***
The next morning, Marquis asked for the chief jailer and told him about the proposed prisoner exchange. The latter laughed as he heard the story.
‘What a pity they will have to add your name to the list of those who were executed before you could be considered for the exchange.’ After he provided the Marquis with some bread and water he added. ‘You’d better eat up now. You won’t have a head to eat with by lunch time.’
The Marquis sighed in despair. He realised that the jailor was probably correct. He lamented the fact that he had been spared long enough to be informed of the possibility of his redemption, but not long enough to benefit from such a possibility. He realised that no good would come from pleading for an extension of his execution. If anything, he believed those currently in control of the prison would be inclined to speed up his execution to ensure that he would not be included in the prisoner exchange. What a pity it was too that the Court house was no longer situated on the estate. At least then he could have shouted loudly enough in the courtyard for the prosecutor to hear him from the court room he had been tried in.
An hour later, the jailer returned.
‘A local committee has ordered that your execution be brought forward. You will be executed in half an hour.’
The decision came as no surprise to the Marquis.
‘Would you like to wait here or in the courtyard?’ the jailer asked. ‘It will be your last chance for fresh air.’
As the Marquis considered the request he wondered about whether he wished to face the crowd of onlookers again. As if sensing the source of the Marquis’s trepidation, the jailer spoke again.
‘You don’t have to worry about the crowd. Only a few guards will be around. Executions are no longer open to the public.’
How civilized the Marquis thought. ‘I will wait in the courtyard,’ he said. It had been over a week since he had last been permitted access to the fresh air.
He was led into the courtyard with his hands and feet bound. He was able to shuffle about a bit. The Marquis was surprised to see how much had changed. The guillotine was still there. All the seating had been removed. A few guards milled about. It was a sunny, cloudless day. He sniffed the fresh air as the sun’s rays warmed his body on a cool winter’s day. In contrast to the last time he had been in this courtyard, he felt surprisingly calm. He had had a lot of time to prepare for this moment. The executioner arrived wearing his black hood.
‘Has the new blade arrived? I told them that this one is no good.’
‘I don’t know,’ one of the guards replied.
This conversation put paid to the Marquis’s sense of calmness. In months past, some guards had taken great delight in regaling him with tales about the agony suffered by the condemned on the occasions when a blunt blade took two or sometimes even three attempts to achieve a proper decapitation. It was apparently not unheard of for family members to secretly pay the executioner a tidy sum in order to ensure a sharp blade and a humane execution. The executioner approached a group of four men wearing grey jackets as they arrived in the courtyard. He could not hear everything they were saying but it was clear that the discussion centred on the blade.
‘We cannot wait. You will just have to make do.’
‘Then you will have to do it. I am a church going man. I am not prepared to do it.’ The executioner removed his hood and handed it to the members of the committee. Could fortune have delivered a further reprieve? The Marquis’s hopes were, however, instantly dashed.
‘I will do it,’ one of the guards said. ‘And I won’t even bother with the mask.’
‘Bring the prisoner here,’ another of the guards ordered.
‘I am entitled to a humane execution. You are surely all Christians. I beg of you to ensure that the blade is sharp?’
‘Silence!’ one of the guards roared. ‘No-one here cares about you or your situation. If your head does not come off first time, we will raise the blade again at once and do it again. If you suffer, your suffering will be short compared to that of many of those whom you sent to die in Louis’ army.’
The jailer arrived to join the others in the courtyard.
‘Where’s the executioner?’ the jailer enquired.
‘He walked off, because the blade is old. We don’t have time to wait for a new one.’
‘If you are planning to do the execution with a blunt blade dressed as you are, you had better be prepared to be covered in blood if you have to remove the blade from a partially severed head. I assume that none of you have witnessed such a thing.’
All the men shook their heads in response to the jailer’s question.
‘A new blade is on the way from the town now. It will be here shortly. I suggest we wait.’
Approximately twenty minutes later, a distinguished grey haired man arrived in the courtyard.
