Before Versailles by Karleen Koen Page A

as if she were sewing.
    Filled with dread, Louise sat beside Madame, her hands clasped together, her breath caught in her throat. His majesty had had the presence of mind to stand the moment Fanny ran into the bedchamber. And now the Count de Guiche was here, his face frowning in the dim light of the wall sconces. Behind him was the king’s lieutenant of the musketeers.
    “Oh, majesty,” Catherine said—Louise was amazed at how natural the gargoyle sounded; she herself couldn’t have spoken if her life had depended on it—“That’s too funny for words. I just won’t believe it.” She threw back her head and laughed.
    “The Count de Guiche,” announced the lieutenant.
    “Excuse me if I interrupt,” Guy said, looking hard at Henriette.
    “Why do you interrupt, count?” Louis asked.
    How calm his majesty sounds, thought Louise. She had the sensation that the two men were dogs bristling at each other or hawks winging after the same bird. They had the same hawk’s cut to their expressions at this moment, hard mouths, set jaws, determination on each face. She couldn’t know that there was a rivalry between these two that had been there since they were boys. But she could sense it.
    “Your manners lack a certain grace, count. You were rude this morning, if memory serves me, and you are rude now.”
    All the women were silent, frozen into stillness. A muscle worked in Guy’s cheek. The lieutenant of the musketeers didn’t take his eyes off Louis. Other musketeers had gathered, formed a circle behind Guy.
    “Your dress is mended?” Guy asked Henriette, as if Louis hadn’t spoken.
    Silent, Henriette’s eyes flicked from Guy to Louis and back again.
    “Not quite yet, I’m afraid,” Louise surprised herself by saying.
    “Monsieur asks for you.” Guy’s tone was accusing.
    “Odd,” answered Louis. “I last saw him at the card table with Madame de Choisy and the Viscount Nicolas. When he plays with those two, there is no thought for anything but the next hand of cards.”
    “He wishes Madame at his side, for good fortune,” Guy snapped.
    “And I wish to finish the story I was telling her.”
    “Most amusing it was, too. We were just laughing at it,” said Catherine, but her words died in the air, like small birds hit by hawks.
    “Monsieur commands,” Guy said.
    “Ah,” Louis replied very softly, so softly that Louise felt her body straining to hear him, “but I command Monsieur in all things, as well, count, as you.”
    Every musketeer in the chamber took a step closer, but the lieutenant held up a hand stopping them.
    Louise saw Guy’s hand clench on the handle of his small dress sword, a rapier that could kill someone. Men wore swords as casually as they did lace on their sleeves. Would he dare draw it in the presence of the king? She felt like she might faint. Surely, one was beheaded if one threatened the king.
    Catherine stood, took a step in the direction of her brother, but the lieutenant of the musketeers had placed himself between the king and Guy, calm and definite in his stance. If Guy was going to run the king through with his blade, he’d have to first cut past this soldier.
    “I must ask you to consider what you are doing, count,” the lieutenant said.
    “I’ve delivered my message. Now, I am his majesty’s to command.” Guy bowed. The bow was like a slap in the face, disrespectful enough to make Louis’s eyes flicker, angry lights coming into the brown of the iris. Guy backed slowly out of the room.
    “Shall I follow him, sire?” the lieutenant asked Louis.
    “No.”
    Distress evident, Henriette stood. “We must return to the ballroom, your majesty.”
    Louise could hear how upset she was. He who is afraid of leaves must not come into the woods, echoed a voice, her father’s from long ago, in her mind. They shouldn’t return to the ballroom like chastened children, she thought. They must act as if all were well. “It’s so beautiful outside,” she heard herself