Eye of the God

by Ariel Allison

  “I am humbled,” Tavernier said with another short bow, forcing the smile from his face. The king must be eager, indeed, to see his blue beauty.

  “If you will follow me?”

  Colbert turned and walked up the steps, the heavy fringe of his cape barely dusting the ground.

  The court of King Louis XIV was deeply immersed in ritual, dictating the dress, behavior, and mannerisms of all who came before him. Etiquette was a carefully observed art form by which courtiers advanced in royal society. It was therefore no surprise that Tavernier's arrival in the royal court caused such a stir. He presented himself not in the required attire of britches, vest, and coat, but in his elaborately embroidered Oriental robes. On his head he wore a silk turban popular in the Far East, not the heavy coifed wig of French nobility. Although he drew gasps and stares as he followed Colbert through the palace, Tavernier was fully aware that this marked departure from accepted protocol would ultimately work to his advantage. King Louis's interest had set the gem merchant apart from every other member of the royal court. All eyes were on him.

  Colbert escorted Tavernier to the king's antechamber where the highest ranks of French nobility gathered. Most would have stood in awe of the fifteen-foot ceilings trimmed in elaborate gilded crown molding and the deep crimson walls along which hung massive portraits of past and present monarchs. A chandelier of Austrian crystal dangled above the travertine tile floor below. Courtiers sat scattered ceremonially around the room on a series of red velvet divans. It appeared that their single purpose in life was to attend the comings and goings of the king.

  Although Tavernier considered this to be a life wasted and dismally boring, it was an honor of the highest degree to those seated in the room. What was most notable to Tavernier, however, was not the extravagant apparel or ornate fixtures in the room, but the overwhelming stench of unkempt bodies poorly masked by oily perfume. Tavernier steeled himself not to wrinkle his nose in distaste. He knew it was not unheard of for French courtiers to go months without bathing, resulting in agonizing outbreaks of head lice. It made his scalp itch just to think about it. Many of the women seated around the room held in their laps thin mahogany sticks for those moments when the itching became unbearable. The odor was quite offensive to the delicate sensibilities of Tavernier, a man used to lavish living, but also wide open spaces and clean air.

  A murmur ran through the antechamber as Colbert led him toward the intricately carved mahogany doors that opened into the king's private chamber. The courtiers regarded how this turbaned stranger could be given an honor few of them would ever receive.

  “The king has requested that you dine with him this evening, and he is also arranging a lengthy tour of the palace grounds tomorrow. But for now he requests that you join him immediately.”

  “I am more than pleased to oblige His Majesty,” Tavernier said.

  It was considered improper to knock on the king's door. Instead, those wishing to speak with Louis XIV were required to gently scratch the door with their left little finger. Most of the court, including Colbert, had grown the nail on that finger longer than the rest to accommodate the command. Most, however, would never dare so bold a move. Colbert on the other hand got much use out of that fingernail.

  A series of swipes across the heavy wooden panel produced a loud enough sound to be heard within. Tavernier noted the courtiers waited patiently to see if he and Colbert would be admitted.

  “Entrez,” came the reply.

  Colbert swung open the massive doors and ushered Tavernier into the sitting room, closing the doors behind him. The king lounged at a long oval table covered in an intricately woven blue silk tablecloth. The parquet wood floors were polished to a mirror shine, and a bright fire glowed in the fireplace at one end of the room.

  Tavernier and Colbert approached the king and knelt before him with bowed heads.

  “Your Majesty,” they said in unison.

  “Jean-Baptiste Tavernier, your reputation precedes you,” said the king with a curt nod.

  He waved them forward and invited them to join him at the table. King Louis sat in an ornately carved high-backed chair covered with blue and gold brocade. Draped around his shoulders was a thick winter cloak of heavy silk, lined with fur, and embroidered with hundreds of gold fluer-de-lis. His wig of black curls fell in preposterous mounds below his shoulders.

  “I have worked hard on my reputation,” Tavernier said. “I hope you have heard only the good things.”