‘I am looking for the chief jailer.’
‘I am the chief jailer. Do you require assistance to remove the blade from your cart?’
‘I know nothing of a blade,’ the man responded. ‘I have come from Paris with this special warrant of release for the Marquis d’Artois. He is to be released to my custody and that of my men at once. He is to be part of a prisoner exchange to take place in the next few days.’ The man held out a document which contained a waxed seal.
‘How do I know it is genuine?’ the jailer enquired.
‘It is simple. If you do not believe the document to be genuine, you can ignore the warrant and execute the prisoner. I understand that for each listed prisoner not returned, the Montugans will execute fifty French soldiers.’
The elderly man’s manner of speaking seemed vaguely familiar to the Marquis. And then it struck him. The man was not an envoy from Paris at all. He was former admiral Le Sertain. He was a known royalist and a wanted man. ‘If you are found to be responsible for the lives of fifty French soldiers, I would prepare yourselves for that machine of yours!’ The admiral pointed to the guillotine for emphasis.
‘I have never seen anything like this from Paris.’ The jailer seemed hesitant.
‘This is a matter of State. Do you deal with matters of State in your job?’
‘No I do not.’
‘I did not think so. We have to leave now. There is no time to lose. Men’s lives depend upon our reaching the vessel for Montuga in time. He handed the warrant to the jailer. Keep it. You will need it as proof of handover to me. Now untie the prisoner immediately!’
The jailer nodded to a prison guard who untied the Marquis.
‘Come with me,’ the admiral ordered as he looked in the Marquis’s direction for the first time.
The Marquis followed the admiral out of the courtyard and through a gate leading to the front of the chateau where four men on horseback were waiting with two other horses.
‘Not a word until we are on the road,’ the admiral whispered as they approached the riding party. They mounted their horses and lost no time in making a swift departure. Along the way they passed a man riding a horse drawn cart heading in the direction of the chateau. The Marquis could not prevent himself from looking into the cart. The rays of the sun reflected against the guillotine’s new blade.
‘I assume that the blade was for you.’ They increased their pace to a gallop.
‘Yes. Your timing could not have been better. I don’t know how to thank you,’ It was not easy to hold a conversation at the speed they were moving and the Marquis had to raise his voice to be heard properly. ‘You mentioned the exchange. I know about it, but I was told I would not be involved.’
‘There exists a death certificate with your name on it. It was issued on the date of your trial and before your execution was stayed. A common practice, not unrelated to the predictability of the verdicts and sentences. This certificate was recently presented to the authorities in Paris as proof of your execution. You say you know something about the prisoner exchange with Montuga?’
‘I found out about it last night.’
r />
‘It is so that you are not on that list of prisoners. It has become imperative that we should get you to Nice. There is a French warship due to leave for Monte Vista and those prisoners who are on the list will be on board. In Nice we will have to find a way to get you on board without the French realising it. Once you are amongst the other prisoners, and after they have all seen you, the French will have no choice but to permit you to return to Montuga along with the others. But your identity is discovered before that happens, you will probably be killed as the reason offered for your omission from the list was that you were already executed. The French government will suffer great embarrassment if it comes out that that your death was a lie. It will cause the Montugans to raise questions about whether France lied about the executions of further prisoners to prevent their handover.’
‘How did you know I was not dead?’
‘Seriously?’ the Admiral inquired. ‘The speech you gave at the close of your trial created a stir in many circles. Unfortunately the same speech which saved you also resulted in the order for your execution to be expedited. The speech has been viewed as subversive and it is feared that pro-royalists rebels or dissident republicans who disapprove of the present regime’s reign of terror might try to rally around you if you were spared.’
The Marquis said nothing for a while as they galloped along.
‘Nice is three and a half days away. Surely the horses cannot keep this up.’
‘Fear not. We have replacement horses ready at regular intervals. Our numbers are small but we are well organised.’
