The Shadows of God - J. Gregory Keyes [31]
“Maybe your sources are not as reliable as you believe.”
“I think they are.”
“Where is Hercule?”
“Questioning everyone who knew Dimitrov, and not too gently. He thinks, as you do, that the attempt on your life is connected to his wife's death. Dimitrov is dead—and in a singularly unlovely way, I must say—but the other killer is still free. We guess that both work for the metropolitan or perhaps the Golitsyns.”
“Why Irena? What did killing her accomplish?”
“It divided your people. It gave Menshikov the wedge he needed to steal some of your supporters.”
“Because they thought I killed Irena. But why not kill me in the first place?”
“You are too well protected, generally. Your guardians are not usually all drunk.”
“This was not your fault, Veronique.”
“Tell me no such nonsense. I should have been at your side, and so should have Hercule. We both failed you.”
“I failed myself. If I had been sober, the man would never have touched me and, further, would still be alive for our questioning. Enough of this. Our people have lost their priest and I have killed him. How was that taken?”
“We gave it out that he was killed trying to save you.”
“That was good thinking.”
“That was a lie,” Father Castillion said disapprovingly.
“Yes, it was,” Crecy said. “Would you have told the truth?”
Castillion shrugged. “I don't know. But to lie is to slap God. Best, perhaps, to say nothing.”
“But now our Orthodox soldiers have no priest. That will not go well, especially if we must go into battle,” Adrienne noted.
Castillion raised his hands. “I will minister to them.”
“Father, no offense, but you may remember an incident or two in France involving religion? My Russians will not accept the Roman liturgy.”
“Then I will learn theirs. The two have more in common than you think.”
“You would do that?” Adrienne asked.
“I told you China changed me. As strange as the religion of China is, at its base it is the same as ours. If that is the case, then the differences between Orthodox and Roman are truly minute. I will do what I can to minister to your people. I will do my best, and if you can find me advisers on the matter, I think you will be surprised at how quickly I can learn.”
Adrienne regarded him silently for a moment. “God bless you, Father. You are an exceptional priest. And an exceptional man.”
“All men are exceptional, and women, too. He made us, after all.”
Adrienne nodded. “I tire now. Crecy, you must calm Hercule. We cannot have more strife, more hard feelings. If we find this killer, we must find him quietly. Very soon I shall have to ask things of my people that should be asked of no one. I must be confident that they will obey me.”
“They love you.”
“Love is fickle. It is not so strong as an empty belly or the fear of a bullet. If my people think I have betrayed them, they will not hesitate to betray me. Even Saint Joan was burned at the stake, after all.”
“Politics, that was.”
“Politics are all around us. Stop Hercule.”
“I will not leave your bedside.”
“Crecy, only you can do this. Set as many guards as you wish. Send for my students to keep me company. But speak to Hercule, and now.”
Crecy's eyes were as hard as gemstones, but after a moment she nodded. “Very well.”
“Thank you,” Adrienne replied.
Miracle or not, her wound did not heal quickly, nor did it stop hurting. Fever came and went, but it was mild. Father Castillion stayed by her side.
The next day, émilie came to see her. Like Adrienne, émilie was French by birth, spirited away from the collapse of that nation by the mathematician Maupertuis, who had brought her to Saint Petersburg, where it was well known that Tsar Peter would enthusiastically welcome anyone with scientific talent, male or female. Maupertuis joined the Saint Petersburg Academy of Sciences, where Adrienne already had a position. When Maupertuis went to Amsterdam to help with the reconstruction there, émilie stayed as Adrienne's student.
émilie was not exactly beautiful. Despite