In the private chapel in her apartment, Queen Marie-Therese knelt before the priest and whispered, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

In his bedchamber, Louis admired the new, gold-framed, full-length mirror being installed in a corner. “The Venetians have been working hard on the new glass, Sire,” said Bontemps. “They hope this one will be to your liking.” Louis nodded, and heard the voice of his mother reply, “Better.”

And at Cassel Chateau, Cassel gazed at the portrait of the King that had been gifted him, took a sip of wine, and then tossed the painting into the roaring flames of the fireplace.

4 Late Summer 1667–Early 1668

4

LATE SUMMER 1667–EARLY 1668

Hot blood coursed down the King’s cheek and caught in the collar of his hunting jacket. Oblivious to his wound, he slammed into his private chambers, stalked to the table, and slammed his fist into the wood. “The Parthenays came at my personal invitation!” he shouted. “They drove on that road secure in the knowledge they were guests of the King!” He stared at Bontemps. “If a child of France is not safe on royal lands what chance is there for anyone else? Until their killers are brought before me I shall not sleep again! Where are the Parthenays? I will pay my respects.”

“Sire,” said Bontemps. “You’re injured.”

“More than you can know! Any news from the front? At least tell me the siege is ended?”

“Not yet. But Sire – you are bleeding.”

Louis looked at Bontemps, confused. Then he held out his hand as blood dripped into his palm. He let out a breath, remembering. “Low branch,” he muttered.

Masson was called in to tend the wound. Louis sat on a cushioned settee as the doctor nervously cut the skin from around the wound. Louis stared ahead without wincing, gazing at the portrait of himself and Philippe as children. Louis in boys’ clothing. Philippe dressed as a girl.

“Debriding the dead flesh will allow full healing,” Masson explained. “Egg yolk and turpentine will permit drainage.”

“Why not simply close the wound?” Louis asked.

“Permissible for battlefield injuries, Sire, but modern doctors use modern methods.”

Done with the cutting, Masson packed small bits of cloth into the wound. Bontemps picked up the Gazette, and as the King’s attention turned to his valet, Masson took a quick swig from a small blue bottle from the medicine box.

“‘We report with joy the success of the King’s infantry against the troops of the Spanish,’” read Bontemps. “‘Siege is now laid to the town of Cambray, in the north of France.’”

“At last,” said Louis. “Some good news.”

“’Most remarkable of all heroes present in the King’s name is His Majesty’s brother, Prince Philippe, the Duke of Orleans, who has shown bravery on the battlefield…”

“That’s enough for now.”

“…beyond all measure, a true and everlasting hero –”

Louis jerked his head toward Bontemps, causing blood to seep. “I said enough!”