Along the way the Admiral explained that he and his men belonged to a covert network of royalists. Many of them had served as officers in the former French army and navy. They planned to restore the monarchy in France as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
They arrived at a safe house in Nice two and a half days later at four in the afternoon. They had not slept much en route and the Marquis was tired and his body sore. The admiral explained that his informants in Nice were uncertain as to the present whereabouts of the other former French prisoners destined for Montuga. It did not seem they were on board any vessel yet.
‘Unfortunately, I cannot stay in Nice much longer. I am a wanted man and here I am too well known. You will probably be on your own tomorrow morning,’ he said to the Marquis. ‘We do have informants in the harbour but they are under cover. You should try to arrive at the harbour as early as possible. Then stay hidden until you see the French nobles boarding their vessel. That is when you must run to the vessel. You must let the other prisoners see you. Once they do, I cannot imagine you that you could possibly be left behind. If you can board the vessel and stay hidden until you are under way, even better. The plan is a little chaotic, I know, but it is the best one we could fashion on such short notice.’
‘You have nothing for which to apologise. Not only have you saved my life but you have given me a chance to escape to freedom. I thank you for everything you have done.’
After wishing him good luck, the Admiral departed. After an early dinner the Marquis collapsed on his bed. He was awoken at five the next morning. It was still dark outside. A fresh set of clothes had been laid out next to a washbasin. The clothes included a smart pair of trousers, a pair of boots and an expensive jacket. The accompanying hat was also dashing. The outfit might be useful if he needed to pretend to be a French government official or a lawyer in order to acquire information or to gain access to any restricted part of the harbour.
As he approached the harbour entrance twenty minutes later he was stopped by two French guards who emerged from the shadows.
‘State your name and business.’
‘I am Monsieur Jacques Du Pont and I am here as a special envoy of the French government to ensure that the release of my younger brother who is a prisoner in Montuga, proceeds without complications.’ As he spoke, the Marquis realised that he could smell the sea for the first time in over seven months. It invigorated him.
‘Do you have a letter of introduction?’
‘I do not require a letter of introduction. I am almost as well known throughout France as my brother.’ He tried to sound as authoritative as possible. The two soldiers were on the verge of relenting when a junior officer approached the gate and enquired as to what was happening. The officer listened to the story. His eyebrows remained slightly raised as he studied the Marquis carefully.
‘I have served with Commander Du Pont recently and I know him well. He never mentioned a brother.’
‘That is hardly news to me. We are both fiercely competitive and we often clash. There are times when we have not spoken to each other for almost a year. Of course, it is only now that he has been in captivity in Montuga that I have come to realise that our differences are unimportant.’
‘Describe him to me.’
As the Marquis described Du Pont, the officer’s eyebrows lowered a little.’
‘Many people know what Du Pont looks like. Tell me something personal about him which is not commonly known.’
‘He carries a gold watch marked d’Artois. I can tell you how he acquired it. It is a rather interesting story.’
‘It is a story which would also be known to a few others including the Marquis d’Artois himself. How do I know that you might not be he?’ Despite his somewhat arrogant demeanour, the officer clearly was not a fool.
‘The Marquis is deceased. And he has been so for some time. If you have a list of the nobles being returned to Montuga, you will find that the Marquis’ name does not appear on it.’
‘Wait here!’ The officer walked towards a nearby office. He returned with a list which he studied carefully. Eventually he looked up and smiled.
‘Welcome to Nice Harbour, Monsieur Du Pont. Allow me to escort you to the quarters of the Captain who is in command of the fleet of vessels departing for Montuga this morning.’
Although the Marquis welcomed the officer’s friendlier disposition, he could not help being concerned about the possibility that this could be a trap. He immediately reminded himself that he ought to have been executed already and that it behoved him to enjoy what time he now had, irrespective of what lay in store. They approached a large quay at which three French warships were anchored. It had been several years since the Marquis had retired as a captain in the French fleet. He recognised two of the older vessels which were anchored further down the key. The two warships lay proudly alongside the quay as they, and their predecessors had done for the last centuries. To the Marquis each represented a veritable island of stability and tradition amidst the uncertainty and upheaval which the revolution continued to visit upon France.
