“She can no longer speak,” Sister Nicole whispered.
“May I embrace her?”
Sister Nicole hesitated. “She must turn to God.”
My mother shook her head.
“What is she saying?”
“I think she wants you to hold her.”
Carefully—for I did not want to hurt her—I gathered my mother into my arms. She laid her cheek against my heart. I held her thus, until she passed.
I STAYED THAT NIGHT in the infirmary. Sister Nicole and I laid my mother out. I thought I would be repulsed by death, but my mother taught me otherwise. She looked at peace. The nuns came, one after another: I saw that they had been a family to her, saw that love was not rare in that place.
The next morning, we moved her bed—her bier—to the choir, and positioned it behind the grille for public viewing. There was already a large crowd waiting when the shutters were opened. I was surprised by the passionate reverence, although I shouldn’t have been. For years, my cook had been bringing me songs written about my mother, verses people sang in the markets. It was said people regarded her as something of a saint, credited her with healing ailing animals—dogs, but mostly horses.
All that long day, humble men and women came with their reliquaries, their crosses and rosaries, their medals and holy images. The nuns would take them, touch them to my mother’s folded hands, her forehead, her lips, and hand them back. This went on until after five in the evening.
I sat veiled, at her head, moved by the singing of the choir, the prayers, overwhelmed by the love these people had for my mother. When the clerics entered, a great cry went up.
“They’re going to take her away now,” Sister Nicole told me. “To bury her.”
“May I go too?”
“Yes, but first: we want you to have this.” She pressed a humble wooden rosary into my hands. “It was her father’s.”
I ran the worn beads through my fingers. “Thank you.” I touched it to my mother’s hand, her lips, and then kissed it myself.
“And one other thing,” Sister Nicole said, handing me a brass locket on a gold chain.
The clasp was tarnished; I pried it open with my nail. Inside was a strand of white horsehair, and a lock of fine hair—the hair of a baby, likely—as well as some decayed matter. “Do you know what it signifies?”
Sister Nicole shook her head. “All I know is that she never went without it.”
“Then she should have it with her now,” I said, fastening the chain around my mother’s neck. Her skin had a porcelain luster. Sleep, little one.
Author’s Note
Mistress of the Sun is a work of imagination sparked by real-life events and personalities. In the seventeenth century, the roman à clef (novel with a key) became popular. These were novels about real people, disguised by false names. Most of my characters are based on real people (Louis, Louise, Athénaïs, Lauzun, Nicole). A few, however, are composite. Gautier is inspired by the real-life Monsieur le Duc de Saint-Aignan, but many liberties have been taken with that distinguished man’s life. A number of “Religious” influenced Louise de la Vallière’s avocation (Abbé Rancé, Jacques Bousset, Louis Bellefonds, Père César); I’ve combined them into one individual, Abbé Alphonse Patin, a composite of them all. Clorine was indeed the name of Louise de la Vallière’s maid, but that is all that is known about her.
Louise de la Vallière was an extraordinary horsewoman—that’s fact—and no doubt there were special horses in her life. However, nothing is known of them, and Diablo, therefore, is a fictional creation. A travel journal by Sebastiano, an Italian priest visiting Paris, describes seeing Louise de la Vallière vaulting, and mentions her teacher, a Moor. There was said to have been a whisperer—a “gentler”—at the Court of the Sun King, and it is possible that this gentler and the Moor were one and the same.
Louise de la Vallière’s health is something of a mystery. She was an athletic woman, yet she suffered periods of disability (including the attack of blindness). I discussed what little is known with a doctor, who suggested that she might have had multiple sclerosis, a disease that existed but would not be identified until the late eighteenth century. It’s only a guess, but it fits.
In order to recreate history in fiction, one must simplify. In “real life,” there were more houses and palaces, more scandals, more loves, more entertainments, more journeys and war—but most of all there were simply more people: more children, relatives, friends and servants. The Marquis de Saint-Rémy had a daughter, Catherine, by his first marriage. She no doubt complicated Louise de la Vallière’s life, but I chose not to have her complicate this novel. Gaston d’Orléans and his wife did in fact have a much-wanted son, born developmentally impaired, who died at two, before Louise joined the Orléans Court at Blois. When she did arrive, there was also a fourth Princess, Marie-Anne, who lived only three years. Cardinal Mazarin is not mentioned, in spite of his significant role both to the country, politically, and to the young King, personally. There were, as well, a number of delightfully eccentric individuals who are not mentioned. I reluctantly did not delve into the stories of Madame de Choisy and her cross-dressing son, the evil Olympe Mancini and her equally evil lover, the Marquis de Vardes, the famous courtesan Ninon, and the charmingly outspoken Princess Palentine…not to mention a vast array of underworld characters. No doubt some of these individuals will appear in future novels.
