Last Life

Book 3: Chapter 11

SURPRISINGLY, THE COUNT’S barb went unanswered. I was settling in to hear a screed of rage and indignance from François, but my cousin sat in silence as if his mouth was full. The rest of the family did, too. By all appearances, they had all heard Heinrich take such a tone with them before and, despite the wry notes, he was far from cheery.

Everyone fell silent, but the emotions of the people sitting at the table were easy to read. François, who had just been offered an apprenticeship at a shopkeeper’s, looked about to have a seizure. His face was pure crimson, while tears welled up in his eyes. His brother, seated at his right, based on his shoulder movements, was holding his hand under the table. From my perspective, it was a touching scene and... Very promising for me.

I had realized a simple fact that day. If the head of clan de Gramont suddenly disappeared, Max’s family would be left vulnerable. Based on the gloomy and suspicious looks Heinrich was shooting at me and Valerie, he was more than aware of that. And of course he was also aware that his capricious and spoiled sons would only weaken the already diminished clan were they to be named as heirs.

The only person capable of replacing Heinrich, in my opinion, was his sister the Duchess du Bellay. Alone, childless, and fully concentrating all her attention on building up de Gramont power, she would not allow the clan to perish. But she was not immortal.

The way Jeanne du Bellay was looking at me I did not find particularly nice. Her serpentine gaze, unblinking, followed my every move and caught my every emotion.

Essentially, the elders of house de Gramont clearly were trying to see me as a threat in their own way. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out Max’s father had been burned by both of them together.

Of course, at any moment I could take radical measures but, first of all, there were no open hostilities as of yet, and it was very far from a critical point. And second, the weakening of house de Gramont by getting rid of two figures of such authority would not be in my own best interest. I had far-reaching plans for this family.

Whereas the count and duchess looked on me as some yet unknown creature which had now grown teeth, the Countess de Gramont, bestowing her little son with silent glances of admiration, kept glaring over at me, burning me with scorn.

Her eldest daughter, Marielle, was trying very hard to mimic her mother in every way. Raising her chin proudly, she looked at me with disgust like a mangy, flea-ridden mongrel.

Max’s older sisters were doing their best to keep up with her, but Valerie was looking down and trying to restrain her emotions as much as possible. I was sure she knew perfectly well that her uncle and aunt were watching her like a pair of hawks. But try as she might, Valerie was not able to keep the unflappable look on her face, sometimes letting her lips slip to reveal a malicious smirk for a brief moment.

Yveline was the only person who didn’t care about the whole show. After hearing her father, his favorite daughter gave a muted giggle and quickly covered her mouth with a little hand. Happy little devils danced in her eyes. She even found an opening to shoot me a friendly little wink.

For a short time, an uncomfortable silence hung over the table, broken by the odd clink of silverware on dishes. By the time the footmen started bringing out desert, the count finally sat back in his chair with satisfaction, looked languidly at his sister and said somewhat sardonically:

“I assume, dear sister, that word of Prince Louis’ marriage is not the only news to reach you from your so-called ‘good authority.’“

The duchess snorted indistinctly, letting her brother know that his little goading and forced formality had no impact on her, and replied ironically:

“Dear brother, I hasten to add that my sources’ timely provisioning of useful information is why you are always one of the first in the kingdom to have first-hand knowledge of any situation.”

Heinrich snorted:

“Let’s not forget, dear sister, that all this ‘first-hand’ news requires handsome repayment. And that is putting it lightly. Whoever supplies you with these rumors and gossip must have amassed a fortune on my gold.”

“My brother, if you are on the verge of poverty, please save your meagre reserves and look for a less expensive way of digging up, as you put it, rumors and gossip. For instance, one example might be the aforementioned shopkeepers our nephew just finished telling us are so phenomenally well informed.”

The count frowned and made a vague hand motion.

“Come now, dear sister. After today’s little display, I am inclined to take your advice. But after I get the full measure of what I pay so handsomely for. So, you have my undivided attention...”

Based on how the other members of the family reacted calmly to the count and duchess’ conversation, little spats like that were commonplace.