But the warship immediately in front of them was new. It was a massive ship of the line with three large masts and boasting over eighty cannon ports.
‘It’s this new one. Beautiful isn’t she?’
‘Yes she is,’ the Marquis replied. As they walked up the gangplank he noticed that her name was the Bastille. The irony of it all was not lost on the Marquis. He had recently escaped from a prison to board a ship named after the most famous prison in all of France.
Boarding a French warship once again evoked an instant feeling of nostalgia. His mind drifted back to his time as a ship’s Captain – a time when he took pride in being French. The crew were already on board. He was uncertain about whether any of the other French nobles were also on board. He did not see any of the former refugees as he was led below to the Captain’s Quarters.
‘Captain Savant, may I introduce Monsieur Du Pont. He is a special envoy from Paris, and the older brother of Commander Alain Du Pont, the officer in charge of the soldiers we are going to bring home.’
‘I am delighted to have you along, Monsieur. I welcome you aboard and I invite you to please make yourself at home. My cabin is yours for the duration of our short journey. Our journey is a short one. It will take about three to four hours depending on the wind.’
‘Thank you, Captain.’ The Marquis
also thanked the junior officer who excused himself and departed.
Captain Savant was only about twenty eight years of age. Evidently the revolution and the reign of terror must have deprived the French navy of a few hundred highly experienced naval officers. A captain that young of a naval vessel of this size was unheard of in the Marquis’s day.
‘And now, if you will excuse me please, Monsieur. I have to oversee the boarding of the prisoners to be exchanged. You are welcome to accompany me on deck to observe.’
‘Thank you, Captain. But if it is all the same to you, I am content to remain in your cabin for the time being. I have had a long ride from Paris to be here on time.’ Now that he was safely ensconced on board the vessel to Montuga, the last thing he wanted was to be recognised as the Marquis by the prisoners or possibly even by a member of the crew until he was safely in Montuga.
‘Help yourself to anything you fancy from my drinks cabinet. I have an excellent collection.’
The Marquis poured himself a glass of red wine. After having spent so many months ageing in his former friend’s converted wine cellar, it was the one material luxury he had missed most. Although he felt that the worst was definitely behind him, he could not bring himself to relax yet. Something could still go wrong. He tried to avoid thinking about Philippe for now. The Bastille cleared the entrance to Nice harbour a quarter of an hour later. The speed with which the vessel had departed and the manner in which she was being handled revealed a confidence and steadiness which was typically indicative of an older, experienced commanding officer. At least he now knew why such a large, powerful warship was under the command of such a young man.
The Marquis breathed a sigh of relief as the vessel headed out to the open sea. He looked out of the large rear window of the Captain’s cabin and noticed that the two other French warships were following them in convoy. The Captain joined the Marquis in the cabin about half an hour or so later. It struck the Marquis that in addition to being a competent sailor, the Captain also had impeccable manners. The latter had even knocked on the door prior to entering his own quarters. The captain, having spotted the wine glass in the Marquis’s hand, drifted toward his drinks cabinet.
‘I suppose that your first glass of wine after such a long time in captivity must have tasted wonderful,’ the captain remarked casually.
Despite the ease of its delivery, the remark shocked the Marquis to his core.
Captain Savant continued standing with his back to the Marquis and as poured the remaining fifth of the bottle, which the Marquis had opened, into a glass. He then turned around and stared unrelentingly into the Marquis’s eyes.
The Marquis narrowly prevented his own glass from escaping his grip.
‘I don’t exactly follow your meaning, Captain,’ the Marquis cautiously replied.
‘You don’t recognise me do you?’ A thin smile pierced the Captain’s face.
