“Oh, I’m not actually from—”
“I speak figuratively. It is your dream, is it not?”
She nodded numbly. “His son?” She still had trouble accepting the fact that the king was asking a favor of her. Kings didn’t ask, they commanded!
“The youth has sterling qualities and excellent breeding, but is extremely awkward with women. It would be good for him to be seen with one as beautiful as you.”
He was complimenting her! This great man. “I—of course, Your Majesty. But how—?”
“I will introduce him to you. He has a club foot.”
It came together. “His foot—my hand—”
“Neither infirmity reflects any defect in character or accomplishment. But I think you could reassure him. Other women have mocked him; therefore he is shy.”
“Yes,” she agreed, on more than one level.
“I must return to council. You may accompany me.” He held out his arm.
Surprised again, she obliged, putting her right hand in “the crook of his elbow. They left the dancing chamber and walked through the halls. A number of courtiers followed; it seemed that the king never went anywhere alone. She felt like a princess. Was this the way Wildflower felt, when she visited her home court?
At the council hall there was already a group of people. It was a chamber of considerable size, with many ladies in attendance, each finely garbed. Lynne realized that they must be the wives or girlfriends of the nobles, having no part in governance, but there for decorative purpose. All eyes seemed to fix on Lynne as she entered on the arm of the king. But by this time she was largely inured to embarrassment. She thought she should let go of Louis’s arm, but wasn’t sure, so she held on, trusting that he would tell her when.
Louis greeted several courtiers by name. Lynne heard the names, but they meant nothing to her. Until they stood before a stout, bejeweled man with a young man at his side. The young man seemed ill at ease.
“And this is Lynne, who will be traveling to New France with Captain Ittai,” Louis said, straightening his elbow so that her hand slid down and away. “Lynne, this is Jacques.”
This was the one! Lynne smiled at the youth. “Hello.” It seemed inadequate, but was all she could think of.
“Tonight at the ball, perhaps you will dance with her,” the king said to Jacques. His tone was polite, but Lynne realized that it was an order. She saw both the elder man and the younger one stiffen, almost imperceptibly; they thought the king was trying to embarrass them. She was suddenly glad that Louis had forbidden the practice of dueling, because otherwise someone might have had such a notion. But she was learning the way of court intrigue, and allowed none of her thoughts to cross her face. She just made sure she would recognize Jacques when she saw him next time.
Then the king turned away, leaving Lynne standing there before the angry courtier and his son. She had no idea what to do, so stepped back, hoping to get out of sight.
The attention of the room followed the king, so in a moment Lynne was suitably anonymous. The king took his seat, and the courtiers began a discussion of a technical matter of governance that was beyond Lynne’s comprehension. Oh, she could have followed it if she had cared to put her mind to it, but what was the point? So she let it slide by her. Pierre Boucher was part of the group, as was Captain Ittai; they were surely waiting their turn for the king’s attention. The ladies around the chamber began to converse with each other, quietly, so as not to interrupt the main business. Every so often one would turn an appraising glance in Lynne’s direction. They were discreet, but she felt naked. Could she return to the dance class? She was afraid it might be a breach of court etiquette to depart after the king had brought her here.
“So the king threatens to humiliate the opposition’s clumsy son,” a lady murmured loud enough to be heard. “By having a foreign darling do it.”
Lynne suffered a flash of utter rage. The tone and the implication were as clear as the words. She was being damned along with Jacques. In that moment she resolved to see that the youth suffered no shame at all because of her. In fact, in a perverse wash of feeling, she suddenly liked Jacques, because of what she knew he was suffering at the court. How well she understood that sort of prejudice! Just because a person had some physical infirmity—
Then Hugh and Annette appeared, and Jessamine, so it seemed the dance class was over. Lynne walked across the chamber to join them, relieved to find familiar faces.
But before they could settle into the background, a child entered the chamber. It was a girl, perhaps five years old, well dressed; she was probably the daughter of a noble who had lost track of her mother. She carried a small piece of parchment.
The eyes of the ladies of the court turned to this new arrival. Lynne saw more than one pair of eyes roll expressively; it seemed this child was mischief. But no one went to take the child in hand, to usher her out, which indicated that she was of royal birth.
The girl oriented on Hugh. “There you are, musician!” she exclaimed happily as she dashed up to him. “I have composed a melody. Play it for me!”
The bright, high voice cut through the murmur of the court. Now all the ladies were watching, some with masked smirks, enjoying the royal embarrassment. The king himself paused, glancing toward the sound. Lynne saw a fleeting frown cross his face; evidently he, too, recognized the child.
Hugh hesitated, then glanced at Louis. The king made a tiny nod. So Hugh took the parchment, read it, and smiled. “Of course,” he said. He gave the parchment to Annette, and lifted his flute as the child waited expectantly.
The melody was simple, brief, and rather crude, as might be expected from a child. The masks were coming off the smirks; someone’s parents were being royally embarrassed. Lynne saw the king frown again; apparently the embarrassment attached to him, too, peripherally. Maybe this was one of his love-children. Maybe this awkwardness would somehow solidify the opposition to the New France petition. Lynne wished she could do something, but she had no idea what.
