The Montespan strolled arm in arm with Henriette, down the corridor on their return from a walk in the gardens. So much had been accomplished by the gardeners – new, expansive sections with hedges and pathways, flowers and trees, statuaries, fountains, and marble benches set back in the shade. A perfect place for an afternoon of womanly chatter and gossip.

As they reached the door to Henriette’s apartment, the King, Bontemps, and guards rounded the corner. The Montespan and Henriette curtseyed.

“Sire,” said the Montespan, touching her full lips with one hand and her heart with the other, hoping the King took note. “I am full of sorrow at your recent loss.”

Louis nodded but then turned to Henriette.

“I received word from my brother in London.” Henriette spoke quietly to the King. “The Dutch fear our presence in the Spanish Netherlands encroaches on their borders. They are arming against us. My brother fears without help, we will not be successful against the Spanish.”

Louis frowned. “Your brother the King forgets your husband the soldier, who amongst his other appetites has an extraordinary appetite for war.”

“I wonder,” offered the Montespan, “if it’s because both activities require men.”

Louis looked at her and she blushed. “Oh, Sire. Please forgive me. My tongue sometimes runs so far ahead of my brain it bumps into it from behind.”

The King hesitated then burst out laughing. He smiled and winked at the Montespan. Yes, she thought. You see me, Sire! But the King took Henriette’s arm and ushered her away into her apartment. The door was shut in the Montespan’s face.

No matter. It is not my time. Yet.

The Montespan turned to Bontemps and gave him her most beguiling smile. “A little bird tells me you have one of the finest libraries in France. You wouldn’t happen to have a copy of the fine atlas of the seas by Pierre Goos?”

Clearly flattered, Bontemps said, “Indeed I do.”

“I should love to see it one day,” said the Montespan. “I simply adore maps.”

Refreshed and restored by his visit with Henriette, Louis sat in his apartment, studying the detailed map of the Spanish Netherlands brought him by Louvois. The two had begun discussing military intricacies when Philippe stormed in. His cheeks were red and his face was tight.

“You took it!” he cried. “You took my tactic and gave it to him! All my life I have longed for war. And you deny me again and again. Now this false hope is killing me beyond all pain.”

Louis said nothing for a moment then stood slowly. “Ask me who will lead the charge.”

Philippe let out a huff. “Who, brother, will lead the charge?”

“You will.”

Philippe’s eyes widened. Astonished, Louvois blustered, “Sire. You…you had mentioned that you thought the man not ready.”

The King gazed at Louvois. “I was talking about you.” Then to Philippe, “Congratulations, brother. You are going to war.”