Before Versailles (38 page)

From his pouch, he pulled out a sheet of paper. “Here is a map of the island, procured under most difficult circumstances, if I may say so. A full report of my spy’s difficulties awaits your pleasure.”

He spread the map open on a nearby table at which earlier, envisioning this moment, he’d taken a quiet and very deliberate pleasure in slowly lighting every candle of a large branch of candelabra whose rock crystal drops reflected back the flames.

Louis stared down at the map. The island was located just off the coast in the bay that separated Spain and France. It was along a main shipping route. His fingers traced various squares and lines. “A fort? Your man is certain it’s a fort? How large? What are these? Ditches? For what? To repel whom?”

“There is already a garrison of two hundred men.”

Colbert read the figures out in dry tones, letting not a single inflection betray emotion. He might have been giving the king numbers about the harvest. “There are four hundred cannon in the fort, as well as bombs and explosives, enough weapons and munitions for six hundred men. There are three hundred casks of wine, as well as wheat for bread. The weapons have come from our neighbors to the north.” This was the hated republic of the Dutch. “The locals stand guard on the island and welcome no strangers. I would assume the nobility and governor of the province are in his pocket. I have furnished a list of their names. There are some one thousand men working to finish the fort and trenches, and they work day and night and are forbidden to leave.”

“My God …” breathed Louis.

The king’s incredulousness was all that Colbert could have desired. He folded into himself like a bat and waited.

“The man who obtained this information … he’s trustworthy?”

“My first cousin. He would lay down his life for you.”

“How did he gather this?”

“Materials are always needed. A mason must have stone, a carpenter wood. And weapons must be delivered by someone. My cousin was that someone.”

“Remind me how many ships the viscount possesses.”

“Thirty-one.”

“How many copies are there of this?” Louis touched the map with one finger.

“You look upon the only one, majesty.”

“What work you’ve done, Colbert. This is astounding—the depth of his—” Louis stopped himself. He put his hand on Colbert’s shoulder. “I have no words to thank you, but you and yours shall remain forever in my high regard. That is my solemn oath.” He gave Colbert a quick, shy smile.

“There is one more thing, sire.” The whole of Louis’s attention was back upon Colbert. He could literally feel it. “It seems that the commander of your navy bankrupted himself—”

“—fighting the Turks,” Louis finished for him. Yes, commanders often had to spend their own coins on military campaigns, and they were seldom paid back.

“I have it on the best authority that the Viscount Nicolas has been most kind in opening his own coffers and paying the commander’s debts.”

“Thank you. You may go now.”

Once Louis heard the door shut, he closed his eyes a moment, then opened them to look back down upon the crude map showing the location and fortification of the viscount’s island once more. The viscount would need a place to provision the colonies he now administered, but there was no excuse for two hundred men, for rations for four hundred more. No excuse for cannon and trenches. No excuse for such secrecy. Why did he not brag of it in council, showing Louis all he did from his own pocket? Because he didn’t wish Louis to know, that’s why. And it seemed the commander of the royal navy, such as it was, now lived in the viscount’s pocket. If there were a war, the viscount would have the Atlantic seas. What have I? thought Louis, marshalling what assets he possessed. His minister of war was a friend to the viscount, owed him, according to Colbert, much money, so if there were a war, if Louis had to summon generals, there was a great likelihood that the viscount would know as much in the beginning moments as Louis. And then, if he went to his island and blockaded the coast and summoned the nobility of his home province to his side, the court would split asunder. Then, and only then, would Louis know who was on his side, who was not. Was it the viscount who placed the Mazarinades to remind Louis of the destruction of civil war, a snake eating its own tail? He needed no reminding. He’d grown up in it. Ah, my cardinal, you’ve left me quite a viper to step upon, haven’t you? Even you were afraid of him, weren’t you? Have I the cunning for this? Louis thought. The wit? I must have it, mustn’t I? There is no other choice.

