Love and Honor

by Harry Samkange

  “You needn’t call me that here. I’m your father; you may address me as such,” the marquis said testily.

  “Whatever you say, Father,” Nicolas replied, unable to hide the irritation in his voice.

  The marquis looked up for the first time from his papers, his temper rising, prepared to quickly slap down the petulance of his youngest son. The boy he expected to see standing there, however, was missing. Before him stood a young man much matured from the one he’d sent away for training. He realized how swiftly time was passing, that Nicolas would soon be a man in his own right. Shrugging off his own tiredness and irritation, he dismissed the others from the room. Once they were alone, he walked to the other side of the desk, embracing Nicolas warmly. Nicolas returned his father’s affection in equal measure, the physical contact deeply satisfying to them both. Blaise was surprised at how big and strong Nicolas had become, particularly in the torso and shoulders. He held him at arm’s length as if seeing him with new eyes, remarking at how much older he seemed, as if he were on the verge of adulthood and not just a boy on the cusp of manhood. Nicolas finally smiled, revealing both his dimples, his heart still warmed by his father’s embrace.

  “It’s good to have you home. I should have said that at the first. Just look at how you’ve grown. I know you’ve worked hard, but you’ll find such efforts worth the sacrifice. Your new studies will prepare you well for Paris. I expect much from you, my son,” the marquis said with pride.

  “Thank you, Papa; I’ll not let you down. I promise you that,” Nicolas assured him.

  “You’ve never disappointed me. You’ve always been the best of sons. But as strong as you’ve been, I need you to be even stronger. There is much now that is at stake,” Blaise said, his mind on the cryptic anonymous note that had been delivered to him the day before; a dispatch that had only one symbol drawn upon its single page -- the mark of the black fleur-de-lis. So now the game begins in earnest. My enemies know I mean to return to France and they send me their warning to stay put. But this time I shall defy them, come what may for all of us. Too much is at stake now for me to sit idly by while France is bled to death by our fool of a King and his ill-starred wife. I have brought more men here for the protection of my family. I shall have to rely on them to keep us safe until we depart. Once we are in Paris, the people will protect us. My enemies will have to try and strike us before we reach that city, but they will find us better armored perhaps than they had thought. For now, I must look to the safety of my wife and my sons first, Francis most of all as my heir, the marquis reflected, beginning to pace across the study; the clue, Nicolas knew, that a lecture of sorts was coming.

  “It pleases me that you and Francis are close, but you must understand the differences between you and your brother. As first born, your brother has always had the advantage of his seniority and the privileges that go with it. He has come to rely on them, while you’ve had to rely on your own talents to see you through. You’ve studied history, seen the fall of the empires of old. Well, we’re the old empires now and we have our own similar problems to solve. Fortunately, we have the example of the Americans to guide us, and we must not mistake the meaning of what they strive to accomplish. I want you to understand why I work so hard, Nicolas. We’re building a new future, one that will be more open to men of talent, regardless of birth,” Blaise said, pausing for emphasis, making sure that Nicolas understood him well.

  “Our relationship with the Salvagnacs is part of that. So are you. The world we seek to build will be a world in which men like you flourish. I fear, however, that for your brother, the transformation may prove to be more of a struggle than he expects,” Blaise said, stopping to stand directly in front of Nicolas, to make his point.

  “You have no golden chains to hold you back. Your future shall be what you will make of it. Therein lies both blessing and curse,” the marquis declared, moving forward to place a reassuring hand on Nicolas’ shoulder.

  “It’s important that you do well at your studies, and it’s also important that you support your brother as much as you are able to from now on. I have given him the means to sustain himself and his family, at least for the near future. Of course he will also inherit the rest of my estates and fortune when I die,” the marquis said.

  “Please, Father. It’s too early to talk of such a thing,” Nicolas protested.

  “I hope to have many years left to see my grandchildren -- both your brother’s and yours. But we must prepare for all eventualities,” the marquis said, looking down at his desk toward the drawer that concealed the letter of warning.

  “So, Nicolas, I leave you the least but also the best and the hardest thing that I can…the necessity and the opportunity for you to rise in the world on your own merit. Your estates will provide you a suitable income for all that you require. It will be enough for a beginning. The rest, you must do on your own. Francis hasn’t your strength, Nicolas; he will need to rely on yours. You, for your part, will need his advice, his influence and his alliances. The times before us will be turbulent ones. You will both need each other,” the marquis declared.

  “I promise, Father, I’ll do my best,” Nicolas said.

  “Well, what more could a father ask of a son?” Blaise said with a nod, returning to sit at his desk.

  “I have other news of interest that concerns you, though I forbid you to mention it to anyone. Is that clearly understood?” Nicolas nodded that it was.

  “Good. I’ve made another decision on your behalf while you were away; without your knowledge, it is true, but I’m assured by your mother that it will not disappoint you,” Blaise said, pausing to judge Nicolas’ reaction.

