“A horse,” said Philippe with a small smile.

Louis sighed. “Philippe.”

“You want me to be serious.”

Louis continued studying the model. Then he said, “Stay close to your bodyguard at all times. Protect your flank.”

“I will bring you glory. I vow it.”

“May God watch over you and bring you home safely. You leave today.”

“Go then,” said Philippe. “Run to Henriette. You have my blessing. God knows you don’t need a priest for that.” He waited for a reply, but none came. He left without another word.

The sun fell silently behind the trees to the west. The day with its suspicions, sadness, jealousies, and hopes turned its back on the world, and on Versailles, once more. Creatures of the forest bedded down in dens and burrows as candles were set ablaze in the palace.

“If your friends the Parthenays prove as meaningful as I believe,” Colbert said as Louis sat before a meal of swan pie, pears, and pork, “once they have visited and shown their loyalty we could persuade much of the south to comply. Leaving the north and east.”

Louis stabbed the pie with his knife. “Who defies me there?”

“The Duc of Cassel, Sire. Half the nobility in the north and east are in his debt.”

“He’s our keystone, then. If we extract him from the wall, the entire structure is demolished. If not, the collapse will be ours.”

“But he does not heed our letters, Sire.”

Louis left the table and walked over to the portrait of himself above the fireplace, an elegant likeness by the painter Hyacinthe Rigaud. Louis looked up into his own dark eyes, into the determined, royal face that ruled France. All of France. “Then I must send him a gift alongside an order to comply with our laws. He will supply proof of his nobility or suffer the consequence.” Louis turned back to Colbert. “To which all of France shall bear witness.”

The great and imposing Chateau du Cassel stood on its tree-covered hill, clothed in the gray dusk of early evening. Cassel, Montcourt, and other nobles lounged in the dank-smelling Great Hall in front of the hearth, downing goblets of red wine. Wine too good for monks. Wine good enough for a king.

“The road to Versailles is the only thing that keeps the King’s new love alive,” said Cassel as he wiped his lips. “Choke it and the project dies on the vine. They will thank us all later, I’m sure.”

Tomas appeared from the shadows. “A messenger has arrived bearing gifts. From the King.”

Cassel’s lip twitched with a sarcastic smile. The messenger appeared, carrying a flat package of significant size, wrapped in paper. He put the package on the table and carefully removed the paper. It was a portrait of the King.

“Ah, how kind,” said Cassel.

The messenger straightened. “Louis the Great commands your presence to court as required by the rule of law and the Grand Inquiry into Nobel Legitimacy. You are required to present proof of your nobility.”