The Sun King Conspiracy

by Yves Jégo

  Nevertheless, on the night of 9 March the sovereign had felt moved to spend the whole night with his wife. Was it the imminent demise of his beloved Cardinal that had provoked these moments of tenderness and love, or a sudden desire to become a father at a time when destiny was about to deprive him of his godfather? After this night of love, and despite the late hour, Louis XIV was still awake and deep in thought as he lay with his eyes wide open, watching his sleeping wife beside him.

  She is small and plump and her wit hardly sparkles, he told himself, but I am sure she will give me fine children.

  The King sat up at the sound of footsteps approaching his bedchamber. As he saw the steward bow low before him, he felt his heart race. Suddenly there was a lump in his throat. The letter he was handed was signed by Colbert. Its contents were sober: ‘His Eminence Cardinal Mazarin passed away peacefully on this day, 9 March.’

  He was gone: the man whom the King of France had admired the most in the world, who had guided him ever since the death of Louis XIII, the man who – along with his mother, Anne of Austria – made up his protective family. Never again would he be there to advise him, or to teach him how to govern. For the first time in his life, the terrible burden of his responsibilities weighed heavy upon his shoulders. At that moment, Louis XIV was strangely torn between grief at the death of his dear godfather, and the jubilation which bubbled inside him at the prospect of at last being sole sovereign of his Kingdom.

  ‘Madame,’ the King told Maria Theresa, who had just awoken, ‘immense tragedy has struck our nation: we have just lost our Chief Minister. I am going to Vincennes in order to make the necessary arrangements. I shall leave immediately, to ensure that the Queen Mother has the support of her son and the affection of her sovereign at this difficult time.’

  The young Queen burst into tears at this announcement, which profoundly touched Louis XIV. It moved him to see his wife express feelings which he, as King of France, would have to hide. To combat the turmoil within him, he demanded his clothes and issued his first orders.

  ‘Steward, send a messenger to Vincennes immediately to announce my imminent arrival. Also, tell Colbert that I wish to convene a meeting of the inner council. Have my carriage and my personal guard ready to leave within the hour!’

  As he left the capital that cold night, lulled by the din of the horses’ hooves galloping over the flagstones, Louis XIV thought of the hours to come and of how he would now to assume the government of his Kingdom.

  The sound of hooves clattering along the paved esplanade alerted the musketeers who were stationed within sight of Vincennes. Louis XIV was in a hurry. In a hurry to embrace the Queen Mother, whose infinite grief he could well imagine. In a hurry also to show everyone what he was capable of, even if, deep inside, the King was less self-assured than he wished to appear. As he entered the palace, he noted that the Cardinal’s guards had upended their rifles as a sign of mourning. The King had been joined on his journey from Paris by Marshals Villeroy, Gramont and Noailles, who now walked at his side. Anne of Austria was waiting for him, together with various ministers and Colbert, in the room adjoining the bedchamber where Jules Mazarin’s mortal remains lay.

  ‘The King,’ barked the sheriff, suddenly throwing open the doors.

  The entrance of the sovereign at this hour of night, and in these circumstances, constituted an extraordinary spectacle that combined the pomp of life at Court and the sad simplicity of a family gathered together in mourning. The Queen Mother sat in an armchair beside the fire warming herself with a cup of chocolate spiced with cinnamon. Lionne was conversing in hushed tones with Le Tellier, Brienne and Colbert. Everyone stood to acknowledge the King of France’s entrance. The King rushed to his mother, who had already got to her feet to receive her son’s kiss. Straightaway he noticed that her eyes were swollen with weeping and fatigue.

  ‘Madame, know that I share your pain,’ the King told her affectionately as he took her in his arms. ‘I know how much your presence at my godfather’s side must have eased his last days.’

  ‘Sire,’ said the Queen Mother, unable to hold back her tears, ‘the Kingdom has lost its most faithful servant. Your presence brings us comfort and consolation. I am certain that, to his last breath, your godfather thought only of Your Majesty,’ added Anne of Austria, her voice jerky with sobs.

  ‘I want to see him,’ demanded the King.

  This order surprised everyone, for it was quite unimaginable that the King of France should be placed in the presence of death. In the ensuing heavy silence, Louis XIV repeated his order.

  ‘I want to see him!’

  The sheriff then opened the door that separated the room containing the sovereign from the room in which the Cardinal’s body lay.

  Louis stopped in his tracks, suddenly feeling an immense wave of grief wash over him at the sight of his godfather’s inert body. He stood there motionless, as though both fascinated and hypnotised by the spectacle of the bed that held the Chief Minister, lit only by the single, flickering flames from the candlesticks arranged around him. Tears flowed down his cheeks. At that moment, Louis relived the most memorable moments of his childhood with his godfather. Once again he heard the voice with its distinctive accent which had taught him so many things, and he became aware of the silence that meant he must now and for ever face his destiny alone.

  Anxious not to make a spectacle of his grief, Louis XIV simply gestured to the servants to close the door.

  ‘Messieurs,’ the King said solemnly to the group surrounding Lionne and Le Tellier, ‘this is a time for prayer. Nevertheless I have asked Monsieur Colbert to summon all the ministers here present to my office, and I invite you to join me there.’

