1636: The Cardinal Virtues (12 page)
Read 1636: The Cardinal Virtues Online
Authors: Eric Flint,Walter H Hunt
Tags: #Fiction, #Alternative History, #Science Fiction, #Action & Adventure, #General
“We seem to fascinate lots of people.”
“You do,” he agreed. “You certainly do. Now. Mademoiselle Colonel. What is your question?”
“I’m just a hired gun here, but most of your—most of the marshal’s—troops are Frenchmen. Their loyalty is to their king, I’d guess; and now their king is going to be Gaston. What does that mean for us?”
Bouillon smiled and turned to face Turenne. “An interesting question, Henri. What do you intend?”
“It is my decision,” Turenne said. “But that is partly why I have assembled you here—to advise me. I do not trust our new king: but he is, or soon will be, our king nonetheless. Cardinal Richelieu assigned me here, and gave me specific directions. Until I know the circumstances of this criminal attack upon our late monarch, I must assume that those directions are still in force.
“Indeed, he provided me with a letter to be opened in case he was killed or presumed dead. I have opened the letter, and it informs me of the hidden location where the queen is secluded, awaiting the birth of her child. I am instructed to use my judgment in this matter, but if I believe the persons of the queen and the child to be endangered. I may, if I deem it prudent, choose to interpose my forces between them and the danger presented.
“Spain remains the greatest danger to our country, to our queen, and to the prince—or princess. If the cardinal is still alive, the Spanish are a danger to him as well.”
“What does that mean?” Sherrilyn asked. “We’re going to deploy against an invader? Or are we going to go looking for this marauding band of outlaws that killed the king?”
“I will need to decide,” Turenne said. “I don’t know if finding the king’s killers is practical.”
“I agree. And I agree with the comte de la Mothe,” Sherrilyn said. “From everything I’ve heard about Monsieur Gaston, I have to believe he was involved in this attack.”
“And not the Spanish?”
Sure,
she thought.
This could have been Pedro Dolor. He could have pulled this off. But it doesn’t feel right . . . it’s something he
could
do, but not really his style. It’s too obvious, too direct.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “But I
do
think we need to be where Monsieur Gaston—King Gaston—can’t take control of our forces. If that means marching toward the Spanish border, then we’d better do it. Unless . . .”
The duc de Bouillon, who was still standing next to her, stroked his chin. “Indeed, Mademoiselle Colonel. Unless what?”
“Unless we think that Gaston isn’t legitimately the king. Unless we think we don’t owe him allegiance.”
The room was completely quiet.
“What are you suggesting, Colonel?” Turenne said. “You can speak freely here.”
“If you don’t want Gaston to be king, Marshal, you can make that happen. I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, but it’s in your power. In our power.”
“You’re talking about civil war,” Turenne said quietly. “It ripped our country apart half a century ago. People take sides. Innocent people die. It exposes us to the predations of France’s enemies—and believe me, Colonel, France has enemies. Is your USE prepared to take sides in such a conflict?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Does the principal know?”
The question caught Sherrilyn by surprise. She wasn’t sure what Turenne was asking—what he implied.
“I have no idea. I don’t work for him anymore, Marshal. I work for
you
. Do you want me to ask him?”
“Have you not done so already?”
“No. You’ve clearly read my mail,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. She was a little bit scared, but refused to show any of it. “I haven’t asked him a damn thing. I’m guessing that the United States of Europe doesn’t have any interest in nation building, but they’d also prefer that there wasn’t
another
war going on—there are enough of them happening already.”
“So they will stand by and watch,” Bouillon said. “They will treat Gaston’s actions, direct and indirect, as no more than a sort of
coup de theatre
.”
I stayed in the back,
Sherrilyn thought,
to stay out of the way; and now I’m center stage.
“I can’t say. I don’t speak for the government. And other than personal contacts, I don’t speak
to
the government.”
I’m really not a spy, damn it
, she thought.
Really not. Just someone trying to get along.
And next time I see you, Ed, I’m going to punch you in the mouth.
“Are you looking for advice?” she asked.
“Why, naturally,” Bouillon said. His voice had a bit of an edge to it, but his smile—the Tour d’Auvergne smile, the one Turenne employed to great effect—was broad and cordial. “Say on.”
“Turin is over the mountains, right? A couple of hundred miles. If Gaston is coming from there to France, he’d come this way.” Turenne nodded. “If you’re worried about being conflicted in your loyalty to Monsieur Gaston, then the best thing is not to be along his route. Wherever we go, whatever we decide to do, let’s not meet up with him.”
“We have a radio, Colonel,” Turenne said.
“Does
he
?”
