Louis took a medallion from the box, went to Philippe, and hung it around his brother’s neck as the soldiers watched in awe. Then Bontemps distributed the other medals, placing them around the soldiers’ necks with great solemnness and respect. The soldiers looked at one another as if to assure themselves that this was, indeed, happening.

“Hurrah for the King!” shouted one soldier, raising his arm in the air. The others joined him in shouting, “Hurrah for the King!”

““I feared you would not come,” Louis said to Philippe as the soldiers gathered around the table to discuss the drawings.

“You really believed what you said, didn’t you?”

Louis smiled but did not answer.

One by one the soldiers left the table and approached the King, their faces full of humble gratitude. One by one they knelt and Louis extended his hand in a blessing. Philippe watched the spectacle, his anger growing. He lifted the medal around his neck to take a closer look. On it was the image of the King and the inscription, Ludovicus Rex Victori Perpetuo, “The perpetual victories of Louis the Great.” Turning on his heel, he left the room.

A feverish, red-faced soldier with cracking lips pushed through the others to reach the King. “Your Majesty?” he said.

Louis took the soldier’s hand. “France thanks you,” he said.

The soldier leaned in close and whispered in the King’s ear. “The enemy is closer than you think.”

Louis frowned. “What enemy?”

Then the soldier spit in Louis’ face. Louis gasped and shoved the man away.

Two guards quickly dragged the feverish soldier away.

“The poor fellow is sick!” said the King, stunned by the assault but maintaining his dignity. He turned to Bontemps and the look he gave his valet was full of a dark yet certain meaning. “Let him be tended to.”

Moments later, on the other side of the palace, Philippe stormed into Henriette’s bedchamber, demanding they leave immediately for their home in Saint Cloud.

“Philippe!” she cried as she stood from her table. “Please, wait. Explain yourself!”

“I just realized we have a choice. We don’t have to do everything he tells us. We’ve been cowards! We merely need the courage to resist him.”

“I don’t understand!”

Philippe grabbed Henriette and pulled her close. “What do you really want?” he snarled. “To come with me or remain here waiting day and night for his knock on the door?”

Henriette hesitated.

“Let us leave him!” said Philippe. “I don’t care if the child is mine or his. It will be ours.”

Henriette stepped back, fear and indecision in her eyes. “But our lives are here! You are brother to the King. You cannot leave. This place is who you are, who we are.”

Philippe snarled. “If that is true then we are already rotten inside.”