He had been love with her all along...” she filled the silence and inquisition of Newt with a strained smile, “a lot can happen during a dance”

“HROTHGAR...” another whimper of cry ensued from the left side of the altar. Anyone who wasn’t under that influence of the perpetuity spell did not know what happened to Maxine’s father. As they heard an old woman crying mentioning that name, Newt and Tina went to that place and saw a gleaming opal the dagger pierced the chest of the old French Diplomat and the congealed blood weaved a deep red velvet shroud on his black brocade suit worn for the occasion. He lied alongside Anatole, like sinners of the same crime, but his wide shocked eyes reflected the mistake of his past and regret. Newt knelt beside his body and gently closed his wide eyes. He turned towards Anatole and looked at his with a sense of conflict—there he lied in his final rest like a mangled insect, put into an arbitrary death, but again he remembered where he had been a few hours ago—Death remembers all and in Death, all people are the same.

Newt cradled Anatole’s head straight and closed his eyes.

...

It is strange how quickly things can change over a few hours. A few hours ago Newt, Theseus, and Tina assumed that they were going to be buried alive, a few hours ago Maxine walked the doors of Saint Chappell and the choir sang for her conjugation with Anatole Malfoy, a few hours ago even in the worst of nightmares, Hrothgar didn’t think that it would be the last time he will see the love of his life, a few hours ago not even Maxine would have thought that within half an hour she would lose everything, a few hours ago not even Newt would think he would recalibrate his entire life based on the appearance of his assistant who had been working for only a month.

Three coffins and two widows came out of Saint Chappell at that night. Marguerite and Maxine, walking side by side as their husbands made the march. The flashing of reporter’s camera permeated even through their long black face veil. Newt, Tina, and Theseus were walking at the very back of the crowd, and a conspicuous feeling was bothering Newt for some time. As Audrey’s casket was walked he felt something that he would not express to anyone. He felt one of dead was being walked with glory, one for treason and one as the stain on a noble. As for the living, one bereaved widow walked with other trapped in perpetual shame. He was wondering what would happen to Maxine now; she may have no chance of surviving this: she lost her birth mother, someone whom Maxine felt had the only living relative who loved her; and her father, for whom she stood with straightened back despite her birth. What will happen to her now—she was not the easiest of the woman to get along with, and Merlin knew not every one of her ministries was a fan of her. After her Confession, they will only need a tiny excuse to do anything with her. And this very thought made his skin crawl with disgust and fear.

“I know what you’re thinking...” Theseus said in a low raspy tone, dampened with tears he had been crying with Maxine, “as soon as old Valois is buried for good, the Embassies will come for her. Given the fact that her family didn’t even attend her wedding--,” he looked at the four newly arrived figures, two women and two men, dressed in black and busied with a spectacle of tears, “I don’t think she stands much chance. If she had her job by now, there could have been a hope for protecting her, but damn that stubborn woman. She had to leave just to prove a point that she can--”

“She isn’t half as egotistic as you think ‘Seus. She left because she was protecting you.” Newt answered grimly. He knew this was the time to come clean and there was no moment to lose.

“What do you mean she was protecting me? oh—so she is so egotistic now that she thinks that I am so vulnerable that I need protection from the person who is this close of being subjugated herself.” Theseus said with a significant amount of heat, and Newt confronted him like he never did anyone before.

“Perhaps that is why she chose to leave you, she knew it was better to leave quietly than to explain it to you what dangers you were in. She feared Anatole, all this time... she showed that in front of half the European ministry, and when he started writing she feared that her attachment to you might get yourself killed. So she left you Theseus, and watched you day after day getting closer and closer to Leta when she was breaking her heart--”

“What? Breaking her heart...?” Theseus tried to laugh it off as if Newt was spewing his ‘usual’ nonsense, and quiet with an aggravated motion pointed towards the Funeral march “do you think even for a second that Maxine Valois lets herself do that. She is no subject of affection, she never was... she was always that smart, arrogant and near-perfect woman who had every man in existence swooned for her. I saw you waltzing with her in the Yule party, and I saw nothing but a cold calculated game being played--”

“Is that a declaration to me or a consolation to yourself?” Newt abruptly interrupted the statement of his brother. The Funeral March has advanced a considerable length and the lights from the camera and the mourning candle faded into a dark and obscure Churchyard, where only a grim and dull obligatory entrance light lit the snow-laden path to bare-minimum visibility. Theseus’ lean face looked shadowy and his confusion created crooked lines of darkness on his well-natured features. He licked his lips once and avoided looking towards Newt. After a long silence, Newt opened his mouth.

“I was heartbroken when I saw Leta move on, and of all with you.” Newt said quietly, “but it was okay because she needed you more than me. She needed a leaning board, a pillar, but it fills me with anger to see how you are running away from your feelings.” Newt paused to see Theseus’ puzzlement “you see Tina told me everything about that night—and all those times—poor dear had been suffering that you never liked her back—all that time I thought you’ve been leading her, and she thought it was one-sided you bastard!” Newt gave a doleful smile.