Although never convicted, Athénaïs, the Marquise de Montespan, remains suspected of the witchcraft hinted at in Mistress of the Sun. For those wishing to read more about the period, I highly recommend Antonia Fraser’s Love and Louis XIV. For more information on my research and the writing process, please see my website: www.sandragulland.com.
Glossary
amoroso a lover, a gallant
barley-hood a fit of ill humor brought on by drinking
barouch a horse-drawn carriage with four wheels. It has an outside seat for the driver and facing inside seats for two couples, with a folding top.
branle a French dance that moves mainly from side to side. It is performed by couples in either a line or a circle.
bratche a brat
cabriole a springing ballet step in which one leg is extended and the second leg is brought up to the first
capriole (in horsemanship) when a horse makes a high leap without moving forward, kicking its hind legs out together
carosse (or caroche) a luxurious carriage
carrefour a place where four roads meet
chime hours three, six, nine or twelve o’clock
close-stool a chamber pot enclosed within a stool or box; an early toilet
coat of plates a series of overlapping plates riveted onto a vest of leather
courante a dance characterized by running or gliding steps
covetise excessive desire, lust
deflourish to deprive (a woman) of her virginity
Fontaine Beleau the town of Fontainebleau in France, originally known by a variety of names: Fontaine Beleau, Fontaine Bello, Fontaine Belle Eau (all variations on “good water fountain”), Fontaine de Biaud (after Biaud, the original owner) and Fontaine Bleau (after “fontaine de Bleau,” a spring discovered by a dog named Bleau)
frack lusty
galled sore from chafing
giglet a giddy, romping girl
gill-flirt a wanton or giddy young woman
gloom (v.) to look displeased, to frown or scowl
glout a sullen look; to be “in the glout” means to be sulking
hallali a bugle call
handfast (v.) to make a contract of marriage by joining hands
hugger-mugger in secret
Hungary water wine scented with rosemary flowers
jerkin a garment for a man’s upper body, often made of leather
jeté (dance) a ballet step in which a spring is made from one foot to the other
justacorps a close-fitting body-coat reaching to the knees
King’s Evil (or simpl
y, the Evil) scrofula, tuberculosis of the lymph nodes of the neck
linsey-woolsey a coarse fabric of wool and flax
livre a unit of currency. Multiply by four to get its approximate equivalent in U.S. dollars today. France at this time did not have a central mint, and the value of currency varied from province to province. A Tournais livre, for example, was a quarter of the value of the Parisian livre.
lose his nature to be impotent
made (v.) (as in “to be made”) to be pregnant
meddling in the context used here, sexual intercourse
médianoche a midnight meal
minikin a dainty, sprightly girl
mouche a small patch worn on the face as an ornament or to conceal a blemish
nerval relating to or affecting the nerves
Palais d’Orléans today known as the Luxembourg Palace in Paris, where the French Senate meets
pas de bourrée (dance) a sideways step in which one foot crosses behind or in front of the other
pelerine a lace shoulder covering
petticoat breeches wide, pleated pants falling to the knee
pillion (as in “riding pillion”) to ride a horse sitting on a “pillion”—a pad or cushion attached behind a saddle on which a second person can ride, usually seated sideways
pirouette (dance) multiple turns on one leg
pochette a small violin, often carried in a pocket by French dance masters
poke (n.) (clothing) a bag or small sack worn by women under petticoats
posset a spiced drink of hot sweetened milk curdled with wine or ale
prince or princess of the blood in France, paternal royal descendants
pure-finder someone who collects dung for use as an alkaline lye for steeping hides
quality rank or position in society
Religious (n.) a member of a religious order
rosa solis a liqueur made from the juice of the sundew plant, believed to be an aphrodisiac. Rosolio (or resoil) is still produced in Italy and Spain, though it no longer contains sundew.
rudded made red
seminal semen
snug a muff
sou a unit of currency. Twenty sous equals one livre.
stale (n.) (horses) a steady, old, sometimes blind horse; also called a “stalking” horse because deer have no fear of such an animal and the hunter can hide behind it and shoot over the horse’s withers or under its belly
sullen-sick to be sick from ill-humor
swive for a man to copulate with a woman
toilette a towel or cloth; also used to put down on a dressing table (hence toilette)
touchy-headed slightly crazed, cranky
tucker (n.) (clothing) a piece of fabric worn by women to cover their bodice, often made of lace
tufter in stag hunting, a hound trained to drive the deer out of cover
uprise to rise from confinement after giving birth
varlet a menial, a groom
Versaie an early name for Versailles
voraginous resembling an abyss or whirlpool
vue a horn signal during a hunt, indicating that the hounds were still running
wet nurse a woman hired to suckle and nurse another woman’s child. A “dry-nurse” is the woman who took care of and attended to a child but did not suckle it.
