The Man with the Lead Stomach

by Jean-FranCois Parot

  Gaspard reassured him. He slept only a few yards away and Monsieur de La Borde had given him clear instructions to watch over Nicolas and to remain at his disposal. Nicolas questioned him about whether it would be possible to meet the Life Guard.

  ‘I can assure you it will be. He’s much in demand.’

  ‘Do you mean that someone else is also looking for him?’

  ‘Was looking for him. On Monday or Tuesday … no, Tuesday. Monsieur de La Borde was away in Paris for the day; he was due to attend a performance at the Opéra. Towards eleven o’clock or midday I happened to be in the Princes’ Courtyard when an individual asked me to deliver a note to Truche de La Chaux.’

  ‘So you know him, do you?’

  ‘Yes, by sight, like the others.’

  ‘And did you hand him this note?’

  ‘No, not directly. When I reached the guardroom he wasn’t there, but when one of his friends in the French Guards, a lieutenant, heard me enquiring after him, he took the note and promised to hand it over as soon as he saw him.’

  ‘That’s interesting. Do you want to earn a few extra écus?’

  ‘I’m at your service, Monsieur.’

  He held out his hand, which Nicolas filled appropriately.

  ‘Had you already seen the person who gave you the note?’

  ‘No, he was a valet without livery.’

  ‘Can you describe him to me?’

  ‘To be honest I didn’t look at him closely enough. His face was hidden by a hat.’

  ‘What about the lieutenant?’

  ‘He was a lieutenant like any other; the uniform makes them all look alike and they don’t like royal pages much.’

  ‘Thank you, Gaspard. We’ll talk about this again another time. Good night.’

  He went back inside and remained deep in thought for some time. So the day the Vicomte de Ruissec was murdered, a note was sent to Truche de La Chaux by an unknown person – a note that by all appearances ended up at midday in the hands of a lieutenant in the French Guards, who might easily be the vicomte. Was this connected to the murder? He suddenly went back out into the corridor to call Gaspard. The boy reappeared immediately.

  ‘My friend, you must tell me everything. This note that you took to Truche de La Chaux …’

  ‘Yes, Monsieur.’

  ‘You must understand that this is important and that I shall be able to reward …’ He waved another gold coin. ‘Did you read it?’

  Gaspard was fidgeting, looking embarrassed. All his cheekiness had vanished.

  ‘Well, yes. It wasn’t sealed, only folded. I didn’t think …’

  He looked crestfallen, resembling more and more a young lad caught stealing apples.

  ‘It will have been a good thing that you did,’ said Nicolas with a smile. ‘What did it say?’

  ‘It was to arrange a meeting in front of the fountain with Apollo’s chariot as soon as the note had been received. I thought it was a lovers’ tryst.’

  ‘Good. And what did the lieutenant do? I’m sure that you kept a discreet eye on him.’

  ‘He did the same as me, read it, then rushed out.’

  Nicolas threw the gold coin, which was caught in mid-air. When he returned to the apartments an obsequious manservant had set up a small table with venison pâté, a brace of partridges and a bottle of chilled champagne, not to mention a few sweet delicacies. Nicolas did justice to this feast and, after reading for about an hour, found the bedroom had been made ready for him and the bed warmed. Amidst such delights he fell asleep peacefully without thinking of the day’s events or what was to happen in the days to come.

  Sunday 28 October 1761

  He woke very late and, after quickly washing and dressing in a small, well-appointed closet, he breakfasted on hot chocolate served by an impassive manservant. He read for an hour or two, then called Gaspard, who was waiting in the corridor. Truche de La Chaux would be on duty in the Hall of Mirrors and Nicolas would take advantage of this to see the King go past on his way to Mass.

  He was surprised by the noisy bustle of the crowd. In the Hall of Mirrors and the War Drawing Room, those present were lined up along the window side. From the Throne Room onwards they were positioned well inside the rooms to allow free passage through the enfilade of doors. He was positioned by Gaspard not far from where the sovereign would emerge from his state apartments. He found himself amidst courtiers and provincial noblemen who had come to see their master. The mirrors in the hall multiplied the crowd and made it seem enormous. Nicolas saw the King emerge and had eyes for nothing else. Etiquette required each person to remain still. One was not supposed to bow but to keep one’s head erect. Thus the King could be seen by everyone and could see everyone.

