Commedia della Morte (2 page)

In the latter part of the eighteenth century the Commedia del’Arte troupes were declining, giving way to established public theaters, and resident companies of actors, but a few such troupes still remained, touring the towns and cities of Italy and France; it was Commedia del’Arte troupes that first put women on the stage, and over time, nearly 20 percent of those troupes were run by women. Traditional Commedia del’Arte plays rarely had written dialogue as such, but had set scenarios, which the actors performed by ad libbing within very specific parameters. The plays they offered were generally broad comedy, slapstick, and farce; by the time of this story, the remaining Commedia del’Arte troupes offered greater variety in their fare, and began to specialize in certain theatrical styles tailored to their audiences; the six stock characters of traditional Commedia del’Arte scenarios were giving way to new personages, larger companies, and a much wider range of dramatic subject matter. Traveling players of all kinds were turning into regional performers with wide repetoires and more complex theatrical effects, with the single exception of trained animal troupes: these were enlarging their regions, becoming the true precursors to the traveling circuses of the following century.

Although most of the events of the story are historically accurate, I have shifted some of them slightly in time for exigencies of plot and story length; I trust that this will not compromise the novel too much for any reader familiar with the chronology of the actual events.

*   *   *

There are, as always, a number of people to thank for their help in the preparation of this book: thanks to Bailey Adams for access to maps of the French roadways at the end of the eighteenth century; to Susan Duttle for summarizing the changes in various regional Revolutionary Tribunals and Assemblies, including the Girondais movement in Lyon and its conflict with the National Assembly in Paris; and to Leonard Schoen for disagreeing with her, thereby opening up possibilities for my story line to use; to Michael Ivory for information on regional and class dialects in eighteenth-century France; to Harry Jecks for information on the later history of the Commedia del’Arte; to Ed McEller for supplying translations of legal proceedings of the time; to Victoria Smith for information on the daily lives of Commedia del’Arte players; to Penelope Weiss for filling in gaps regarding border policies and the refugee issues during the French Revolution, and the regional differences that impacted national policies. Errors in historicity are, as always, mine, and should not be held against these good people.

Also on the list of thanks are Libba Campbell and Maureen Kelly, who read the manuscript for errors; to Jim Gates, Deena Love, and Howard Risser, who read it for clarity; to Bill, Suzon, Gaye, Megan, Charlie, Peggy, Steve, Marc, Lori, Brian, Jim, Shawn, Maureen, David, and Christine; to Sharon Russell, Stephanie Moss, and Elizabeth Miller, for their insight and support; thanks to Neil Gaiman for his generous quote for this series; to Paula Guran for webmastering
ChelseaQuinnYarbro.net
; to my agent, Irene Kraas, for persistence in the face of strong headwinds; to the incomparable Wiley Saichek for all the Internet promotion, including the blog tour; to all those at Tor for sticking with the series; to Robin Dubner, Saint-Germain’s (and my) attorney; to the good people at DragonCon for importing me yet again to talk vampires; and to the booksellers and readers who have hung in with this series, which is now twenty-five books long and, I hope, counting.

C
HELSEA
Q
UINN
Y
ARBRO

September 2010

PART I

P
HOTINE
T
HERESE D’
A
UVILLE

Text of a Notice of Detention issued by the Revolutionary Tribunal of Avignon for Madelaine de Montalia at her estate, Montalia, carried by Revolutionary courier and delivered five days after it was ratified by the Deputy Secretary for Public Safety in Avignon.

From the Revolutionary Tribunal of Avignon:

This is to inform the woman known as Madelaine de Montalia that she is to regard herself under house detention by the Revolutionary Tribunal of Avignon. Any attempt to flee or to resist this order will result in her immediate transportation to Avignon for public execution. She is required to house and feed the Revolutionary Guards who will shortly arrive to enforce this detention; all costs of such maintenance shall be borne entirely by the woman Madelaine de Montalia. Failure to conform to the orders contained in this Notice in any particular will result in imprisonment for the woman Madelaine de Montalia. No challenge to this Notice will be accepted by the Revolutionary Tribunal of Avignon, and any attempt to circumvent the conditions contained herein will be regarded as willful disobedience to this lawful Notice and will result in imprisonment.