Theseus looked at Newt with disbelief. He walked a little closer to Newt, scooting his vision under his brother’s unkempt bangs to look at him into the eye, and the twitch and pout told Theseus that Newt was genuinely annoyed with him. He felt a little surge of happiness because Newt rarely speaks to him or to anyone of that matter and if he decides to do so, it must be damn near important. He lowered his head for a moment and covered his face, as if he was soaking his face into fragrant cool water after a long tiring day, and suddenly from his complete stillness he shook himself forcefully back into life. When he straightened his face he looked like he was about to faint, but his pale face coloured with a bit of a smile; a smile smiled by a patient after long-suffering of illness. He started to pace back and forth, and Newt knew what was coming.

“Theseus, I don’t think it would be a good time—Theseus, listen she is in--”

Crack

“—mourning...” Newt plopped on the snowy steps of the church after Theseus recklessly disapparated.

It was nearly 10 o’clock in the New Years Eve. The entire Paris lit up to welcome the year of 1928, under the streets, near every secret door, illegal alcohols shoot up into fountains in the mood of celebration. Flappers dressed in gold, silver, and pearls lost their inhibitions for the sake of a livelier party and accompanying their eligible bachelors, married millionaires or extra-marital lovers trying to get laid after a long spell of dry marriage. The taste of cocktails and spiked lemonades and Harvey wall bangers livened with the sound of jazz, and at the much-neglected corner of Paris, near the Valois vault at Pere Lachaise, a woman in black stood still. When Theseus apparated there and saw Maxine standing completely still at the very centre of the garden of tombs. Her black silhouette stiff and her head lightly bowed as the long mourning veil covered up to her stomach. She was standing exactly under the Fleur De Lis crest, so ornate and detailed with Baroque carve work that it could still be seen under the faint faraway light of the city that created a dark silvery glow around the snowy graveyard. The first slosh of his feet gave away his existence to Maxine. She turned her veiled figure towards him.

“Where is everyone?” Theseus’ throat suddenly seemed very dry. His voice did little to hide that anxiety.

“Gone... ” Maxine replied shortly, and her head was turned towards the mausoleum. Theseus approached her gently and as carefully as possible. His feet weren’t giving in to his head and he fought all the impulses to bombard Maxine with all the questions Newt evoked in his mind.

“I’m so sorry about what happened--”

“She had to do it on my wedding day... it was my damn wedding day--” Maxine abruptly said with a distinct amount of anger. The statement threw Theseus into such off-hand position that he almost asked her “sorry what are you saying?”

“I mean... who does that to someone at their wedding day? Although I admit that I hated my groom and always wanted to kill him but not like this...” Maxine huffed and started to laugh hysterically. The sound of her coarse and husky laugh that sent sparks of fire into every man’s veins and chills into the enemy’s spine made Theseus skin crawl. He stood there, holding his breath, allowing her to shed her tears what she had been trying to mask under her laugh. Hell of a strong woman, she never allowed anyone to see her weak side—she never surrendered to an emotional outburst, and even when she was jealous and angry she tried to put those emotions on whoever stood on the opposite side. She was mean, cruel and egotistical and there was no excuse for her antics or her blatant disregard of authority or her mocking obedience to them. She smiled when she was sad, and that laughter was just not radar of how sad she was—it was that sort of laughter reserved for those select few who have now nothing to live for.

“I must have set the record for the shortest span of marriage. I must have been the only one in the history of the world who walked in white and walked out in black. I mean how mad is that...and the worst part is, I have nothing to do with this--”

“—Maxine you have to--”

“Let it go?” Maxine approached towards Theseus with such ferocity that Theseus, in the process of backing up, tripped on a stray snow-laden twig and fell on the ground. A stray flashing car passed near the cemetery and a little light fell on Maxine’s black veil and through its obscure layer, her grief-ridden face. Theseus looked at her, the flash on her face with awestruck amazement. It inspired the fear of madness in him; he couldn’t recognize her at all. That black-veiled figure was standing in front of him, hunching towards him with the hem of the veil slightly brushing on his chest.

“Maxine... I didn’t mean that—I have no words to comfort you. I have come--” Theseus slowly reached for the hem of Maxine’s veil while getting up, “I’ve just come to say...I have just come to say--” Theseus’ hands shook as he attempted to lift up the veil, but Maxine’s cold hands stopped him in midway

“Newt sent you now, did he?” Maxine said in a hushed but severe tone. A chill wind flew through the gravestones, moaning in the chill, “Of course he did... of course he did.” The last bit shook a little, or it distinctly did to Theseus’ ears. He didn’t speak another word because he felt that there was something on Maxine’s heart that was in dire need to get out. The distant rushing cars flashed stray lights on her black silhouette and she appeared and disappeared like a ghost or a bad dream, condemned to repeat oneself.

“Have you heard about Oedipus, Theseus?”

“No... I am not sure I have.”

