1636: The Cardinal Virtues by Walter H. Hunt, Eric Flint Page A
Authors: Walter H. Hunt, Eric Flint
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he led them slowly around the base of the abbey to a place out of the wind and out of sight of the road below.
◊ ◊ ◊
When Monsieur Gaston arrived a short time later, Louis and his companions had had a chance to walk around the ruins, and had located a place that had probably served as a refectory for the monks. It had a number of broad tables and benches, weather-beaten but largely intact; when the monastery was closed down, the lower windows had been boarded up, keeping most of the weather out. There was evidence that some animals had made their lairs there, and someone not too long ago—probably during this winter—had built a fire in the hearth, but the place was otherwise deserted.
“Charming,” Gaston said as he came down the little stair into the refectory. Louis had been giving his attention to some of the carvings in the stonework while his gentlemen lounged on the benches, their feet up on the tables. They scrambled to their feet and offered a leg to the prince, earning a scowl from Louis; they were supposed to be attending him.
Louis was even more annoyed that the two ruffians set to keep watch hadn’t warned him of Gaston’s arrival. But he was determined to show none of this to the prince.
“Good day, Uncle. I trust you had a pleasant journey.”
Gaston drew off his riding gloves and slapped them on his thigh, then tucked them into his belt. “Oh, yes. Bracing . But this venue will afford us some privacy.”
Louis nodded. “That it will.” He gestured to his retinue. “Go make yourself useless elsewhere.”
They bowed and made their way out of the refectory, closing the heavy wooden doors behind them.
“It’s so hard to find good help,” Gaston said.
“Nearly impossible. But it’s all my father could spare. At least they both speak passable Spanish, so they were helpful eyes and ears in Madrid.”
Gaston gestured to a table, and the two men took seats opposite. “And how was Madrid?”
“Boring. His Majesty scarcely lets anyone see him directly; Olivares makes sure of that. It’s all . . . what is that up-timer expression? ‘Hurry up and wait.’ Even the count-duke took more than a week to give me an audience.”
“Cheek. But what you would expect from a Spaniard?”
“Just so.”
“What did he say?”
“It is as informative,” Louis answered, “to relate what he did not say. Señor Olivares commended you on your wisdom with regard to support for Cardinal Borja. He allowed that his master the king continued to be troubled by the apparent disrespect shown to his royal sister by your royal brother, and was fretful about the recent actions of some up-timers on Mallorca.”
“Interesting. Did he elaborate on that last?”
“Not in any detail. Apparently some prisoners taken during the—unrest in Rome, as he termed it—had escaped custody, and one of the king’s most trusted hidalgos had accompanied them.”
“Apparently he cannot find enough good help either,” Gaston said, chuckling at his own wit.
“As you say, my lord. In any case, he is curious as to the effect a male heir might have on the political situation in France, and on your own situation with respect to our king.”
“He knows exactly what a male heir would do,” Gaston said. All trace of humor had left his face. “The count-duke de Olivares would be extremely unlikely to receive my envoy should my royal sister-in-law bring a healthy son into the world.”
“He noted that your brother—and the cardinal—are being extremely careful on that account. Indeed, he asked me if we knew anything of Queen Anne’s whereabouts. His master sought to correspond with her, and had been told by his envoy in Paris that such letters could be sent to the cardinal and they would be duly forwarded.”
“I assume King Philip was dissatisfied with that answer.”
“ I assume,” Louis said, “that King Philip had not actually posed the question. In any case, Olivares assumes that we know no more about
◊ ◊ ◊
When Monsieur Gaston arrived a short time later, Louis and his companions had had a chance to walk around the ruins, and had located a place that had probably served as a refectory for the monks. It had a number of broad tables and benches, weather-beaten but largely intact; when the monastery was closed down, the lower windows had been boarded up, keeping most of the weather out. There was evidence that some animals had made their lairs there, and someone not too long ago—probably during this winter—had built a fire in the hearth, but the place was otherwise deserted.
“Charming,” Gaston said as he came down the little stair into the refectory. Louis had been giving his attention to some of the carvings in the stonework while his gentlemen lounged on the benches, their feet up on the tables. They scrambled to their feet and offered a leg to the prince, earning a scowl from Louis; they were supposed to be attending him.
Louis was even more annoyed that the two ruffians set to keep watch hadn’t warned him of Gaston’s arrival. But he was determined to show none of this to the prince.
“Good day, Uncle. I trust you had a pleasant journey.”
Gaston drew off his riding gloves and slapped them on his thigh, then tucked them into his belt. “Oh, yes. Bracing . But this venue will afford us some privacy.”
Louis nodded. “That it will.” He gestured to his retinue. “Go make yourself useless elsewhere.”
They bowed and made their way out of the refectory, closing the heavy wooden doors behind them.
“It’s so hard to find good help,” Gaston said.
“Nearly impossible. But it’s all my father could spare. At least they both speak passable Spanish, so they were helpful eyes and ears in Madrid.”
Gaston gestured to a table, and the two men took seats opposite. “And how was Madrid?”
“Boring. His Majesty scarcely lets anyone see him directly; Olivares makes sure of that. It’s all . . . what is that up-timer expression? ‘Hurry up and wait.’ Even the count-duke took more than a week to give me an audience.”
“Cheek. But what you would expect from a Spaniard?”
“Just so.”
“What did he say?”
“It is as informative,” Louis answered, “to relate what he did not say. Señor Olivares commended you on your wisdom with regard to support for Cardinal Borja. He allowed that his master the king continued to be troubled by the apparent disrespect shown to his royal sister by your royal brother, and was fretful about the recent actions of some up-timers on Mallorca.”
“Interesting. Did he elaborate on that last?”
“Not in any detail. Apparently some prisoners taken during the—unrest in Rome, as he termed it—had escaped custody, and one of the king’s most trusted hidalgos had accompanied them.”
“Apparently he cannot find enough good help either,” Gaston said, chuckling at his own wit.
“As you say, my lord. In any case, he is curious as to the effect a male heir might have on the political situation in France, and on your own situation with respect to our king.”
“He knows exactly what a male heir would do,” Gaston said. All trace of humor had left his face. “The count-duke de Olivares would be extremely unlikely to receive my envoy should my royal sister-in-law bring a healthy son into the world.”
“He noted that your brother—and the cardinal—are being extremely careful on that account. Indeed, he asked me if we knew anything of Queen Anne’s whereabouts. His master sought to correspond with her, and had been told by his envoy in Paris that such letters could be sent to the cardinal and they would be duly forwarded.”
“I assume King Philip was dissatisfied with that answer.”
“ I assume,” Louis said, “that King Philip had not actually posed the question. In any case, Olivares assumes that we know no more about
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