The Marquis tried in vain to recognise the young captain. At the same time, he tried to second guess the Captain’s intentions. He wondered whether it would be wise to bolt from the Cabin in order to locate the other prisoners and to ensure that he was seen and recognised by them. At the same time, he could not exclude the possibility that he may have been tricked. It could easily be that the other prisoners were not on this vessel, but on one of the other two vessels in the convoy instead. Perhaps this was some form of test.
‘No. I regret that I do not.’ Although his mind was racing, the Marquis remained calm. The fact that he had not been arrested when he was first presented to the Captain was encouraging. However, the Marquis’s true identity may only have dawned on the Captain after they had put to sea.
‘I was a cabin boy with you for several months when you were a Captain in this navy, Marquis d’ Artois.’
The Marquis studied the Captain momentarily. Still the face rang no bells.
‘It was shortly before you resigned,’ the Captain added.
‘I do not recall you, I’m afraid.’ The Marquis decided that denying his true identity would have served little purpose.
The Captain remained expressionless as he sat down. He sipped his wine.
‘It was ten years ago. I was still a boy.’ He paused as his attention returned to his glass. ‘I suppose you are wondering what I intend to do with you? Possibly you are also wondering whether I might bear you some grudge which will influence my decision.’
‘Yes.’ Despite the Captain’s polite manner and his dignified demeanour, the Marquis concluded that he was not of noble birth. He was a captain in the French navy at a relatively young age. The Marquis concluded that the young man had to be a republican. He hoped, against all odds, however, that the Captain would nonetheless turn out to be a royalist. Any such hopes were to be short lived.
‘You should know that I am a loyal republican,’ The Captain had obviously read his mind. ‘That is obviously what you were wondering and I shouldn’t wonder that hearing this has dashed your hopes.’ He paused. ‘I hear there are closet royalists in France. Some are in the army. But I can assure you that the republicans have done a good job of ensuring that the loyalty of the navy to our cause is not subject to any doubt.’
The Marquis could not hide his disappointment.
‘I recognised you immediately,’ the Captain beamed as he spoke. He apparently drew considerable pleasure from the situation.
‘And yet you said nothing to the officer who introduced me to you. May I ask why?’
‘Because I believe that a man should reap what he sows.’
‘Whilst the concept is clear enough, I’m afraid your meaning is not. If I have done you some wrong I should like to know what it was and what it is that you now desire.’
‘Forgive me. I realise that I am having a little fun at your expense. It is a little surreal to have you under my command and in my power when once the shoe was on the other foot.’ The Captain paused. ‘It may interest me to know that most of what I learnt I learnt from you, or from others who were taught by you. I seldom make decisions on board without asking myself what you would do.’
‘I assume that I treated you well then and that you do not hold some or other resentment against me.’
The Captain laughed in response.
‘As I said, I believe that one sows what one reaps and with your reputation for fairness and common decency, you need have no cause for concern.’ He threw back his head as he dispensed with what remained of his glass of wine. ‘You saved me from summary punishment on two occasions. You made proper inquiries and you decided on each occasion that there was insufficient evidence against me. Your insistence on fairness for all made an impression on me as a young man. I have since served under other Captains who did not share your fondness for justice and I swore that I would follow your example when my turn to command came.’ The Captain then produced a guilty smile. ‘Of course, today I can admit that I was guilty on one of the two occasions I was brought before you. But I am pleased to say that your refusal to find me guilty without proper evidence when I knew I was guilty left me feeling a little embarrassed. I felt unworthy of the benefit of the doubt you afforded me. I decided there and then that I would in future behave appropriately.’
‘In that case, Captain, perhaps you will be good enough to tell me what your intentions are now.’
‘As far as I am concerned, the prisoner exchange includes all surviving French refugees who were arrested in Montuga. That most certainly includes you. I don’t care about the list of names. Like you, I believe in substantive justice. So, I will overlook the fact that you are posing as Commander Du Pont’s brother.’ A smile creased the Captain’s face. ‘You may remain here as my guest. Once we arrive in Montuga, you will be free to leave. Of course, should you prefer, you may join the other prisoners now. I regret, however, that their quarters are not as comfortable as mine, and they have water instead of wine.’