Hugh paused, then spoke. “But this is only the theme,” he said. “Now we must embellish it.”
He played again. This time the melody was recognizable, but there were added notes that filled it out, making it stronger and more consistent. The child clapped her little hands, delighted. Hugh was an expert musician, and he was making the melody into something significant.
In a moment that rendition, too, was done. But Hugh was not. “Now let’s give it full play,” he said. “I think this is properly a dance piece.”
He played the melody a third time, and now it had the sprightly cadence of a dance. It was lovely, and it invited feet to move. The little girl began to dance, in her fashion, enjoying it.
Annette joined her, smiling, doing a variant of the minuet. Suddenly what had been, perhaps, a joke became lovely: the woman and the girl stepping around each other in the stately manner of the dance.
Lynne saw Louis nod appreciatively. The embarrassment of the situation was fading, thanks to the courtesy of the musician and the dancer.
Lynne had a sudden notion. She crossed the chamber to approach the club-footed youth. “Dance with me, Jacques,” she said, flashing him a winning smile.
He looked like a trapped animal. “You mock me!” he muttered.
He didn’t know. “No. Let me show you something.” She caught his left hand with her right, and drew the sullen youth to an alcove. Sheltered by that, she had him face toward the wall beside her. Then she drew off the specially tailored five-fingered glove on her left hand. It was cunningly designed to mask the extra breadth of one of the fingers, so that two of hers could fit within it. “Believe me, I wouldn’t mock you,” she said, wiggling her fingers. “Please do not tell.”
He stared. “But you’re so pretty!” he protested.
“And you are handsome. Come—the dance is simple, and you will not have to move much. I know you can do it.” She pulled her glove back on and drew him from the alcove.
He seemed
dazed. Then he took her hand. “Very small steps, slow,” she said. “Then turn me.” She lifted his hand and turned under it.
He nodded. He could do it, and the smallness of the motions masked his incapacity of the foot. He understood how to dance, and adapted readily to this variation. All he needed was a supportive partner.
They moved out on to the main floor, dancing with increasing competence. Lynne saw that courtiers and ladies alike were staring, astonished by this sight. “They think I showed you something else,” she said, giggling.
Jacques laughed. “I won’t tell.”
Now others were joining the dance, somewhat in the manner of the dancing class. Lynne realized that Louis himself had left the meeting and chosen a partner; that was why everyone was suddenly doing it. What had been an embarrassment had become an occasion.
Then, after a glance from the king, Hugh brought the music to a halt. “Delightful piece,” Louis said. “You must play it at the ball tonight.” He glanced at the child. “And you must go tell your mother how well you have done as a composer.”
The child ran off. The king turned back to the meeting. The interruption was done.
But Lynne remained with Jacques. “You did beautifully,” she said.
“I did, didn’t I!” he agreed, amazed. “Because of you.”
“The king said you were a good man.”
“The king is just trying to get support for the New France project.”
“Yes; of course. That’s why he introduced me to you.”
“And now you will go there, and I will never see you again.”
She glanced at him. “Would you like to see me again?”
“Yes. You understand.”
“I understand,” she agreed. “Could you come too?”
He was surprised. “To New France? How could I?”
“It is a hard trip of three or four months across the sea, and a difficult, frontier life, with many dangers,” she said. “But a man can use an axe, or a gun, or a spade. I understand there is a fortune to be made in the fur trade. He doesn’t have to run or dance.”
He considered, amazed at the prospect. “With you?”
“Well, I hardly know you,” she demurred. “But why don’t we get better acquainted, and see?”
Then she leaned forward and kissed him, lightly. She had a feeling that this would work out.
Louis XIV authorized 100 troops and 200 indentured laborers to join Boucher on his return trip to Quebec in 1662. This was small, but represented a compromise with the conflicting forces of the court. Though the for-tune of France in the New World was less than that of England and Spain, the French presence in Quebec remains significant today, and French is one of the official languages of the region.
The little dance, the minuet, became quite popular in all the courts of Europe, and remains a staple of the dance form today.
Chapter 18
MAGINOT
World War I devastated Europe. France suffered horrible casualties: 73 percent of her total forces mobilized, including almost two million men dead or missing. France was on the winning side, but it was a Pyrrhic victory; another such victory would finish her as a nation. Yet another such war was already threatening, as Nazi Germany gained strength and brutality. With manpower at a premium, France’s military strategists turned away from the idea of aggressive response and counterattack. They believed that the key to national defense should be a heavily fortified border, and “battlefields prepared in peacetime.” The French experience with Verdun in World War I had satisfied the leaders that a strong line of trenches and permanent fortifications could be defended indefinitely against any odds. They were, of course, preparing to fight the last war again, a classic error of the military mind. But it did seem to be the best choice at the time. Thus they built the Maginot Line.
