The Sun King Conspiracy

by Yves Jégo

  ‘And you must be hungry! I could eat a horse,’ added André, leading Gabriel to a downstairs room where a cold meal awaited them.

  ‘I am delighted by what you said just now,’ said the young actor, attacking a magnificent slice of lamb. ‘I shall pray that the return of these compromising papers enables you to come back to Amboise soon,’ added the young man, suddenly overcome by a tide of emotion which he vainly attempted to suppress.

  At these words, André de Pontbriand was unable to stem his tears.

  ‘That is my dearest wish,’ he said. ‘You cannot imagine how transformed I am by the happiness of seeing you again. This evening, I can hardly feel the aches and pains that have been bothering me for several months. It is as if some of your strength and youth has been passed on to me!’

  The conversation continued between the two men, both eager to find out about each other and make up for lost years. Gabriel kept trying to persuade his father to talk about the precious text to which several generations of Pontbriands had dedicated their lives. In the end he appeared to sink into deep thought.

  ‘What are you pondering all of a sudden?’ asked his father after a moment’s silence.

  ‘Didn’t you think to make me part of that line too? If this secret is so important, why didn’t you want me to be one of those men charged with protecting it?’

  ‘Believe me, my son,’ André told him, ‘if I don’t tell you any more about our family’s secret this evening, it is only to protect you. Please don’t be impatient!’

  When he saw Gabriel’s sombre expression, the old man leant towards him and looked him right in the eye.

  ‘Do you want me to tell you the truth? For years I hoped that the line would be broken. For years I have lived as a recluse, licking my wounds, hating my destiny and hoping beyond hope that you would escape all this. I hoped that my generation would end our quest, and that you would be freed from it … That’s why I was so overwhelmed when I learned what had happened, that you had found the documents … Do not think badly of me,’ he added, his voice suddenly tired. ‘Come. You want me to prove what I say? Well, I am going to tell you a secret that is worth more than gold. Listen carefully, Gabriel, for very few men have heard what you are about to hear. I am going to read you a translation of the text which was lost for so long, and which you found. That way, you will already be one of us.’

  He went away to his office and returned a moment later with the document.

  Gabriel listened in astonishment to what seemed to him to be a long succession of plant names and expert dosages. André de Pontbriand smiled when he had finished reading.

  At one o’clock in the morning, after talking at such length with his son, the old man decided to go to bed. He suggested that Gabriel should spend the night with him.

  ‘You can sleep in the armchair in my office,’ his father added. ‘Then we can look at the documents again tomorrow morning.’

  Delighted, the young man bade his host goodnight and went to settle down for the night. He couldn’t sleep, and kept turning over in his head the strange phrases spoken by his father. It was very late when he finally fell into an uneasy slumber.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  London – Saturday 23 April, four o’clock in the morning

  THE sound of furniture crashing to the ground suddenly awoke Gabriel, who at first did not know what was going on.

  ‘Help!’

  His father’s muffled cry left the young man in no doubt, and he swiftly snatched up his sword which lay on the ground beside the armchair where he had fallen asleep. In a single bound, Gabriel was in the corridor. It was so dark that he had to grope his way through the unfamiliar house. As he reached the door to his father’s bedroom, a faint glimmer of moonlight illuminated André de Pontbriand’s inert body sprawled across the bed. At that same moment, a man knocked into him as he ran from the room.

  ‘Stop right there!’ roared Gabriel.

  The only response was the menacing glint of a blade, and the fight began. As he defended himself against his assailant, Gabriel realised that the man was not alone, for he could hear a huge commotion coming from down below. Charles Saint John’s trading offices were obviously being systematically searched. Driven by rage, the young man fought harder still against the thug who had just attacked his father. Leaping deftly aside to evade his adversary’s blows, he found himself first on the staircase, then a moment later in the large room where clients were received. Everything had been turned upside down. The bales of precious fabrics had been torn open, and chests full of spices emptied. In the adjoining room, several men carrying torches were in the process of emptying the cupboards where the merchant kept his accounts.

