Louis sniffed. The barber snipped. Then the King asked, “What kind of man do you think I am, Bontemps? Merciful?”

“If you desire it.”

“Vengeful?”

“If conditions merit.”

“All things to all people?”

“Equally and without condition.”

Louis nodded thoughtfully. The barber waited until his head was still again. “As a King, yes. I ask as a man.”

“You are both,” said Bontemps. “We cannot separate one from the other.”

“When I send my brother to war, I do so as a king. Should he die there, I would mourn him as a man. It is as a man I could gain favor in the eyes of another. As a king, I cannot.”

“You are forever in our favor, Sire.”

“You think Montcourt feels the same?”

The barber stepped back, finished, and bowed deeply. Louis rose and Bontemps helped him with his coat. The King considered himself in the bronze-framed mirror on the dresser.

“A king will be resented as much for good deeds as for bad,” said Louis. “This much I know.”

There was a moment of silence then Bontemps said, “The jacket fits well, Sire.”

Louis looked at himself again, staring into his own eyes, seeking what was there. And what looked back at him was determined, regal, powerful, and prepared.

Louvois was glad to get outside for a while. Though an important man of the court, he savored the sounds and scents of the outdoors. He strolled through a wooded area of the royal gardens, breathing deeply, trying to calm his tumbling thoughts when he heard rustling behind a tree. He stopped to look. A deer, perhaps, or a badger. But no, the face that appeared around the trunk was a bedraggled, frightened human.

Fates be damned! Louvois looked to see that no one was nearby then hurried to the tree. “Montcourt! What are you doing here?”

Montcourt’s eyes were red with desperation and lack of sleep. His clothes were filthy and smelled like a barn. “I’ve nowhere else to go,” he pleaded. “My wife’s family will not take me in. She married for the title! Now that I have none, they’ve no need for me.”

“You have my sympathy, but I cannot help you.”

“You are my only friend at court.”

“And a loyal friend will tell you the truth. Your days here are finished. I must go.”

Montcourt’s lip hitched. He snarled, “My commendations to His Majesty’s health.”

Louvois considered responding but went on, instead, and for a moment thought he heard his former friend begin to cry.

Louis squinted across a vast stretch of lawn from his seat in the open day carriage. He ordered the driver to rein the horses in. Well, well! Louis thought as he opened the carriage door and got out.

A young man, rakishly handsome with wavy brown hair, strode toward them across the grass with his arms outstretched. “Majesty!” said the young man.