Actually the, Maginot Line could have served its purpose well, had it been fully implemented. But as with the Chinese Wall, its builders suffered from insufficient funds, and politics got in the way. For example, it covered the border France had with Germany, but was not extended to the sea, because Belgium was an ally, with its own defensive line, and it would not look good to build such fortifications along that border. Besides, they decided, the forested Ardennes region through which German forces would have to pass was virtually impenetrable. A few blockhouses and some ready forces would pinch off any invaders as they emerged from the forests. In retrospect this was sheer folly; the Germans simply forged through with tanks and aircraft, and thus avoided the Maginot Line in much the manner the Mongols avoided the Chinese Wall. But hindsight is a cheap shot; at the time it seemed reasonable. At the time the line was designed, both armor and air force were considered to be curiosities rather than strategic weapons. No country in the world had formed an armored brigade or an offensively effective air force. Even so, had the line been completed as originally envisioned, it well might have repelled the Germans, because their costs in penetrating it would have weakened them too much for the conquest of the remainder of France. Actually they did penetrate it—but that was after its purpose had become moot because of the Belgian bypass.
So what was the Maginot Line actually like? It was activated once, before the war. In March 1936 Adolf Hitler moved German troops into the Rhineland, violating the demilitarization of the region agreed by treaty. France, in response, ordered a full mobilization of its defensive perimeter. The Maginot Line was fully manned for the first time.
SAM WAS LOADING AMMUNITION ONTO a railroad car when he got the call. “Sam—your brother is on the phone.”
That would be Ned. There were those who thought Sam should be resentful of the fact that his little brother was an officer while he was an enlisted man, but Sam could have been an officer if he wanted command. He preferred to exercise his muscles and leave the management to others. Ned had the mind for tactics and strategy, so was an officer. His only problem qualifying had been his German wife, Wild-flower, who the officials suspected was potentially disloyal. But she had finally been cleared, and he was doing well. Sam was glad. After all, his own wife, Snow, was Austrian. What counted was not a person’s origin, but her loyalty to family and nation.
He picked up the receiver. “Sam here.”
“Ned. I have a problem. I brought Bry in to see his friend Jacques, but there’s a problem down the line and I have to investigate it. Can you take Bry instead?”
“Bry shouldn’t be here during an active alert!” Sam protested. “Don’t you know that? He’s underage.”
“Officer’s prerogative. If it comes to war, we could have women and children manning our bulwarks, so they had better be prepared. Bry’s sixteen, old enough to learn the way of it. But I have to go to a region not cleared for civilians. So if you could take him on to Jacques—”
Something was going on. Ned wouldn’t have called him about a routine thing that he could have assigned any private to do. “Where are you?”
“At the command post nearest your block. I’ll wait for you.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam said, with the faintest edge. How could Ned have brought Bry in during this activation, when there were bound to be emergencies?
He checked with his subaltern, who took his word; that was an advantage of being reliable. If his brother the captain needed him, he was available.
He rode the ammunition train down the tunnel to the main depot, then reported to the personnel section. There was Ned, quite striking in his uniform, and his younger sibling.
Sam’s face froze. It wasn’t Bry—it was Lynn! She had a heavy hat over her bound hair, and wore male coveralls and shoes, but he had no problem distinguishing his brothers from his sisters. Suddenly he knew why Ned had called him. If word got out that there was a girl here…
“Sam will get you there, Bry,” Ned said. “I must be on my way.” He nodded to Sam, and walked away.
“Well, Bry,” Sam said, slowly shaking his head. “How did you ever talk Ned into this?”
“Wildflower did it,”
Lynn murmured.
Wildflower. Lynn’s closest friend, more sister than sister-in-law. Ned had taken time to notice her, thinking of her as a little sister, but once she had succeeded in making an impression on him, her slightest wish had become his command.
“And why did Wildflower do it?”
“I asked her.” Then, before he could question that, she added, “I haven’t seen Jacques in two weeks.”
Two weeks. And at her age, that was like two years. So, dying for romance, she had prevailed on her brilliant but in some ways soft-headed brother to bring her in to visit her boyfriend. New love was heedless of consequences. And now Sam was stuck with this treacherous chore.
“Snow sends her love,” Lynn added.
How could he be mad at her? Lynn had always had his number. She was such a small, pretty thing, in such need of protection because of her hand, that they all served her in their ways. She took advantage of that, and they all knew it, but it remained almost impossible to say no to her. She had reminded him of his own romance, kindled during a trip to Austria at the time when his first marriage was breaking up. Second love had proved to be better than first love. He didn’t like being separated from Snow, but because she was his wife, he did get leave time to be with her. Lynn and Jacques lacked that avenue, being merely in love.
“This way,” he said gruffly.
“Thank you, Sam.” She wasn’t fooled; she knew he was glad of her company despite the circumstance. Family members always liked to be together, whatever the circumstance; they watched out for each other.
Another ammunition train was going out. Sam waved to the diesel engineer, and the man slowed the engine enough to let them hop on to a car. Cooperation was essential, in order to get the confusions straightened and the work done. Sam lifted Lynn up onto a rack of shells, then stood beside her.