  ‘You’re done for!’ he cried, launching himself in the direction of the shadowy figures.

  Oblivious to the danger, the young man found himself fighting four against one. He had forgotten none of the lessons he had received from his uncle at Amboise and wielded his blade with rare dexterity, skilfully parrying the four villains’ attacks. He was wondrously agile. He dealt one of his adversaries a deep wound in the shoulder. Then, with a masterstroke, he plunged his blade deep into the heart of another, who collapsed without even finding the strength to cry out.

  At a brief command from the wounded man, the three survivors fled through the window they had broken to get into the house. For a moment, Gabriel thought of pursuing them through the darkened streets, then changed his mind as he remembered his father lying upstairs. The young man seized a torch and rushed to the bedroom where he had surprised the attacker a few minutes before. As he approached the bed, Gabriel paled. There was a small patch of blood on his father’s nightshirt, just above his heart.

  ‘They’ve killed him!’ he gasped as he saw the old man’s livid features, and his head began to spin. Distraught with grief, he gazed at the body of the father he had miraculously rediscovered only a few hours before.

  Gabriel forced himself to be calm. He would have to return to Fouquet immediately and place himself under his protection. He rushed into his father’s office to gather his things, and in particular the precious documents which he would now have to protect. Before he went downstairs, he stopped one last time in the bedroom where the body of André de Pontbriand lay.

  ‘Father, I shall do my utmost to be faithful to you,’ murmured the young man, his eyes brimming with tears as he took one last look at the father whose life still remained so full of mystery.

  Before Gabriel left the house, it occurred to him to search the man he had killed as he lay there in a pool of his own blood.

  ‘Who are these villains, and who are they working for?’

  The discovery of a letter in his victim’s inside pocket provided the young man with his answer. The letter was signed by Charles Perrault, chief of Colbert’s police. The men had been instructed to follow ‘young Gabriel during his stay in London, and at all costs and by any means necessary to retrieve any documents in the said actor’s possession.’

  The young man felt a wave of anger sweep through him.

  ‘So, it was Colbert himself who killed my father,’ he told himself. ‘Colbert is going to pay for this with his life, even if I have to sacrifice the remainder of mine!’

  The rest of the missive provided him with additional information: ‘At the end of your mission stop at the coaching inn in Beauvais, and send me a letter informing me of your return to France. Whatever happens, await me there.’

  In a flash Gabriel made up his mind not to waste a moment longer in London, but to set off in pursuit of his father’s murderers.

  I’ll send Fouquet a letter telling him that I’ve returned to Paris, the young man said to himself as he left his father’s house, then I shall head for Beauvais!

  Pain and grief had given way to cold rage.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  On the road to Paris – Sunday 24 April

  GABRIEL did not spare his horses. Leaving London, the young man headed straight for the coast and succee
ded in obtaining a passage to France just as the ship was about to sail. After taking advantage of the crossing to rest and sleep, the Pontbriand heir disembarked at Boulogne and hurried to the first coaching inn to obtain a fresh horse. He chose a sturdy one so that he would be able to gallop all the way to Beauvais without losing any time.

  Throughout the journey, Gabriel thought constantly of the events of the past hours. The image of his father’s corpse kept coming back to haunt him. He now had only one aim: to avenge his death, first by catching the fugitives and making them pay and then by confronting their master. I’ll do whatever it takes to make Colbert pay for this! the young man told himself over and over again, intoxicated with grief.

  Reaching Beauvais at last, Gabriel had to skirt the magnificent, four-hundred-year-old cathedral to reach the coaching inn nearby. There were few people there at that time of day.

  ‘What can I do for you, Monseigneur?’ Scipion Carion asked as he greeted him, bowing low.

  The landlord of the post-house was short and plump, but his cheery face inspired confidence.

  ‘I’ve arranged to meet some friends,’ said the young man, anxious not to arouse suspicion. ‘They may be waiting for me already. And I’m hungry and thirsty.’

