Free A Plague of Lies by Judith Rock

only in December, when his father died.
    “In case you have to speak to the princess,” La Chaise said, “she’s styled Her Serene Highness and her title is Mademoiselle d’Enghien. She looks six, but she’s eleven or twelve, I think. The new Condé’s daughters are all tiny, like their grandmother Claire Clemence. People call them ‘Dolls of the Blood.’” Watching the fire brighten as the light faded, La Chaise said reflectively, “Have you ever thought how oddly things are passed on in families? Take those two children of the king you saw. Maine is dark like his father. But Lulu, as Mademoiselle de Rouen is called, is nearly blond, like her mother, Madame de Montespan. And her character could not be more different from her brother’sif she came from the other side of the world. Maine’s a quiet boy, doesn’t seem to like public life much. He’d rather be in the woods with his huntsman and the dogs, so I hear. Though his limp doesn’t help his riding. I will tell you—in confidence—that he’s the king’s favorite child. Though they say he’s not living up to his promise. He was a brilliant little boy, but now he has—well—faded, somehow. In my opinion, Madame de Maintenon has kept him too close, too tied to her, probably because of his limp. She tried very hard to cure him, you know. But limp or not, it’s high time the king sent Maine to the army. The boy is seventeen. Far too old to be mooning around here at court playing children’s games.”
    “And what of Lulu, as you called her? How old is she?”
    La Chaise sighed. “Yes. Lulu. She’s—let me see—almost sixteen. Her Highness’s real name is Louise Marguerite. Louise after her father, of course, and Marguerite after his mother’s mother, Marguerite of Austria.”
    “So she’s nearly marriageable.”
    “In fact, nearly married. And furious about it. She’s tried to change the king’s mind. But he pays no attention and she’s causing a world of trouble. I live for the day she’s finally dispatched to her husband, I assure you.”
    “Who is he?”
    “A Polish prince, the younger son of King Jan Sobieski. We need to strengthen ties with Poland, since Sobieski has too often aligned himself with France’s enemies. Particularly the Hapsburgs and the Holy Roman Empire. Of course, Sobieski had no choice but to fight on the Hapsburg side against the Turks at Vienna and Buda, the Turks being such a danger to Poland. But Louis hopes to make Sobieski our ally with this marriage.”
    “However the girl herself feels about it?”
    La Chaise looked at Charles as though he’d begun speakingChinese. “She’s known all her life that she would be married for royal reasons. Why she’s making so much trouble about it, I can’t imagine.” He shook his head and sipped from his glass. “Poland is an odd place. Did you know that Polish nobles elect their king? They usually choose the old king’s son, but not always. It seems to me an affront to God to show so little trust in the royal lineage.”
    Charles was silent, wondering how different things might be in France if the French king were elected.
    “With his daughter married to Sobieski’s son, Louis will have more influence on the next vote, whenever that should come. So Lulu’s marriage—” La Chaise stopped short and turned in his chair as the connecting door between the chambers opened.
    Jouvancy stood in the doorway, blinking in the firelight and yawning. “
Bonsoir, mon père, maître
,” he said indistinctly, turning politely aside to cover another wide yawn. “I see I have slept into the evening. I thank you for letting me rest so long. I am a new man.” He sniffed the air. “Supper?” he said hopefully.
    “Le bouillon, mon père.”
La Chaise got up and set his wineglass on the table. “And to start, let me pour wine for you.”
    The firelight made a twisting red rope of the wine as he added what was left in the small pot of wine to the silver pitcher. He filled a