Chapter 3: Place Dauphine
Place Dauphine, Paris. December 1645.
When Freyja first mentioned her intention to buy a house in the Place Dauphine, Philippe had resisted the notion. What was the point of having a separate house when the Hotel de Clermont in the Place Royale was a palace large enough to hold all their family and retainers and was sumptuous enough to entertain kings?
But Freyja had become enamored with the commedia dell'arte in Italy and enjoyed having a residence where actors and artists of all descriptions could mingle freely. Within the safe confines of her house, she was free to dress in men's garments and conduct parties suited to her taste. As long as she didn't cause a scandal, Philippe didn't interfere.
He would now take advantage of her independent lifestyle. The Place Dauphine was at the tip of the Ile de la Cité, in the middle of the Seine. The Louvre and Tuileries Palace were close by. Freyja had chosen the location to be near the theaters which were springing up throughout the area. She didn't yet realize how well-suited it would be for his plans.
Although Freyja's house was close to the Hotel de Clermont, Ysabeau never arrived unannounced. She was sensitive to the actors and artists who often lodged there. Matthew rarely spent time in Paris, and Baldwin considered Freyja's lifestyle too scandalous to be worthy of a visit.
Philippe would be able to see his daughter without fear of being overheard by other members of the family. And for Jack, it would be a safe refuge. Even if other Clermonts did visit, Jack's scent would be one of so many that they wouldn't attribute a special significance to it. In any case, Philippe would impress upon Freyja the necessity of Jack never meeting any other members of the family.
Only one small detail needed to be arranged. He had to supply Freyja with sufficient information to secure her agreement without laying bare the secrets necessitating the arrangement. If he phrased it correctly, she'd relish the assignment.
When Philippe arrived at Freyja's home, he found her dressed as a cavalier, wearing a paned doublet and breeches of plum silk. The turned-over tops of her boots revealed a midnight blue lining that matched the ribbons tied to her ringlets. Philippe sighed. Not a word of mockery would he utter.
"Far, such an unexpected pleasure!" Freyja exclaimed, greeting him. "I was preparing to bemoan the dreariness of the day when you appeared." She smiled mischievously. "Care to fence?"
Freyja's skill with a sword surpassed that of many a mousquetaire. "You tempt me, Daughter. Perhaps later."
She eyed him shrewdly. "Business before pleasure? We best talk in the library where we'll be undisturbed."
Once the doors were closed in the wood-paneled chamber, Philippe canceled out the sounds of chatter and song wafting in from other areas of the townhouse to broach his request. "Your generosity as a patron to actors and artists is well-known. I'd like you to add one more to your collection—a young English manjasang. His skill with a paintbrush brought him to my attention."
She raised a brow as she took a seat at the walnut library table. "A rare attribute for one of us."
Philippe nodded. Manjasangs were typically warriors, diplomats, or adventurers. A few were scholars. An artist of Jack's ability was practically unique. "Not only an artist of exceptional ability but a musician. He plays the viol. For the past several decades he's been a member of the King's Players, performing mainly at court. He's also been employed by Inigo Jones to paint murals in the great houses of England."
She took a breath. "And that explains why he's coming to Paris. Neither occupation is available to him now. What is it you want me to do?"
"For many years, he has been a set of eyes and ears for me in the English court. I'd like him to be capable of performing the same function here. He speaks excellent French but is unfamiliar with our customs. To have any chance of working at court, he'll first need to be assimilated into the local artistic milieu."
A knowing smile flitted across her face. "I'd admired your knowledge of English diplomacy. An artist who can blend into the background at court makes a useful spy, but positions are few and highly sought after."
"I recognize it will take time. Our monarch is a seven-year-old child. His mother, the queen regent, is passionate about the arts as is Cardinal Mazarin. I have every confidence in your ability to facilitate the pup's integration."
She gave him a sharp look at his use of the term. "Just how old is your protégé?"
"He was twenty when he was reborn. That was about forty years ago."
"In other words, a virtual bébé!" She sighed deeply. "Please don't tell me you want me to be his maman!"
"Daughter, I'd never do that to you. Think of yourself as a taskmaster. He may need a strict hand. He has a history of scrapes and sneaking into areas where he's not allowed."
"You're obviously quite familiar with him," she commented blandly. Freyja knew better than to question him, but Philippe was torn over how much to reveal.
"I've taken a personal interest in him," Philippe acknowledged. "His name is Jean Blanchet. Under no circumstances are any of the other members of the de Clermont family to know anything about him. That particularly includes Ysabeau, Matthew, and Gallowglass. If that poses a problem, let me know now, and I'll proceed no further."
