Intrigued (19 page)
“Good morning, monseigneur,” the Scotsman said.
“Bonjour,
Hugh. Tell Mademoiselle Autumn I have gone back to Chermont to oversee the planting of some new vines. I will be back as quickly as possible. I apologize for leaving without telling her, but I only just awoke a little while ago and realized this task awaited me. They are a new variety of vine. I would be certain they are planted properly in the right field.” He smiled, and then without another word mounted his horse, which the stableboy had brought him.
Hugh. Tell Mademoiselle Autumn I have gone back to Chermont to oversee the planting of some new vines. I will be back as quickly as possible. I apologize for leaving without telling her, but I only just awoke a little while ago and realized this task awaited me. They are a new variety of vine. I would be certain they are planted properly in the right field.” He smiled, and then without another word mounted his horse, which the stableboy had brought him.
It was a poor excuse, he thought as he rode off, but it would have to do. D’Albert was a part of his life he would hopefully never have to share with Autumn because it would be over and done with by the time they wed in late summer. Reaching the main road, he pushed his mount into a canter. Soon he was passing the entry to Archambault. Then, finally, as the sun climbed above the horizon, he reached Chermont. He slid from his mount as a groom took the horse to lead him into the stables, and entered the chateau. In the hall he found d’Albert, already up, breaking his fast with fresh baked bread and cheese, a goblet of wine in his hand. He gestured with the goblet in greeting.
The marquis joined him at the highboard, asking as he sat down, “How did you know where I was?”
“Your valet. Was it a secret, Sebastian?” He shoved a piece of bread into his mouth.
“I’m getting married, d’Albert, I have been courting my soon-to-be wife,” the marquis said. He took a deep swallow of wine.
“What’s she like?”
“Beautiful, adorable, a Scot, and utterly impossible,” came the answer. “She’s going to be furious to find me gone when she awakens.”
“Sorry,” d’Albert replied sanguinely, “but you have some work to do for the master, monseigneur. The lady is still at Chenonceaux, but they depart tomorrow for Paris. The popinjay is terrified of losing his nephew. Nothing can be written down. You will have to memorize everything so you may tell the lady.”
“And how the hell am I supposed to do that, d’Albert? If you had come a few days ago, before I went to Chenonceaux with all the rest of the local gentry to pay my respects, I might have been able to steal a private moment with the lady,” the marquis told his companion. “Now it will be very difficult, if not impossible.”
“You have to do it,” d’Albert said. “The next few months are critical to the success of the master’s plans. If the king is to be crowned, as his late father wished it, we must act now, before that popinjay d’Orleans and his troublesome friends in Paris cause any more difficulties. You have no idea how hard it has been to keep those wolves and foxes at bay these past eight years. They have wanted nothing more than possession of the king so they might circumvent his father’s will and rule France in his name. Do you know what a disaster that would have been?”
The Marquis d’Auriville nodded in agreement. Then he said, “The lady likes perfumed gloves. I could take her a pair and say I meant to bring them to her the other day.”
“Do you have such an item?” d’Albert asked.
“Oui.
I intended giving a pair to my soon-to-be mother-in-law. I shall simply take the pair for the lady and send to Nantes for another pair.” He arose from the table. “Come along now, d’Albert. We will go to my library, where you will instruct me. If they are leaving tomorrow, I shall have to go this afternoon.”
I intended giving a pair to my soon-to-be mother-in-law. I shall simply take the pair for the lady and send to Nantes for another pair.” He arose from the table. “Come along now, d’Albert. We will go to my library, where you will instruct me. If they are leaving tomorrow, I shall have to go this afternoon.”
“Shall I tell the master you are marrying?” d’Albert asked as they walked from the hall.
“Oui,
and tell him once I have a wife I can no longer play this game. It would be too dangerous. I do not want to involve Autumn. Besides, she renders me vulnerable, which makes me too risky an ally. He will understand. We plan to wed in late summer.”
and tell him once I have a wife I can no longer play this game. It would be too dangerous. I do not want to involve Autumn. Besides, she renders me vulnerable, which makes me too risky an ally. He will understand. We plan to wed in late summer.”
“I will tell him, but you know if he wants you to continue in his secret service, monseigneur, you will have no choice,” d’Albert replied. “Besides, it is for France!”
Sebastian d’Oleron laughed. “Tell me what I must know,” he responded.
For France?