  “Whatever it is, Papa, I’m sure it’s for the best,” Nicolas replied with conviction.

  “Very well, then. Before you left for Martinique, Baron Salvagnac approached me to discuss the matter of your relationship with the Vicomtesse de La Bouhaire. As I told you then, we agreed that you would be allowed to pay formal court to her,” Blaise declared, looking fixedly at Nicolas, who listened intently in nervous silence.

  “Since that time we have spoken of the same matter at length, and on several occasions. Suffice it to say that we both aired our differing perspectives and in order to bolster your suit, I added the lands of Cerneaux and Blinfey to your existing domains, which more than doubles your current income. I was told by your sister Julienne that my actions had an immediate and salutary effect upon Madame de Salvagnac, as I suspected they would. The Salvagnacs were duly enough impressed by this change in your circumstances that we were finally able to agree in principle to your betrothal. You are to be married when the vicomtesse is seventeen and of age, provided she will still have you when the time comes,” the marquis said. Nicolas heard the words but couldn’t process them, his mind seeming to stumble as if he were in a waking dream.

  “I assume by your silence that you have no objections?” the marquis said with a wry smile. Nicolas struggled to find words, to make his mouth work, to remain standing, so overcome was he with the magnitude of what had just been granted to him.

  “Father…it’s more than I had ever dared hope for,” Nicolas whispered, rushing to kneel at his father’s side, kissing his hand, unashamed of the emotion he felt.

  “Rise up, my boy, there’s no need for that. It is your doing, not mine. You have so endeared the young lady to you that apparently she will have no other. I do not wish to sound cruel, but I caution you that she is still young, and hearts have been known to change. You must wait almost two years before she can marry. Time will pass more quickly than you think, though I know it may seem like a lifetime to you now. Use it well so that when the day comes, you will both be ready,” Blaise advised.

  “Does she know? The vicomtesse, I mean,” Nicolas asked. Blaise shook his head.

  “Under the law she must give her consent freely in order for the state of betrothal to be recognized as valid and legally binding. The baron has vouchsafed on her behalf, that this state of consen
t exists, but she may later undo it if she so chooses. Given that condition, we decided it was perhaps best to keep the matter confidential from her,” the marquis explained.

  “I understand. Thank you, Papa! I shall be ready when the time comes!” Nicolas assured him.

  “Very well, then. You’ve plenty of work yet to do before we depart. I’ve received word that our ships are finally ready to sail. It will only be a matter of days now before we leave,” the marquis said, his expression turning suddenly pensive, almost apologetic.

  “I regret to tell you that Madame de Blaise will not be sailing with us. I know you will regret her temporary loss as much as I, but I believe it in the best interests of all that her arrival in France be delayed,” the marquis said.

  “Must Maman really remain here, Father? It’s not just that I shall miss her; I imagine she’ll be terribly lonely as well with everyone gone…it’s almost like she’s being abandoned,” Nicolas said. Blaise sighed deeply.

  “Regrettably, things are not always as easy or as straightforward as they might seem. You have not known how deeply she suffered after we were first married. Some of the things that were whispered about us were vile and abominable, particularly with regard to your mother. In the more disreputable parts of Cap François, they even made crude drawings of us on the walls. In those days, I never allowed her to go out into the city without a sizeable retinue of escorts -- both for her own safety, and to make sure she never saw any of those wretched scribbles,” Blaise explained. Nicolas was shocked. It was the first time he had ever heard his father speak of the price that had been paid for marrying his mother.

  “I have exactly seven wounds on my body, Nicolas, but in all my years with the cavalry I was never once wounded while serving with the Regiment. All of my wounds came from the duels I fought against those who slandered your mother. I don’t regret a single one of them. They were a small price to pay for sending a dozen scoundrels to their graves,” Blaise declared.

  A dozen men? Nicolas thought to himself in surprise. He had never considered his father of the sort to harm anyone. It was a shock to hear that the man he regarded as a symbol of virtue and rectitude had killed at least twelve men, and perhaps more.

  “You look surprised, I see. Well, don’t be. There was a reason for all the weapons training you’ve received. I wanted you to be as prepared as you could be for what you might face. There are those who will resent greatly my return to France. I have already received a letter from Montbarrey to be watchful for my safety; that is the reason for the many unfamiliar faces you see around you. They are here to ensure our protection until we reach Paris,” the marquis explained. Nicolas nodded, beginning now to understand the full weight and impact of the decisions his father had made.

  “There are many old debts that will be settled over the coming months, Nicolas. Some will prove easier to collect than others. Both you and Francis must be on your guard. I don’t know when or how my enemies will choose to strike at me, but I do know that strike they will; perhaps even through one of you,” the marquis said pensively.

  “In order to ensure that your mother remains safe, I have chosen to have her remain here for the time being until I send for her,” the marquis explained.

  “Do you think, Father, that things will be as bad in Paris for Maman? After all, it is a most enlightened city, is it not? Great writers and thinkers like Voltaire are welcomed in its streets and salons…” Nicolas began.