We are informed that the woman Madelaine de Montalia has a long-term guest who lives with her, Theron Baptiste Heurer, formerly of Bourges, as well as a staff of nine for the chateau and ten for the cultivation and tilling of the fields and vineyards of the estate, all of whom will be allowed four days in which to decide whether to depart or remain with the woman Madelaine de Montalia, with the understanding that if they remain they may well share her eventual fate. Safe conducts for the members of her household and guest that will include up to four persons will be delivered by the Revolutionary Guards; these will be valid for twenty-one days, after which they will no longer secure any borders-crossing for anyone attempting to use them for that purpose.

The woman Madelaine de Montalia will be informed of any change in her detention, and will be required to hold herself in readiness to comply promptly with any and all orders from the Committee for Public Safety of the Revolutionary Tribunal of Avignon, or any Revolutionary Tribunal recognized by the Revolutionary Tribunal of Avignon. This Notice is to be given primary authority in regard to the woman Madelaine de Montalia and until such time as it is officially rescinded, to be adhered to in every detail.

This on the 22
nd
day of June, 1792.

Long live the Revolution!

Long live the People’s Justice!

Georges Marie Forcier

Deputy Secretary for Public Safety

Revolutionary Tribunal of Avignon

1

“I need you to do this for me. If you don’t leave in the morning, the opportunity will be lost, and neither of us will be secure here,” Madelaine de Montalia said to Theron Heurer with growing emotion; she made herself speak softly in case one of the newly arrived Revolutionary Guards was listening outside the door. “Go while the safe conduct is valid. If you wait—”

“But I don’t want to leave you—
because
those damned Revolutionary Guards are here. I don’t like the look of them. Worse than gutter-scum. Those men are beasts!” Theron folded his arms and glared at Madelaine de Montalia to keep from revealing the level of dread he felt on her behalf.

“I’ve dealt with worse.” Madelaine had a sharp, unpleasant memory of the cellars beneath Hotel Transylvania and Saint Sebastien’s coven, half a century ago; she shook her head as much to banish the recollection as to dismiss his worries. “You have to go.”

“But wouldn’t you rather have me here?”

“Yes, if that were my only concern for my safety. But I’m only safe for as long as I can be sure of loyal friends. Whomelse can I trust with this errand but you? And what will the Revolutionary Courts demand of me next? This has to be done quickly or it may be too late.” She paced the floor in the salon des fenetres, her soft-violet silken skirts clinging to her body as she moved, the golden summer light making the room glow; where it touched her coffee-colored hair, it added an aureate sheen. It was a bit too warm for comfort but not hot enough to be miserable. “I would feel less worried if I knew you were out of France.”

“And I would feel worse, if I abandoned you, especially to the chaos of the Courts,” Theron declared staunchly but not loudly. He was tall and well-built, with light-brown hair and a lively countenance. At twenty-four he thought of himself as both a poet and a man of the world, in a position to advise this young, lovely creature who had welcomed him into her elegant life and her bed.

“I have to get word to Saint-Germain somehow,” she told him in a serene tone, but there was something in her violet eyes that was adamant.

“Send Bescart. He’s Swiss. They’ll let him cross the border.” His face was flushed and his eyes shone as he regarded her.

“Bescart is planning to leave tomorrow, with his wife and children. Why should he do this for me?” She waited for him to answer, and when he did not, she tossed her head, making the little curls around her face dance. “He might say he will do as I ask, but I doubt he will actually do it.”

“He’s been loyal so far.”

“Oh, yes. But things have changed, and his loyalty is with the Revolution now, or so he tells me. He says he bears me no ill-will, but that his cause must be with his people. He supports the Revolution, not the Old Order, though he says I have been good to him and his. Some of the others feel as he does, and who can blame them?” She sank down on the chaise in the bow of the windows that gave the room its name. “If you won’t take a message to Saint-Germain for me, I don’t know who will.”

“Are you so certain that he’ll help you?” He hesitated, then went on, “Do you know that he can do it?”

“Oh, yes, on both points,” said Madelaine. “He and I are blood relatives. He will help me. He has done so in the past.”