“I have buried three of the closest people in my life today—” Maxine mused, “And all I could think of, all the time was Oedipus—why is that?” Maxine asked rhetorically and with an unnatural enthusiasm, “I should have been crying like a madman, but all I could think of Oedipus. And suddenly, as you appeared here... I understood everything.”

“What did you understand?” Theseus tried his best not to break down into tears; this state of Maxine made him so helpless that he wanted to hold Maxine tight into his arms again and tell her that everything would be fine.

“—Think about it, it makes so much sense--He was a king’s son who was abandoned because of a prophecy; a prophecy that said he would kill his father and fuck his mother to get the throne.” Maxine mused again with a peculiar tone, “his parents thought that now Oedipus is safe because he will never come back. But he did—only he didn’t know who were his birth parents—and he did kill his father and married his mother to sit on the throne—and when he did know what he had done he--”

“Stop Maxine... why are you saying stuff like this--” Theseus rushed towards Maxine and hastily lifted off her mourning veil. His hands firmly grabbing Maxine’s shoulder and his eyes adjusted themselves in the dark to know exactly where Maxine’s despair-laden eyes were. They almost obscured under the bloody eyelids, and like endless dark tunnels, they seemed vacuumed and empty.

“Why can’t I? Why don’t I? My father did this me—all of these. He practically stabbed himself—if you think about it—I mean, if your actions lead you to death, it’s your fault.“ Maxine paused a little, as if she was recalling something, something more horrific “you know what she said? She said that I was exactly like her—Theseus, what if I end up like her?” the last bit came out like a hysteric cry for help, “what if end up killing Newt?”

“Maxine...” Theseus spoke patiently, “there is nothing—it is nothing about you killing Newt, why would you do that? I saw you--” Theseus halted abruptly as his voice shook a little, “I saw you—why would you do that to him--don’t you—love him...?”

“I do love him Theseus” Maxine screamed with sheer helplessness, “But it means nothing. I know...I know no matter how much I love him, he can never love me—he already has Tina. Theseus, if I do that I won’t be able to forgive myself...I won’t be able to—forgive myself.”  

Theseus could hear Maxine’s whimpers echoing through the labyrinth of tombstones like a haunted soul.

...

He walked on the streets of Paris alone, loitering like a man with no home to return. The Eiffel tower could be seen lit up for the New Years Eve from the side of the city he walked. There were lights all around him, but it felt like harsh burns on his skin as if he walked naked under a midday desert sun. A couple of drunk people in festive mood bumped right into him, but Theseus’ mind was still in the heart of the Pere Lachaise where Maxine stood in despair a few hours ago—too preoccupied to react to their angry French swears. He needed a drink, a strong one, but there was an alcohol ban all over the muggle world—a nice bottle of firewhiskey to burn the sorrow away. He could afford to be a drunk right now, he needed to be drunk. But then again it was not for him, it was for her.

He had a completely different notion about her when she worked with him. People don’t handle women like her very well—too arrogant, too independent, too much of a lip and oh that temper! So much temper—someday she would be angry enough to burn the building down, and someday she would have been so mischievous that someone could lose a life with her pranks, someone always did. People couldn’t handle her, but that never stopped the office gossip or lecherous fantasies about her around the male colleagues. Lucian Carr almost got killed once just to retort

“Why, are you in love with her or something?”

No one could ever know. It would have been a huge dent in the reputation—avoid her at all cost, but why? She never advanced him or anything—she was cordial and professional and her display of ‘emotions’ came out as a characteristic trait, it was never to connect with anyone. She was the best of his employees, then why he always tried to restrain himself? Because deep down, he knew his thoughts about her were no different than other men in the office. She intimidated the hell out of him, and he fucking loved it. He distanced himself out of his freaking principles. Thankfully Leta was in the way—a beautiful distraction and his salvation from his own censored thoughts.

And then she had an outburst and left the job.

He hated the nerve of her, his ego had he convinced that she left to torment him. His thoughts about her then turned like a coward misogynist, and he would have had enough comfort with that until his drunken tumble upon her doorsteps—he wanted her! He wanted her so bad, and thought she might take—but she didn’t, she took care of him and send him away from any harm. Unpredictable little wench! She wasn’t supposed to be the caring type, women like her aren’t, and he was almost confirmed by his hypothesis of her in the Yule party but what would he do with the information he had today? The woman whom he just met today wasn’t the woman he knew before—she was a completely different creature—tender, vulnerable and so very human.

And that scared the hell out of him.

“Veux venir avec moi, monsieur?” suddenly a silky female voice called Theseus from the footpath, a gentle arm snaked on his arm as well, and that is when Theseus looked at the whore’s face. And by Merlin’s blessed head he was washed all over with shame. Maxine was right all along, he had a hero complex—he wanted his women vulnerable, so that he could save them, and now when she is in grief, his heart, and his brain opened at the same time and fought over the age-old impulse—to be or not to be. He wondered if it was his complex that spoke in him tonight, or was it his heart.