He almost laughed again. The only difference between the princes of the royal blood and Cardinal Mazarin was the fact that the cardinal was truly devoted to the young king and his best interests. That that devotion brought him the power the others wanted was irrelevant in his eyes.
For France?
He almost laughed again. The only difference between the princes of the royal blood and Cardinal Mazarin was the fact that the cardinal was truly devoted to the young king and his best interests. That that devotion brought him the power the others wanted was irrelevant in his eyes.
In the late afternoon he approacheed Chenonceaux. By incredible good fortune he met the king and his mother returning from the hunt with their retainers. Sweeping his hat from his dark head, he bowed from his saddle, and the king greeted him.
“Monsieur le Marquis d’Auriville, is it not?” Louis said. “What brings you back to Chenonceaux, and how is the beautiful Lady Autumn? She has promised to come to court when I build my new palace.”
“So she has told me, your majesty. We are to be wed in late summer, at the end of August. I returned because I have a gift for your mother. I forgot to bring it with me the other day. I did not want you leaving Chenonceaux without it, your majesty,” He smiled his charming smile.
“You are gracious, monseigneur,” Queen Anne said as she brought her horse abreast of them, squeezing between her son and the marquis. “Come and join us for some wine. Then you may give me your gift.”
“I thank you, your majesty,” he replied jovially, suddenly dropping his voice to quickly say, so only she might hear,
“I have a message for you from d’Albert.”
“I have a message for you from d’Albert.”
Queen Anne nodded imperceptibly and then turned to her son.
They entered the inner court of the chateau and from there moved into the beautiful palace. In the Great Hall the servants scurried to and fro with wine and sugar wafers. They chattered about the hunt, which had taken up a good deal of their day. When d’Orleans began to hold forth in his pompous manner, the marquis found himself drawn aside into a corner by the queen.
“Quickly!”
was all she said.
was all she said.
“You have done well, recalling Pierre Seguier to be chancellor, taking the royal seals from Chateauneuf, and giving them to Mole. Now you must name the Comte de Chavigny, who holds the confidence of Conde, as your first minister. This will infuriate d’Orleans. Gondi will find himself isolated, as it will appear the princes of the blood royal have regained royal favor. In another month Conde’s influence must be decreased. You will meet with the bishop to promise him a cardinal’s hat. The political factions will be totally confused by all of this. In July you must appear to sacrifice all to Conde’s ambitions and dismiss the cardinal’s three allies, Servien, Lionne, and Le Tellier, in order to lull Conde into a false sense of security. By month’s end you must somehow manage to pick a quarrel with Conde, making him the aggressor. I shall get further instructions to you before then.” As he finished speaking, the marquis presented Queen Anne with the exquisitely wrapped gift and bowed low to her.
The queen made a great show of opening the silk wrapping with its cloth-of-gold ribbon. She lifted out a pair of gloves with a cry of delight. “My dear marquis, how absolutely beautiful,” she said as she tried on the gloves, holding out her hands to admire them. They were of the softest cream-colored kidskin, embroidered with pearls and tiny pink crystals, and lined in rose-colored silk. She sniffed. “They are scented! It is my favorite violet! Ohh, you could not have given me a lovelier gift! Louis! Come and see the beautiful scented gloves monsieur le marquis has brought me!” She smiled up at Sebastian and said low, “I understand and shall await
his
next message. Thank you. I did not think he had friends here among the vineyards.”
his
next message. Thank you. I did not think he had friends here among the vineyards.”
“He has friends everywhere, madame. Never doubt it. I know at times it must seem as if you are alone, but you are not. Courage! It is but a few months more, and the king will be in full command. It is toward that day we all endeavor.” Then the marquis kissed the queen’s hand and bowed once again.
“Let me see your new treasure,
Maman,”
the king said, coming up to them and taking his mother’s hand. “Ah, exquisite! The workmanship is marvelous. Where did these gloves come from, monsieur le marquis?”
Maman,”
the king said, coming up to them and taking his mother’s hand. “Ah, exquisite! The workmanship is marvelous. Where did these gloves come from, monsieur le marquis?”
“They are made in Florence, your majesty, but I purchased them through a merchant in Nantes who imports them,” Sebastian replied.
“I will want his name. I have not ever seen gloves so fine.” The king turned his head slightly. “Maurice, obtain the information needed from the marquis before he leaves us.” Then he looked to Sebastian again. “Will you stay for dinner, monseigneur?”