  Realising that Louis XIV wished to be alone for a moment with his mother, Michel Le Tellier left the room and took the others with him.

  ‘Madame, in order to spare you the vexing burden of public affairs at this painful time, I have decided to limit this meeting to my ministers alone.’

  Stunned by the announcement, the Queen Mother did not know how to respond to this sudden exclusion, which came as a terrible surprise. At that moment, Anne of Austria felt alone and weak. Had she not taken on more than her share of power since the death of Louis XIII, especially during the terrible ordeals of the Fronde? She asked herself what her son could possibly reproach her for, and was particularly stung as his unexpected announcement came only hours after the death of her loving companion.

  The King did not take time to concern himself with his mother’s reaction. He kissed her on the forehead and left the room. Outraged, Anne of Austria turned on her heel and walked back to her apartments.

  ‘I suspected as much. I suspected that he would be ungrateful and would wish to show his strength,’ she muttered as she went.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Vincennes – Wednesday 9 March, eleven o’clock in the morning

  QUICKENING his pace as he crossed his gardens and headed for the esplanade at the Château de Vincennes, Nicolas Fouquet was oblivious to the beauty of the frost-covered branches. He clenched his fists in the pockets of his immense coat, his jaw tense with worry.

  ‘Confound my spies and my agents,’ he muttered through his teeth. ‘They never alerted me, the villains. And why was I not informed about this meeting or the King’s arrival? Doubtless an oversight,’ he forced himself to believe.

  But he could not rid himself of the sombre premonition which gripped him.

  The Superintendent greeted the Queen Mother with a bow as she wandered through the great anteroom outside the King’s apartments.

  ‘Madame, I have only just heard the sad news.’

  The Queen smiled at Fouquet, happy to see a friendly face amid the succession of ordeals that made up this painful day.

  ‘Good day to you, Monsieur Superintendent. The King,’ she said, speaking the words with unaccustomed emphasis, ‘sent for you, I presume?’

  ‘Indeed not, Madame, I came without any summons to meditate at th
e deathbed of Monsieur Cardinal. But I am told that the King is holding a council meeting …’

  ‘A restricted council, as you and I are both now aware.’

  A few yards away, the King stood by the window of his small private office, his eyes fixed on the paved courtyard below. Behind him, Lionne, Séguier, Le Tellier and Colbert listened in silence as he uttered short, sharp sentences interspersed with long silences.

  ‘We shall make the funeral arrangements later. As regards the Cardinal’s affairs, the will is to be respected but there will be no widespread publication of its details. Monsieur Colbert, you will assemble the Cardinal’s records and give an account of their content to me alone, and without committing anything to paper. As for the appointments which the Cardinal made, I shall make known tomorrow at nine o’clock in council – you will organise the meeting, Chancellor – the new organisational structure which we will adopt.’

  The King turned to face the motionless ministers again.

  ‘I thank you. Until tomorrow.’

  Still silent, the four men bowed at length and headed for the door.

  ‘Colbert, a further word please,’ the King called him back.

  Suppressing a smile, Colbert stopped to allow the other three to leave. They didn’t so much as a glance at him.

  ‘Sire?’

  Louis XIV sat down and softened his tone a little.

  ‘Monsieur, my godfather, may his soul rest in peace, told me how much I would be able to trust you.’

  He silenced Colbert’s protests with a wave of his hand.

  ‘He told me what you have achieved. He told me what a burden you bore in order to defend us against agitators and those who spoke evil of us. You should know that I remember such things. I want you to share your concerns with me. In addition, you are to inform me personally about the confidential files in your charge. I thought my godfather appeared anxious in his last days, particularly after the fire and the theft by the brigands … Do you know anything more about this? Were his worries well founded?’

  ‘Sire, I do not wish to nourish fears which have no basis,’ said Colbert. ‘Certainly there are dangers, and some people close to the centre of power do dare to harbour questionable ambitions. But with your permission I will reserve my conclusions until I am sure, with proof, names and facts. I shall devote myself to the task.’

  ‘Very well. As the Cardinal will doubtless have informed you, you are to be endowed with the rank of Steward of Finance, to work alongside the Superintendent. I am sure this role will aid you in your investigations,’ said the King enigmatically.

  Colbert’s eyes shone with joy as he bowed to indicate his gratitude.

  ‘Go, you seem tired. Get some rest. I shall have need of all your energy in the weeks to come.’

  ‘Sire, your glory has need of no one,’ Colbert said quietly as he backed towards the door, bowing repeatedly.

  Raising his prominent eyes just as he passed through the door, the little man saw the sun’s rays strike the young man’s hair through the glass, creating a halo of light around his arrogant face.