Freyja's face had grown unusually serious. She had to be wondering why he'd make such an unusual request. As far as he knew, Freyja and Diana had never met, and there was no reason for her to know about Jack's past.
"That shouldn't be a problem," she said. "At least, not on my part."
"Good, Pierre and Françoise are also aware of who he is. You may call on them for assistance."
She nodded her understanding and arched an eyebrow. "How about Jean? Does he know about our relationship?"
"He will soon. He is also fully aware of the need to keep himself away from any of the other de Clermonts."
"Is there anyone else he needs to be shielded from?" Freyja asked.
"Any of the d'Aurillacs. Aurora in particular. Jean has only met Aurora, but he understands Gerbert is even more dangerous. If you discover any of them displaying an interest in him, inform me immediately." Philippe hesitated a moment. He disliked mentioning it, but for Jack's sake it was important she understood. "Jean suffers from a rare form of bloodsickness. It is not blood rage although it has some similarities."
"How interesting. Does he become violent?" She looked, if anything, excited at the prospect.
"No, but in the grips of strong emotion, he may lose consciousness. Jean is never to feed off warmbloods."
"In other words, I should be gentle when I fence with him."
Philippe chuckled. "I have no desire for the pup's blood to stain your floors. Jean is no fencer, but he needs to be if he is to have any hope of surviving in Paris. You'll see to his training."
"Of course," Freyja said, giving a brief nod. "Anything else I should know?"
"He is never to form an attachment with a manjasang. That also he understands."
"The pauvre bébé! So, if he is to have any pleasure, he must disobey the laws of the Covenant."
"Don't remind me. Just don't play manjasang matchmaker with him."
She made a moue. "I'll force myself to restrain my activities."
Philippe didn't comment further on the subject. In that respect, he wasn't worried. Jack knew the dangers associated with mating with a manjasang. He would never willingly submit to anyone feeding off him.
#
The trip to Paris held echoes of Jack's first trip abroad. Over fifty years ago, he and Annie had traveled with Pierre to Prague to join Master and Mistress Roydon. That trip had also been in winter, but this time the cold didn't bother him. When they got off the boat, horses had been waiting for them, supplied by the efficient network of wearhs and warmbloods who worked for the de Clermonts. A cart would take the trunks of art supplies and music instruments Jack had brought. He and Pierre would ride ahead. Pierre was chafing to arrive in Paris without any further delay. Although he hadn't mentioned it to Jack while they were in London, Jack knew Philippe had virtually no tolerance for any delay in responding to his summons.
During the trip, Pierre filled Jack in on the other members of the de Clermont family so that if Jack should chance upon them, he'd know to avoid them. For the first time, Jack heard that Master Roydon had an older brother named Baldwin. He managed the de Clermont finances and was currently living in Amsterdam.
Louisa, the sister who'd attacked Mistress Roydon, was no longer alive. Two other sisters, Verin and Stasia, were currently in Italy. Then there was Freyja, the woman with whom Jack would be living. Pierre said she was the most like Philippe of all his children but declined to give any explanation of why he believed that was the case.
Tall and blonde like her maker? A skilled diplomat? Forceful personality? Expert wrestler? Jack could only speculate.
Pierre was much more forthcoming when it came to the situation at court. Jack knew little about the French monarchy. The only tidbits he'd acquired had been from courtier gossip during the years before Charles fled London. He was surprised to hear that the current king was a child of about the same age Jack was when he'd been rescued by the Roydons. Pierre told him the true reins of powers were held by Cardinal Mazarin. The Queen Regent, Anne of Austria, relied upon him as his trusted advisor. Both Anne and Mazarin were patrons of the arts. In other words, people Jack needed to learn as much as possible about.
How easy would it be to fit into French society? Jack knew several English artists and musicians who'd fled to Paris, but trying to obtain work from one of them would be an exercise in futility. Commissions only came from the top echelons, and Jack's access to them would depend largely on Freyja and Philippe's connections.
On a frost-shrouded morning, they cantered into Paris. Pierre had selected an inn on the south side of the Seine—what he called the Rive Gauche—to wait for Philippe. But first he took Jack on a tour of the city. Construction was everywhere, on a scale unimaginable by London standards. New bridges were being built across the Seine. Luxurious great houses for the nobility which Pierre called hotels particuliers were springing up around courtyards. The de Clermonts lived in one of the most magnificent on the Rive Droite. The scale of the Tuileries Palace had Jack gaping at it like he was a country rustic. A long gallery connected the palace to the older Louvre. Pierre said that artists and artisans were allowed to live on the lower floors of the gallery. Perhaps someday that would be his home.