  The polite bantering continued. “I hear that you are the most noted jewel merchant not only in Europe but also in the Far East,” King Louis said. “I hear that you have traveled hundreds of thousands of miles in every kind of weather. I hear that you have been arrested, that you have escaped armed conflict, and that you even survived a shipwreck.”

  “It was a mere squall, Your Majesty. Not worth telling.”

  “No need to feign modesty in my presence. I am not impressed by it. I invited you here because you have extraordinary stories to tell and because you have exceptional jewels to offer. And it will come as no surprise to you, Monsieur Tavernier, that I only buy the best. My finance minister here can assure you that price is no issue.”

  The muscles around Colbert's mouth twitched. “His Majesty is known for an elaborate lifestyle.”

  “And it is your job, Colbert, to orchestrate ways for me to pay for that lifestyle.”

  “Meaning I must convince the French people that taxes are not only necessary but a joy as well.”

  Louis threw his head back and laughed. “And Minister Colbert is a genius at taxing the people. Versailles is financed entirely by an elaborate set of taxes he created.”

  “And the people have not howled?”

  Colbert smiled for the first time since Tavernier arrived. “The art of taxation consists in so plucking the goose as to obtain the largest amount of feathers with the least possible amount of hissing.”

  Tavernier regarded Colbert for a moment, gauging whether he would be foe or ally in his business with the king.

  “I have heard much about Versailles, Your Majesty,” Tavernier said, turning his attention back to Louis. “I understand it is quite a marvel.”

  “It rivals anything built in the world.”

  “Something of a bet was it?”

  “Not so much a bet as an illustration. My last minister of finance, Nicolas Fouquet, had the audacity to build a palace grander than mine in Paris. As if a mere courtier should live in greater abundance than the king!”

  “Was I right in hearing that Fouquet built his chateau with monies embezzled from the royal purse?”

  “Indeed,” Louis said, nodding with great disapproval. “It simply couldn't be tolerated.”

  “And where is this Fouquet now?”

  “Imprisoned. For life. I couldn't very well let him be executed now could I? An example must be made of those who betray the king.”

  “And execution is not sufficient punishment?”

  “Sufficient perhaps. But far too quick. I wanted something a little … longer,” Louis said. “But enough of that. I am anxious to see what you have brought me, Monsieur Tavernier.”

  “I am pleased to hear that you have such a high regard for my merchandise. I have long felt that Indian diamonds are the largest available and of the utmost quality, a perfect fit for royalty.”

  The king gave a short clap, and one of his many butlers stepped into the room from a side chamber. “Have Monsieur Tavernier's merchandise brought from his chambers immediately,” he ordered.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the butler replied and scurried from the room.

  “Now,” said Louis. “I would like to hear of your travels.”

  Tavernier settled in his chair, running a finger casually over the intricate upholstery. “I have bought and sold precious gems from the time I was fifteen. It was in the writings of Marco Polo that I first heard wondrous tales of Indian diamonds. Polo believed that diamonds sprung from the ground at the bottom of fa
thomless valleys and could only be extracted by throwing dead animals to the depths, where eagles would then swoop in and recover the carcasses. Diamond hunters then climbed to their nests and picked diamonds from the eagle droppings.”

  Tavernier gauged the king's expression for a response, and when he felt as though he maintained interest, continued. “These legends are of course absurd, but you can understand how as a young man I became entranced by the lure of diamonds in the Orient. Over the course of my career I have traveled to many countries, and I believe that Marco Polo was right. There are no diamonds that compare to those found in India.

  “They are mined in a way I find very peculiar. Instead of tunneling into the sides of mountains, they dig pits straight into the ground. Each shovelful of earth is carefully sifted for gems. Those larger than ten carats are appropriated for the sultan's personal use. The rest are available for sale.”

  The king frowned. “I was hoping that you were bringing me jewels of note, Tavernier. Not pebbles to be used as a child's plaything.”