“There is some indication that he does, and that he has a confederate in Paris with whom he has been in contact. Could he not simply . . . send us an order?”
“He’d have to know how to find us—our call sign, I guess, and our frequency. I was never in the Signal Corps, so I don’t know the details. But there are a hundred reasons why radio contact fails; the best reason is if we just go off the air. Then he’d need to find us—and we could work hard at not being found.”
Turenne beckoned to his brother. Bouillon gave Sherrilyn a slight bow and walked to join him; they conferred very quietly for a few moments. Then Turenne turned to his assembled commanders and said, “You have twenty-four hours to break camp and be prepared to move. The quartermaster and his assistants will organize transportation for equipment not otherwise assigned, including your laboratory, Professor Glauber.” He nodded to his “alchemist,” who looked stunned by the possibility. “We will travel as light as possible, particularly the infantry; tell the men to take only what they must.”
“Where are we headed?” de la Mothe asked.
It was Turenne’s turn to offer the Tour d’Auvergne smile, which he bestowed in Sherrilyn’s direction. “It remains to be seen,” he said. “We will go where we’re needed.”
◊ ◊ ◊
By the first gray light of the new day, Maddox’s Rangers were ready to ride. Turenne was there to see them off—most of the rest of the officers were still asleep, though a few were working on plans to get their units ready to pull up stakes.
“You will give my respects to those whose lands you traverse,” he said. “If they take issue with you—”
“They shouldn’t.”
“They
could
. I know that you will keep the men in line and I won’t receive a report of lands laid waste. But the southerners tend to be prickly about armed forces crossing their territory. Still, I don’t think anyone will be so foolish as to—”
“Start something.”
Turenne smiled. “As to
start something.
Up-timers always seem to possess
le mot juste
. Before I send you on your way, do you have any last minute advice?”
“Actually, yes. I’m concerned about the up-timer team up north, the folks working on the steam engines. They need to know about the king’s death.”
“Surely they know.”
“But there are others who
don’t
. Before you go silent, I’d like to ask you a favor—send them a message about King Louis’ death and the succession of Monsieur Gaston. But don’t encode it: send it in the clear.”
“Because . . .”
“Because it’ll be overheard.”
“By ‘the principal.’”
“. . . Yes. And others. They need to know, Marshal. I don’t think they’re our enemy—your enemy. France’s enemy.”
“Plenty of people will overhear, Colonel.”
“I don’t think that’s a problem. Do you?”
Turenne thought for a moment, and then smiled again. “No. I do not.”
Chapter 17
Chateau de Baronville, Beville-le-Comte
The ringing of bells awoke Anne from a restful sleep. She could feel the deep pain from labor still, but her exhaustion had been deeper. Even before opening her eyes she reached down to feel her chest: after seven and a half months it felt strange to be without the life that had inhabited her womb.
Strange
, she thought.
And wonderful.
She knew that the infant would be with a wet-nurse nearby; yet she wished to hold her son, to look upon him. He had only been in her arms for a few short minutes just after his birth before he had been taken away and she had descended into sleep.
She opened her eyes to see the young woman who had been her midwife and doctor: she was sitting in a padded chair, dozing, a coat wrapped around her. It had clearly been a long night for her as well.
“
Mademoiselle
Katie,” she said, and when the young up-timer woman did not answer, she repeated herself, pitching her voice somewhat louder.
Katie Matewski stirred and then awoke fully, startled. She looked across at Anne and rose quickly, shrugging off the coat and coming to the bedside. “I . . . I beg your pardon, Majesty,” she said in passable French. “I must have drifted off.”
“Do not trouble yourself. Tell me—why are the bells ringing?”
“I’m not sure, my lady. I can go and see. Are you in discomfort? Are you—”
“I am very tired, but I seem to be well. Please go and inquire, and give my compliments to my lord of Uzès.” Uzès was the first gentleman of the bedchamber: he was the first on hand at the queen’s arising and the last on her retirement.
“By your leave,” Katie said. The curtsey was not exactly to court standards, complicated perhaps by the fact that the young lady was dressed in a man’s trousers. If this had been a down-timer, a subject of the kingdom, there might be some slight affront—but she was an up-timer, from whom all sorts of informalities were expected.
Katie opened the bedchamber door and stepped into the outer room. Mazarin was there with Uzès and another man whom she had never seen. He was dressed for travel and looked as if he had come far and ridden hard.
She closed the door behind her. The three men stopped their conversation as Katie appeared.
“How does the queen?” Uzès asked.
“She has just awoken,” Katie said. “I haven’t examined her yet but she seems well. I had a little nap myself, but left word that I should be notified if there was any problem with mother or child.”