‘I shall stay here if it’s all the same. I thank you for your kindness.’
‘It is unnecessary to thank me. I am pleased that I have had a chance to ensure that you get to sow that which you have reaped.’ He paused. ‘And now I think we could both do with a refill,’ he said as he reached for the Marquis’s glass.
‘I must say. I don’t know whether it is the wine or the anticipation of regaining my freedom which is talking, but I am surprised by how much I miss being at sea and in command of my own vessel.’
‘Would you ever consider returning to the French navy? Assuming a pardon could be secured?’
‘If you’ll forgive my frankness, I regret that I have little faith in the ability of the republicans to deliver justice or stability. I realise that things were not perfect before, but at least there was some justice and some order. Now, I find the reality to be far removed from the lofty ideals on which the uprisings were based. Much of what his happening in France now is simply barbaric. But yes, I do feel sad to think that I am unlikely to ever command a French warship again.’ The Marquis hoped that he had not offended his republican host.
‘Of course you are right,’ the Captain replied ruefully. ‘But remember that France is undergoing transition. We come from a society where freedom was a luxury enjoyed only by a few. For others life was indistinguishable from slavery. It is unsurprising that those who wallow in freedom for the first time may squander the opportunity by testing its limits. We will learn from the chaos, the excesses and the violence of the revolution and I believe that it won’t be long before the lessons which emerge will serve to shape a truly just society based on a generally accepted balance between freedom, duty and the rule of law.’
‘I hope for your sake and for the sake of all France, that you are not disappointed,’ the Marquis replied.
‘It will happen sooner than you think. And when you see the signs, you must return. France needs people with your integrity and wisdom now more than ever. I realise that you have suffered injustice and loss during the revolution. I hope you will not allow the perpetrators of such deeds to add insult to injury by taking France from you too. As the saying goes, all that is needed for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing. If you stay in Montuga then you are doing nothing.’
The Bastille docked in Monte Vista Harbour an hour later. Thirteen French nobles disembarked after it docked. They walked past a long row of French prisoners who were chained to each other as they stood on the quay. Armed Montugan guards occupied the entire length of the main quay. True to his word, Captain Savant permitted the Marquis to disembark immediately afterwards.
‘Thank you, Captain,’ the Marquis said quietly before adding that, ‘France could do with more of the likes of you.’
‘Then you must see to it that you do not keep her waiting,’ the Captain replied quietly so as not to be overheard by any of his officers.
As the Marquis stepped down the gangplank and set foot on the quay in Monte Vista, the overwhelming sense of joy he felt at having regained his freedom was only momentarily tempered by the sight of the French prisoners. It brought back vivid memories of the day he had last stood on this quay over seven months ago. He remembered thinking that he would never taste freedom again. These memories became sharper as he noticed Commander Du Pont amongst the French prisoners. The latter attempted to avoid eye contact as the Marquis approached him.
‘Hey!’ shouted a Montugan royal guard. ‘Stay away from the prisoners!’
Before the guard could do anything, however, the Marquis felt around in Du Pont’s pockets and as luck would have it, he located his watch.
‘I am the Marquis d’Artois. This man stole my watch. My name is on it. I am simply recovering it from this thief.’
The guard approached the Marquis and Du Pont. He took the watch from the Marquis and, after examining it for a moment, he addressed Du Pont:
‘Your name is not d’Artois is it?’
‘No!’ Du Pont grimaced.
Without warning the guard swung the rear of his rifle butt into Du Pont’s stomach. The winded Du Pont doubled over in pain.
‘That’s what you get for stealing. You’re lucky we have to free you. We normally put scum like you in jail,’ the royal guard said.
‘Until we meet again,’ the Marquis said quietly to Du Pont.