  Tavernier smiled. “It is certainly difficult to escape with a large diamond, but it is not impossible. Let's just say that I have my ways, and you will not be disappointed with what I offer. The greater part of my life has been spent trading in gems, gaining allies, and negotiating customs. I doubt you will find another merchant in France, or all of Europe for that matter, who can deliver jewels of the quality that I have brought.”

  “Pray tell, Monsieur Tavernier, how could a man such as yourself, obviously of European descent, escape India without suspicion?”

  For a moment Tavernier's thoughts drifted back to Rai Rao and his short imprisonment in the sultan's dungeon. “Suspicion is one thing, detection is another.”

  The king appeared quite pleased. “Ah, intrigue. Do continue.”

  “For many years my liaison in Golconda was a man named Mir Jumla. Officially he was prime minister. Unofficially he acted as a small-time diamond smuggler. Those individuals with fewer scruples than myself were known to approach him with jewels that far exceeded the sultan's requirements for sale. Jumla would then purchase those jewels for a measly sum only to resell them later for an exorbitant profit. It was not my concern how he acquired the diamonds or what he paid for them.”

  “And this Mir Jumla is still in Golconda?”

  Tavernier shook his head. “Two years after I made my final purchase, Mir defected to the Mughal Empire, taking with him over four hundred pounds of diamonds, including a 780-carat diamond that you may know by its current name, the Great Mughal.”

  It was at that moment that Louis's butler returned, pushing a cart on which sat a small wooden trunk.

  “Perfect timing,” Tavernier said, rising to his feet. “Would you care to see what I have brought, Your Majesty?”

  Louis was practically salivating at the prospect.

  With great fanfare Tavernier lifted the ornately carved chest and set it on the table before the king. From deep within a pocket of his robe he drew a small gold key, which he inserted into the lock. Three rotations brought a click and then Tavernier stepped back. He turned the chest to face the king and slowly lifted the lid.

  King Louis's gasp of awe produced a deeply satisfied smile from Tavernier.

  Inside the chest were more than one thousand polished diamonds of various colors, shapes, and sizes. The king of France slid a hand into the trunk, letting the smooth stones slide between his fingers. He said nothing for a long while, but instead gazed upon the treasure, occasionally holding one up to the light.

  Instead of revealing the jewels individually or in small groups, Tavernier purposely had presented them together for maximum effect. He learned long ago that those with wealth and prestige were easily bored, even with things as spectacular as diamonds.

  The king stirred Tavernier's diamonds with his bejeweled hand as resolve steadily covered his countenance. “I want them,” he finally said, looking at Tavernier for the first time since opening the trunk. “All of them.”

  “I thought you might,” he grinned.

  Colbert watched the exchange in guarded silence. “We will, of course, need to present these to the court jeweler Monsieur Pitau to check for clarity and irregularities.”

  “Of course,” said Tavernier. “You are more than welcome to do so. I think he will find it an easy task, for I only brought those diamonds that are of the clearest grade and largest size. I did not want to waste Your Majesty's time with the rest.”

  “There were more?” Louis said with raised eyebrow.

  “Thousands more, Your Majesty, but none fit for a king such as yourself.”

  “I see.” The king's hand once again slid into the chest and fondled the diamonds.

  “And your price, Monsieur Tavernier?” asked Colbert. Hedging in the king's purse was a challenge not for the faint of heart.

  Tavernier leaned forward, his face devoid of expression. “For this collection I require 490,000 livres and a title.”

  At first the king and his finance minister stared blankly at him, and then they laughed. It was only when Tavernier did not return the mirth that they realized he was quite serious.

  “Impressive though your collection may be, it hardly merits advancement in rank. I hardly think you could argue that, Monsieur Tavernier,” Colbert stated coldly.

  “That is a pity.” Tavernier looked boldly at the king. “Because you have not yet seen everything I have to offer.”

  He reached beneath his robe and pulled the worn buckskin pouch from around his neck. There was a slight moment of hesitation before he gently placed the pouch into the king's outstretched hand.

