The Baker's Blood
Page 38
‘From the Indies. I showed them to Dr Semacgus, who examined them carefully. He recognised elephant hide.’
‘That completes the collection,’ growled Sartine. ‘Rabbits, a cobra and now an elephant!’
Notes
1. Silenus: a forest deity, the foster-father of Dionysus.
2. See The Saint-Florentin Murders.
3. See The Saint-Florentin Murders.
EPILOGUE
You will only ever be either great or honest men
as long as you are good people, loyal to God and the King.
LE GRAND CONDÉ
From 5 June to 19 June 1775
Now that the unrest was over, the time for the coronation had come. On 5 June, the Court moved to Compiègne, where, for the first time, Louis de Ranreuil attended a boar hunt as a page and had the joy of supplying his father with a horse. Nicolas had been given the task by the Duc de La Vrillière of ensuring security during the various moves and ceremonies. On the evening after the hunt, the King summoned him to his apartments to take delivery of his report on the circumstances surrounding May’s events. He sat down and, spectacles in his hand, went through the document with tense concentration. He sat motionless for a long time after this reading, then looked a little to the side of Nicolas and addressed him.
‘I thank you, Monsieur. This is most enlightening. But I have no desire for my reign to open with an act of severity. Those wretches from 11 May are enough … There are balances it is better not to upset …’ He threw the papers in the hearth and watched them burn. ‘Continue serving me well, you and your son. I saw him this afternoon. And always tell me the truth, whatever the cost to you, or to me … You may go, Monsieur.’
Nicolas bowed and kissed the hand the King held out.
The royal procession traditionally went through the estates of the first Merovingian kings: Villers-Cotterêts, Fismes and Soissons. The Queen and her entourage took the Chemin des Dames. Nicolas, on horseback, galloped close to the King’s carriage, and the King sometimes leant out of the window to chat to him. As for Louis, he was travelling with his fellow pages in the Maréchal de Richelieu’s suite. The weather was gorgeous and the road unrecognisable, having been swept, sanded and decked with flowers by peasants performing statute labour: they would be the last, as Turgot was preparing to abolish the practice. Nicolas noted in passing that the price of bread was still very high everywhere, but was glad to see that the unrest had petered out. The Bercheny Hussars, commanded by Monsieur de Viomesnil, were patrolling, prepared for any eventuality. The fact that the coronation had to be protected by these troops caused much murmuring.
On Friday 9 June, the King entered Reims in his ceremonial coach at the head of an endless procession of carriages and horsemen of the King’s Household in full dress uniform. Fanfares sounded, soon joined by the great bell of the cathedral. Welcomed on the square before the cathedral by the archbishop, Monseigneur de la Roche-Aymon, and the clergy, the King entered the shrine to hear the first prayers.
The next day, Nicolas paid his respects to the Queen, who was receiving in her excessively small apartment in the archbishop’s palace. She was so charming and engaging that she reminded him of her mother Maria Theresa. The crush of visitors was overwhelming in the first heat of summer. The Comte d’Artois, who was present, was joking in a carefree tone and whispering in the ears of the ladies, while his brother Provence looked on disapprovingly.
The same day, Nicolas had time to take Louis to a park in the city to see a female elephant that was drawing the crowds with her graceful tricks. She uncorked and drank from a bottle, demonstrating both skill and intelligence. Louis’s joy and enthusiasm reminded him that his son was still little more than a child. The King attended the coronation vespers and heard the sermon given by the Bishop of Aix, in which he stated that France could only perish through her failings, and that if she stayed as she ought to be, she would be the arbiter of the world and bring it happiness.
Late that night, Nicolas was summoned by the First Groom of the King’s Bedchamber, Monsieur Thierry. He dressed in haste in the poky little room he had been assigned near the royal apartment. He found the monarch in the company of the captain of the guards. Together, they drove to the basilica of Saint-Rémi, where the King, who was dressed simply in a brown coat and a round hat, wished to pray on the eve of his coronation. He was silent on the journey. The basilica was humming with the chants of monks. The King knelt and spent the next two hours in prayer. When he stood up again, he appeared transfigured. He looked at Nicolas, who had emerged from the shadows to follow him, as if seeing him for the first time. He held out his hand.
‘Monsieur, I shall never forget that you are beside me this evening. You were my grandfather’s, now be entirely mine.’
