The Shadows of God - J. Gregory Keyes [66]
“France! The king!” he repeated.
And in the next eye blink, every foppish nobleman in the place suddenly became—something else. They no longer looked ridiculous in their garish, overwrought clothing. They pounded the tables. They raised their voices, so that the roar of “France! The king!” might well have been heard a thousand miles away.
A few hours later, the king called Franklin into a private audience in his bedchamber. Franklin found him in military uniform, looking down the length of his sword.
“Mr. Franklin.”
“Your Majesty.”
“I do not doubt in the least that you were behind all of that,” Philippe said. “The duel was contrived to force Sterne to reveal his nature?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Don Pedro —he will live?”
“It seems so. He is of tough stock.”
“Good. Now, d'Artaguiette has just made a fuller confession to me. He tells me that troops from Carolina and the margravate of Azilia are coming here, and that they sued by aetherschreiber for our protection. Did you know of this?”
“Yes, Majesty.”
“I suspected as much. It does not please me that you kept it from me. In fact, the devious way you have worked here does not please me at all. But your results—your results are to my liking. I will give your troops protection, but as ambassador you must make me certain promises—in writing. As you now see, even the remnants of your own army are likely to outnumber my own forces. I need your promise that they will not now, or ever, abuse their stay in my kingdom. We will feed you and house you—and you know, I think, what that costs us—and we will fight with you. But our territories are our territories, and you English may not claim them. I need an agreement on that.”
“Have it written, and I shall sign it,” Franklin replied. “For the moment, I give you my hand and my word.”
“For the moment, that will do. Meantime, you made me some other promises—make good on them. If we must fight, I want every advantage you can invent. You must hold nothing back from me for fear of future wars between our two peoples. You say we are all in this as one—act as you speak. Do you understand?”
“Absolutely. I meant every word I said, Majesty. This will be our last stand; I do believe it. If we fail here, nothing remains.”
“Will we fail?” For a moment he was that earlier king, a bit of resignation in each syllable.
Franklin looked him squarely in the eye. “No, Sire. We will not fail.”
That hung there for a moment, but then the king seemed to take it. “Good. Now, for the moment, just one thing. We have news that the Choctaw and their allies are fighting someone in the West, near the great river. Do you know anything of this?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“Can you contrive some method of discovering? Can we use Sterne's flying machine?”
“We can indeed, Sire, with a few modifications. But I think there is someone I can ask about this now, if you give me your leave.”
* * *
After a bit of searching, he found Vasilisa in one of the moldering gardens, laughing gaily with one of Don Pedro's men—a young, pale fellow with a goatee. Franklin gave him barely a glance and a nod before addressing Vasilisa. “My lady,” Franklin said, “a word with you?”
“The lady, sir, is with me,” the young man said, puffing out his chest and placing his hand on the hilt of his smallsword. His voice was hoarse, his accent very thick.
“I do not want the lady, but only a word or two with her.”
“It's fine, Roberto,” she said, squeezing his arm. “I shall find you later. Mr. Franklin and I are old friends, and we do have things to say to each other.”
Roberto looked unhappy and uncertain, but he kissed her hand, favored Franklin with an almost imperceptible bow, and left.
“Very, very clever, Benjamin,” she said softly, once they were alone. “This evening was well handled. Within a few days you have this whole court in the palm of your hand.”
“Vasilisa, you can outflatter a dedication and lie like ten epitaphs. Spare me, please.”
“You're angry.”
“Who are the Indians fighting in the West?”
“Other Indians?”
“Vasilisa