  Louis grinned as he felt the full weight of the leather pouch. The two men locked eyes in a moment of understanding before he opened the drawstrings and slid the large blue diamond into his palm.

  Colbert leaned forward and stared at the diamond. “I have never seen such a thing,” he muttered.

  “Nor had I,” Tavernier replied, his voice cracking with unexpected emotion. “And Mir Jumla insisted there was something unique about this diamond.”

  “How so?” Louis asked, his eyes still wide.

  “When I purchased this stone from him, he told me it had been chiseled from the eye of a large Hindu statue. It comes with quite a tale of theft and mystery. Mir Jumla insisted that the stone was cursed. At first I did not believe him, but over the last fifteen years I have come to wonder if his tale does, in fact, bear some truth.”

  The king heard little of what Tavernier said, for his gaze was still arrested by the deep blue diamond in his hand.

  “Yet I have always intended that stone to be the means by which I receive a title. And if that is too great a price for you to pay, I know of monarchs in both India and Spain who would be more than willing to accommodate me.”

  Louis' fingers instinctively closed over the diamond. “A title you say?”

  “I have had my heart set on a baronet for quite some time.”

  “And 490,000 livres is your price?”

  “Yes, for the chest of stones. The great blue is an additional four hundred thousand livres,” he said. “Plus the title.”

  Colbert gasped in anger, but the king dismissed his objection. “I feel certain that we can make arrangements, Monsieur Tavernier. It is not every day that I am presented with a stone such as this.”

  Tavernier cast a longing glace at his precious blue stone. “Indeed,” he said. “Diamonds such as that one are most rare.”

  “So are titles,” Colbert growled.

  “A worthwhile trade in my opinion.”

  “You drive a tough bargain, Monsieur Tavernier,” Louis said, his fingers still tightly wrapped around the diamond.

  “I work in a tough business, Your Majesty. Diamonds do not find themselves.” All the while, Tavernier's eyes were on the jewel in Louis' hand. He suddenly felt naked without the familiar weight around his neck.

  “And yet, what you request in exchange is simply preposterous,” Colbert argued, pu
lling at the stiff lace collar around his neck. Red blotches covered his cheeks, and his lips were drawn tight.

  “Perhaps,” Tavernier nodded. “But I also know that the French monarchy has never had a jewel such as this. The crown jewels would benefit immensely from its addition.”

  Louis snapped his fingers, ending their discussion. “I have made up my mind. I will have this jewel, along with the rest. And you shall have your title.”

  “I am most honored, Your Majesty.”

  “Colbert,” Louis ordered. “See that Monsieur Tavernier is compensated for these jewels.”

  Jean-Baptiste Colbert looked at Tavernier with an icy resolve. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he said through clenched teeth. “I will ensure that Monsieur Tavernier gets exactly what he deserves.”

  9

  ALEX WELD DROVE WITH ONE HAND ON THE STEERING WHEEL AND THE other pressing his cell phone to his ear. “You do know how to tell a story, Dr. Mitchell.”

  “Well, I have to make sure you call me again, don't I?” She sounded tired.

  “Have no fear of that.”

  “Good night, Alex.”

  “I'll talk to you soon, Abby.”

  Alex folded shut his phone and tossed it onto the passenger seat. He smiled at the windshield as he navigated traffic.

  “Well, well, well, this is going to be more fun than usual,” he said to no one in particular.

  Daniel Wallace, head of security, loomed inside the Smithsonian Office of Protection, glaring at a blinking red light on the console before him. “That can't be right.”

  He sat before a row of closed-circuit television screens inside the computer terminus on the second floor of The Castle. The building rested like a slumbering giant in the early morning hours, undisturbed by the usual frenetic activity. He should have been home hours ago, but he had no one to go home to and little need for sleep.

  “Marshall, did the motion detectors just go off in the basement?” He asked a bleary-eyed security guard working another console.