“You are correct, my brother,” the duchess nodded, and her face turned serious. “Prince Louis’ future marriage is not the only news. What I’m about to tell you is going to turn this kingdom upside down tomorrow.”

Everyone sitting at the table turned to face the duchess.

“Is that right?” the count frowned. He perked up right away. The duchess du Bellay’s tone always contained valuable information.

Everyone fell silent. Even François stopped huffing and started listening attentively.

The duchess clearly enjoyed all the attention. She made a pause and, raising her chin proudly, spoke with an air of excessive solemnity.

“I have become aware of whose flowers the Duke de Gondy will be wearing. His Majesty has made a decision. The Marchioness de Gondy shall be wed to Prince Philippe!”

Everyone fell silent together, then started speaking. Except me. Taking advantage of the lack of attention, I savored a tender and delicious dessert.

The issue was that the news of the king’s decision was no surprise to me. I mentioned to the Watchmaker that I had entered the city at nearly the same time as the Duke de Gondy. Upon hearing about the duke and the young lady accompanying him, the Viscount de Tosny immediately told me his theory that the Duke of the South, ruler of Aquitaine, had come to conclude an alliance with Carl III to be secured most likely by a marriage between the marchioness and one of the princes.

The Watchmaker, who also had his informants at court, told me that most likely the Duke of the South, who controlled nearly the entire grain trade, would not be satisfied to see his daughter wed to a junior prince. After all, de Gondy was counting on his son getting engaged to Princess Adèle.

Essentially, the Watchmaker and I at that time concluded that the king, whose fondness for Princess Adèle was well known even to town drunks in the capital, had long ago given his agreement to marry the Marchioness de Gondy to his oldest son, the potential heir to the throne. But those were just theories, and now they were being confirmed.

While Heinrich digested the news in silence, the younger members of the family started discussing hotly. Very quickly, it grew into an argument about which of the princes the king should have been marrying to the Marchioness de Gondy.

Based on how the elders were in no rush to interfere in the juniors’ political chatter, they actually encouraged such discussions. And that must have been exactly how an understanding of the finer points of politics was fostered in aristocratic families.

As an aside, the fact the conversation was being conducted in my presence came as no surprise. After the reception at the mayor of Toulon’s, I had realized that discussing everything happening at court was common practice in local aristocratic society. They boldly and openly remarked upon the outfits of the king’s favorites, his policies both domestic and foreign, various rumors and scandals related both to the princes and their close supporters.

“I suppose,” Gabriel came, looking around pridefully. “No one has any doubt remaining as to who the next dauphin of Vestonia will be?”

“Hard to argue with that, brother,” François supported. “After the Marchioness de Gondy becomes Philippe’s wife, the whole south will be behind him.”

“The east and the south together are a true force!” Gabriel nodded.

“So, it was all for nothing?” Yveline asked uncomprehendingly.

“What do you mean?” François raised a brow.

“These bands...” she raised an elbow with a wide band tied onto it of emerald color with gold embroidery.

“I imagine His Majesty, following some objectives only known to him, finally got what he was after,” Gabriel shrugged.

“I don’t regret it,” the eldest sister spoke up and looked dreamily at her clothing. “These were heady days. Full of color and excitement.”

I snorted to myself. Bloody, too. The gods alone could say how many souls had perished over this armband dispute in the last few days in duels with young aristocrats. Heh... What made them think it was all over?

Yveline’s unexpected question caught me right when the little dessert spoon went into my mouth.

“Max!” she exclaimed sonorously. “Stop eating dessert and finally tell us what you think about all this.”

All the de Gramonts’ once again stared over at me. What an irrepressible little twerp. I had the feeling she was doing it on purpose. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out her aunt and father put her up to this. I had to set aside my little spoon and unflappably reply with a question:

“Dearest cousin, could you please concretely state what exactly you want to know?”

“Well, for instance,” Yveline said with a pensive squint, touching a little pointer finger to her chin. “What I want to know is your opinion on why His Majesty decided to play up to Philippe specifically with this marriage.”

“So, you see this all as a game?” I asked.

