The Man with the Lead Stomach (21 page)

In the guardroom Nicolas noticed a royal page with fair hair, whose sharp eyes were examining every new arrival from head to foot. He realised this was his guide. He was immediately taken in hand and whisked off through the usual maze of rooms, corridors and staircases. Would he ever manage to find his own way around this palace?! The expedition took them to the very top of the building. He knew that Monsieur de La Borde had been given a small suite of rooms under the eaves, a special favour granted by the King. The royal page opened a door without knocking, as he was a member of the Household; he stepped aside to let Nicolas enter. He was immediately taken by the peacefulness of the drawing room, with its roaring fire in a garnet-red marble fireplace. On the pale oak panelling were small depictions of hunting scenes and above the hearth a magnificent framed map of France. A library set into the wall but also extending either side of a door contained row
after row of pocket-books that further contributed to the overall effect of pleasant intimacy. Wearing a chintz
dressing-gown
but no cravat or wig, Monsieur de La Borde was lounging on a sofa upholstered in a large red floral design on a cream background, and was engrossed in reading a document. He looked up.

‘Ah, my dear Nicolas, here you are at last! Thank you, Gaspard,' he said to the royal page, ‘you may leave but do not go too far away. We might need you.'

The young man turned on his heels and, after a cheeky little bow, disappeared.

‘Make yourself at home, my friend. You will liven up my dreary afternoon. I was compiling the writs from my creditors.'

He showed him the heap of papers beside him.

‘There's no worse way to spend one's time,' said Nicolas.

‘No indeed. But enough of that. Nicolas, enlighten me. What stage have you reached? I found out you were at Versailles from Sartine. It seems that you won over the minister this morning. My compliments, he's not an easy beast to tame! I hear you are now someone who can command respect.'

‘And why is that?'

‘Because you are armed with those ready-signed
lettres de
cachet
, of course!'

‘You may rest assured, my friend, I shall not be using them against you.'

‘If the service of the King required it, you would not hesitate and you would be right.'

Once again Nicolas was struck by Monsieur de La Borde's ability to pick up news. By virtue of this mysterious gift he shared
a liking for secrecy that was the outstanding characteristic of his royal master.

‘So you were looking for me, were you?'

‘Indeed I was. Monsieur de Sartine asked me to inform you that Madame Adélaïde has invited you to her hunt on Monday morning. I can shed no further light on this event, but you need to make arrangements immediately.'

Nicolas showed his surprise. ‘To what do I owe this unexpected honour?'

La Borde gave a wave of the arm as if he were brushing away a fly. ‘Don't worry your head about it. Either it is a sheer whim of the princess's after hearing mention of you …' He paused and looked at the clock. ‘Or there is something in the air and the summons – I mean the invitation – has another meaning. You will find out on Monday.'

‘I am honoured,' said Nicolas, ‘but I am not equipped to take part. What can I do?'

‘This is where I can help you, my friend. I am leaving Versailles for two days; I have business in Paris. Accept the modest hospitality I can offer you here. You will be doing me a favour. If anyone asks for me, be so kind as to let me know, at this address.'

He handed him a sheet of paper. Nicolas noted that La Borde had been so sure of his response that everything had been prepared down to the smallest detail.

‘I don't know whether I can accept such a generous offer …'

‘Not another word. For your equipment I have the answer also. You know that Madame, on her father's orders, hunts neither the stag nor the boar. She restricts herself to deer, game that is
considered harmless. No special uniform is required for this type of hunt; a jerkin is enough, together with a jacket and boots. We are more or less of the same size. My men will provide you with everything. So that should reassure you.'

La Borde explained to Nicolas that the First Grooms of the King's Bedchamber commanded authority over all domestic arrangements in the palace and had at their own disposal a large staff of servants: a cook, a major-domo, a footman and a
coachman.
They could also eat from the King's table because there was always too much food and the leftovers were shared out.

‘I must quickly go and dress and leave for Paris immediately. Make yourself at home. Any questions?'

‘I'm looking for a Life Guard. In your opinion where might I find him?'

‘In his barracks or else tomorrow in the Hall of Mirrors while the King is hearing Mass. Gaspard will help you. He's a cunning little rascal.'

As he was about to open the door, he stopped and turned.

‘Oh! One more thing. The meeting place for the hunt is in front of the palace, facing the park. You are on the list. Make yourself known and get into the carriage. It will take you to the assembly point where you will be given a horse –' he rushed over and took something from the mantelpiece, ‘– in exchange for this note. Be generous with the whippers-in, it will stand you in good stead this time and next: they are the ones who choose the horses! There is nothing for you to worry about – my men have been informed. Gaspard will not leave your side and will tell your coachman to come back on Monday. Lastly, my library is at your disposal.'

He left the room. Shortly afterwards he reappeared dressed and bewigged, and, after a friendly wave to Nicolas, who was reading, he left.

This was a special moment for Nicolas. He found it hard to believe that he was in the royal palace. He had never known such splendid surroundings, so far removed from the austerity of the garret in Guérande or even from the good taste of his room at Monsieur de Noblecourt's house. Even the ancient splendours of the chateau at Ranreuil paled in comparison with what was around him. He had glanced at the titles of the books assembled here, delighting in the look and feel of the bindings. Their subjects included music, history, travels and libertine literature.

Nicolas suddenly remembered the royal page. He opened the door on to the corridor and found him sitting on a bench. Knowing the sort of person he was dealing with, he gave him a few coins that were pocketed without thanks but with a satisfied grin. He told him he would not be needed for the whole evening, but that on Sunday morning he was relying on being taken by him to the Hall of Mirrors, when the King would be passing through and where he hoped to find Truche de La Chaux.