“The baby is doing well,” Mazarin said. “But grim news has arrived.”
“Is that why the bells are ringing?”
“Yes,” Mazarin answered. “There has been an ambush. The king is dead.”
“Dead? What happened? An—an ambush?”
The stranger gave a bow. “
Mademoiselle
, my name is Étienne Servien. I have the honor to serve His Eminence Cardinal Richelieu. We were on our way to this place when we were viciously and violently attacked. My master was severely wounded, and His Majesty the king was slain.” He was distraught as he spoke the words.
“The queen must be told,” Katie said.
“More than that,” Mazarin said. “She must be made ready to travel, and right away. We must leave Beville-le-Comte as soon as possible: there may be a further attack on her person.”
“And the baby—”
“He is in terrible danger,” said Servien. “He is the king of France now, and he has many enemies, none greater than his uncle. It is certain that Gaston was behind the attack. The assassins were led by César de Vendôme, the king’s—and Gaston’s—eldest brother, a
légitimé
. Gaston will now seek to have himself crowned king.”
“He can’t do that,” Katie said. “Can he?”
“He
can
,” Mazarin answered, “though he should not. But this is a circumstance often governed by power, not propriety.”
“So who
exactly
is Vendôme? I thought we were talking about Gaston.”
“César de Vendôme is the king’s eldest half-brother,
mademoiselle
,” Mazarin explained. “Before Louis and Gaston were born, King Henry the Fourth of fond memory fathered three children by his first mistress, Gabrielle d’Estrées. César is the oldest of the three. His younger brother Alexandre died in prison several years ago, and his younger sister is now the duchess of Elbeuf. They were all declared
légitimés
—recognized for their royal blood, but ineligible for further preferment. In a different world, César de Vendôme might have been king of France; while in this one, he has become a regicide.”
“Did he become king in my ‘different world,’ Monseigneur?”
“No,” Mazarin said. “He is just as much a bastard in your up-time history. He engaged in further intrigues, including participation in a cabal against
me
.” He smiled briefly, the strange twists of time and history bemusing him and pushing aside the gravity and tragedy of the situation. “He has many grudges against Cardinal Richelieu, and evidently had enough resentment against his lord king that he did not hesitate to put him to the sword as well.”
“Will he attack us here?”
“No,” Mazarin said. “Because we will not be
here
. We will be elsewhere.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Near dawn, the royal party was assembled in the chapel of Baronville to baptize the child. The first wan light was straining to pass through the thick glass windows. The room was lit with several small candles. Anne, less than twenty-four hours after childbirth, looked radiant and regal, wearing a traveling dress that hung loosely on her frame, a beautiful necklace that reflected all the light in the room, and a small circlet on her head. She held the baby—the
rightful king of France
—in her arms, and to Katie she looked like the most beautiful woman in the world.
Achille, the brother of the bishop, stood beside her, in the full regalia of a knight of Malta, his hat tucked under one arm, his hand on his heart.
The rest of the group, including Monsieur Servien, stood nearby, except for Mazarin, who was to assist Bishop Léonore in the baptism.
Katie had found a dress to wear. She realized, just a little before the gathering in the chapel, that she didn’t feel proper dressing casually in church, even if it was just for a short ceremony; old habits died hard.
The castle servants had been gathered into a choir, and as Bishop Léonore entered the chapel, they began to sing. Mazarin, who waited near the altar, his hands joined in prayer, accompanied them.
Si introiero in tabernaculum domus meae si ascendero in lectum strati mei si dedero somnum oculis meis et palpebris meis dormitationem et requiem temporibus . . .
Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor my eyes lofty; neither do I exercise myself in great matters, or in things too high for me . . .
Katie didn’t recognize the psalm, but the hastily-gathered singers gave a good account of it; the bishop made his way forward with little ceremony, until he reached the front of the chapel and turned to face the others. He carried his bishop’s crook and wore his alb and surplice; he had intended to perform the service after the baby’s birth, but probably wasn’t planning to do it under such strained circumstances.
“I welcome you to this solemn occasion,” he said. “Beloved in the Lord, when the Savior sent out his Apostles, he said unto them, ‘Go ye, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you.’ He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved. Through baptism men are cleansed from their sins, made partakers in the meritorious redemption of Jesus Christ, taken into the society of the faithful and into the Church of Christ, fitted to obtain a share in all the treasuries of grace, with the management and administration of which Christ has entrusted his church.
“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing to Anne, “it is an honor to receive you here in the sight of God, and to receive your son, a gift from God, the source of all life, who seeks to bestow His life upon him. What name do you give to this child?”
