The return to St. Rumbold's Cathedral was made on foot. This time, the clergy brought out the full set of ceremonial implements, with the archbishop and the two of them surrounded in the middle. The scent of burning frankincense followed them all the way, wafting from the censers carried by those clearing the path.
There were far more people lining the road than there had been that morning, and the square before the cathedral was crowded as well. There were formations of military bands, as well as the nobles and officials who had accompanied Napoleon to the Grand Council Palace that morning.
That was the last time the palace would serve as a parliament. France recognized Brussels as Belgium's capital, and Belgium would become ever more progressive with the support of France—land of liberty, equality, and fraternity.
She could not understand how such a perfunctory meeting had lasted so long. Had some ghostwriter who churned out absurdly long speeches appeared again, one that took an hour to read aloud?
Once they entered the venue, the military band began to play—not France's national anthem, but "Gathered Drums."
Only after the music ended did the procession continue. When they entered the cathedral, she discovered that every pew was filled. The moment the two of them appeared at the entrance, everyone rose to their feet. A red carpet had even been laid down the aisle between the seats.
At that moment, she was terrified that flower girls or something of the sort would appear. Even a royal wedding probably did not go beyond this. The archbishop took the holy water handed to him by an altar boy and advanced slowly as he recited prayers. The other clergy stood on either side of them, following along step by step.
She had originally intended to