  When he went past Nicolas, his brown eyes with their vacant stare seemed to brighten and the young man felt he had been noticed and recognised. He became quite convinced of this when, after the procession had passed, a group of talkative, inquisitive people formed almost a circle around him. This did not suit his purposes at all: he was not supposed to make himself conspicuous. He melted into the crowd, hoping that Gaspard would find him. And indeed soon there was a tug at his sleeve and, weaving in and out of the crush, the boy led him along to the War Drawing Room. There, near the brown marble bust of a Roman emperor, Nicolas spotted a Life Guard, whom he immediately recognised as the man from the tavern in Choisy, and whom he had come across again after his audience with the Marquise de Pompadour. So the man he was looking for was connected with two areas of his investigation. There had to be some explanation for this. His immediate concern was to appear to have not recognised him. There was no point in arousing his suspicions; he would soon see how the fellow would react.

  The man gave Nicolas a half-smile as he approached. From the featureless face with its pallid complexion and fair beard Nicolas could tell it was the man from Choisy. He drew closer to him.

  ‘Monsieur Truche de La Chaux, I presume.’

  ‘At your service, Monsieur. And you are …? But did we not meet only recently in Choisy?’

  The man was putting his cards on the table and Nicolas had not been expecting this.

  ‘I am a police officer. I would like to speak to you about the Vicomte de Ruissec. I believe you know him.’

  ‘I know that he is being buried today after his unfortunate accident. Had I not been on duty—’

  ‘You knew him, then?’

  ‘We all know one another here.’

  ‘What about his brother, the vidame?’

  ‘I know him, too. We have had occasion to play cards together.’

  ‘At the Dauphin Couronné?’

  For the first time the man looked surprised. ‘You are asking the questions and giving the answers.’

  ‘Does he lose much?’

  ‘He gambles like a madman and never bothers to count his losses.’

  ‘And do you help him pay his debts, like a good friend?’

  ‘I have done so.’

  ‘Did you give him a ring to pledge, for example?’

  ‘It’s a family heirloom.’

  ‘That you simply handed over. That’s hard to believe.’

  ‘What would one not do to help a friend? It could always be redeemed. Are you one of those spies from the Gaming Division?’

  Nicolas did not rise to this provocation.

  ‘Where were you last Tuesday afternoon?’

  ‘In Choisy. At the chateau.’

  ‘Do you have any witnesses?’

  He gave Nicolas a contemptuous sneer. ‘Ask you know who. She will confirm it.’

  What could he say in answer to this rejoinder, which put the two men on an equal footing? It was obvious that Truche de La Chaux was trying to trip him up and associate him in his own deviousness. What then did the King’s favourite have to do with someone of that ilk, who also happened to be the common factor in a criminal investigation?

  ‘I’m afraid I do not understand what you mean. Do you know the Comte de Ruissec?’
<
br />   ‘Not at all. I know only that he is a member of Madame Adélaïde’s entourage. And with that, Monsieur, I must leave you. My presence is required for the end of Mass in the chapel.’

  He bade farewell and strode off. Nicolas watched him go. He was not satisfied with this conversation. It had produced nothing new and was merely confusing the issue. It had even created a new problem by hinting at secret connections between Truche and Madame de Pompadour. What was more, the Life Guard seemed very sure of himself. Was he innocent or protected by a higher authority? In any case, what could he be accused of except being involved in various aspects of the investigation, with the apparent exception of the Comtesse de Ruissec’s death? The fact remained, however, that some unknown person had arranged a meeting with him and the plan had been thwarted by a lieutenant in the French Guards.

  Gaspard was waiting for him. Nicolas thought he should let the young man go. It did not prove so simple; the royal page did not want to leave him, no doubt because of the clear instructions he had received from Monsieur de La Borde. Besides, after Nicolas’s generosity it was a matter of honour for him to prove his worth. Nicolas eventually succeeded in convincing him, assuring him that he wished to visit the gardens and the ornamental fountains and that he would meet up with him later in the First Groom’s apartments; he knew his way around now and could manage on his own. He simply had the boy show him how to get to Apollo’s Chariot. It was child’s play, Gaspard told him. He only had to keep in line with the palace and walk straight on.