The following day, 11 June, Trinity Sunday, the bishops of Laon and Soissons knocked at the door of the King’s bedchamber. Twice they called him and twice the answer came: ‘The King is asleep.’ The third request was different: ‘We ask for Louis, whom God gave us as our king,’ and the door opened. In a long silver lace jacket, and supported by the two prelates, he was conducted to the cathedral and sat down in an armchair beneath a canopy decorated with fleurs-de-lis that hung from the vaulted ceiling. Nicolas took his place beside the Epistle in a magnificent white coat, a masterpiece by Master Vachon. He was awestruck by the spectacle before him: the Queen’s carved and gilded rostrum, the rows of benches and the spaces between the columns filled to the brim with ladies glittering with diamonds, the throne, mounted on a false gallery, where the King would take his place. The finest tapestries from the royal depository had been draped over the walls, completing the pomp and splendour of the decoration.
After the Veni Creator, the King, with his hands on the Gospels, took the three traditional oaths. The archbishop buckled the sword of Charlemagne on him and the Comte de Provence attached his spurs. The prior of Saint-Rémi opened the Holy Ampulla and handed it to the archbishop who, with a gold needle, took from it a drop the size of a grain of wheat, which he mixed with holy oil. The King lay down flat on the ground, the archbishop beside him despite his age. Then he got up on his knees to receive the six unctions on the flesh, his jacket and camisole having been opened. The ring was blessed and put on. The King received his sceptre and the hand of justice, and the archbishop took the crown and held it over his head, crying, ‘May God crown you with this crown of glory and justice.’ He then lowered it onto the King’s head, and the twelve peers, both lay and ecclesiastical, laid their hands on it, as if forming the spokes of a symbolic wheel.
Now that Louis XVI had been crowned, the moment had come for the enthronement. He was clothed in the royal cloak, adorned with an ermine sash strewn with fleurs-de-lis, with a long tail under which he wore a tunic and a dalmatic. With his crown on his head, and holding the sceptre and the hand of justice, he was led ceremoniously to the throne overlooking the audience. The great doors were opened, the people entered, the trumpets sounded, doves were released, salvoes echoed outside, and the bells pealed out. Cheers from countless voices rose in jubilation, carrying up to the vault the acclamation of ‘Long live the King!’ The archbishop joined his cry to that of the crowd and began the Te Deum.
Once again, the King appeared to Nicolas transfigured, borne aloft by an unalloyed joy. There emanated from his whole person a new authority and gravity. The Queen burst into sobs. Tears overwhelmed Nicolas. The memory of the sad evening when the body of Louis XV had been transferred to Saint-Denis was fading. The coronation seemed to bring the time of misfortune to an end. The monarchy to which he had devoted his life was continuing. Down there, at the foot of the throne, he saw his son, face flushed with pride, in the livery of the King’s Household and, further on, among the ambassadors, Naganda in a long multicoloured cloak of feathers and pearls, standing in a hieratic pose and gazing in wonderment at the scene. Suddenly a hand came to rest on his shoulder. He turned and saw Aimée d’Arranet in a great Court cloak. With a smile, she b
ent her head tenderly towards him. The sky was clearing and his heart felt free. It seemed to him that a new life was beginning for him, and he suddenly believed in the possibility of happiness.
Ivry – Glane – Rome – La Bretesche
March 2004 – May 2005
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First, I wish to express my gratitude, as always, to Isabelle Tujague for devoting such care, and so much of her free time, to preparing the final version of the text. I am also grateful to Monique Constant, Conservateur Général du Patrimoine, for her encouragement over a long period, to Maurice Roisse, for his tireless checking of my manuscripts, and to my publisher and his colleagues for their friendship, loyalty and support.
About the Author
Jean-François Parot is a diplomat and historian. His Nicolas Le Floch mysteries have been published to much acclaim in French. The first five novels in the series, The Châtelet Apprentice, The Man with the Lead Stomach, The Phantom of Rue Royale, The Nicolas Le Floch Affair and The Saint-Florentin Murders, were enthusiastically reviewed on publication in English. The Baker’s Blood is the sixth Nicolas Le Floch investigation.
Howard Curtis’s many translations from French and Italian include works by Balzac, Flaubert, Pirandello, Jean-Claude Izzo, Marek Halter and Gianrico Carofiglio.
Copyright
First published in 2012
by Gallic Books, 59, Ebury Street, London, SW1W 0NZ
This ebook edition first published in 2012
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©Jean-François Parot, 2012
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