The ground floor of the inn where they'd stay overnight was a tavern, and there Jack felt on much more familiar ground. The noise and revelry reminded him of the Dog and Whistle, with wine replacing ale as the beverage of choice. After they dumped their saddlebags in a room, they took their first baths after the long journey. The water in the metal tubs was cold, but one of the many advantages of being a wearh was that he no longer minded.
Pierre left Jack in the tavern while he rode off to inform Philippe they were in town. Jack sat in a corner, sipping a glass of red wine and listening to the cacophony of accents assaulting his ears. He could tell the speakers came from different regions but didn't know what they were. The serving wench was friendly, and he started up a conversation with her. He claimed to be newly arrived from the provinces, and quickly discovered he wasn't alone. Everyone, it seemed, was flocking to Paris, the land of opportunity.
Pierre returned without Philippe. Their sieur was away from his residence but Françoise explained that he would be back later in the day.
#
When Philippe arrived at the inn, he headed straight upstairs to the room Pierre had indicated. Philippe had not seen Jack for over two decades. His hair was longer, but he had the same slightly crooked innocent smile and hopeful air. His youth could play to his advantage in his future life.
"I expected you a week earlier," Philippe said, clasping elbows with him. "Why were you delayed?"
"It was unavoidable. A killer was targeting London's witches. I couldn't leave before he was found."
"Since you're here, I assume the matter has been resolved."
"Yes," Jack replied. "Thanks to Pierre and Father H."
"Andrew had ordered all the wearhs in his domain to patrol," Pierre confirmed. "It was pure coincidence that he and I found the killer. A wearh named Daniel Walker was responsible. We discovered he was acting under orders of Aurora Dandolo."
"Not only that," Jack added. "Walker was supporting the Witchfinder Matthew Hopkins. The man has been responsible for the deaths of hundreds of witches and warmbloods in England."
"And this was also under Aurora's direction?" Philippe asked.
"Aye." Jack swallowed. "I remember her asking me about witches during the days of our friendship. She claimed she wanted closer relations between them and us. Everything she told me was a lie."
The pup had learned a valuable lesson. He would be less gullible in the future. "She was undoubtedly acting for Gerbert." Philippe turned to Pierre. "I assume Daniel no longer poses a threat?"
"He attacked us," Pierre said with a shrug. "We had no choice. Both Andrew and I drank his blood to confirm his motivations. Daniel's goal was to drive a wedge between witches and wearhs in London, forcing witches to move outside Andrew's domain where they'd be unprotected."
A despicable scheme that Gerbert was fully capable of. Had he intended to make the killer appear to be suffering from blood rage? Witches were already familiar with the disease. If Philippe had heard about the murders, he might have feared Jack's blood sickness had evolved into a deadly phase, one that would have required immediate action.
Was Gerbert still searching for the Book of Life? Perhaps he'd hoped to drive Diana out into the open. If she'd remained in England and was still alive, she would have been in her eighties, an easy target for Gerbert. The incident proved beyond a doubt the wisdom of moving Jack to Paris. Daniel was no longer a threat but Gerbert could send another spy or assassin.
Philippe turned to Jack. "I will consult with Andrew. If he needs additional help, I'll supply it. You will remain in Paris. Your new name is Jean Blanchet."
"Blanchet," Jack repeated, a smile forming. Philippe thought he'd appreciate the contrast between Blackfriars and a surname derived from the French word for white.
"You will be staying with my daughter, Freyja. She goes by the name of Fanny de Lapalisse." Philippe noticed Jack's startled look when he said Fanny. How much had Bryn told him about her? Did Bryn know that the manjasang she knew as Fanny was a de Clermont? Philippe suspected Freyja would eventually discover the truth about Jack's connection to Bryn. Solving that mystery was a present he was giving to his daughter.
"Freyja knows nothing about your connection to Matthew," Philippe continued. "Nor is she aware of Diana's importance to your life, and that's the way it must remain. But Freyja is fully informed about the danger posed by Gerbert and his family. She has friendly relations with witches. On that account, you can rest easy. My daughter has instructions to coach you on how to blend into Paris society. Pierre and Françoise are often at her hotel. If you need to get word to me, use one of them as your intermediary."
"Do you have any tasks for me?" Jack asked.
Philippe appreciated that Jack realized he would be put to use. "They will come later. Freyja will find commissions and jobs for you once she deems you're ready."
#
Jack still found it difficult not to be intimidated by Philippe. He saw him so seldom. This was the first time in nearly twenty years. Who wouldn't feel inferior in his presence? So instead of taking the risk of annoying him with improper questions, he simply thanked him. He now had a patron, actually two if he counted Freyja.
