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Authors: Andre Norton,Rosemary Edghill

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proof than her own wild surmises, however. There was a great distance between

knowing that Louis had the look of the Bourbons about him and deciding that he

was Louis-Charles, the lost boy-king who had vanished amid the bloody chaos of

the Revolution.

 

It was more likely, in fact, that Louis was not the true Dauphin at all, but merely a

young man groomed to impersonate the heir to the throne of France; a pawn for the

French Royalists to use in another of their so-far-fruitless series of countercoups.

 

She had never thought she would bless all those tedious frightening hours spent

sitting quietly while her uncles wrangled about plot and counter-plot; of the Catholic

support they could expect from Scotland and the possibility of a separate peace with

France. But those long hours had left her able to see the Matter of Europe as a great

chessboard, its playing-pieces interlocking in infinite combination. To return the lost

 

 

King of France to the chessboard of Europe would dissolve old alliances and make

new ones. Louis XVII’s importance was so great it hardly mattered whether he

actually existed or not….

 

And so Lady Meriel bided her time, through the soup, the fish, the roast, the

savory, the sweet, and at last the cheese, keeping her own council and turning over in

her mind how she might prove – or disprove – her theory.

 

When she excused herself from the table and went into the garden, Meriel was not

surprised to find that Louis sought her out not so very much later. Her beauty was

her currency, and Meriel could wield that beauty as a soldier might ply his sword.

 

„I came to see if…“ Louis began.

 

„Your Majesty,“ Meriel said, sweeping the startled young man a deep curtsey.

She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes, knowing that the light from the house

fell upon her face and turned her skin to lambent cream.

 

Louis drew back as if Meriel had transformed herself into a viper upon the spot.

„How – How did you – “ he stammered.

 

„You have the look of your uncle – if he is your uncle,“ Meriel said. She rose

gracefully to her feet.

 

„A cousin, not an uncle,“ Louis said. „A distant cousin, who endangers himself

by sheltering me.“ He regarded her unhappily. „Perhaps you are one of the Black

Priest’s agents after all. Have you come to number the days of my life, then?“

 

Abruptly Lady Meriel lost all appetite for the game she was playing with him.

 

„I have no desire to harm you… Your Majesty. But I have no taste for plots and

secrets, and if you are entangled in one I will not remain here. There are things I did

not tell your cousin the Abbé earlier.“

 

To her own surprise, Meriel found herself confiding the whole of the truth to

Louis – about the plot her uncle Ripon had hatched to snare Prince Jamie of

England, of her flight with the Duchess of Wessex’s help –

 

„Wessex!“ Louis exclaimed „I remember the Duke of Wessex – he came when I

was just a boy, to save me from the sans-culottes. Is this his daughter, then?“

 

„The wife of his son, I think, for I have heard that the old Duke disappeared in

France years ago. My uncle Geoffrey thinks the current Duke is a political agent for

the king, and has taken Sarah as a hostage for his good behavior – only I do not

know what it is that he is doing that Uncle Geoffrey has taken in such dislike,“ Meriel

finished faintly.

 

It was such a relief to tell the whole truth to someone at last that Meriel hardly

cared at this moment whether Louis was the rightful King of France or not She

thought that he might be – the reason for the old Duke of Wessex’s disappearance

was certainly not a matter of public knowledge. But if the son were a political agent,

it was not unlikely that the father had been as well.

 

„Do you think the Duke will come to France to rescue his Duchess?“ Louis

 

 

demanded eagerly. Meriel stared at him, baffled.

 

„I… suppose he will. Uncle Geoffrey must have some notion of how to reach

him,“ Meriel said uncertainly. But was that true? Why, even Sarah hadn’t had any

idea of her husband’s whereabouts’.

 

„Then perhaps he will aid me, as his father tried to do,“ Louis said, „listen, ma

petite – you know who I am.“

 

„I know who you wish me to believe that you are,“ Meriel answered cautiously.

Louis dismissed such equivocation with a wave of his hand.

 

„The soi-dissant rightful King of France – as if France can ever again be what she

was,“ Louis said with wistful scorn. „Even if the Tyrant died-tomorrow, how could I

bear to rule those who killed all my family? No. If France will have no more of kings,

men this king will have no more of France.“

 

„You don’t want to be king?“ Meriel asked cautiously.

 

„I am the king,“ Louis corrected her gently, „but I do not wish to rule. Perhaps

the English Duke can help me.“

 

„He will take you to England, to live under King Henry’s protection and form a

government in exile,“ Meriel said with bitter cynicism. „Is that the help you want?“

 

„Should you like such aid, in my place? No, ma petite, I have said I am done with

France. If the Duke of Wessex can smuggle me out of this country which once was

mine, I will take the first ship I can find and go to the New World. They do not care

so much for old blood there, and there the world is wide. There, at last, I can make

my own fortune.“

 

Meriel gazed at the young king, dazzled by the audacity of his vision. Shyly, she

extended her hand. „I hope you may achieve your dream, Your Majesty.“

 

„You must call me Louis, my brave one – the Emperor would be very cross with

you if you insist upon giving me a tide long since revoked.“ The young man smiled

slightly at his own joke. „But the first thing that falls to us, I think, is the rescue of

your friend.“

 

„Could de Sade have spirited Princess Stephanie away just as he did the

Christina?“ Koscuisko asked idly.

 

Kosciusko and Wessex rode southwest, toward Auxerre and away from the grim

walls of Verdun. Madame de Stael's manuscript was in Wessex’s saddlebag, and the

letter from Sir John Adams was tucked inside his coat. There was no point in

concealing either document. If they were stopped, the two of them would have more

troubles than a there set of seditious papers could place them in.