whitepot a type of custard or milk pudding
whitework embroidery worked in white thread on a white ground
young with child newly pregnant, in the early stage of pregnancy
Acknowledgments
Many have been midwife to this novel; as with elephants, it was an eight-year gestation. Mistress of the Sun would simply not exist without them:
My first reader, always, agent Jackie Kaiser.
My amazing editors, Iris Tupholme and Trish Todd, as well as Dan Semetanka and Fiona Foster.
My sharp and dedicated managing editor, Noelle Zitzer; production editor, Allegra Robinson; and copyeditors and proof-readers, Allyson Latta, Becky Vogan and Debbie Viets.
The members of my San Miguel writers’ group, who cheered me lustily through a labyrinth of drafts: Susan McKinney and Beverly Donofrio.
The members of Wilno Women Writers: Pat Jeffries, Joanne Zommers and, especially, Jenifer McVaugh (who remembers my first creative attempt to tell this story twenty years ago).
My invaluable readers and consultants, in alphabetical order: Susanne Dunlap, Jude Holland, Juliann Krute, Gary McCollim, Mary Sharratt, Merilyn Simonds, Victoria Zackheim.
Two book clubs critiqued the manuscript: “Books Et Al” in Oakland, California (Chere Kelley, Akemy Nakatani, Robyn Papanek, Marianna Sheehan, Mary Sivila, Monique Binkley Smith, Leslie Tobler), and “19 girls and a boy(s)” in Toronto, Ontario (Carrie Gulland, Rebecca Snow, Fiona Tingley, Morwenna White and Al Kellett).
I would like to thank a host of people who extended their knowledge and help over the years: Nanci Closson, for the use of her studio in a moment of creative desperation; Bruno and Anne Challamel, research assistants and consultants extraordinaire; Simone Lee, for access to a book on seventeenth-century horsemanship; Dr. John McErlean, for keeping me abreast; Dr. Rob Adams, for medical consultation; Dr. Karen Raber and Treva Tucker, for information on seventeenth-century horseback riding; Dr. Elizabeth Rapley, for consultation on life in seventeenth-century monasteries; scriptwriter Karl Schiffman, for plot wisdom; Willie and Lobo, for full-hearted music to write by; Bernard Turle, for a gift many years ago of a book on Versailles.
My historical guides: M. Ludart, through the historical mazes of Paris; Patrick Germain, through the châteaus of the Loire Valley (on horseback!); Ghislain Pons, tireless and knowledgable guide through Versailles.
And last, but never least, my biggest fans: Richard, Carrie and Chet.
About the Author
SANDRA GULLAND grew up in Berkeley, California, and immigrated to Canada in 1970. The author of the acclaimed Josephine B. Trilogy, Gulland and her husband live half the year near Killaloe, Ontario, and half in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. Visit her website at sandragulland.com.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
Also by Sandra Gulland
THE JOSEPHINE B. TRILOGY
The Many Lives & Secret Sorrows of Josephine B.
Tales of Passion, Tales of Woe
The Last Great Dance on Earth
Copyright
Harper Weekend
Mistress of the Sun
© 2008 by Sandra Gulland Inc.
Published by Harper Weekend, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
Originally published in a hardcover edition by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd: 2008
Harper Perennial trade paperback edition: 2009
This Harper Weekend trade paperback edition: 2010
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Mistress of the Sun is a work of fiction inspired by the life and times of Louise de la Vallière, mistress of Louis XIV, the Sun King.
Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following for permission to reprint an excerpt from the poem “Hall of Mirrors” in Some Other Garden by Jane Urquhart © 2000. Published by McClelland & Stewart Ltd. Used with permission of the publisher.
www.harpercollins.ca
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication information
Gulland, Sandra
Mistress of the sun / Sandra Gulland.
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EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2010 ISBN: 978-1-443-40310-8
1. La Vallière, Françoise-Louise de La Baume Le Blanc, duchesse de, 1644–1710—Fiction. 2. Louis XIV, King of France, 1638–1715—Fiction. 3. France—History—Louis XIV, 1643–1715—Fiction. I. Title. PS8563.U643M58 2010 C813’.54 C2010-903445-7
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