  Scipion Carion took him by the arm and led him to the inn’s dining room, so that the traveller could satisfy his appetite. Gabriel followed him but remained on his guard, discreetly scrutinising the customers seated at their tables.

  ‘You’ll find the best cook in Beauvais at my inn. Madame Carion herself does all the cooking here,’ the man announced proudly, showing Gabriel to a table next to the window.

  Eyeing the other guests, Gabriel suddenly straightened up and reached for his sword.

  ‘You!’ he cried, lunging at three men who were seated at the back of the room.

  The three companions, clearly taken by surprise, then charged at the young man with their swords in their hands. As they began to fight, the innkeeper cried out:

  ‘For pity’s sake, Messieurs, spare my family! I have only this inn to provide for them! I beg of you, do not break anything!’ the poor man pleaded as weapons clashed and plates flew off the tables.

  Once again, young Pontbriand’s agility unsettled his opponents, who were as taken aback by his bravery as they were by his surprise appearance.

  But despite his dexterity, Gabriel now felt he was in trouble, and when he received a light wound on his shoulder he decided to run for it. Jumping out of the open window, he found himself once again in the courtyard of the coaching inn. The three men immediately rushed out of the inn in hot pursuit.

  ‘Careful, he’s dangerous!’ one of them shouted as he set off after the fugitive.

  They caught up with their quarry in front of the cathedral and the fighting recommenced on the steps of the great building.

  Backed up against the heavy wooden door, the young man thought he was done for. Then he remembered his father, whom he would never see again, and rage lent strength to his arm. He ran one of the attackers through with his sword, and the bloody corpse toppled down the cathedral steps. It’s a good thing there’s nobody around, thought Gabriel, anxious to extricate himself as quickly as possible. He killed the second attacker by piercing him through the eye. Anger gave him the power to finish the job with a thrust through the heart of the third. He too fell to the ground and lay still.

  That’s that then, thought young Pontbriand, wiping his bloody sword on the torn clothes of his last victim. But there’s no time to lose. I must hurry before these villains are discovered.

  As he dashed away from the cathedral, keen to return to Paris as quickly and discreetly as possible, Gabriel felt a kind of intoxication overwhelm him.

  This is only the first step, he told himself, inspecting the wound on his shoulder. Now it’s between you and me, Colbert!

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  Paris, Julie’s lodgings – Wednesday 27 April, eight o’clock in the morning

  GABRIEL had arrived in Paris three days earlier and taken refuge at the home of his friend Julie. The actress lived alone in a modest attic room, not far from the Palais-Royal theatre. The young woman had greeted the fugitive with surprise and emotion, extremely happy to be reunited with her confidant who had disappeared so suddenly from Molière’s troupe. The young man told her nothing of his adventures, but began his stay by sleeping for almost twenty hours at a stretch. When he awoke, the anger generated by the sight of his father’s corpse had still not left him. He was more determined than ever to assassinate Colbert. So as not to worry Julie, he invented a scenario in which he had played the hero, forcing him to hide in Paris for a few days. She believed him or pretended to, happy that this conjunction of circumstances obliged him to stay with her. She didn’t ask how long he would be staying; in fact she did not ask him anything at all. And on the second evening, on her return from the theatre where she was still playing in Dom Garcie, she invited him into her bed. The comely actress no longer made any secret of her feelings, and these had not escaped him. He in turn was not immune to her charms and willingly tasted the pleasures she offered, even if they did not ease his grief.

  Each day, when Julie had left for the theatre, Gabriel prowled around outside the Palais-Royal or Colbert’s house, trying to work out the best way to kill the man he now regarded as a personal enemy. Gabriel’s blood boiled at the sight of the walls and the courtyard glimpsed through the doors as they opened for a moment to allow a carriage – perhaps Colbert’s own carriage? – to pass through. Standing patiently in the cold, hidden in the shadow of the carriage entrance, he noted the times at which the servants entered and left; the guards’ movements; in short, all the details which might feed his hunger for vengeance.