  *

  The park revealed itself to be a source of surprise and wonder to Nicolas. Struck by the grandeur and beauty of the gardens, he crossed the water parterre, admired the Fountain of Latona and the Basins of the Lizards, and walked straight ahead until he finally reached Apollo’s Chariot in the middle of its ornamental pond. He wanted to see the place that had been chosen for the mysterious rendezvous. He did not know exactly what he was looking for. In the midday sun a gentle breeze lightly ruffled the surface of the water.

  He decided to go and see the Grand Canal, which began just behind Apollo’s Chariot. He went through the Sailors’ Gate, which was guarded, and was surprised to see a dozen or so boats moored on the bank of the Grand Canal. He carried on walking. As he went along the immense waterway, his attention was suddenly caught by an eddy. His first thought was that it had been made by a giant carp leaping out of the water: it was in fact a child struggling and desperately waving his arms about. He kept opening his mouth but no sound came out. He clearly had no strength left. Nicolas hastily removed his coat and shoes and plunged into the water. He swam swiftly towards the child, took hold of him, lifted his head out of the water and brought him back to the bank.

  It was only then that he could examine the creature he had just saved. He was a puny-looking boy, aged between ten and twelve, dressed in rags. There was a scared look in his beautiful eyes and his mouth continued to open and close without producing any sound. He kissed Nicolas’s hand. After a few minutes of puzzlement Nicolas realised that he had saved a poor deaf-and-dumb boy.

  With the aid of gestures, they eventually managed to hold a conversation of sorts. The child had been fishing, had fallen in and, not knowing how to swim, had been swept away by the choppy water. He had been on the point of drowning when Nicolas reached him.

  Nicolas drew a house in the gravel. The child stood up, took him by the hand and led him off into the untamed countryside of the great park. They walked for a long time through the thicket before coming to a large hedge covered with brambles, which concealed the entrance to a long building made of logs. The child now became agitated and strangely anxious. He suddenly pushed Nicolas back towards the forest, kissed his hand again, smiled and then motioned him to leave.

  Nicolas found himself in the forest once more. Hours had passed and night was about to fall. He had some difficulty finding his way again but thanks to his country upbringing he knew how to plot his bearings amidst the tall trees. With the help of the distant light of the stars he found the Grand Canal and went through the Sailors’ Gate. There the same guard recognised him. Nicolas questioned him and was told that many fountaineers’ workshops were allowed in the Great Park, and the one he had seen probably belonged to Jean-Marie Le Peautre, who had set it up only a few months ago with his helper Jacques, a young deaf boy.

  On reaching the chateau he discovered Gaspard pacing up and down, waiting for him. He went up to La Borde’s apartments where, after getting changed and drying off, he read until supper time. When he returned to his bedroom an outfit had been laid out on an armchair: jerkin, cravat, jacket and braided tricorn, together with a pair of boots and a hunting knife. He asked the manservant to wake him early in the morning.

  Monday 29 October 1761

  The manservant woke him at the crack of dawn. The meet was arranged for ten o’clock and the carriages were due to leave half an hour earlier. Nicolas took his time, getting ready with particular care, and was only satisfied once he had seen a flattering reflection of himself in the pier glass above the fireplace. At the appointed time Gaspard appeared, his sharp-featured little face now cheered by a kindly smile showing that he had adopted Nicolas, and advised him to set off.