He was being led into a hotel, he could tell. The door opened and the whore’s mouth slobbered all over his neck, and despite everything he felt nothing at all—the passive eyes didn’t even found the whore stepping outside her underwear and flaunting her well-defined breasts.

“This is embarrassing…” the woman said in English, “when a woman is willingly taking her clothes off at least be nice and look at the view--” she said eloquently, and with it managed to get Theseus’ attention. As soon as he looked at her, the look in her eyes changed completely.

“What’s that eh? Can’t forget her?” she sat down on a nearby stool, her breasts drooping with her posture. Theseus smiled audibly, “how did you know?”

“Honey, I’ve been fucking gentlemen like you since I was 15. A few titties and they all stand upright like its Bastille Day—married or divorced?”

“Neither… fiancée died after a month of engagement--”

The whore stayed quiet for a while and then a cracked a smile, “but the one you’ve been hung on about is very alive one isn’t it--” she paused to look at Theseus’ inquisitive expression, “otherwise you’d let me blow the skin out of your dick and fuck the hell out of you to get it out of the system. And something else tells me, she doesn’t know about your feelings--”

“No… she does—I mean, in a way. She used to like me, I was too proud to see it—now I am not sure… by the way, why am I telling you all these?”

“Honey, we just don’t fuck people. People come to us when they have nothing else—we allow them to do whatever they want and listen to their shit—a city without prostitutes is like a house without a toilet” she smiled for the first time, a genuine humane smile which put Theseus’ heart in ease. He lowered his head out of courtesy as the whore dressed. A brief click of lock suggested that she had already opened the door.

“—oh yes, one more word—” the woman said, holding the door partially open behind her, “be honest with her and yourself about what you feel. If she comes around then fine, if not at least you’ll sleep better for the rest of your life.”

…

A loud thudding and a heavy hit on the back woke Theseus up. He must have rolled on the floor from the bed and directly on the soggy cold carpet of the hotel which he lodged at last time. He has been in the same clothes for nearly a week, his corded pajama which he wore before he was arrested—suddenly it occurred to him now. He felt really stupid and nearly tripped on the suspended bedsheet that dragged along with him before he could answer the door. A very annoyed waiter was waiting for him at the door.

“Vous Monsieur Anglais avec une putain?” the description of him by the waiter didn’t sit well with Theseus—‘the Englishman with a whore’, however being really confused, half-asleep and really demented, Theseus replied, “oui, c’est lui est moi.”

“j’ai votre paquet…” he thrust the thick parcel in his hand and left instantly.

The packet was a little larger than a magazine and thinner than a standard book. When it was opened, came out of the Newspaper. Theseus was surprised enough already as his sleepy brain tried to awaken, he reached for his pocket to take out the wand. He pointed it at the freshly unfolded Newspaper to translate it because he wasn’t clear in his mood to read French—he didn’t think until the very first words of the headlines appeared before him. His very hair stood up in attention at the back of his head. As he shook the paper in an attempt to straighten it another smaller paper fell out from it. It was a simple open note and in perfect English it said,

Save it while you can.

Theseus didn’t stand in the hotel room for a moment. He threw the newspaper aside and run out of his room like a lunatic screaming at the gone waiter, trying to figure the whereabouts of the person who delivered that parcel. In the meanwhile The Warlock Times lay abject on the soggy hotel carpet with its words slowly returning to French.

THE DUCHESS DISGRACED

Maxine Malfoy nee Valois, formerly Duchess of Croy had freshly came out of a short wedding and a triple funeral of her late husband Anatole Malfoy, her father Monsignor Hrothgar Valois and an unknown woman of a close relationship from the revered Saint Chappell last night. As shocking as this scandal gets she had accused her late husband Anatole Malfoy, the British Junior Undersecretary as a Grindlewald supporter and a serial rapist who apparently acquired the Ministry Office with considerable French influence, by fraud. The late Junior Undersecretary, as Madame Malfoy claims had a close past relationship with her to quite an exploitative range, and she, as sources report, killed him spouse right after the vows based upon such notions. Madame Malfoy is accused by the British Minister himself and today she will be held for trial at 12 pm by the French High Council of Warlock. The mysterious death of her father, the Late Diplomat Monsignor Hrothgar Valois will be looked into shortly…  

Theseus couldn’t remember when he ran so fast in his life, and perhaps he never looked so bizarre; a man in his corded pyjama running through the street of Paris with his battered, very English dressing gown flowing behind him like some bizarre parachute. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt such rush, maybe the time when he almost missed Hogwarts Express, maybe it was the last day of submitting that potions assignment to Professor Slughorn or perhaps to save Leta. He pushed the crowd away from him as he felt the icy January wind swiftly passing by his ears, making them ache. He wished that the hidden elevator would go faster now because he realised it was nearly five minutes to twelve.