“Of course,” Yveline answered categorically. Which made her father and aunt give identical smirks at almost the exact same time. “If it weren’t a game, the king would have named Philippe dauphin of Vestonia long ago. Don’t you think?”

“It isn’t for me to judge the actions and decisions of His Majesty,” I answered with caution.

“Max!” Yveline exclaimed in indignation. “That isn’t fair. You’re dodging. You’re among family! You can speak freely.”

I saw a pointed smirk appear on Valerie’s face for a brief moment after that. I myself was having a hard time not breaking into laughter.

“What if our dear cousin is dodging because he doesn’t know how to respond?” François came, unable to resist an acrid remark, and added: “It’s one thing to chatter between merchant stalls and hear their rumors. The education of a true noble is entirely different.”

“Dear cousin,” I turned to him calmly. “My father saw to my education. I was instructed by none other than Gerald Lambert.”

“Would that be the same Gerald Lambert who was executed for treason together with your rebel father?” the duchess spoke up, her eyes alight with triumph and delight. She finally got the chance to kick the insolent bastard, and she did not fail to take it.

“You are correct, madame,” I sighed ruefully. “Poor Lambert was a prime example of how dangerous it can be to associate oneself with men possessed of their ideas without regard for the consequences for their friends and family.”

The countess blushed through the ceruse on her cheeks. She squinted angrily and snorted. The count and duchess though looked very similar. They seemed to be saying, “kid, watch yourself! You’re walking on very thin ice.” I also saw Max’s sisters look tense. It looked as if their uncle and aunt, after their father’s execution, had done long and diligent work on their minds.

“As for your question, my dear cousin,” I continued as if nothing happened, completely ignoring François. “Then I do not believe His Majesty played up to his eldest son.”

“What do you mean?” Yvelines asked in sincere surprise. “Now Philippe will have support from the nobles of the south and east.”

“At first glance, it does appear that way,” I nodded. “But if you walk the stalls of the capital city shopkeepers and listen to what the people there are saying, you’ll see that the Duke de Bauffremont has long and passionately been trying to wed to Prince Philippe a niece of the Duke de Meragne, younger brother of the King of Astland.”

In reality, I was playing a double game. It was rare to hear any talk of de Bauffremont wishing to marry his nephew with the Dukes de Meragne among the market stalls. In this matter, my unwitting informant was Baron von Holtz, who had once fought under the banner of the Meragnes and told me many interesting things about their country and the court of the King of Astland.

“But that’s...” Yveline began, but the count stopped her.

“On that note, I suppose the debate is over, as is this most bizarre lunch,” Heinrich came, standing from the table.

Everyone followed his example in silence.

And talking to me, the count said:

“Max, let’s go to my office. We have something to discuss. Your Grace, won’t you accompany us?”

The Duchess du Bellay nodded and took the count’s hand at the door. I meanwhile bid everyone farewell and followed after them. On the doorstep, I quickly turned around. Yveline was already insistently dragging Valerie by the elbow toward the opposite door. As I assumed, the little spy would now share what she’d heard with the others.

Before the footman closed the door behind me, I felt a hateful gaze burning into my back. I had seemingly just gained another enemy in the form of the Countess de Gramont.

* * *

“So then,” the count said to me, sitting in his chair in the office we were in before and clapping his hands on the arm rests. “As for your duty to the family...”

“Henri, have you decided to marry him to the Viscountess de Marbot?” the duchess decided to interject. She was seated comfortably on a soft sofa stretched over with dark blue velvet. The wrinkles of her wide dress looked similar to a coiled snake.

They did not, however, offer me a seat. I was standing before the elders of Clan de Gramont like an examining committee. Or a court...

“That would be an option,” the count replied.

“Is that right?” the duchess said with a smirk and curiosity in her eyes, looking me from head to toe. “Did the late Ferdinand have legal disputes with neighbors I was not aware of?”

“Not that I know of, no,” Heinrich responded gloomily. “But our late brother was impossible to predict.”

My uncle had no idea how right he was. For example, the story of promissory notes advanced against a whole barony. Max’s daddy was an enthusiastic fellow.

“The Gilberts you’re talking about,” the count said.