Jack didn't need to worry about the Normans. Father H had assured them all the creatures in his domain would be even more tightly watched and protected. Leonard promised he'd visit him in Paris once Inigo's health was restored. In the meantime, Jack was eager to embark on his new life.
As soon as Philippe left, he and Pierre rode to what would be his home. The house was in the Place Dauphine on the western tip of the Ile de la Cité. The cathedral of Notre-Dame which dominated the island was a comforting presence. It was about the same distance from Freyja's house that St. Paul's was from Father H's bell tower.
But nothing in London had prepared Jack for Freyja de Clermont. She was the tallest woman he'd ever met—with a height almost equal to Philippe. Freyja was clad in a cavalier costume of the finest silks such as Charles's courtiers wore before the war began. With her pale ivory skin and blond hair curled into tight ringlets, she could be a goddess from the North come to life.
Jack made a low bow when Pierre presented him. "Your ladyship, I'm honored." He'd been speaking French with Pierre ever since leaving London. Using the language now came naturally.
"So you're Jean Blanchet," she said, studying him to the extent Jack wished his clothes weren't so worn.
Then she smiled, and the warmth filled the room. "You are very welcome. You must call me Fanny. Everyone in this house does. There is no formality here."
Jack was more than ever convinced this was Bryn's Parisian friend. How many wearhs in Paris could be named Fanny? And the glowing terms with which Bryn described her fit her perfectly. So far Jack hadn't detected Bryn's scent but she'd spent the past few years in Italy. Any lingering fragrance could have faded long ago.
"Take a seat," Fanny said. "You'll be living here. We should get better acquainted. I'm told you're an artist. Let's start there."
As Jack proceeded to explain the projects he'd carried out for Inigo, the initial awkwardness soon passed. Although Jack had never been to Italy, he'd been able to study the paintings in the king's collection, and soon they were chatting about Caravaggio and Rubens. Jack wasn't familiar with Nicolas Poussin, but Fanny regarded him highly and described his classical style in knowledgeable detail.
Here was a patron who understood art! His heart raced at the joy of being able to focus on painting once more. But that wouldn't be the only area he'd work on.
"I've been informed your swordsmanship is lacking," she said. Without waiting for a response, she declared, "That will soon change. I shall be your instructor."
Jack swallowed hard. Clad as she was, he didn't doubt her skill. But would she be as challenging an instructor as Philippe? He could be in for a world of hurt. "I'm grateful for your offer, but I wouldn't want to impose."
She gave him a smile that had more than a trace of devilry in it. "You're not. In any case, you have no choice. The order came from someone who expects his instructions to be carried out fully." She raised a brow. "You wouldn't want to disappoint my father."
Jack kept his sigh to himself. This was Philippe's doing. He'd remembered Jack's lack of ability. In England it wasn't a problem. Only nobles were expected to be skilled fencers. Did everyone in France carry a sword?
"In exchange for the lessons," she continued. "I'd like you to paint a mural for my new dining room. Ah, I can see by the width of your smile, this is a task more to your liking. Your murals come highly recommended. I'd like to judge for myself."
The chance to paint again made the risks associated with swordplay fade into the background. He hadn't had a commission in over five years. The dining room was of noble proportions. Fanny wanted a hunting scene on one wall. If she was pleased with the work, she'd allow him to work on the other walls.
Jack quickly settled into a comfortable routine. Fanny let several artists, musicians, and actors stay at her home. Through his conversations with them, he quickly became familiar with the latest trends. He attended theater productions as often as possible. The opera was gaining in popularity. Perhaps one day he'd be able to join an orchestra. Although he was as bad at fencing as he feared, Fanny made a game of it. They practiced in a long gallery filled with paintings. How could he possibly pay attention to fencing when he'd rather look at the art?
And one mystery was solved. The room where Jack kept his painting supplies and music instruments held the whiff of Bryn. Her distinctive lavender and chamomile scent provided him with a sense of home in a foreign land.
During the day he was often left alone to paint while the others went about their various activities. One such morning, he took a break from working on the mural to play the viol. The sun was streaming into the salon from the windows. He could close his eyes and imagine he was back at Whitehall, performing at court.
As he wove variations on an English folk melody, a familiar scent wafted in. Bryn dashed into the chamber a second later. "I'd recognize your playing anywhere!" she exclaimed, rushing over to crush him in a hug.
"Bet you didn't expect to see Jean Blanchet here!"
Her eyes flashed recognition of his new name "When did you arrive in Paris?"
"In early December. My patron introduced me to Fanny." Bryn would know he meant Philippe. "She's kindly allowed me to stay here while I paint a mural for her. Did you travel here from Rome?"
