The Sun King Conspiracy (22 page)

I
SAAC Bartet knew everything. After all, that was his job. Many years before, he had entered the service of Cardinal Mazarin and served him as an investigator in certain delicate matters. For some time, he had also been secretly working for the Superintendent, thus playing a double game that relied on the fragile balance of gleaning information and giving it either to the Chief Minister or to Fouquet. He sat calmly in the small, half-decorated salon which separated the two wings of the Château de Vaux-le-Vicomte, awaiting the master of the house. Fouquet had asked him to conduct a full investigation into young Gabriel. The spy had worked as quickly and as efficiently as usual. He had discovered the young man’s precise origins and his connection with Louise de La Vallière, although he could not state with any certainty that she was his mistress. Most importantly, he had discovered that Colbert’s police, led by Charles Perrault, was keeping watch on the actor, suspecting him of being mixed up one way or another with the burglary at the Cardinal’s residence. Thanks to his network of contacts, which extended all over Paris, the investigator had also solved the mystery of Gabriel’s attackers. He knew that the zealots searching for the marriage contract between Anne of Austria and Mazarin were without doubt behind the fire in the Cardinal’s library. Like the police, they too imagined that Gabriel was somehow involved in that affair. Isaac Bartet was
delighted with his harvest of information and had decided to travel to Vaux in order to pass it on to Fouquet, and also to inform him what Colbert had been up to lately.

Meanwhile Gabriel was on his way back from a long walk around the estate, taking advantage of the few pale rays of sunshine that had pierced the clouds after incessant days of rain. The stay at Vaux had enabled him to take stock of the past month’s events. He was well aware of the danger he faced by choosing to retain the papers contained in the red leather case, which he was now sure had been lost by the thieves who had targeted the Cardinal’s library. The discovery of his own father’s signature had haunted him constantly, and he was determined to unlock the mystery of the codes in the insane hope that it might help him track down the man he had missed so terribly since childhood. Deep down, the young man now sensed that André de Pontbriand might not be dead. His father’s absence throughout his youth in Amboise seemed to Gabriel to raise a multitude of questions, as did the attitude of various family members when little Gabriel had asked them about his missing father.

Lost in thought, he extended his stroll as far as the millstream which flowed through the estate. As he passed the colossal statue that loomed over the gardens, he opened out of curiosity the access hatch to the ingenious system that supplied the various lakes with water. Continuing his exploration, he then descended the narrow iron staircase and inspected the works in detail. Gabriel decided that it would be the ideal hiding place for the red leather document case, which he no longer wanted to keep in his room at the chateau.
If I prise loose this large stone, there’ll be enough space to store the documents
safely,
he told himself as he examined the structure. He promised himself that he would return at nightfall, when the men working on the various sites around the gardens would have left. As he walked back to the chateau, the young man was dreamy. Since that morning, he had been thinking constantly about Louise.

Isaac Bartet was only too happy to bump into Gabriel, and at once decided to take advantage of the meeting to test him and observe his reactions.

‘Did you have an enjoyable walk in the gardens?’ Fouquet’s henchman asked.

‘Excellent, thank you,’ replied Gabriel, surprised to be accosted in this way by a stranger.

‘You are, I believe, secretary to Monsieur Molière?’ Bartet went on.

‘Indeed,’ Gabriel replied, increasingly disconcerted.

‘And you have been staying here for several days?’

Bartet’s persistence was beginning to make Gabriel feel uncomfortable.

‘Kindly excuse me, Monsieur, but I have things to do elsewhere, and what is more I don’t really want to answer your questions.’

‘That is a pity,’ replied Bartet, not at all thrown by this. ‘Doubtless you are unaware then that last night your master, the talented Molière, was in the office of Monsieur Colbert, for whom he now works? This will oblige you to choose your loyalties, young man. You do not know me,’ added Bartet, ‘but I know who you are. You should be aware that I work for Monsieur Superintendent. My name is Bartet, Isaac Bartet. So you can trust me, for the least that is said about me is that I am the best-informed man at Court!’

Gabriel was incredulous.

