Free H.J. Gaudreau - Betrayal in the Louvre by H.J. Gaudreau Page A

“The tribune royale is the area reserved for the King or royal sovereign in a cathedral.  Very few cathedrals actually have one; the fifth chapel at Versailles is one of those few.” 
    Bill walked to a small table in the corner and laid the open book on it.  He tapped a picture and said, “Look at this.” 
    It was a black and white picture of a series of cushioned chairs behind a wooden fence.  They bent over the picture for a moment, then straightened, their confusion evident. 
    Bill explained, “This area is never visited by the public, no photographs are allowed and only scholars are permitted here.  To the best of my knowledge, none has been given permission in thirty years.  What is important in this photograph is the background.  You see here?” 
    He used the handle of a small magnifying glass as a pointer and touched the image of a small altar to the side of the seats. 
    “This is the family altar.  It’s where the royals would go for private services, communion, contemplation, that sort of thing.  To the side, you can’t see it in this picture, is a confessional.  I’m showing you this picture because of the ambry behind the communion table.  The ambry is a storage area.  Normally they only store the communion wafers, wine, chalice, and other items necessary for Holy Communion in an ambry.  But, this one is different.  See how large it is?” 
    Jim, being near sighted took off his glasses for a better look.  Eve shouldered Jim aside, pulled her shoulder length honey-brown hair aside, took the proffered glass and adjusted the book for a better view.  Jim, now standing to the side looked at Eve and grinned.  “You goof,” he said.  “Ya snooze, ya lose,” she shot back and laughed. 
    “Yeah, that is big,” Eve said. “How come?”
    “They need that much room to store the chalice and communion plate?”  Jim asked.
    “Actually, it’s called a chalice and paten.  And let’s not forget the wine.  But, even with the wine your eye is correct.  That’s a lot of space for those items.”
    “Well, why so much?” asked Eve.
    “That, my friends…,” Bill began with a satisfied sigh, “is an interesting story.”  With that lead-in all three resumed their seats. 
    “It seems the French monarchy is descended from the great warrior-king Charlemagne.  Charlemagne conquered all of Europe from the English Channel and Atlantic coast almost to the Urals.  At one time he held the title of King of the Franks, the King of the Lombards, and Emperor of the Romans.  In short, he was a powerful guy, both politically and physically.  He was unusually big and muscular for that period and, unfortunately, the swords of the day didn’t fit him.”
    “How can a sword fit someone?  I though they were just a big, you know, a big knife,” asked Eve. 
    “Oh, make no mistake, the fit of a sword is very important.  A man’s life depended on his sword.  It must have the proper weight, balance point and length.  If it doesn’t then it’s an inefficient tool.  And, a sword is nothing if not a tool,” replied Bill.  “I’m not an expert in medieval weapons, but I’ve spoken with several that are and that’s what they tell me.  In any case, Charlemagne could not find a sword that fit him properly so he had one made.  As it happened, when the sword was finished he entered into a period of great conquest.  People credited the sword with remarkable powers and it began to take on a life of its own. 
    Eventually, the sword became so associated with Charlemagne and his successes that people began to see it as the source of his power.  After his death subsequent Kings were measured against him.  Naturally, his successors wanted to claim his legitimacy and his legacy.  What better way to do that than become associated with his powerful sword?  Therefore, at each coronation Charlemagne’s sword was carried in front of the new King as a sign of that power and ancestry.”
    Bill