“Where is the trial?” Theseus asked the receptionist of the French Ministry of Magic with such ferocity and urgency that she was a little thrown back before she could direct him to the way. A victorious rush crept through Theseus’ blood; Theseus Scamander the war hero of British Ministry of Magic is running the French Courtroom in his pyjamas to declare that the woman who was accused falsely is far above than the jury—now that’s the headlines he could pursue to read. Being an Auror taught him to measure the steps he is going to take, and for the first time in a very long time, Theseus wasn’t concerned with the outcome. He didn’t care if he is persecuted for disturbing a criminal trial, he didn’t care if she rejects him, and he didn’t care about anything at all. He just wanted her to know that he is what he is.

“Monsieur, you cannot be here... the Warlock Council is already on session--”

“Stupify--”

“Bombarda...”

Theseus had a reputation with his auror business and certainly was revered for it but today he actually felt proud for his headstrong action. With him barging in with a bang, the Warlock juries came to a standstill and all of the council looked at him with dismay and contempt, but there was one person who didn’t look at him. The person who was sitting on the trial chair, poised, upright and calm; the person who was clad in black and her face veiled.

“Impeccable timing Mr. Scamander, but in case you haven’t noticed, a session is going on.” The French Minister said sonorously with a heavy accent. Theseus could feel his ears heating with the patronised humiliation from the Warlock Council, but he chose to stay on his ground, firmly and surely. He took a sharp breath and lifted his face a little high.

“You’re wrong...”

“I’m sorry--”

“You are wrong about her. And forgive my French, but you’re all bloody coward...” Theseus said with a straightened face, “You saw and know what happened in Saint Chappell and refuse to acknowledge it. So I have come here, as the British Representative--”

“To do what, pray tell us?” the French Minister asked.

“To testify for my employee--”

Newt and Tina were standing outside. They had been there since yesterday when they couldn’t find Theseus. Their anxiety redoubled when they saw Maxine in black robes brought in the ministry at dead of the night with high-security aurors—but Theseus was nowhere to be seen. They became even more petrified when they heard why she was brought in—apparently, she confessed that she devised the murder of Anatole and her father with an unknown Englishwoman, and she had ardently confessed that she used her particularly for her status as an Unspeakable, who as soon as her vow is broken would be killed by a self-automated killing cursed, placed at the lower spine of hers, like any Unspeakable in the British Ministry. Only Newt knew that it wasn’t true—he knew the identity of the woman and with it, relied everything. But nothing matters with his knowing—hell, even his employment was illegal, if someone could do anything legitimately, it was Theseus. But the problem was Newt didn’t know how much his brother knew, or knew anything at all. He and Tina were stuck in a strange dichotomy whether they should look for Theseus outside, or wait for him, and they decided to stick around—just to see Maxine for the last time before the inevitable happens. He was afraid of the time Theseus will find out all about this.

However, an uproar ensued near the wing of the Warlock Council. Tina stepped forward quickly and scrambled whatever French she knew to ask what was happening. Tina’s agitated return made Newt anxious.

“What is it?” Newt asked.

“Someone broke in during the trial. The guard identified him as a tall brunet Englishman in corded pyjama and dressing gown--” Tina huffed in excitement, “sounds familiar--?”

“Theseus...” Newt mouthed the name of his elder brother and rushed towards the council door and halted stop when he saw Theseus coming out of the door. His well-sculpted face unreadable.

“What happened, what happened to her?” Tina asked hastily.

“I don’t know...” Theseus said quietly, “all I did was speaking the truth about her and what happened. She has always been so tight-lipped about everything. They asked me to prove it, and when I did—anyway, she was held in the trial because the French minister doesn’t trust her narrative—I don’t know what will happen next”

The courtroom door reopened, but this time the Trio was pushed aside by the plethora of journalists from all across Europe. Cameras flashed and the entire hullabaloo doubled as the Chief Justice the French Minister followed by Maxine herself came out. Tina closely looked at the minister’s face: there is no way he willingly did what he was to state. In this matter of national threat and the post-mortem scenario of a diplomat made him decide something very unwilling and obligatory. Moreover, Theseus willingly testified for Maxine. What could possibly happen?

As the minister walked forward, Maxine’s black figure glided like a dark silhouette of shadow. Her head and face were covered with a black birdcage veil that differed slightly from the long training mourning face cover that she had to wear. As the minister made to the podium where he shall give a statement to the Wizarding Press, Maxine’s head briefly turned towards the trio’s way.

None of them were hearing what the French Minister had to say. Tina noticed Theseus’ nose getting redder and redder as the time passed, she compassionately grabbed his shoulder.

“I saw her kissing Newt in the church--” he rapidly whispered and Newt’s indirect eyes flashed towards him with a pang of swift guilt, “Seus, I tried to stop her but--”

“it’s okay Newt... it’s okay, I deserve that. Twice now... I took away Leta from you, and she was taken away from me, and I neglected her—I deserve that.” Theseus lowered his eyes and squeezed his temple, “I deserve that...”