  The carriages were assembling in front of the North Wing. A host of vehicles was waiting. A valet examined the note that Nicolas handed him and pointed to his carriage where a young man who did not introduce himself eyed him up and down and then turned away. Nicolas did not take offence at this and lost himself in contemplation of the gardens, then the park. After passing through a gate, the carriages quickly entered the forest pathways. He saw again the great park where he had walked the previous day. The countryside became increasingly wild, with fields, fallow land, spinneys and tall trees. Three-quarters of an hour later the caravan arrived at the meet. The guests alighted from their carriages and, following his neighbour, Nicolas once more presented his note to the whippers-in. He remembered to tip one of them, who, with a knowing wink, showed him a tall dappled grey gelding. He preferred to give a favourable interpretation to this gesture of complicity. The animal in question, after bucking and rearing a few times to test him, realised that it was dealing with an experienced horseman and bowed to his will. For a horse used by so many different riders Nicolas thought it obeyed the bit rather well and that they would prove good companions. He felt in high spirits. A few paces away a young lady in a green riding coat was talking loudly. Nicolas recognised her as Madame Adélaïde, who was listening to an elderly master of hounds giving his report. He was showing her deer droppings on some leaves.

  ‘Long, Madame, well formed and shaped. A good-sized male.’

  ‘Did you see it, Naillard?’

  ‘I went out beating in the early morning, I headed it back, then saw it feeding. A fine tall beast with palmed antlers. I followed it with my dog back to its lair in the thicket, where it went to ground again. Then I marked the spot with broken branches.’

  The princess appeared satisfied and the troop of riders moved off again in the midst of the barking pack.

  To begin with, Nicolas simply enjoyed the exhilarating experience of once again riding a contented mount. The two of them were as one, both filling their lungs with the pure forest air. He had always loved to gallop and forget all his cares. He was, however, forced to slow his pace, for fear of overtaking the head of the hunt. Besides, Madame Adélaïde had just put her horse into a walk and did not seem eager to hurry things along until the animal was started and the pack at its heels. Just as the hunters were entering a large clearing she suddenly left the main group and went into the shade of the trees. The unpleasant person who had travelled in the same carriage as Nicolas came up to him and, with a wave of his hat, requested him to join the princess. Now it was Nicolas’s turn to enter the shade of the trees, amidst the dried and reddish ferns. Madame had halted her horse. He came closer, jumped down and, removing his tricorn, bowed. She gave him a kindly look but did not smile.

  ‘They speak
well of you, Monsieur.’

  There was nothing he could say in reply. He simply adopted a modest expression. Who could ‘they’ be? The King? Sartine? La Borde? All three, perhaps. Certainly not Saint-Florentin, whom the King’s daughters hated.

  ‘They say you are wise and discreet.’

  ‘I am Your Royal Highness’s humble servant.’

  That went without saying.

  ‘There has been some troublesome business in my Household, Monsieur Le Floch. My poor Ruissecs have been struck by misfortune, as you know …’

  She meditated for a moment. Nicolas even thought she was praying. Then she seemed to brush aside some annoying thought.

  ‘Still … I also have recently discovered some very unpleasant thefts from my caskets.’

  He dared interrupt her. She smiled at him in surprise. She was a beautiful young woman with an imperious charm.

  ‘Jewels, Madame?’

  ‘Yes, jewels. Several jewels.’

  ‘Would it be possible for Your Royal Highness to have a list drawn up by one of your most trusted servants describing the missing items?’

  ‘My people will see to it that you are provided with the list.’

  ‘Would you permit me, Madame, to put some questions to your servants, under the guidance of a member of your Household?’

  ‘Do as you please. I am relying on you to solve this matter.’ She smiled once more. ‘I knew your father. You resemble him.’

  A horn sounded from not very far away. A loud voice shouted, ‘There it goes!’

  ‘I believe, Monsieur, the deer has been started for the dogs. It is time to go. Good hunting.’

  She spurred her mount, which whinnied and set off. Nicolas put his hat on again, remounted and followed at a canter. He could hear blasts on hunting horns and the hunters shouting. There was considerable confusion. It looked as if the hunted animal was doubling. A whipper-in could be heard calling in the dogs: ‘Tally-ho! This way!’ and alerting the hunters. Amidst this commotion Nicolas’s mount became nervous and bolted. Before he could bring it under control it had carried him away from the hunt. Deafened by the rushing wind, he did not hear two riders come up from behind. By the time he felt their presence it was already too late. Turning round, all he could see was a black cape stretched between them that struck him, knocking him to the ground. His horse fled in panic. His head hit a tree stump, for a moment everything was a blur and then he passed out.