As Chevalier strode to the door, Philippe called, “What did you mean when you said ‘a great tide is stirring’?”

Chevalier looked back. Their eyes met. “Did I say that? I must have been drunk.”

The stench was ripe and foul, an odor of sickness so heavy that Philippe covered his nose as he walked into the King’s bedchamber. Others stood back, watching helplessly as the King tossed about in restless sleep. Philippe stared, uneasy at the sight of the King so frail, so helpless.

Moments later, Rohan entered and looked to the others for permission to go to the King, but Bontemps shook his head. “Only his physician may approach.”

Rohan nodded.

More painful minutes passed. At last Philippe demanded, “Where is the King’s doctor?”

“He’s fetching a remedy,” said Bontemps.

“Good God, where does the doctor live? In Marseille?” Philippe growled, and walked toward the bed. Rohan grabbed Philippe’s shoulder to stop him but Philippe gave him a withering gaze. “He is not a leper!”

“It’s not safe,” said Rohan.

Philippe stared coldly at the King’s childhood friend. “Do you forget who addresses you?” He went to the bedside, gently took Louis’ hand, and offered a short prayer. Louis shuddered and his eyes slowly opened. He pulled Philippe close and whispered in his ear. “Thrust in thy sickle, and reap; for the harvest of the Earth is ripe.”

A chill ran down Philippe’s back. He was familiar with the Bible and knew the passage that followed spoke of the blood, death, and the Apocalypse. He could only pat Louis’ shoulder in an attempt to comfort himself and his brother.

In the King’s outer chamber, Henriette, Marie-Therese, Louvois, Fabien, and Colbert waited for an audience with the King. Colbert sniffed when he noticed Henriette’s pregnancy. “Madame, you should not have come in your condition.”

Henriette lifted her chin. “I will not be away from my King.”

“We’re beside ourselves with worry,” said the Queen. “Of course she is here.”

“There are reports of typhus in the rank and file,” said Louvois.

“We’ll leave the medicine to the doctors,” replied Colbert. “The Council must meet to move the business of government forward. And Your Majesty.” He turned to the Queen. “Your presence would also be welcomed at our discussion.”

“When do we convene?” asked Marie-Therese.

Before he could answer, the priest Bossuet walked past them and into the King’s bedchamber. The Queen crossed herself. Colbert said, “We convene as soon as possible.”

And the Montespan, standing unseen in an alcove, heard everything.

Claudine was collecting her jars of samples from the cabinet in her kitchen, placing them into a large satchel, when her father stumbled in, growled, and drew his arm along the cabinet shelf, sending the other jars to smash on the floor.

“Jezebel!” he shouted. “Delilah!”

Claudine grabbed for his arm. “Control yourself! Stop this!”