Du Pont glared at the Marquis in return without saying anything. The Marquis turned away and walked slowly to the end of the main quay. He encountered an officer of the royal guard who was armed with a pen and paper, and who was surrounded by a group of pale, dishevelled former prisoners. He ticked the names of the nobles off the list as he called out their names. He then gestured to the royal guards further down the quay that the French soldiers and sailors could be unchained and could be permitted to board the French warships.
The officer noticed that the Marquis was not on the list.
‘Who are you?’
‘I am the Marquis d’Artois.’
‘We were told you had been executed,’ one of the other prisoners said gleefully as he recognised the Marquis and held out his hand.
‘I thought I recognised you, my lord,’ the Montugan officer said. He paused and pointed to two carriages near the harbour entrance. ‘Two carriages over there are going to the officer’s mess at the palace where you will all be able to get washed, receive fresh clothing, and then you will join his majesty for refreshments.’
‘I want to know where my son is.’ The Marquis told the officer. ‘Do you know if he is still at the palace?’
‘He is still at the palace,’ remarked a not unfamiliar voice from within a third carriage which the Marquis had not noticed until now. Four mounted royal guards on horseback sat motionlessly in front of another six horses which were attached in pairs to the harness of the carriage. Four additional mounted royal guards were positioned behind the carriage. As the Marquis strode towards the carriage, a footman alighted from a narrow platform at the rear of the carriage and he opened the carriage door. The king of Montuga was seated inside. He was wrapped in a blanket. Although he looked pasty and unwell, the king managed to smile warmly at the Marquis.
‘Please join me. I would have brought Philippe along, but I was afraid that you may have been executed prior to the exchange and that you might not be amongst the returnees. You will understand of course that I did not wish to expose your son to false hope. Not after all he has been through.’
‘Of course your majesty,’ the Marquis bowed enthusiastically before accepting the invitation to enter the carriage. ‘I must thank your majesty for coming to meet me and for everything you have done to secure my release.’
‘You of all people have nothing to thank me for,’ the king replied as the carriage started moving. He coughed profusely before continuing. ‘It is I who had to choose between my country and my friend. Even though I would still make the same decision today, I find it difficult to forgive myself for what I did.’
‘Your majesty, I was naturally upset when I first learned of your decision to hand me over to the French. But I realised almost immediately that I had several chances to escape and I failed to do so. By staying in Montuga I endangered not only my son and myself. I also stayed at great risk to you and to your kingdom. You did what I should have known you had to do. I apologise to you, your majesty, for my folly in this matter.’
‘Well,’ the king said. ‘I told myself the same story. However, I did not always believe it. It was easier to blame myself. Hearing it from your mouth however, has convinced me that I indeed had no choice in the matter. For that I thank you.’ The king looked away in an unsuccessful attempt to hide the formation a few tears..
‘There is something else for which I am greatly indebted to you, majesty. I am told that Du Pont came to the palace and demanded that you release my son to him. I am told you refused to hand him over. For that I am most deeply indebted to you. I have no doubt that this refusal must also have added to already existing tensions between Montuga and France.’
‘Think nothing of it,’ the King said. ‘It was the least I could do
after so effortlessly handing over so many people to the French for execution. I felt that Montuga had to draw the line somewhere. I thought that the son of my friend was a good place to start.’ The king scrutinised the Marquis for a while. ‘You are looking good. I trust you were not ill-treated.’
‘I feel well, your majesty, and I was treated well enough. But to have twice escaped death by the skin of my nose only makes the freedom I now taste that much sweeter. I feel alive for the first time since my younger son and Charlotte passed away.’
‘Yes my friend. They say time heals all wounds. But I know what it is to lose a wife one has loved,’ the king said. The carriage slowed, and then stopped. ‘The pain is something one becomes accustomed to - not something one overcomes.’ They alighted from the carriage and the king turned to a footman. ‘Take the Marquis to the guest quarters. See to it that he has all he requires. And have the usher summon Philippe to join me in the Chamber of Knights.’