July 1661 …

Chapter 19

HE
C
OUNTESS DE
S
OISSONS STRODE INTO THE ANTECHAMBER OF
Madame’s rooms where Fanny and Louise sat. They rose from their chairs and curtsied.

“Madame is not here?” Olympe asked.

What a strange question, thought Louise. Of course she wasn’t. The whole palace was waiting with bated breath for her return at any moment.

“No,” answered Fanny politely, and when the countess didn’t say anything else, just stared at them as if they weren’t supposed to be there, “We’re embroidering pillow covers for our trousseaus.”

“I had no idea anyone was interested in you. Who are the fortunate men?”

They were saved from answering by the arrival of a court page, who put his head through the door’s opening and said, “Her carriage has been sighted.”

“If you’ll excuse us, countess,” Fanny said, and she and Louise rushed out to join the throng that would gather in the courtyard.

Olympe went into the empty bedchamber. There on the dressing table among ribbons and combs was a small rouge brush, a lovely one with a silver handle. This, thought Olympe, and she picked it up and walked back out to the withdrawing chamber and then into the hall, at last a smile on her face.

A
DISCREET KNOCK
sounded on the door of the chamber in which Louis held his council meetings, and one of his pages entered and whispered in his master’s ear.

“Madame has arrived,” Louis told his council. Not one of the men around the table, nor Colbert, who had been summoned to make a report on trade, missed the sudden smile that spread across Louis’s face.

“I suggest we adjourn for the day,” said Nicolas.

“Yes,” replied Louis, and then he was gone, bounding out the door like a boy.

Nicolas caught Colbert’s eye. “A moment.”

Colbert bowed coldly.

“This place is a rumor mill. One hears a thousand tales. Have you heard the one that his majesty has selected a candidate for chancellor when the august Séguier dies?”

“I have not, but I think we both know his choice,” Colbert answered.

“You flatter me.”

“Let me flatter you further, viscount, and say that I might agree with his majesty’s choice, except for one small thing.”

“And that would be?”

“You hold the office of attorney general of the Parlement of Paris, do you not?” The
parlement
was a high court of justice. All the kingdom’s large cities had them, but none was as powerful as Paris.

“That honor has been mine for a number of years.”

“To my thinking, it is incompatible with the office of chancellor.”

“May one ask why?”

“The chancellor must be above specific loyalties.”

“I was never part of the
parlement’s
disloyalties!” The
parlement
of Paris had warred against the king and queen mother and cardinal, and Nicolas had, in fact, worked to aid her majesty. Colbert gave a small shrug that caused Nicolas to grind his teeth and say, “Nonetheless, I take it you’ve expressed this opinion to his majesty?”

“He has not asked, but if he does, it is my duty to tell him the truth.”

Each examined the face of the other. You starched, dried, joyless eater of numbers, thought Nicolas. One of Nicolas’s spies had told him that Colbert studied Latin when he was journeying from one place to another. All gentlemen knew Latin, but Colbert was a merchant’s son. You study Latin like a schoolboy in your carriage to make yourself fully one of us, thought Nicolas.
“Contra felicem vix deus vires habet,”
he said.

Color came into Colbert’s expressionless face. You traitorous, ambitious, flamboyant fool, squandering your talents and the kingdom’s coin, he thought. I’ll see you hanged. “You have the advantage of me,” he said.

In all things, thought Nicolas, but he replied, “Evil to him who evil thinks.” It wasn’t what he’d said, but it amused him to tell Colbert so. “You’ll have supper with me one evening?” He had no intention of suppering with Colbert.

“Of course,” bowed Colbert, the viscount’s equal in polite mendacity.

O
UTSIDE IN THE
courtyard, the throng parted for Louis, whose face was alight with pleasure.

“Majesty.” Henriette, already out of the carriage, standing by Philippe, dropped into a curtsy.

Louis pulled her up and out of it. Louise, clustered around Madame with all the maids of honor, thought, oh, dear, his face is an open book. Anyone could see he was in love, and Monsieur stood right there. Her eyes flew to Guy’s face, taut and narrow-eyed.

“You’ve been missed,” Louis said.