Paris: The Novel (64 page)

“Of course,” he said, though he had no idea whether such a thing would ever be possible.

They were standing together in the parlor the next afternoon, while Pierre was saddling his horse. The house was empty. Simon looked at the dark-haired little girl he had been living with for the last two weeks and felt the need to say something.

“When I’m grown up, I shall marry you,” he declared.

“You will?”

“If you like.”

Just then, Pierre came into the room.

“Time to go,” he announced, and took Constance by the hand.

But when they got to the door, she turned and ran back to where Simon was standing, and kissed him before his father led her out.

•  1604  •

Sometimes brothers quarrel. Robert and Alain de Cygne didn’t. Maybe it was because they were close in age, yet with quite different characters. One would hardly have even guessed they were brothers, to look at them: Robert had thin, dark hair which was already showing the first hint of a receding hairline. He had an almost scholarly bent. Alain was more robustly built, his hair a lighter brown, and thick as thatch. He loved the great outdoors. He’d rather hunt than read a book on any day. But each was the other’s greatest friend.

Robert was the older by just two years. He was the quieter one; Alain could be a little wild. All through their childhood, neighboring families spoke of them as “the de Cygne boys,” or even sometimes as “Robalain.” They went about as a pair. They were invited as a pair.

Robert, as the elder son, was to inherit the family estate and fortune.

“If anything happens to me,” he would tell Alain, “I shall have the pleasure of knowing that the estate will go to you.” Alain might be a bit wilder, but Robert knew that he’d be an excellent steward of the family fortunes if they came his way.

“No,” Alain would reply, “you get married and have children. I’d rather make my own way in the world.” And Robert knew that his brother was telling the truth. It was the challenge and the adventure that Alain loved. Robert sometimes thought they were even more important to him than the end result.

Assuming that he lived and produced a family, then Robert’s dream was that he and Alain should have fine houses and estates near each other.
And to this end, he was doing everything he could to secure his brother’s advancement in the world.

That was why, six months ago, he had left Alain in the country to run the estate for him, and come up to Paris to see what he could do for his brother. Taking a house in the fashionable Marais quarter, he’d set to work.

It had been agreed that Alain would come to Paris in September. Robert knew his brother was excited about the prospect. And now September had come. Alain had arrived. And Robert was faced with one awful dilemma.

Should he tell his brother how completely he had failed?

Or that the meeting they were going to this autumn day was his last big chance?

They were walking through the quarter known as the Marais, the marsh, that lay just north of the axis that ran from the Louvre to the Bastille. Whatever marsh remained was mostly drained now—although hints of the old mire could be smelled in the streets on many days—and during the last decades, some of the greatest men in France had built their mansions there.

Alain was plainly excited by the magnificence of some of these aristocratic “hôtels.” Mostly they consisted of a big courtyard behind a gateway—this was known as the
cour d’honneur
—a splendid mansion with wings, and a garden behind. As they stopped in front of the Hôtel Carnavalet, he cried out: “Just imagine, Robert, if our family could have a place like this!”

“Either you or I,” said Robert with a smile, “would have to be one of the richest men at court. So don’t get your hopes up just yet.”

Robert looked at his brother affectionately. He knew that Alain was already planning to live there, with the fortune that he did not have. He hoped so much that he might be able to help his adventurous younger brother toward his dreams.

In one respect at least, young Alain had a great advantage over the generality of men. He was an aristocrat.

Those advantages were large. Aristocrats were exempt from many of
the taxes that ordinary folk had to pay. Their social prestige gave them a better chance of finding a rich wife. And above all, the best positions in the king’s administration almost always went to nobles. A man of outstanding ability might rise in the king’s service. But at a certain point he would nearly always find that the position he sought, and had earned, and the rewards that went with it, would be given to a nobleman to whom he must submit.

So far, however, these advantages hadn’t produced any results.