  “Among men of letters Voltaire may indeed be a giant, but when it comes to certain subjects, you will find how quickly he shrinks till he is no bigger than a circus dwarf,” the marquis said with some heat, cutting Nicolas off mid-sentence.

  “Read his works and you’ll discover that for yourself. He had the temerity to affront me once with an insolent letter concerning your mother. I had him beaten within an inch of his life. When he recovered he had to flee Paris in fear,” Blaise said.

  “And you escaped any punishment or censure, Father?” Nicolas asked, regarding his father in outright shock. The marquis nodded.

  “I was not the only one he had annoyed; only the most willing to do something about it. Had he been my equal, I’d have called him out. As it was, the King took my side of it, which ended matters then and there. It was he who was banished from court and censured,” Blaise said with satisfaction, folding his arms across his chest in contemplation.

  “I know this is all rather new to you, Nicolas; both your mother and I hoped to spare you from as much of the unwelcome past as we could. But you’re a man now and you need to prepare yourself for what lies ahead of you. I confess I’d not thought you would become attached so young. I thought we’d have more time before we needed to concern ourselves with such matters, but here we are nevertheless,” the marquis said, looking earnestly at his son.

  “Some of those whose family members I sent onward are still at court. They will not have forgotten nor forgiven what transpired, even though it was long ago. Their influence will only have increased over time, given their nearness to our Sovereign. It is my hope that the hubris of their power will cause them to overreach so that we can expose and weaken them. Because everything was done under the strictures of the Code Duello – the code of the duel – they cannot act against me publicly. That does not mean however, that they will not be waiting with snares aplenty to entrap all of us should we falter -- your mother especially. I need to make sure that when she arrives, the way has been already cleared…at least of the most obvious of the traps. Do you understand?” Blaise asked.

  Nicolas nodded reluctantly. “When will she join us, then?”

  “I shall send for her separately once things are settled enough so that her arrival both in Paris and at court will not cause old quarrels to be reopened; precisely when, though, I cannot say. I should be very much obliged if you could make an effort to spend time with her before we depart. She’ll be on her own once we set sail, as the Salvagnacs will also be sailing with us. I know it’s disappointing that she won’t be with us. Rest assured, no one will miss her more than I, but regretfully, this is the way it must be,” the marquis explained.

  “I understand, Father,” Nicolas said.

  “Ah, that reminds me. We’ll be having a special gala affair here two days from now. I suppose you could call it our farewell party. It’ll be a costume affair, so see to it that you have something suitable. The place will be full of the best society of the island, including one particular vicomtesse whom I believe you’re rather fond of,” the marquis said with a chuckle.

  “Sérolène -- I mean, Mademoiselle de La Bouhaire -- will be here?” Nicolas asked excitedly.

  “Yes of course; along with the rest of the Salvagnacs and two hundred or so others. There’s nothing that disconcerts your enemies more my boy, than appearing wholly indifferent to their threats and posturing. By opening our house so boldly, we show everyone that we are unafraid, that the Montferraud cannot be cowed. I expect that it will please you very much to be reunited with your La Bouhaire after so long a separation. I wonder if she’ll still recognize you, you’ve grown so,” the marquis said with barely concealed pride.

  “I hope so, Father. I must admit I shall be very glad to see her again,” Nicolas said.

  “Good. Now off with you, Monsieur; I’ve still some matters to attend to here. Remember, I expect nothing less than the best from you. Let nothing stand in your way,” Blaise reminded him. Nicolas nodded, turning smartly on his heel with the military bearing that had come to be expected of him, and left the room.

  Betrothed to Sérolène! his mind screamed in jubilation. He felt as if he were walking in a dream. How he wanted to run and shout and show his elation to the entire world! Thoughts of being absent from his mother, however, dampened what otherwise would have been an unabashedly joyous occasion, so that instead of celebrating, he made his way to his bed in contemplative exhaustion, sitting down upon it heavily with a long sigh.

  His father’s words rang in his head like a beacon. �
�We’re building a new future. One that will be more open to men of talent, regardless of birth.” He glanced at the Muramasa, which lay next to him on the bed, knowing clearly what he must do. There was no doubt that once in France, Sérolène would draw the attention of many in search of a pretty wife and a large dowry. That was the norm of the time, and there would be no shortage of takers for such a prize. The Army was his best hope. Only then could he win, through his acts of glory, honors high enough that even a Vicomtesse of La Bouhaire would not fear to tarnish her name or honor by taking him as a husband.

  “I must go at once and speak with Francis about this matter with Mauran. I’m sure he’ll know what to do. It must be settled before we leave for France, lest they falsely seek to claim that I fled from them. I shall also have to procure a suitable costume for the upcoming fête. I’m not generally one for dancing, but how glad I shall be to see my beloved again,” Nicolas considered aloud, his thoughts full of Sérolène as he rose to go find his brother and fulfill the obligations to his honor.