“No, you don’t...” Newt said quietly but firmly, “you don’t deserve any of that...” Tina interjected quickly “yes Theseus, you don’t need to blame yourself. All of these that are happening right now is some kind of bad timing—we are going through a bad phase that’s all. It’s not always--” Tina’s focused became hazy and Newt knew what she was thinking, “good things that happen with good people. Look at my sister—she just got persuaded away--” Tina said. Her eyes veered towards Maxine’s way, her eyes glistening “so was she... By Isolde’s hair, I used to be so angry with her—the I understood--” suddenly her tone became more determined and firm, “but it’s not the time to think stuff like that... you showed up when she needed you the most, even though she never mouthed it herself. You are patient with her, you understand her, you remember stuff about her, little stuff that is too minute—Theseus, admit it to yourself—you deserve her”

The last sentence sends a tremor in Newt’s veins and it almost scared him. Wasn’t that the fact that made fall for Tina once again, right here in the French ministry—eyes like salamander—but then again he, somewhere and someplace felt similar feelings for her too, the moments spent, the little incidents that put up a smile on his face—his train of thought came to a halt when he saw Maxine’s dark figure emerging towards the podium to make her statement—one of her hand was at her side, abjectly lulled into a peculiar position. Newt’s eyes focused on her hand, they were two meters apart from each other, and there she was—her hand, lulling to one side peculiarly. A slight spasm passed through her fingers. But it was not the strangest thing he saw. Theseus suddenly stepped forward boldly and grasped her hand. The podium wasn’t high enough to conceal Theseus’ existence, but the hands snaked together surely under the wooden shadow. Tina noticed the whole thing with a slight smile on her face and then she lead Newt from the back to a front, to see the face of Maxine.

Maxine’s face was still covered with birdcage veil, he faces slightly lowered. She didn’t speak right away. Newt was very uncomfortable looking at her under the bright flashlights of the Press Cameras. But when she straightened up to speak, she stunned people around her.

“As you are aware of,” Maxine said quietly but firmly enough “I was accused of murdering my husband on the altar and father with an unknown woman as an accomplice. I assure you it was a false narrative created by the French Ministry to interrogate me. I guess my father, despite his reputation all across Europe, pissed off a couple of people. The real narrative was brought again in the High Warlock Council this morning, by none other than this man--” Maxine turned her head towards Theseus, “who had put his reputation and job on the leverage to clear my name. The truth, ladies and gentlemen is more tragic than ever. The woman that died alongside my father and my late husband was my mother. My birth mother who happened to be the mistress of my father, her crime was she was a muggle-born and she gave birth to me. I was taken away from her and raised in Valois household with shame and contempt as my constant companion. That woman returned to my wedding for the sole purpose of killing my father, who hadn’t the courage to honour her, and for whom she spent her years in shame. Despite my father’s generous nature and keen insight, I say he brought it upon himself. A tragic loss France suffers now for one mistake he made and the lack of courage to admit it. Reputation is a scary thing; it makes one do things that are bad or harmful to others like my father did when he tried to marry me off with a criminal and a Grindlewald supporter who happened to know my secret. And to continue that lie, he was forced to imprison three innocent people into the Tower of Silence. Ainsi tu Seras—‘Thus shall you be’—a proverb we all learned in younger years that our deeds carve our final destiny. Let not remember my father’s death with a scandal, a mistake that he committed, but a lesson—a lesson that perhaps be with us in the darker times.”  

The press sheepishly stood before her, and then one after another cleared off. They did expect a scoop, another scandal—but her solemn and brutally honest confession put them off of their game. They didn’t even stay to ask a further question, there was nothing much to ask—with every stroke of her words, she shed every identity she had before: the duchess, the daughter of a diplomat, the widow of the British Junior undersecretary, the former employee of British ministry... the assistant.

Theseus slowly let go of her hand as she stepped down from the podium. She crossed the side of the wooden structure and slowly let go of her train that she was holding to walk. The black fabric glided on the pristine glassy floor as she slowly clacked her way forward. The trio watched her curiously, with bated breath, as she stood still for several moments. After a while, she slowly turned head around and her eyes were fixed on them.

[Second Theme: Aeon by Nick Murray: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Paqvq7XZGs ]

“Take me outside... I want to see the sky”

They were thrown off at her bizarre request but complied nonetheless. She slowly walked forward, rejecting both Newt and Theseus’ attempt to support her. As the spiraled lift opened outside, she sauntered towards the snow-laden main road. The powdery flakes brushed on everyone’s face, breathing their last icy breath as they disappeared. Maxine’s shoulder was slowly being studded with the white specks of snow as she slowly ripped off her black gloves and threw them on the street. She finally took off her pillbox hat and the mourning veil that was attached to it and tossed them into the air to vanish into nothingness. Theseus, Newt, and Tina looked at her mesmerized as she slowly looked up towards the sky, her pinned curls came undone behind her, her pale naked hands ascending as if to grasp a piece of heaven. The fresh snow of the New Year fell and dissolved on her warm face, tricking down like tears of joy. Like the last escaping breath from a dying person, a word came out from her mouth--

“Je suis libérée... ” (I am free)

...