“Louis,” she said. “Louis Dieudonné—a gift from God.”
“What do you ask of God’s Church for Louis?”
“Baptism—the grace of Christ.”
“Louis,” the bishop said to the baby, and then looked directly at Anne. “Dost thou desire to obtain eternal life in the church of God through faith in Jesus Christ?”
“He does,” she said.
“Who shall stand as godparents for this child?”
Katie stepped forward from her position to stand beside Achille.
“We will,” Achille said.
“Are you ready to help the parents of this child in their duty as Christian parents, in the sight of God and within the body of the Holy Catholic Church?”
Achille was ready to answer the second question, but Katie said, “We are ready.” It drew a sharp look from the knight of Malta, but he softened it to a mild wry smile.
The bishop dipped his right hand in the baptismal font and then stepped directly in front of Anne.
“The Lord himself has appointed baptism with water, accompanied by the invocation of the Trinity, to be the outward sign of the grace which is communicated through this blessed sacrament. It is thereby intimated that as the body is purified by water, so the soul is purified by this sacrament from whatever in it is displeasing to God.
“Now, the community of Christ welcomes this child with great joy,” he said. “The Lord Himself hath said: ‘This is life eternal, that they may know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent. If thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments, and that thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself.’”
He drew a cross on little Louis’ forehead, and then as Anne unwrapped a bit of the swaddling, upon his breast. “Receive the sign of the holy cross, to remind thee that thou openly profess thy faith in Christ crucified, and glory not, save only in the cross of Jesus Christ our Lord; and to remind thee that thou love from thy heart Him who hath died on the cross for thee, and that as He bids thee thou shouldest take up thy cross and follow Him.”
Bishop Léonore leaned forward and breathed very softly on Louis’ face; the baby looked up at him smiling. “May the powers of darkness, which the divine Redeemer hath vanquished by his cross, retire before thee that thou mayest see to what hope, and to what an exceeding glorious inheritance among the saints, thou art called.”
Mazarin handed the bishop a small towel, with which he wiped his hands. Léonore then placed a small bit of salt on the tip of his right index finger and touched the baby’s tongue. Louis made a small frown.
“Louis,” the bishop said, “receive this salt as an emblem of wisdom; the Lord grant it thee unto everlasting life.” He then laid his hand on the baby’s forehead.
“O God, thou author of all wisdom, look graciously down on this thy servant Louis and preserve him ever in thy fear, which is the beginning of wisdom, through Christ our Lord.
Amen
.” He then touched Louis’ ears and mouth and said, “
Ephphatha
, that is
, be opened.
As the Savior gave the power of hearing and of speech to a man that was both deaf and dumb by the use of these words, and by touching his ears and tongue, so may he strengthen thee through his grace, that thou mayest be ready and willing to hear his words, and mayest joyfully proclaim his praise.
“Does Louis now and for all time renounce the lusts of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life?”
“He does,” Anne said.
Mazarin handed the bishop a small dish that had oil in it; he dipped his fingers in it and touched Louis’ breast and forehead.
“For the war against evil, and for the practice of good, thou needest strengthening through the grace of him who hath redeemed us from our sins. Therefore I anoint thee with the oil of salvation in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Amen
.”
He then touched the edge of his stole to Louis’ cheek and said, “Louis, receive the white raiment of innocence. Preserve it pure and unspotted until the day of Jesus Christ, that thereby thou mayest enter into eternal life.
“In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I baptize thee Louis Dieudonné, the Gift of God.”
Anne wrapped the baby once more, then took the bishop’s ring and kissed it. He placed his hands over hers and smiled.
“Majesty,” he said. “I am in great fear of what might come next. I wish you would reconsider your course, and remain here, or accompany me to Chartres as my guest.”
“I wish I could accept your offer,” Anne answered. “But a prince who would stoop to killing his own brother would not scruple to kill a woman and child.” She looked up at Mazarin. “I am in safe hands.”
“My brother has offered to accompany you, I know. He has pledged his faith to Holy Mother Church, but I dispensed him from any duty he owes to my see so that he can go.”
“I am most appreciative, Your Grace.”
“I wish I could do more.”
“You have done a great deal already,” Anne answered. “I would only ask that you pray for us as well. All of us.” She glanced back at Katie. “We are in God’s hands now. All of France is in God’s hands.”
“Indeed, my Queen,” the bishop said. “But you always were.”
The last that Katie and the rest of the royal party saw of Château Baronville was of Bishop Léonore and the servants of the castle standing outside watching, as their carriage pulled away into the morning light. The duke of Uzès and the bishop stood a little apart from the others, and as they watched, Léonore made the sign of the Cross.