She nodded. "I've been living there for the past ten years." She looked around. "You came alone. No Lobero?"
"Nah, I haven't stayed in one place long enough to own a dog." He flicked a glance toward the staircase, a warning to Bryn to be mindful of sensitive wearh hearing. "Let's go outside."
#
Freyja stood motionless at the top of the stairs, her delight at Bryn's return heightened by curiosity. The familiarity with which she greeted Jean and her knowledge of his musicianship were a shock. Freyja's command of English was excellent and what she heard gave her pause.
Bryn had mentioned acting as a big sister to a boy named Jack who lived in London. Jean's true name could easily be Jack. Philippe usually bestowed alliterative alternative names to lessen the risk of mistakes. Freyja remembered a painting she'd seen in Venice. Her friend Blanche Rayford mentioned that her portrait had been painted by a young English manjasang named Jack. She described him as a blond infant whose demeanor and music had charmed her. How many blond English manjasangs were both a musician and an artist? The combination was so rare that Jean was undoubtedly the same person.
Freyja had deepened her relationship with Bryn at the turn of the century and helped her find a Hungarian guard dog. Bryn said the puppy was for a dear friend who'd lost his dog and was having a difficult time after being reborn. Fanny had been struck by her insistence on the breed which was practically unknown in France. She'd thought at the time that it was a remarkable coincidence that Bryn wanted the same type of dog that the Emperor Rudolf had bestowed upon a witch.
The witch was named Diana. There'd been rumors she was in a relationship with Matthew. Freyja thought back on every snippet she could remember. Her father had agreed that the rumors couldn't be accurate but he'd ordered her to discover everything she could about them. The couple had been accompanied by two children. The boy was seven or eight years old. Then there was the dog. The emperor had named him Lobero—Spanish for "wolf hunter."
Could Jack be the same person? Bryn said she'd given him his first music lessons and had been friends with him for years. The boy who'd accompanied the witch in Hungary would have been around nineteen or twenty at the time she said her friend was reborn.
Bryn seldom indulged in public displays of affection. Who else but her "little brother" could have inspired her to act as she had?
But if Freyja's surmises were correct, what was her father's connection? From the start, she'd been surprised by the personal interest he took in a manjasang artist. If this artist was somehow linked to Matthew, it would explain why her father had been so insistent that Matthew not come into contact with Jean. But that left an even greater mystery behind. Were the rumors about the witch also true?
Why couldn't Matthew know about the boy? It would have been simple for him to refute the rumors about Prague but Philippe had ordered her to never mention anything about it to her stepbrother.
Jean or Jack, just who are you? I can't ask Father, but you must be valued indeed for him to be so concerned about your well-being.
She couldn't recall a time when her father had shown such care for anyone outside of the family. She would do the same, biding her time till he enlightened her about the connection.
#
Once more, Jack had Bryn to hunt with. During their forays into the woodlands surrounding Paris, he caught her up on the incidents in England. Bryn had learned of Fanny's true identity over a decade ago, but no one else living in the house appeared to know.
It was an exciting time for the theater in France. Young playwrights showed great promise. Bryn was particularly enthusiastic about Moliere and Corneille. She predicted a blossoming for the theater similar to what had occurred in England with Shakespeare. The demand for musicians was high, and Bryn believed she'd be able to use her connections to secure Jack a position in the musician troupes. Coupling that work with painting commissions, his future looked brighter than ever before.
Fanny wouldn't be in Paris to celebrate the Yuletide holiday, but Bryn and Jack would spend it together. Bryn and Fanny were still lovers, but Bryn didn't know if any of the other de Clermonts knew about their liaison.
The news from London was also promising. Father H had enforced tighter measures to provide security to his flock. The war raging in the countryside had minimal impact on London. Jack would be able to embark upon his new life with a clear conscience.
Notes: In Time's Convert, Marcus remarked that Philippe conducted French affairs as though they were an orchestra, and had a spy stationed on every corner in Paris. It's become clear that Philippe intends for Jack to be one of those spies. In my next story, Players' Drift, we'll check in on Jack to see how it's working out. That story is set in 1666 and parts of it will take place in the court of a young Louis XIV. I'll post Players' Drift in late 2021.
I've been publishing the Six-Crossed Knot stories as collections on Wattpad. Dream's Shadow covers Jack's youth through Walking Shadows when he becomes a vampire. Lion's Gambit includes the subsequent stories through Winter's Rages. With Players' Drift, I'll start the third collection. If you're ever interested in what my current writing projects are, I've started posting monthly notes on the blog I share with Penna Nomen, my writing partner.
Thanks for reading!