“Oh, yes,” said the exciseman, his eyes widening. He shouted, “Never!”

“You would rather die?” cried Montcourt.

The exciseman shook his head. Montcourt rolled his eyes and mouthed, Say never!

“Never!” shouted the exciseman. He lowered his voice. “What happens now? I forgot. Do I give you –”

“You give me half, you keep half.”

“Then I hit you?”

“Then I hit you.”

“Oh yes, of course.” The exciseman handed Montcourt two bags of coins. Montcourt then struck the man hard in the face, and handed one bag back.

The exciseman rubbed his bleeding lips. “Next time,” he said quietly, “we might save us both some time and do this in the warm?”

“That would be my pleasure,” said Montcourt, striking the man once more. He pulled his mask back up, pocketed the bag, and climbed from the carriage into the rain. He and the other masked man disappeared into the dark cover of trees.

Guards waited, attentive and nearby, as Louis approached Jacques in the garden. The gardener was pruning a row of young beech trees, his coat unbuttoned, his face focused.

“You, at least, do not withhold your labor,” said the King.

Jacques looked up and blinked against the sun. “I’m not a builder, Sire.”

“When you fought for me, did you ever encounter rebellion in the ranks?”

Jacques scratched his cheek with his trowel. “Occasionally.”

“Tell me, how did you come by your scar?”

“Rebellion.”

Ah, yes. “How did the generals react?”

“That depended on the kind of men they were. But I can tell you this. The King that brings soldiers to face down soldiers is rarely king for very long. All men lash out when in pain.”

Louis was silent for a moment. Then, “I see no resolution. I’ve sent emissaries to them. They do not pay attention.”

“There is one man, Sire. One man to whom they might listen. He has their respect. He fought alongside them.”

He means Philippe.

“Brothers can disagree with each other without opposing each other,” said Jacques.

Louis turned away, shaking his head. “You were clearly an only child,” he called back.

Inside the palace, the King called for Rohan to join him in his apartment. There, he instructed his friend to find the disgruntled soldiers and speak to them one on one. Rohan was to offer nothing specific but give a listening ear and encouragement.

“The winter will soon bring frost and the ground will harden,” Louis explained. “If we are to build we must have foundations, if we are to have foundations they must be dug now, and if they are to be dug I must have builders.”

After Rohan was on his way, Louis ordered Bontemps to send for Bruand, the architect, and Leclerc, the director of bullion at the Royal Mint. Then the King left his apartment, followed by his guards.

I must speak with her, he thought as their footsteps echoed up the corridor. I must make my position more than clear.