How the King Persuaded Viscount of Turenne (Part One)

Viscount of Turenne did not put much faith in the King's promises at first. It was not that he distrusted the King—the King had always been no more than a child in his eyes, and however noble a child might be, his words could not be counted on. The Queen Mother and Mazarin deeply detested everyone connected to Prince of Condé, and he had long foreseen the fate that might await him. He accepted it with perfect calm.

Even when he was ordered to surrender all his weapons, he did so with scarcely a moment's hesitation. He took off his rapier, set aside his musket, then drew out his dagger and short sword and laid them on the table. To his satisfaction, the officer watching him did not rudely demand to search him.

He wore his favorite outfit that day, for he had guessed that once he was thrown into prison—or hanged after a trial—he might not be given another chance to change clothes. At least then, he could lie in his coffin looking respectable.

When he met Bontemps, the King's first valet, he was even more surprised. But remembering how indulgent the Queen Mother was toward the King, he supposed such a thing was not impossible. He thanked Bontemps calmly and followed him to a quiet room. The instant he entered, he instinctively surveyed his surroundings, lingering especially over the window. It had shutters, though they stood open, and the glass was divided by black iron bars into sixteen small panes. He withdrew his gaze regretfully, only to find the King smiling at him.

Viscount of Turenne stepped forward, removed his hat with a graceful gesture, and bowed deeply to the King.

"May I make a guess?" the still-teenaged King said with a smile. "Were you thinking of escaping just now?"

"If I could," Viscount of Turenne said frankly, "I would be willing to."

"Then why did you not remain outside the city and fight my generals, instead of standing here and considering how to escape?"

"Because Monsieur Schomberg said those things," Viscount of Turenne said. "In an instant, he bought the hearts of my soldiers. If I had insisted on fighting, perhaps some of them would have acted like drunken fools, turning their gun barrels not on their enemies, but on their commanders.

"The reason I did not leave outside the city was the same. They entrusted themselves to me, and now that I must hand them over to another, no one but me could do it. So I had no choice but to come. Though I was exceedingly unwilling."

"You call General Schomberg's words a purchase. On that point, I must reserve my opinion, for, sir, I was the one who told him to say them. They were the words in my heart."

"The words in Your Majesty's heart?"

"Indeed they were, General. Frenchmen are fighting Frenchmen."

"I knew Your Majesty meant to accuse me."

"It seems you do not believe you have done anything wrong," the King said. "It seems I must have a proper talk with you before I can persuade you."

"I suggest Your Majesty not waste such effort," Viscount of Turenne said angrily. "You cannot persuade me. God chose Your Majesty, and I chose my friend, Prince of Condé. If Your Majesty is cruel enough, hang me in the courtyard—yes, right where you need only tilt your head to see me. That is the fate every rebel must face. If Your Majesty is merciful, then..."

"Then what?"

"Then you should release me, as all merciful and magnanimous monarchs do," Viscount of Turenne said. "Give me a horse, a cloak, and a purse full of Gold louis or Silver écus. Return my weapons and servants, and let me go wherever I please."

"Then you would certainly return to Prince of Condé."

"Of course. He is not only my friend, but also my master."

"That will not do," Louis said solemnly. "I cannot let you return to Prince of Condé, because whenever you stand on the enemy's side, you are always quite troublesome."

Even Viscount of Turenne's stern face could not help showing a trace of pride at those words, though it was quickly buried beneath embarrassment. "I truly do not know how to face Your Majesty's compliment," he said. "The truth is, I lost, outside the city." He spoke bitterly. "I am merely a defeated general."

"I do not see it that way," the King said. "I have heard of your earlier deeds. You are a brave man. You entered the army at twelve. Ten years before I was born, you were on the Rhine River front, helping Duke Bernhard take Breisach Fortress in eight months. The following year, in the Battle of Piedmont, you captured Turin. In '43, you went down the Rhine River and seized the strategic strongholds of Philippsburg and the Mainz region across the river. Then, in '46, during the Second Battle of Nördlingen, you forced Bavaria out of the Thirty Years' War. In '48, you captured all of Bavaria, eventually bringing your army to the Rhine River and pointing straight at Vienna, forcing a king to bow before you... Taken all together, Viscount, do these not make you an opponent worthy of others' fear?"

The Viscount was undoubtedly deeply proud that the King knew his accomplishments so thoroughly, reciting them as though they were family treasures. Yet even as he involuntarily straightened his chest, indignation surged within him. "If that is so," he said loudly, "then Your Majesty should not overlook another man."

"You mean Prince of Condé."

"Who else?" Viscount of Turenne said. "His achievements surpass mine, yet Your Majesty does not take them to heart in the slightest."

"Then has he not received the rewards he deserved?" the King asked.