“The Gilbert trading house?” the duchess asked. “The ones who supply almost every noble house in Herouxville with wine?”

“Yes,” Heinrich replied. “Max, what was it you told me about that lowly merchant?”

“I became aware that Thomas Gilbert inquired through my mother’s father about me marrying his daughter,” I replied and spotted a chair at the wall out of the corner of my eye.

“How did you become aware of that?” the count asked.

“Thomas Gilbert’s daughter Betty told me.”

“You’re a quick one,” the duchess chuckled. “Just like your father.”

“It isn’t what you might be thinking, aunty,” I came.

The duchess’ face cringed with a condescending smile.

“Curious. I need details.”

“In reality, Betty is not pleased with the idea,” I came and sat unbidden in an empty chair against the wall to slightly surprised glances from the count and his sister. “So unhappy that she took part in a conspiracy against me, aiding a certain Vivienne Leroy and her lover. Those two received payment from a third party I cannot name as part of a plot to murder me.”

I stopped. My uncle and aunt said nothing. The duchess’ face looked not the least bit amused. She seemed to have been seeing me for the first time. Heinrich was clearly enjoying his sister’s reaction meanwhile.

“How did they plan to do it?” the duchess finally asked in a raspy voice.

“By goading me into a duel with Vivienne Leroy’s lover, a certain Vincent de Lamar.”

“The scandalous brawler who was patronized by Prince Heinrich?” the duchess turned toward the count.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “One of the greatest swordsmen in Vestonia. He was hurriedly sent away from the capital after killing a bodyguard of the Atalian ambassador in a duel.”

“Prince Heinrich harbors a weakness for such upstarts and rowdies,” the count added. “And tries to surround himself with the greatest fighters in the land. He has long boasted of the brawler André de Châtillon.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know,” the duchess snorted and added with a self-satisfied smile: “In court, there are rumors that the famous swordfighter was knocked down by a single blow by some village aristocrat. Yet he didn’t kill him. They say he bested de Châtillon with the tip of his sword. Right to the forehead.”

Heinrich chuckled and stroked his chin with his long fingers.

“I wouldn’t mind a look at that country boy. What was his name?”

I just snorted to myself.

“I don’t know,” the duchess shrugged and said to me: “And how did the whole story with the duel end? Were you able to reach an arrangement with this de Lamar?”

“Yes, aunty, you might say that,” I shrugged.

“He slayed him in a duel,” Heinrich chuckled. “The way I heard it, in a single blow.”

The duchess shuddered and looked at me with eyes wide open.

While Jeanne du Bellay stared at me in disbelief and gathered her thoughts, Heinrich said to me, very satisfied with the effect produced on his sister:

“So, you claim these Gilberts are wealthy?”

“As far as I know, yes,” I nodded.

“Alright,” Heinrich came thoughtfully, furrowing his brow. “I should think this all through well. In a little while, I’ll tell you my decision.”

After saying that, Heinrich waved a hand to let me know I could go. But a moment later, his brows shot up in surprise. Because I just stayed sitting.

“Anything else?” the count asked, tilting his head.

“Yes, uncle,” I responded. “We didn’t discuss terms.”

“Terms of what?” Heinrich frowned again.

“Of my participation in fulfilling my duty to the family,” I allowed myself a smirk. “Or did you think I would just take part in your little projects for nothing?”

“Don’t you think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to?” metallic notes slipped through in the count’s voice.

“Oh, dear uncle!” I snorted. “I haven’t forgotten for a minute who I’m talking to.”

It came across dripping with double entendre and, based on the count’s sharp expression, he understood me perfectly. Now it was the duchess’ turn to gloat. With a sidelong smirk, she was enjoying the unexpected show.

“And what do you want?” the count came, going on his backfoot with unexpected ease. He was like a predator lurking and waiting to strike.

“For starters, I want my castle back,” I responded, staring Heinrich straight in the eyes. “As soon as I have it, we can continue our discussion about restoring the glory of House de Gramont and my participation in this indubitably important endeavor.”

After saying that, I got up from my seat and, with a gallant bow to the smirking duchess, and followed by a heavy gaze from the count, left the office unhurriedly.