  As he passed through the succession of rooms leading to the other wing and the Cardinal’s apartments, Colbert’s heart beat fast. Lost in his reverie he did not see Nicolas Fouquet, who had lingered in the courtyard after his visit to bow before Mazarin’s dead body. As the Superintendent watched the little black-clad man walk by, he felt his stomach knot again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Mont-Louis – Thursday 10 March, five o’clock in the morning

  HUDDLED in the shadow of the bushes, Colbert had patiently observed the procession of silhouettes as they moved, one by one, across the space that separated the buildings of Mont-Louis from the adjoining Saint-Côme chapel. A small door was hewn into the chapel’s apse. Each time it opened a little way, the light enabled him to count the arrivals one by one. He had grown nervous when the succession of people entering the chapel had ceased for several minutes, but his worry was instantly dispelled with the arrival of the last man, in a state of obvious agitation, escorted by two torchbearers. Smiling, Colbert pulled his hood down a little further over his face and turned to the soldier who was crouching beside him.

  ‘They are all here. Now remember: at my signal, but only at my signal. Until then, absolute silence – your men must not move a muscle. Remind them that they are only to surround the building closest to us.’

  Then, with surprising agility given his sickly appearance, he stood up and headed for the darkened chapel, shivering with each gust of wind.

  Not a sound disturbed the night’s icy cold, save the whistling wind. Slowly, Colbert crossed the open space to the door. He remained there, motionless. When nothing happened, he half opened the studded wooden door and slipped inside.

  ‘Let us pray to Our Lord to grant us grace amid this turmoil to understand the proper conduct he expects from us.’

  Hearing the voice tear through the silence, Colbert froze. All that separated him from the conspirators’ meeting was the enormous pillar he found himself behind, which masked the light from the two torches illuminating them. Silence fell once more. Colbert held his breath and strained to hear.

  A different voice spoke next.

  ‘One does not weep for the death of a mad dog! Providence has settled our doubts by dispensing with that evil-doer. If there is anything to regret, it is only that we did not arrange the demise of the accursed Cardinal ourselves!’

  ‘Anger is not what Our Lord commands,’ went on the first voice. ‘I wanted us to meet after the announcement of the Cardinal’s death in order to bring our activity to an immediate halt in the face of this new upheaval.’

  The voice hardened.

  ‘Morin’s example should incline us to greater wisdom, my Brothers. Our poor Brother allowed himself to be overtaken by anger. He almost brought about our downfall by drawing attention to us and attracting the King’s anger. What we detested in Mazarin was that he diverted divine royalty from its sole task: that of ensuring the glory of Our Lord on earth. By attacking royal power and invoking the right to rebel, Morin – may God have pity on him – forgot this and perverted our message. It is of little importance that he failed to bring us back the papers proving the monstrous union of Mazarin and the Queen Mother. All of that died with the Cardinal. What matters now is that we assure ourselves of the King’s intentions. For my part …’

  *

  ‘As confessor to the King, that’s well said, Monsieur!’

  Stunned, the assembled men turned to look at the figure who had just emerged from behind the pillar.

  ‘We have been betrayed!’

  One of the zealots leapt forward, unsheathing his dagger, but his leader stopped him in his tracks.

  ‘Yes, very wise, King’s Confessor,’ commented the unexpected guest phlegmatically. ‘Indeed, I advise all of you to keep your weapons in their scabbards.’

  The dumbstruck zealots watched silently as the man walked down the steps towards them.

  ‘Gentlemen, any resistance is futile unless you wish to die martyrs. Outside, two companies of guards are surrounding the area and they will not allow anyone to leave alive without my safe conduct.’

  ‘Who are you?’ demanded the King’s confessor.

  ‘A man who is sufficiently well informed to know that you went to see Morin in order to ensure his silence. And to know the names and identities of every one of you. And to have had each one of you constantly watched since your society of zealots was dissolved last September. Sufficiently well informed to have seen you leave the Louvre after the news of the Cardinal’s death had been announced to the King. So, my friends, I will reveal myself’ he said, pushing back the hood of his cape.

  ‘Colbert!’

  ‘The very same, Monsieur Confessor, the very same.’

  Colbert took a chair and sat down.

  ‘So here we all are, present and ready to talk.’

  ‘What do you want?’ asked one of the men in a voice heavy with
suspicion.

  ‘I want to avoid killing people I am not convinced are my enemies. And the proof of that is that had I wished to kill you, you would all be dead by now, or at the very least on the way to a most disagreeable prison. That this did not happen is because I did not think it necessary and the words I heard before I revealed myself to you incline me to believe that I was right.’

  When he saw the questioning looks on the conspirators’ faces, Colbert paused for a moment, and then said:

  ‘You detested the Cardinal, so be it. He is dead. You wanted to destroy him by revealing the intimate secret of his links with the Queen Mother, but he has carried that scandal to his tomb. So why go on fighting?’

  The man who had produced his dagger leant forward and spat contemptuously:

  ‘Because we respect the sacred cause of Our Lord.’

  Colbert fixed him with a weighty gaze.

  ‘And who here is the enemy of the Church? Believe me, no one believes that the King is anything of the sort. On the contrary, the King wishes to strengthen the spiritual order. As we are speaking in confidence, I can tell you what will not be generally known for a little while: in a few days’ time, the King will ask the clerical assembly to deal ruthlessly with deviants of all kinds by obliging clerics to sign a Formulary which would guarantee their absolute respect for the authority of our Holy Church and of the King, God’s knight upon earth.’