“Not during a revolution,” Theron said, determined to make his point.

“That doesn’t matter.” She held out her hands to Theron. “And dear as you are, you can’t achieve the results that he can. He has … skills that you and I lack in these matters. Not all my fortune and all your family’s wealth could pay bribes enough to get me free now that the Revolutionary Tribunal has its hooks in me.”

Theron held back from her. “But this Saint-Germain can?” He sounded incredulous.

“If it takes bribes, yes. He has a great deal of money. But he has other means at his disposal as well, and those are what I rely upon.” She took his hands in hers.

“So have I, if it comes to that,” said Theron.

“Not as he does.” She drew him toward her, smiling at him in a most tantalizing way. “I’ll order a horse, a remount, and a mule for you tomorrow morning, and I will have Gigot prepare a basket of food and drink for you. I know there is a tent you may take, and a bedroll. And a sack of oats for your animals.”

“But I haven’t said—”

“Stay at inns, not monasteries, while you travel. You know what they’re doing to clerics.” She frowned slightly. “Be careful of others on the road.”

“If I agree to go, I’ll bear all this in mind.” He studied her face. “You’re serious about this Saint-Germain, aren’t you?”

“Deadly serious.”

“You say this man is in Padova?” His expression had softened.

“He is presently connected to the Universita, and he has a business in Venezia. He goes by Conte da San-Germain in Padova.” She knew that Saint-Germain had both a publishing and a trading company, but decided not to complicate her persuasion with unnecessary information. “I will provide you with directions.”

“A professor of some sort, then, is he?” Theron regarded her with undisguised dubiety.

“Among other things, yes. He has been about the world a great deal.”

“Then I take it he isn’t a young man,” said Theron with a look of ill-concealed hope lighting his face.

“No, he’s not,” she replied, coaxing him down beside her. “I think you will like him, once you cease to be jealous.”

He stared at her, shocked. “Jealous? I? Of him?”

“It is certainly in accord with your demeanor,” she said lightly, teasing him. “You may discover that he likes your poetry enough to publish it. You must take some of your best work to him. You can conceal my letter to him among your poems.” Her smile faded. “He has a publishing company in Venezia, and he often receives manuscripts of all sorts; no one will think anything of you giving him your poems.” The publishing company was, as she knew, one of several, but she kept that to herself.

“I haven’t said I’d go yet,” he reminded her.

“But you will, won’t you? For me?”

“I will consider it,” he conceded.

“Excellent.” Her kiss was lingering and evocative, sweetly languorous; she wound her arms around him, feeling his arousal against her thigh. She leaned into him, guiding his hand to the swell of her breast. “I knew I could depend on you.” She kissed him again, with more fervor than before.

After a long, delicious silence he pulled away. “If you insist, I suppose I can go.”

Madelaine kept hold of him. “Thank you.”

“Not just because you kissed me,” he said flatly.

“Of course not,” she said. “You have begun to realize that my request is sensible for the both of us.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “I don’t like leaving you.” He continued to caress her through the silk of her high bodice.

“Nor I you, but that is out of our hands now.” She sighed, and let go of him. “Later. When we can be truly alone.” With a regretful chuckle she got to her feet. “And speaking of matters out of my hands, I must see Gigot to arrange a meal for the Guards.”

“Let Bescart handle it,” Theron suggested.

“He’s packing. Besides, he’d let Gigot feed them swill, and that would do me no good.” Her smile was wan.

“Will feeding the Guards well help?” Theron asked.

“It might.” She glanced toward the door. “And I must take care to do all that I can to treat them respectfully.”

“Why?”

“Because, cher Theron, they can make my detention pleasant or difficult, and I would rather it be as pleasant as possible. Not slighting them should have a better result than treating them like barbarians, since they are as much spies as guards.” She took a deep breath. “And to that end, when we dine tonight, we must argue. Nothing vile, but forceful, so that you may wash your hands of me. If you wish to express regret, do so, but make it clear that you and I have reached an impasse. That way, no one will wonder at your departure. Unless they see some disagreement, they will suspect a ruse, and that won’t suit our purpose.”