Gaspard reassured him. He slept only a few yards away and Monsieur de La Borde had given him clear instructions to watch over Nicolas and to remain at his disposal. Nicolas questioned him about whether it would be possible to meet the Life Guard.

‘I can assure you it will be. He's much in demand.'

‘Do you mean that someone else is also looking for him?'

‘Was looking for him. On Monday or Tuesday … no,
Tuesday. Monsieur de La Borde was away in Paris for the day; he was due to attend a performance at the Opéra. Towards eleven o'clock or midday I happened to be in the Princes' Courtyard when an individual asked me to deliver a note to Truche de La Chaux.'

‘So you know him, do you?'

‘Yes, by sight, like the others.'

‘And did you hand him this note?'

‘No, not directly. When I reached the guardroom he wasn't there, but when one of his friends in the French Guards, a lieutenant, heard me enquiring after him, he took the note and promised to hand it over as soon as he saw him.'

‘That's interesting. Do you want to earn a few extra
écus
?'

‘I'm at your service, Monsieur.'

He held out his hand, which Nicolas filled appropriately.

‘Had you already seen the person who gave you the note?'

‘No, he was a valet without livery.'

‘Can you describe him to me?'

‘To be honest I didn't look at him closely enough. His face was hidden by a hat.'

‘What about the lieutenant?'

‘He was a lieutenant like any other; the uniform makes them all look alike and they don't like royal pages much.'

‘Thank you, Gaspard. We'll talk about this again another time. Good night.'

He went back inside and remained deep in thought for some time. So the day the Vicomte de Ruissec was murdered, a note was sent to Truche de La Chaux by an unknown person – a note that by all appearances ended up at midday in the hands of a
lieutenant in the French Guards, who might easily be the vicomte. Was this connected to the murder? He suddenly went back out into the corridor to call Gaspard. The boy reappeared immediately.

‘My friend, you must tell me everything. This note that you took to Truche de La Chaux …'

‘Yes, Monsieur.'

‘You must understand that this is important and that I shall be able to reward …' He waved another gold coin. ‘Did you read it?'

Gaspard was fidgeting, looking embarrassed. All his
cheekiness
had vanished.

‘Well, yes. It wasn't sealed, only folded. I didn't think …'

He looked crestfallen, resembling more and more a young lad caught stealing apples.

‘It will have been a good thing that you did,' said Nicolas with a smile. ‘What did it say?'

‘It was to arrange a meeting in front of the fountain with Apollo's chariot as soon as the note had been received. I thought it was a lovers' tryst.'

‘Good. And what did the lieutenant do? I'm sure that you kept a discreet eye on him.'

‘He did the same as me, read it, then rushed out.'

Nicolas threw the gold coin, which was caught in mid-air. When he returned to the apartments an obsequious manservant had set up a small table with venison pâté, a brace of partridges and a bottle of chilled champagne, not to mention a few sweet delicacies. Nicolas did justice to this feast and, after reading for about an hour, found the bedroom had been made ready for him and the bed warmed. Amidst such delights he fell asleep
peacefully without thinking of the day's events or what was to happen in the days to come.

He woke very late and, after quickly washing and dressing in a small, well-appointed closet, he breakfasted on hot chocolate served by an impassive manservant. He read for an hour or two, then called Gaspard, who was waiting in the corridor. Truche de La Chaux would be on duty in the Hall of Mirrors and Nicolas would take advantage of this to see the King go past on his way to Mass.

He was surprised by the noisy bustle of the crowd. In the Hall of Mirrors and the War Drawing Room, those present were lined up along the window side. From the Throne Room onwards they were positioned well inside the rooms to allow free passage through the enfilade of doors. He was positioned by Gaspard not far from where the sovereign would emerge from his state apartments. He found himself amidst courtiers and provincial noblemen who had come to see their master. The mirrors in the hall multiplied the crowd and made it seem enormous. Nicolas saw the King emerge and had eyes for nothing else. Etiquette required each person to remain still. One was not supposed to bow but to keep one's head erect. Thus the King could be seen by everyone and could see everyone.

When he went past Nicolas, his brown eyes with their vacant stare seemed to brighten and the young man felt he had been noticed and recognised. He became quite convinced of this when, after the procession had passed, a group of talkative, inquisitive
people formed almost a circle around him. This did not suit his purposes at all: he was not supposed to make himself
conspicuous
. He melted into the crowd, hoping that Gaspard would find him. And indeed soon there was a tug at his sleeve and, weaving in and out of the crush, the boy led him along to the War Drawing Room. There, near the brown marble bust of a Roman emperor, Nicolas spotted a Life Guard, whom he immediately recognised as the man from the tavern in Choisy, and whom he had come across again after his audience with the Marquise de Pompadour. So the man he was looking for was connected with two areas of his investigation. There had to be some explanation for this. His immediate concern was to appear to have not recognised him. There was no point in arousing his suspicions; he would soon see how the fellow would react.

The man gave Nicolas a half-smile as he approached. From the featureless face with its pallid complexion and fair beard Nicolas could tell it was the man from Choisy. He drew closer to him.

‘Monsieur Truche de La Chaux, I presume.'

‘At your service, Monsieur. And you are …? But did we not meet only recently in Choisy?'

The man was putting his cards on the table and Nicolas had not been expecting this.

‘I am a police officer. I would like to speak to you about the Vicomte de Ruissec. I believe you know him.'

‘I know that he is being buried today after his unfortunate accident. Had I not been on duty—'

‘You knew him, then?'

‘We all know one another here.'

‘What about his brother, the vidame?'

‘I know him, too. We have had occasion to play cards together.'

‘At the Dauphin Couronné?'

For the first time the man looked surprised. ‘You are asking the questions and giving the answers.'

‘Does he lose much?'

‘He gambles like a madman and never bothers to count his losses.'