 

„To what location? The man is too foolish to be playing a double game, and I

would bet my soul that the lady isn’t in Paris. Sir John said the Princess was gone by

the time the French took possession of the Queen Christina!“

 

„But gone where? Not to England, not to France, not back to Denmark….“

Kosciusko appeared to ponder the matter for a moment. „Where?“ . „That’s the

 

 

question,“ Wessex said.

 

„Well,“ Kosciusko amended. „One of them, anyway. I can think of half a dozen

more.“

 

„Who is de Sade really working for? Where did he gain the right to call upon

such power? Why did Gambit think letting the Irishman kill me would harm the cause

of Acadian independence?“ Wessex recited, ticking the points off on his fingers.

 

„Why did the French Captain think that the Christina had the missing Dauphin

aboard? Is Ripon as well as Highclere working for the French? And why does

Highclere think it necessary to kidnap your Duchess?“ Koscuisko added helpfully.

 

„A question that I hope soon to put to Mr. Highclere,“ Wessex said broodingly,

„but at the moment all trails seem equally cold. And why the Young King? The poor

child has been dead these twelve years.“

 

„Well, someone thinks he’s alive,“ Kosciusko said. „And if Princess Stephanie

continues missing, that means Eire-well to the Danish alliance, and hello to Citizen

Bonaparte’s perfect staging ground for an invasion of England.“

 

„In that case,“ Wessex replied „I think it is almost obligatory that we provide

M’sieur L’Empereur with something to distract him from such an attractive notion.

A Found Dauphin seems about right as a diversion, don’t you think?“

 

„To be sure. But at the moment we are in rather awkward circumstances

ourselves, particularly should someone wish to ask questions about our holiday at

Verdun.“

 

Wessex considered this. „As you say. I have no papers save as the Chevalier de

Reynard, and I dare not present them, for I fear that the Chevalier’s usefulness is at

an end. It is too bad: I shall miss the fellow.“

 

„He was a good deal more amusing than present company,“ Koscuisko said

provocatively, „but if Reynard’s dead there is no use wailing over him. You shall

have to become someone else. Now, my friend, who shall it be?“

 

Four days later Citizen Orczy of the Committee for Public Safety arrived – with

his escort, a galloper from the Garde Polonnaise – in the city of Amiens. Citizen

Orczy went directly to the Golden Cockerel, where he took the best room in the inn,

was rude to the landlord in the way that those of high station traditionally were, and

closeted himself in his rooms immediately.

 

The Pole, after the fashion of his kind, immediately took himself off, announcing

that the Cockerel was by far too tame for his tastes, and a few hours later was to be

found dicing in an accommodation house which had been set up on the former

premises of a cobbler, from which device the place had taken its name of The Red

Boot. As accommodation houses provide nothing for their customers beyond

tables, chairs, and some very bad coffee, the Pole had brought his own brandy and

his own dice, and was throwing left hand against right and disliking the results

extremely. The Pole looked a villainous sort of fellow, and in a foul mood beside,

but as the brandy was in plain sight, it was perhaps not surprising that, after

 

 

three-quarters of an hour or so, he was joined by a fellow whose smock and clogs

proclaimed him a local tradesman.

 

The man sat down and essayed some pleasantry about the weather, which was

ignored by the Polish Hussar. The tradesman made a number of other casual

remarks – all ignored – until the attention of the accommodation house’s other

inhabitants drifted elsewhere, since a quarrel did not seem to be forthcoming.

 

„I perceive you are a fishmonger,“ the tradesman said at last.

 

„No, but I can tell a hawk from a handsaw when the wind blows from the White

Tower,“ Koscuisko responded.

 

„What do you need?“ the tradesman said, leaning closer.

 

„Travel papers for myself and a friend. I have his particulars with me, and I’ll

need the papers as soon as I can get them. I’ll also need information, but you may

have to send abroad for it“

 

„Have you anything to pass to the White Man?“ the tradesman asked, using the

field agent’s name for Baron Misbourne. Amiens was a large enough city that the

White Tower ran a station there – the contact was known as the Bishop – and its

field agents knew the contact procedure – though not, of course, who the agent was.

Even now Koscuisko did not look at the well-disguised Bishop of Amiens, learning

as little as he could about the man, so that he would have little to betray if he were

caught and questioned.

 

„Andiron sends,“ Koscuisko began, using his and Wessex’s code-name. Each

team of field agents had a code-name, and each individual agent had one as well.

Koscuisko was Eagle; Wessex was Lion. But it was not important that the White

Man know which of them had. sent this message, only that it came from a

trustworthy source.

 

„The crew of the Christina is interned in Verdun. The Princess disappeared from

the ship and is still missing. Andiron believes that Charenton“ – the code-name by

which they denoted the Marquis de Sade – „is responsible.“

 

„So that’s your hare,“ the Bishop said respectfully. „You’ll need this then: Saint

Lucky’s been captured by the Jacks and is sleeping in the Tuilleries. Tis said he was

dolphin-fishing when he got the office.“

 

Koscuisko drew a deep breath, concentrating on keeping his face blank. He threw

the dice again, dien pushed the cup across to his companion.

 

„Try them if you like – they’re sound enough,“ he said in the faintly imperious

tones suitable for a Hussar condescending to address a tradesman.

 

So Saint-Lazarre was taken by Talleyrand’s secret police and being held in Paris.

That was disaster enough, but that Saint-Lazarre had been captured while attempting

to get to the missing Louis-Charles nearly beggared belief. Worst of all, Tallyrand

would be sure to break Saint-Lazarre, given enough time, and men everything the

man knew about Royalists still operating in France would be endangered.

 

 

„The frogs were fishing for dolphins in the Channel and drew a Queen instead,“

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