The sun was the same as Newt remembered it at the Arc of Triumph as if never set and stood in the same manner as it did last year. The sun, in its brilliant golden, red, pink and purple mantle reminded him of Maxine as she stood at the bottom of the Arc and recited some strange French poetry. The sun was oddly similar to the winter Parisian sun, as he stood with his brother and Tina at the edge of the port of Saint-Malo. The noises of the ferry, the sailors felt like they, like the sun had been waiting to see this moment happen, the moment of which they all knew beforehand, except the three of them. With heavy heart, they waited for Maxine, as she prepared for her exile—stripping off her previous sparkling mantle of power and the outspoken statement has its price. Women like her are not tolerated in the polite, patriarchal society.

Light footsteps turned their heads towards the back. Maxine was standing right behind them, dressed in travel cloak and bowler hat, all in mourning black. Her face was made up, primed and proper with neat red lipstick and eyes winged with kohl. Her solemn face changed into her usual playful one when she smiled her usual crooked smile.

“Ready?”

“Together...” Theseus said fondly.

They walked Maxine at the stairs of the ship. However, she didn’t step right away, she turned again to the people, her accidental friends, and allies that came together because of a decision she made a few months ago, sitting in a restaurant. She gave them an amused look.

“Why the long faces? Shouldn’t you be happy that I will be finally away from your hair?” Maxine commented sarcastically, “of all people, Tina, you should be happy--”

“Do you like to get under people’s skin on a regular basis” Tina sniffed a little, “or is it the occasion of New Years?”

“Oh, Tina...” Maxine came near and wrapped an arm around her, “I am going to miss you...” she looked at her with an affectionate expression, “you should consider yourself lucky, because I am finally withdrawing myself from the competition.”

The three of them looked at her dumbfounded, Maxine’s mischievous smile softened into sombreness “you think I must be playing with you but no” Maxine turned her attention to Newt, looking straight towards him, smiling lightly as he attempted to hide beneath his unkempt hair, “I have been thinking about our the relationship we had in past three or four weeks, about you—all could think about how I have taken a space between you two. I had been impulsive and adamant even to admit that you have Tina, but now when I have buried my mum and my dad together, all I could do is to blame myself--”

“Maxine...” Newt spoke softly, “whatever you thought about us, or your parents were wrong. I may be a little dense in many places, but I am not blind—I saw how you behaved around me and I could ignore your advances, but somehow I couldn’t say no to you... do you know why?”

Maxine looked at him with vacant eyes

“Because I love you Maxine Valois—I cannot explain that feeling because I never had it before. It is not the way I felt for Leta, or I feel for Tina. So Max, if you think of anything, remember that—no matter what happens, I will still, have a place for you in my heart--” Newt reached out for Tina’s hand and groping his way through her fingers nervously he grasped it surely, “yes, I cannot love you the same way I love Tina, but I don’t love you the same.”

The Stuart of the ship announced to the board within five minutes. But Maxine stood teary-eyed before Newt, looking at him with an unknown expression.

“I suppose that’s the best consolation I can get... Newt Scamander, you gave this girl more than she deserved... I will never forget you as long as I live.”

A drop trickled from her eye as she spoke. The sun was nearly behind the shadowy cityscape, the east darkened with the inky night’s prelude, and Maxine’s dark eyes fell on Theseus, standing a little further than the rest, his blue eyes glittering and fixated on the gray water, sparking bleakly with the leftover daylight.

“Theseus... aren’t you going to say anything? I will not see you for six months--”

“It’s not fair...it’s just not fair...”

“I know... but I am used to the unfair—it makes great tabloid headlines”

Theseus broke into a burst of unwilling laughter and the welled up tears splashed from his eyes unceremoniously. Maxine watched the change of his expressions fondly; there was a certain endearment in that innocent smile that hasn’t faded away after so many harshnesses of his life.  

“There were so many things I wanted to say, so many things--”

“I will wait for you--”

“You--”

“Yes...” Maxine smiled forcefully; there was a constant swelling pain in her heart that arose by looking at him, “I’ll have to don’t I...?” She reached for her pocket and pulled out her wand, “I am supposed to leave this with the ministry, but I guess ministry employee would do... ” her pale finger caressed the length of the wand one last time, “aspen and phoenix feather, 11 inches--”

“Well that explains a lot...a lot of that lip--” Theseus’ unexpected sass earned him a well-intended slap on his forearm, as they both broke out in laughter. They stood, on the twilight at Saint-Malo, blue eyes locked with black ones with glistening tears of parting sorrow and with a hope of future reunion. The bugle of the ship bellowed in the sea, ready to take Maxine to an unknown horizon away from magic and away from everything she knew. At the threshold to another life, she was simply looking back to the man with whom she started a new life, who looked at her the same way he looked four years ago.

“Take care of it would you?”