Robert’s first prospect had been a tax farmer. The system of farming might not be popular, but it worked quite well. Instead of maintaining a huge network of officials, who might be corrupt anyway, the royal administration subcontracted the whole business to independent operators. The tax farmers guaranteed a given income to the crown, and anything more they could extract from the people, they kept. The king knew what he would receive, the tax farmers got rich, and of course, if the people were discontented, they blamed the tax farmers first, before they blamed the king.

So when Robert had found a tax farmer with a marriageable daughter, he’d gone to work. The deal was simple enough. The girl would get the benefit of social status, and with her father’s financial backing, her noble husband might make a great career. Everybody benefited. Robert had a charming miniature of Alain, which was quite true to life. The girl and her parents had seen the picture and liked it. He was on the point of summoning Alain to Paris when the tax farmer had regretfully informed him that he had a better offer. These things happened, but it was a blow.

Then he’d got an introduction to the great Sully himself.

Maximilien de Béthune belonged to one of the oldest families in Europe. With branches in France, England and especially Scotland, where their name was often spelled as Beaton, every generation seemed to produce men of talent. Created Duke of Sully for his services, the soldier administrator was the king’s right-hand man, and already he had transformed the country’s finances from loss to profit.

When Robert was ushered into his presence, he found a man well into middle age, with thinning gray hair and a somewhat domelike head, from which a pair of shrewd gray eyes looked out at him with a hint of amusement.

“So Monsieur de Cygne,” he remarked with a smile, “you have not
come to ask for something for yourself, but you want me to help your brother. Very commendable. Has he a particular skill?”

“His talents are general, monsieur.”

“I’m sure they are. Does he by any chance have knowledge of the linen business, or perhaps glassmaking, or silk weaving?”

“No, monsieur.”

“I didn’t expect it, but one never knows. More important by far however, has he knowledge and experience in building bridges or roads?”

“Not as yet. But I’m sure he could learn.”

“I dare say. But I need men with experience.”

There was a brief silence.

“I was hoping,” Robert ventured, “that something might be found for him. Our family has always—”

“My dear Monsieur de Cygne,” the great man gently interrupted him. “Your family is known to me. If I had something to offer, I assure you, I should oblige you at once.” He paused and gazed at Robert kindly. “Do you know how to govern France?”

“Well …” Robert was stumped. It was not a question he had been expecting.

“Very few people do. The answer, however, is wonderfully simple. It is to do as little as possible.” Seeing Robert’s look of stupefaction, he raised his hand. “You are thinking that the king and I are busy, and we are. Allow me to explain. You see, the rulers of France usually spend their time destroying the country. They engage in wars. The trouble of recent decades has made a terrible mess of the countryside, and that is why I need men to build roads and bridges. Kings also have a deplorable habit of extravagant building, and of giving away money to all their friends. The present king is no better than the rest.” He smiled again. “Don’t worry, I tell him so to his face every day. But here is the point, Monsieur de Cygne: despite the attempts of every generation to ruin France, they cannot do it. The land is so large and so rich. The endless wheat fields that stretch from Chartres to Germany, the orchards and cattle farms of Normandy, the wines of Burgundy … the list goes on forever. Leave it alone for a year or two and the land recovers itself.

“All I have done, therefore, is to stick to the essentials, employ only people who are useful, build what is needed, and if possible, stay out of unnecessary wars—for as a soldier I know that war is ruinous—and if I
do that, then the wealth of France will flow like a great river. That is why we now have a surplus in the treasury. And it is why I cannot create an unnecessary position for your younger brother.”

As Robert was sadly leaving, the great man did say one other thing.

“Perhaps you should try to get to know the king. I don’t control him.”

It had taken time. Robert had got to work on people that he knew. And finally he had been presented to the monarch. Here his name and his family’s centuries of loyal service had earned him a cordial enough reception. And the king was a very genial monarch. When he had finally plucked up the courage to ask if he might present his younger brother when he came to Paris, the king had told him that he expected it.

This was their mission today. Would the king do anything for Alain if he liked him? Who knew?