“If your majesty will forgive me, I must return to Belle Fleurs. I left before dawn. Autumn will be expecting my return today. If I leave now, I can just get back before nightfall. With your majesty’s permission I beg leave to withdraw.” He bowed to the young king.
“She is very beautiful and equally tempting, monseigneur,” Louis remarked. “I cannot say I blame you. I should far prefer her company to that of a king. You may withdraw with our thanks for the lovely gift you have brought my mother.” Louis inclined his head slightly, indicating that the interview was over.
The marquis bowed again to the king and Queen Anne, then backed away until the royals turned from him. One of the king’s secretaries, Monsieur Maurice, came and was given the information regarding the source for the gloves in the town of Nantes. As he hurried from the chateau he was approached by Prince Gaston d’Orleans himself.
Blocking the marquis’s way, the prince said, “Why did you come here today, monsieur?”
“I had a pair of scented gloves for the queen that I meant to bring the other day but did not. Hearing you were leaving tomorrow, I returned with my gift this afternoon. Why do you ask, monsieur le prince? Is something wrong?”
“Why would you bring her a gift?” the prince demanded.
“Why would anyone bring a queen a gift? In hopes that if one day a royal favor was needed, it would be given, although I hardly believe a pair of kid gloves is worth much,” he chuckled. “Why do you ask?”
“The king is in danger,” the prince said, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial fashion. “The queen cannot be trusted, and her minion, the cardinal, lurks just beyond tomorrow, waiting to rule France.”
“I would not know about such things, monsieur le prince. I am a simple man whose family has lived here along the Cher for over two thousand years. We were here when Rome came, when the Vikings came, and now when King Louis has come. My passion is for my lands, for the vines I tend, the wine I produce. Politics is not for a man like me. I am soon to wed. My next concern will be for an heir to Chermont. What happens in Paris is long past by the time we hear about it along the River Cher.” He bowed to Gaston d’Orleans. “God will protect the king, monsieur le prince. Have faith, and do not worry.” Then he turned and moved into the courtyard where his horse was awaiting him.
“Fool!” the prince said. “A simple country bumpkin for all his ancient title and name. I am beginning to see plots where none exist. Damn Mazarin to hell! He has me so on edge!”
The marquis mounted his horse and rode from Chenonceaux. The prince could know nothing, of course, but still such was the mood of the conspirators that even the most innocent event frightened them. He smiled to himself, almost amused. The cardinal was obviously a force to be reckoned with by those whose motives were disloyal. He had never met Jules Mazarin but had become involved in the cardinal’s intricate network of informants and spies through his sister, who was a Cistercian nun. Jeanne Marie admired the cardinal’s devotion, piety, and honesty. Having been raised a sensible country girl, she also liked the cardinal’s practical nature.
She was his elder by five years, and he had not seen her in ten years when she one day appeared at Chermont for a “visit.” She was, she said, inspecting a proposed site for a new convent her order was considering building in the area. She would, she said, stay with him, so they might catch up on old times. This was said in the company of her companions, half a dozen dour-faced nuns who could not possibly know that he and Jeanne Marie had never had any “old times” worth reliving. He had been five when she had gone to the nuns. He had been ten when she decided she wanted to dedicate her life to God’s work.
He had, of course, welcomed his sister and her party to Chermont, offering them a small wing of the chateau for their privacy. His priest, Pere Hugo, was delighted to have a congregaton at the early mass for a change. Then Jeanne Marie took him aside one morning, explaining what had been going on in Paris ever since King Louis XIII had died. Queen Anne, allied with the cardinal, struggled to keep the little king out of the hands of wicked men whose only desire was for personal power. His sister was dramatic in her speech, but he knew from the gossip that had filtered into the region that she was telling him the truth.
Then Jeanne Marie surprised him. The cardinal, she explained, had long ago assembled a network of people of goodwill whose sole desire was to see the little king safey educated and enthroned on his thirteenth birthday. But, she explained, there was a lack along the Cher of a good agent.
The conspirators wanted to keep young Louis ignorant of France, ignorant of God’s will, ignorant of the world. They wanted to make him selfish as they were. They wanted him seeped in pleasure so that it would be all he desired out of life. They wanted him useless so they might rule for him. The cardinal and the queen could not allow such a thing to happen to the boy who had been born to his parents when France had given up all hope of an heir. The boy the people called
le Dieudonne,
“the Godgiven one.”
le Dieudonne,
“the Godgiven one.”
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