As the resonance of her words faded from Theseus’ ears, the ship started to sail across the horizon, chasing the setting sun at the bustling port of Saint-Malo. Maxine’s waving hand vanished into the sky as she parted. She left all behind, everything she was and everything she knew, and it takes great strength to be her. like a Zhou-ou that is made to run away, or like the Phoenix that is made to burn and rise from its ashes, Maxine Valois burned through every obstacle in her life. In the dark times, when Grindlewald advanced and wrecked nation after nation, Maxine Valois burned like a flash of lightning that illuminated everything in an instance and faded into the dark. After a long period of suffering, she was finally free; freedom earned by herself, freedom from being trapped within the terrible memories, the freedom that came from confessing her suffering, something which she wasn’t allowed. As she sailed away, she smiled, looking at the setting sun. The sounds of seagulls flying towards their home reminded her of the life she left behind. There were no gloves in her hands...she would not need them anymore.

--The End--

--

Tags: @my-current-fandom-is

--

The title “Ainsi Tu Seras” was inspired by the story of “ Marguerite de Bressieux (15th-century legend/pseudohistory)The Black Knight Who Hunted Rapists. ” When I stumbled across it on this particular website (https://www.rejectedprincesses.com/princesses/marguerite-de-bressieux ) I thought I should incorporate with Maxine’s story. However, the end result became something else: I found an oblique parallel between the Newt-Maxine-Tina and Marguerite-Hrothgar-Audrey chain. Following up with the Oedipus myth, I finally depicted Maxine’s character development: a process where she dissociates with her mother and Audrey’s myth of vengeful lover. She takes a decision that she will pursue Newt no more, a path that may lead her to the same end as her mother.

Gloves play a significant part in Maxine’s story: it is an instrument to hide her Mark of honor, a symbol of her bondage. Missing gloves (in Maxine’s case) means freedom or the instances when she tries to be free.

I will write an epilogue, where I will finally close the story for good. It may take some time, so I ask your patience. Also, I will publish my masterlist with the poster of the story

Thank you for accompanying me on this journey.

[travelwithflere]

“Ode De La Paix”, center part of a 70 x 153 cm painting. Two chimeras pull a chariot carrying a cupid. Just behind, King Charles IX and his wife, Elisabeth d’Autriche (based on portraits by François Clouet), while satyrs and centaurs parade in front of one of the triumphal arches built in Paris for their official entrance in the city. The arch inscription reads “ODE DE LA - PAIX PAR PIERRE DE - Ronsard Vandomois, - Au Roi.” The "Indians" featured on the island at the top left are assailed by conquistadores, as depicted in one of the Valois tapestries currently on display @chateaufontainebleau. #valoistapestries #renaissance #tapestries #tapisseriedesvalois #pierrederonsard #elisabethdautriche #charlesIX #francoisclouet #odedelapaix #ronsardlere #oilpainting #fredericlere (at Trôo) https://www.instagram.com/p/CeGtcSZo9NB/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[chicot-premier]

Sadly, Catherine's efforts to glorify and perpetuate the Valois monarchy through political diplomacy, strategic marriages, and an enthusiastic patronage of the arts had little lasting effect. With the assassination of her son Henri III mere months after her death, the dynasty came to an end. The extravagance with which Catherine has presented herself and her court fared little better: few of her grand architectural projects remain, and her collections of art and precious objects were dispersed almost immediately after her death. The fabulous spectacles and 'magnificences'--considered by many to be her greatest contribution to the arts--were by their very nature ephemeral. Thus the Valois Tapestries are in many respects the best and the most complete evidence of the cultivated artistry and courtly elegance that flourished under Catherine de' Medici.

Marjorie E. Wieseman, "Catherine de' Medici as Patron and Collector," in Renaissance Splendor: Catherine de' Medici's Valois Tapestries, edited by Wieseman and Elizabeth Cleland (p. 29)

[skeleton-richard]

From the 31 Day Angst Challenge from @birdiiielle - Day 1 - Grief

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Everybody who remarked on the miserable bride said she was upset at being knocked down in rank from dowager queen to the wife of a count. It also didn't make things better that the groom was twelve and nervous and her cousin and didn't know why she was unhappy or how to make things better. No one stopped to think of who her previous husband had been, or the fate he'd come to, or why she cried every time she saw deer.

Isabelle de Valois, daughter of King Charles VI of France had been six when she'd been married to the King of England, Richard II. Richard had been still recovering from the death of his first wife, and the young queen was practically an adopted daughter to the childless king. When Isabelle was ten, the short happiness she knew in England was ended abruptly when Richard was deposed and murdered.

She knew nothing but grief after that. What else could there be? Queen of Grief-- that's what she was.

Isabelle stared at the tapestry hanging on the wall in front of her, depicting a deer pursued by several noblemen. Richard hadn't died violently, he'd died alone. Why couldn't she have been there to at least comfort him...

"I know you're there," her voice broke the silence of the chamber. Behind her, Charles froze, unsure of what to do now she'd caught him. He hadn't wanted to disturb her.

"I'll go--"

"No," she replied. She was surprised by her own voice as she continued, softer this time. "Stay."