Viscount of Turenne was silent for a while. Of course he had. Not only Prince of Condé—even he himself had been granted a marshal's baton after his elder brother became embroiled in the case against Richelieu and the Duchy of Sedan was confiscated. "Then," he said, "are the crimes of which His Highness the Prince is accused what he deserves?"

"To a certain extent," the King said bluntly, "yes."

"What does 'to a certain extent' mean?"

"It means," Louis said, "he neither acknowledges nor denies them; he neither brings them about nor prevents them. But when he is asked to accept them, he certainly will."

"But what if he truly possesses the qualifications?" Viscount of Turenne countered.

"If you believe so as well," the King said, "then I am truly disappointed."

"How so?"

"You think Prince of Condé is better suited to sit in this position because he is in the prime of life, with a complete mind, reason and logic, and illustrious achievements. Better than a child, is that not so?"

Viscount of Turenne hesitated, but still admitted it. "Your Majesty is a good person," he said. "But France now needs a king with a strong hand, a steadfast will, and one who will not be swayed by anyone."

"I understand what you mean," Louis said. There was truly nothing to argue over. Everyone knew that royal power was not in the King's hands now, but in those of the Queen Mother Anne and Mazarin. "But, Viscount of Turenne, even if Prince of Condé were a saint reborn, he would still possess one weakness that could never be erased."

Viscount of Turenne bowed. "I would like to hear the details." But his expression said otherwise.

Louis considered for a moment, then abruptly turned the conversation to what seemed an entirely unrelated subject.

"You know we came all the way from Paris," he said.

Viscount of Turenne nodded. "Indeed, Your Majesty. I have been chasing after you all along."

That playful remark made even Louis smile. "Then you saw them too."

"What?"

"Those people who were hanged."

"Ah, that. I saw them, Your Majesty. I hope you were not frightened."

"I was not, Viscount," Louis said. "Because I personally interrogated them, personally passed judgment on them, and personally watched them be hanged."

That truly startled Viscount of Turenne. He did not understand what the King meant. Was he telling him that he was a cruel man, rather than the gentle ruler people believed him to be? "If Your Majesty had said that a few minutes ago," he said, "I would certainly have thought you were trying to threaten me."

"That is why I chose to say it here," Louis said. "And let me add: even if you refuse to obey me, I will not hang you. I will only imprison you under the strictest possible guard."

"Should I say I am truly honored?" Viscount of Turenne said helplessly. "But I do not think Your Majesty is that sort of person."

"That sort of cruel person?"

"No, that sort of foolish person," Viscount of Turenne said. "Nothing is more laughable than threatening death to someone who does not care about life or death to begin with."

"That is why I must threaten you with something else," Louis said. "You were too hasty when pursuing us, Viscount. You did not inquire into the crimes of those people."

"They must have been guilty of every evil under heaven."

"Far worse than you imagine," Louis said. "Even if they entered purgatory and burned in its flames for a thousand years, they could not be cleansed."

"Please tell me, Your Majesty! I am prepared."

"The first two were bandits."

"Truly vile!"

"The worse is yet to come. Before the war began, they robbed Gold louis and silk coats. When I passed through, they robbed people."

"What did they want people for?"

"To eat, Viscount. Roasted and eaten like pigs and sheep."

"Damn them!" Viscount of Turenne cried. "May thunder descend from heaven and strike them dead!"

"There was more. A father ate his child; a wife ate her husband."

"Was the Devil not at work?"

"I would like to think so," Louis said. "Afterward, we came upon a church. What a holy place!"

"Indeed?"

"The Queen Mother insisted on going in to pray, and there we found a group of peasants."

"That is hardly strange. The Lord protects everyone, whether poor or rich."

"But their panic aroused my suspicions. In the end, my musketeers found heaps of bones in the storeroom, the sacristy, and the confessional!"

"My God, say no more!"

"This is what I wish to tell you, Viscount. They hid in the chapel, and when travelers entered to rest or pray, they would rush out, seize them, and boil them into soup."

"It is simply unbelievable!"

"There is nothing unbelievable about it," the King pressed relentlessly. "Hunger can turn people into devils."

Viscount of Turenne stood there, pale-faced. "Is Your Majesty accusing Prince of Condé?"

"I told you: perhaps he did nothing at all, but the conflict began with him."

"Then can Your Majesty not end this conflict?" Viscount of Turenne said boldly—the King knew he still held his original belief, the belief shared by many supporters of Prince of Condé: that an adult with a mind of his own was always better than a child manipulated by others.

"This is what I wish to tell you: the greatest weakness of the man to whom you are willing to give your loyalty."

"I am listening, Your Majesty. I am listening."

"There was once a king," Louis said, "who, before becoming king, had much in common with Prince of Condé."

"Who?"

"You should find him familiar as well," Louis said. "For he is not far removed from us. He was the last king of England's York Dynasty, Richard III."