‘Molière, working for Colbert!’ he repeated. ‘But that’s quite impossible. At this very moment, he’s writing a play for the Superintendent!’

‘Dear boy, just because he undertook a substantial commission and showed loyalty in Mazarin’s time does not prevent him from changing horses as the political wind changes direction. You seem very naïve. Colbert is powerful and liable to become increasingly so. Yesterday alone he turned Lulli and then your man Molière as though they were two pancakes!’

Gabriel was distraught. His future as an actor in a prestigious troupe was threatened. His childhood dream of treading the boards had suddenly been snatched from his grasp.

‘And I have further news. Did you know that the King of France has a new mistress?’ Isaac Bartet continued in a voice intended to be jocular, at the same time pretending not to notice that the young man was agitated. ‘They had their first meeting yesterday evening at Versailles, in the utmost secrecy.’

At this announcement Gabriel turned pale, which of course did not escape Bartet’s attention. He went on:

‘I myself saw the young lady join our esteemed sovereign for an intimate dinner. That little La Vallière girl has a nerve! Only just joined the Court, but already she has scaled its summit.’

‘Are you sure of what you are saying?’ Gabriel growled, seizing the informant’s arm. Bartet had not expected this reaction, but was delighted by it.

‘Gently, young man, gently. Of course I am sure – I saw them with my own eyes! Are you by any chance jealous? Perhaps you are acquainted with Mademoiselle de La Vallière?’ Bartet added. ‘In
that case, pray accept my apologies if I appeared to be unmannerly towards her …’

Gabriel pulled himself together and let go of the man’s arm. Devastated by this twofold betrayal, he hurried through the great entrance hall and went to his room. He rummaged through his things to find the leather document case, all the while considering the consequences of what he had just learned. Through the window, he saw that dusk was beginning to fall over the immense building site of the chateau gardens. He opened the document case and looked again at the parchment bearing his father’s signature. Tears formed in the young man’s eyes. As he left his room and then the chateau, heading for the hiding place he had identified earlier, a dull anger simmered within him.

I am going to hide these accursed documents,
he told himself, clutching the leather case to his chest,
and then this evening – whether she wants to or not – Mademoiselle de La Vallière is going to hear a few home truths!

The full moon illuminated the chateau almost as if it were day. At the wind’s caprice, the trees cast their moving shadows across the immense gardens under construction, whose subtle harmony had been conceived in Le Nôtre’s imagination. Wearing a black felt hat and a warm, loose-fitting coat, Gabriel left the main building and strode towards the stables. A few minutes later he re-emerged, leading a magnificent bay thoroughbred firmly by its bridle. He made a slight detour to leave the estate, taking the earthen track that ran alongside the outbuildings to avoid the paved avenues, which he thought would be too noisy. On this clear, cold night, the smallest breath by horse or rider formed a fine cloud of vapour, which lingered
in their wake as they rode to the gates. Once outside, Gabriel leapt astride the horse and galloped off to join the Paris road.

The cold which now whipped his face allowed Gabriel to recover a little composure as he galloped between the tall trees lining the road. Since he had learned of the meeting between the King and Louise, the young man’s anger had not abated. He could not bear to think of them together in the intimate surroundings of the hunting lodge at Versailles. As an antidote to his burning rage the sharp cold was almost pleasant, as was the thought that he would be regaining control of his life that very evening.

After all, I can’t stay locked away in that chateau when my future is being played out in the capital. And also,
he told himself,
too many people seem to know more than I do. This may cost me my stage ambitions for the time being, but I won’t rest until I have got to the bottom of all of this.

Gabriel arrived in Paris very late and went straight to Louise de La Vallière’s home. The young girl was getting ready for bed having spent a good part of the evening with Henrietta, her young mistress, who yearned for conversation and affection. Louise was tired out by the pace the King’s future sister-in-law expected her to maintain. Gabriel found her dressed in a simple nightgown with a little lace collar. She was surprised and delighted to see the young man again, and threw herself into his arms the moment she opened the door.

‘Gabriel, I’m so happy to see you,’ she said, embracing him tightly. ‘But what are you doing here at this hour? Where have you been for the last few days?’

