The Duke of Cornwall's Departure

Crelan left, and for several months afterward there was no news of him. The Duke of Cornwall gradually went from calm to restless. Compared to Louis, he had even less freedom, scarcely able to leave his room. His English clothes had all been put away and replaced with French attire—lest some Frenchman recognize his identity and do something irrational.

There was no helping it. England and France had always been political and religious rivals, and in recent decades they had checked each other economically as well. Both nations relied on commerce to fill their treasuries and protect their domestic agriculture and industry. In India, they fought over cotton and textiles; in the North Atlantic, fish became the measure by which they flaunted their achievements; in North America, animal pelts became the subject of their painstaking disputes; in West Africa, they seized as many slaves as they could, then sent them to labor on the sugar plantations scattered across the West Indies.

How fiercely had such struggles escalated? To put it simply, there was a small island in the Caribbean Sea, about seven French miles long and only two French miles wide. Yet on that tiny island, the English and French had already fought more than three battles over ownership of it.

Had he not been driven into a corner, the Duke of Cornwall would never have come to Paris, surrounded by enemies on every side. Even with Louis willing to vouch for him, he still worried that someone might climb into his room at night and slit his throat.

What Breland had encountered before leaving worried him even more. He had intended to summon the Wizards of the English court, but gave up because Paris was now filled with ascetics and priests—Louis could boldly shelter Breland, but he could not. Ever since Henry VIII had broken away from the Church, established the Anglican Church, and grasped both ecclesiastical and royal power in his hands, the kings of England had been no more than a pack of damned heretics in the Church's eyes. Were it not for the need to fight those dark forces, even the Inquisition would have completely withdrawn from Great Britain after Henry VIII's religious reforms.

To soothe the poor future king, Louis often invited him to dance, play cards, and enjoy fine food. Aside from dancing, the Duke of Cornwall truly found considerable pleasure in cards and meals, because Louis always lost to him at cards—that was their previous agreement. Louis had lost roughly four thousand gold louis to the Duke of Cornwall in total, enough to cover all his expenses on the journey back to England. As for the food, the Duke of Cornwall's cheeks, which had grown rounder despite his daily frown, said it all—if he had to put it into words, this young King of France had committed at least two sins. But who cared? Here, he had tasted many things he had never seen or heard of before. Even the things familiar to him took on entirely different faces because the ingredients were fresh and the seasonings exquisite.

Moreover, he could tell that Louis's attitude toward him came wholly from the heart, rather than affectation or disguise. He deeply appreciated the other's kindness, regretting only that he was unable to repay it for the moment.

Fortunately, before the bitter winter swallowed the ports, Breland finally returned to the Duke of Cornwall's side. He brought good news: members of the Church of Scotland and some English nobles were willing to support Charles and uphold his return to England to ascend the throne. This finally restored the Duke of Cornwall to his former optimistic and cheerful self. At the card table, he even joked with Louis. "Your Majesty," he said, "I am naturally beyond grateful for your generous assistance, but repaying you with money would simply insult the deep affection between us. How about this? Why not tell me what you need me to do? So long as it is something I can do, I will certainly do my utmost to accomplish it for you."

"In that case," Louis said in an equally joking tone, "I may need a port—preferably one closer to Paris and closer to you as well. That way, I can sail over to see you whenever I wish, and you can sail over to see me whenever you wish."

"If that is what you desire," the Duke of Cornwall said generously, "then very well. I swear that I will repay the debt I owe you tenfold."

There were no secrets at court. Although Queen Mother Anne and Mazarin had both heard of it, they merely smiled. After all, one was only an eleven-year-old child, while the other was a crown prince in exile. Their fates were both beyond prediction; no one knew how likely it was that such playful words might become reality.

The Duke of Cornwall left on the coldest day. When he departed, he finally took off his French clothes and changed back into English ones. The beaver-fur cloak Louis had given him was wrapped around the outside, so as not to draw attention. Breland, along with several guards as tall and broad as himself, escorted the crown prince away—though it was worth noting that these guards still did not ride horses this time.

Charles's departure let Louis breathe a sigh of relief. Next, he turned his attention to Paris, that chaotic yet important city—at least, exceedingly important to him now.