  On this sunny morning he was still in bed, with his arms wrapped around Julie, when someone knocked at the door.

  ‘Open up, Gabriel! I know you’re in there!’ said the voice on the other side of the door.

  The young man leapt out of bed and seized his sword.

  ‘Don’t open the door,’ pleaded Julie, frightened by the sudden awakening and pulling up the coverlet to hide her breasts.

  ‘Open up!’ the voice persisted. ‘It’s François d’Orbay.’

  Reassured, Gabriel opened the door. The architect smiled at the sight of the young man, stark naked, brandishing his sword.

  ‘Well, my fugitive friend, it’s quite clear you have nothing to hide! Get dressed,’ said d’Orbay, paying no attention to the young girl who had now vanished beneath the bedclothes, ‘then come down and join me in my carriage. I have to talk to you – by order of the Superintendent of Finance!’

  Gabriel closed the door again and rushed around to gather up his clothes which were scattered all over the room.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said kindly to Julie, kissing her on the forehead. ‘He’s a friend of Nicolas Fouquet. I’ll come back as soon as I can.’

  The young girl looked at him with rather a sad smile.

  ‘Go,’ she said. And then, more softly: ‘Farewell, mysterious Gabriel.’

  A heavy carriage with six horses was waiting in the street. The curtains were drawn, so it was impossible to see inside. The architect was leafing through a newspaper as he waited for Gabriel.

  ‘I am delighted to see you again, Monsieur de Pontbriand. We were extremely worried when you disappeared from London!’

  ‘But I left a letter explaining everything to the Superintendent!’ replied Gabriel sitting down opposite d’Orbay. ‘My hasty departure was for pressing, personal reasons which I cannot reveal to you, Monsieur d’Orbay.’

  ‘I know!’ François d’Orbay cut in grimly, laying a hand upon his arm, ‘and I share your grief. Believe me …’

  ‘You can’t know!’ the young man interrupted.

  Astonished by this harsh reaction, François d’Orbay smiled and went on softly:

  ‘Listen to me and don’t interrupt, Gabriel. Charles Saint John – or more precisely André de Pontbriand, your f
ather – was one of my friends. I knew him a long time before you were born. His violent death has caused me great pain, particularly since I saw him only a short time ago, in London. I have a general idea of what happened. I asked that you should be watched from a distance and …’

  He stopped for a moment and clenched his jaw.

  ‘Anyway, my men arrived too late to prevent it. They saw you running away, then lost track of you during the Channel crossing. I didn’t realise what had happened next until later, when I heard through my sources about the deaths of three men at Beauvais. It wasn’t very difficult to work out. It was a rather more delicate task to find you in Paris. But believe me, the only reason I’ve been searching for you since my return is that I feared for your life. I have to say your hiding at the home of that young actress was ideal from my point of view, and from yours, if I’m to believe what I saw just now,’ the architect grinned knowingly. ‘If Isaac Bartet hadn’t spotted you prowling around Colbert’s residence and then followed you here, we would still be wondering if you were alive!’

  Gabriel frowned at François d’Orbay. He did not understand exactly what game d’Orbay was playing and decided to give nothing away until he knew exactly how much the Superintendent’s close colleague knew.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re planning, but I must urge you to be extremely careful,’ went on d’Orbay. ‘Monsieur Colbert doesn’t take kindly to his men being murdered!’

  ‘I want vengeance – I want to punish that man Colbert for his crimes. If as you say you were a friend of my father, his cowardly murder by Perrault’s henchmen cannot leave you unmoved. For several weeks I have been at the centre of an intrigue over which I have no control, and which I still don’t fully understand, but whatever the dangers, I cannot allow the death of a Pontbriand to go unpunished!’

  ‘Steady now! Gently, young man. You want to kill Colbert, is that it? Don’t you think that’s a little presumptuous on your part?’