‘I don’t understand.’
‘The cardinal – before he died, he asked me to look after you. You’ll find two thousand livres under the seat and the coachman will take you wherever you wish to go. Now much as I would like to talk, we must leave. You’re meant to be dead and I don’t want any prying eyes bringing you back to life.’ With a flourish of the wrist, the cardinal motioned Sebastian inside. Then with a kick of the hooves and a few turns of the wheels, it was over. And though he was never to see Mazarin again, Sebastian always remembered him with overwhelming love, realising in that moment that whatever happened to him in the future, he would never truly be alone – because a god was watching over him.
And so Sebastian Morra became Don Sebastian de Morra – born 1610, died 1672 – court dwarf for Philip IV of Spain, painted by Diego Velazquez circa 1645. Known today only as an image in a gallery on the first floor of the Prado in Madrid, he hangs among more illustrious subjects – the King of Spain, Isabella of Bourbon, the Count-Duke of Olivares and the god Mars. But amid all those great portraits, his is the one that catches the eye.
His face stops passers-by, as they find themselves confronted by thick and steepled eyebrows from under which black irises glower, refusing to be ignored. He makes no effort to impress – unbuttoned, his robes hang dishevelled while his beard has been left untrimmed. It doesn’t interest him that he is being immortalised by the greatest painter in Spain, or that his image may one day be seen by millions. He knows why he is being painted – because he is regarded as a freak of nature without any purpose beyond the entertainment of others.
So he sits, meeting every stare that has settled upon him since, always responding with the same brutal truth.
‘I may be a dwarf, but I am a greater man than you.’
Author’s Note
Except for Don Sebastian de Morra, about whom nothing is known, the remainder of this story is broadly based on historical characters and events. However, I’ve taken a few liberties with events and timing for the sake of dramatic interest, principally:
Cinq-Mars was not an orphan. His father Antoine died when he was young and Richelieu was closely associated with the family.
Cinq-Mars was not romantically involved with Chevreuse.
Chevreuse was from the House of Rohan and was not born a farmer’s daughter.
The paternity of Louis XIII’s children is a subject of historical debate. However, Cardinal Mazarin is one of the many people touted as the possible father.
Richelieu gave the Palais-Cardinal to Louis in 1639, and it was known as the Palais-Royal thereafter.
In the Oxford edition of The Three Musketeers, David Coward states that Richelieu was in fact an admirer of Machiavelli, and therefore did not think him naïve.
Richelieu did not stay in Paris during the siege of Corbie, but in fact took the town on 14th November 1636.
The siege of Arras took place before Richelieu’s vetoing of Cinq-Mars’ proposed marriage to Marie de Gonzague.
Spain was far more deeply in debt than the book implies and had largely ceased to be a threat by 1640. The Spanish were finally defeated by the French in pitched battle at Rocroi in 1643, ending a century of dominance. Cardinal Mazarin was to continue Richelieu’s work centralising the state, under Louis XIV – the Sun King and builder of Versailles.
Many books have been written on this period of history. Two I found particularly useful were Cardinal Richelieu: The Making of France by Anthony Levi and Louis XIII by A. Lloyd Moote.
Acknowledgements
I want to thank my wife Shula – for everything. Also our two daughters, Talia and Shira, for being generally splendid.
Also my mum, Miranda Seymour, and dad, Andrew Sinclair – for their guidance, example and encouragement.
Hugh Fasken, Karl French and Sallie Seymour for their wise advice.
Martin and Yochi Goldberg for all their help in looking after the children and giving me time to do this.
My agent Charlotte Seymour - to whom I owe multiple thanks for not only being a magnificent agent, but also for spending I don’t know how long whipping it into shape, as well as having the faith to take me on.
Finally my publishers, Black & White, in particular Chris Kydd, Lina Langlee and Campbell Brown – without whom this book would not be here.
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