A King Is Executed

The moment Queen Mary heard that her husband, her king, had been publicly executed by a band of shameless rebels, she fainted at once. But with the help of smelling salts and strong liquor, she soon came to. She questioned the messenger in detail about every piece of news concerning Charles I. The messenger later said that, holding a handkerchief for wiping tears in one hand and a crucifix in the other, the Queen prayed constantly for her husband. At the same time, she declared that she was proud of her husband, for Charles I had shown no sign of cowardice before those mobs and had not stained the honor of being King of Scotland, England, and Ireland.

The rebels unanimously believed that the King's crimes had to be established through a fair trial. Thus, after his capture, Charles I was tried at Westminster Abbey in London—ironically, Westminster Abbey was also where English kings had been crowned since the Reformation. Charles I did not acknowledge the court's legitimacy. He refused to defend himself and admitted to no charges, yet fifty-nine of the one hundred and thirty-five members of the special tribunal ultimately signed the order issued by the rebel leader Cromwell, sentencing the King to death—the man they called a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and enemy of the state.

On January 30, 1649, the honorable yet unfortunate King was led to the scaffold. It was said that he showed no fear, wore a smile, and even recited a poem, calling himself a martyr for the people.

At this point, the messenger could not help bursting into tears, and Queen Mary fainted again. Even so, she insisted on finding a way to entertain and reward the loyal man. That was no easy task for them—they had fled Paris in great haste, empty-handed. To maintain the dignity befitting a king, Queen Mother Anne had already begun secretly pawning her jewelry and splendid gowns, leaving her with no means to attend to her husband's sister and niece.

Yet some said that Princess Henrietta was cruel by nature, that she did not even weep for her father.

To Louis, there could be no malice more naked than that. Henrietta was only four years old, a child who could do nothing but cry if pushed from a chair. And she had never seen her father since her birth; her only impressions of him came either from others' accounts or the tiny portrait in a pendant. Besides, could a child that young truly understand what death was? Unless she, too, had lived another life.

But Louis could only remain silent, for he knew the rumors had come at the Queen Mother's instigation—from his mother Anne herself. Some people were striving to bring about his marriage to Henrietta, but Queen Mother Anne and Cardinal Mazarin wanted only to keep the position of Queen of France and Navarre as their strongest bargaining chip. Yes, France had many enemies, but it also had many who wished to become its allies.

He knew he ought to restrain himself with an adult's reason, yet he could not help feeling irritated. Hot blood always surged through the body of a ten-year-old boy, driving him to do many things he himself could scarcely understand, just as the Wizards' contempt had made him fly into an uncontrollable rage. Their gifts were worthy of praise, but in the King's eyes, they were merely another form of mob.

Still, he could not help pressing Cardinal Mazarin about the matter. When he had fled through the night and encountered the werewolves, he had felt death nearer than ever before. A king in reality was utterly different from a king in books. He could be ignored by his subjects, deceived by his servants, hunted down by his people, even executed. And now he had to face dark creatures that ought to exist only in nightmares. He desperately needed something that could put his mind at ease. Naturally, he was mocked without mercy; fate had not treated him kindly.

Yet Louis had not gained nothing. At the very least, he learned that Mazarin's bottom line was even lower than he had imagined, and that the Wizards might be even more arrogant and shortsighted than he had thought.

But the King absolutely did not believe they desired nothing from secular power.

Without ambitions, they would never have become related to Mazarin by marriage. Look at Mali's age—was 1642 not precisely the year Mazarin entered the College of Cardinals? They must have made their decision when Richelieu recommended Mazarin to Louis XIII. After all, once Queen Mother Mary de Medici, who had come from Italy, lost power, the only Italian in court closest to power was Jules Mazarin. Not only had they brought about the marriage alliance, they had also sent Mali Mancini to Mazarin's side to serve as the Queen Mother's attendant. Their intentions were as plain as day.

Louis had thought Mazarin would no longer permit him and Mali Mancini to continue seeing each other. Yet to his surprise, Mazarin not only tacitly allowed their association, but deliberately encouraged them to go out together. At first Louis did not understand why, but later he met Queen Mary of England. Clearly, the cardinal's indulgence was merely the lesser of two evils; what he feared was that the young Louis might be incited or persuaded by Queen Mary.

Queen Mary was indeed pitiable. Louis felt the deepest sympathy for her, and for Princess Henrietta, his cousin as well, but he did not think he could do anything to help her. He was still far too distant from power. Even if he could, why not order Grand Condé to retake Paris for him and sweep away the mob, so that they would not all have to suffer so bitterly in Saint-Germain-en-Laye?

She was destined to be disappointed.

But Louis's gentleness still brought her comfort. It was only a pity that, with Queen Mother Anne and Mazarin in the way, her Henrietta could never become Queen of France.

Cardinal Mazarin lifted only a narrow slit of the curtain before the window. He watched his little king. Louis stood in the courtyard, watching Queen Mary of England leave with regret in her arms. Mazarin felt comforted, yet bitter, and there was even a trace of fear.

"Tell me," Queen Mother Anne could not help asking. "What is troubling you so? Cardinal, is it my child? Is it Louis?"

"Do you think someone has been egging him on?" Mazarin said. "No, Your Majesty. I can only say that I once thought there could be no born ruler... but it seems I was wrong."

"Are you criticizing Louis?"

"No. I mean that he can already skillfully use whatever lies within his grasp, and he knows very clearly what he wants."