Gabriel was unmoved by this welcome and pushed his young friend away a little roughly.

‘I was worried about you,’ he told her angrily. ‘I was afraid you might have caught cold in the forest at Versailles, unless of course the King of France offered to keep you warm!’

The attack was so vulgar that Louise was dumbstruck. Gabriel carried on even more aggressively.

‘You’re not answering me. Do you imagine, you poor girl, that Louis XIV sees you as anything more than an additional partridge for his hunting table, which is by all accounts already extremely well laden!’

Thrown for a moment by the violence of this tirade, Louise smiled at the young man, who was a little baffled by this unexpected reaction.

‘Are you by any chance jealous, Monsieur de Pontbriand?’ she asked him with a hint of irony which failed to mask her emotion. ‘I’m flattered. But tell me, what do you know about my dealings with the King that you should react like this?’

‘I know what everyone in Paris knows!’

‘Namely?’ she retorted, with her lips pursed.

‘Namely that, scarcely after her arrival at Court, young La Vallière lost no time in seducing the King, with the sole aim of satisfying her ambitions. Namely, that a romantic rendezvous recently took place at Versailles. Do you dare deny it?’

‘My poor Gabriel, you clearly know nothing about Court relationships. How do you know that the meeting wasn’t dictated by my position as companion to Henrietta of England? And anyway,’ the girl added angrily, ‘why should I have to account to you for my actions?’

Gabriel suddenly felt his anger dissolve. The quiver in Louise’s voice, the tears she held back, but that made her eyes shine, her flushed cheeks: all these signs proved her sincerity.

‘You do not know him, you cannot imagine how different he is from the impression he gives in public.’ The young girl waved her hand helplessly and let out a sigh of dismay. ‘Oh! What is the use of trying to explain … I do not know why I imagined that you … Is that all you came to say to me?’ she concluded sharply.

Gabriel shook his head, then approached her and took her hands.

‘Look at me, Louise,’ he ordered her gently. ‘Will you believe me if I tell you that I am simply afraid for you? I am not accusing you, I am not judging you. I will just be there.’

Louise stopped avoiding his gaze. Their eyes met for a moment in the silence, then Gabriel continued:

‘There is something else. I found out this evening that Molière has offered his services to Colbert. I thought that your proximity to Monsieur, who is so generous towards the troupe at the Palais-Royal, might enable me to find out more so that I can inform the Superintendent of Finance without delay.’

Louise was now smiling.

‘So it might be useful to have a friend in high places? You don’t sound so moralistic now!’ she replied. ‘Take off your coat and sit down.’

The young woman covered her shoulders with a white woollen shawl, and as she prepared some mulled wine with cinnamon, told Gabriel all she knew about the latest scheming at Court. Several times over the past few days she had in fact had the opportunity to overhear the King’s brother’s conversations. Gabriel was relieved to learn that Nicolas Fouquet had obtained the King’s pardon at Fontainebleau, regaining his place in the forefront of the Kingdom’s Government, but a confirmation that Lulli and Molière had rallied to Colbert’s side worried him.

‘Clearly I will have to remain in exile,’ said Gabriel, conscious
that Molière might distance himself from him for fear of arousing the suspicions of Colbert’s police.

‘You will certainly have to be discreet, and whatever you do, stay under Fouquet’s protection,’ Louise advised him.

‘If anything happens to me,’ said the young man as he was leaving, ‘you should know that I have hidden documents of the greatest importance in the grounds of the Château de Vaux. They are at the bottom of the shaft, at the foot of the giant statue overlooking the gardens. You’re the only one to know about this hiding place, and the existence of the papers! I cannot tell you any more for the moment,’ he added. ‘You’ll have to trust me.’

The young girl stroked Gabriel’s cheek affectionately.

‘I’m so glad to have seen you this evening, and to have regained your trust, Monsieur Spy,’ murmured Louise as Gabriel hurtled down the stairs.

A moment later he was galloping through the slumbering streets on his cold journey back to the Château de Vaux-le-Vicomte.