Chapter 1: Love Makes the Painter
Place Dauphine, Paris. July 1666.
This is one painting that will never be displayed publicly—not if Philippe has his way. And when doesn't he?
Jack stood back to study the portrait. When Philippe's daughter—and Jack's patron—Freyja de Clermont requested he paint her, he expected she'd select a pose similar to the way the ladies at court liked to be portrayed. She'd be seated in an ornately carved gilt chair in a palace. She'd wear an elegant gown of costly silk with her hair elaborately coiffed. But he should have realized that Freyja, who was anything but conventional, would choose otherwise.
Carrying out her directive, he'd painted her on horseback, not riding sidesaddle but on top of a rearing stallion as if she were a man. Her long blond hair was elaborately curled in the style of men's wigs. She wore a broad-rimmed plumed hat and an extravagantly slashed doublet with ruffles and bows. He'd painted the horse eyeing her magnificence as if he too was dazzled. In the distance was the de Clermont ancestral home of Sept-Tours. Jack had never seen it but Freyja had provided engravings to use for reference.
Freyja was delighted with the result. As for her father . . . Jack didn't think Philippe had seen it yet.
At the moment, the only others in Freyja's townhouse were servants. Midday during the week, the artists, musicians, and actors who lived there were away on jobs. Normally, he would be as well. Painting in the large light-filled salon was a rare pleasure.
When he picked up his palette to resume work, he caught the distinctive scent of raisins and English oak. By the time he spun around, Leonard was already in the room.
"Hail and well met!" Leonard exclaimed, a broad smile on his face.
He froze for a moment in disbelief at the unexpected sight. Leonard hadn't mentioned he was coming. Had he always been this handsome? Several years had passed since they'd seen each other—the longest they'd ever gone. For Leonard, though, the time wouldn't seem very long. Wearhs traditionally disappeared to a new location for decades.
Jack forced himself to stop ogling him before he embarrassed himself. "I was beginning to worry I'd forget how to speak English," he said, trying to adopt Leonard's casual manner. "Bryn only speaks French now."
"As she should to Jean le Blonde," Leonard said as he tousled his hair. Philippe had given him the name of Jean Blanchet upon his relocation to Paris in 1645. Blond hair wasn't very common in France. His musician friends had promptly given him the nickname.
Leonard's eyes slanted to the doorway as he murmured, "Can we speak freely?"
Jack nodded. "Only the servants are here, and none of them speak English. How's the theater world in London?"
"Busier than ever, even with the plague." Leonard sprawled on the Savonnerie carpet and Jack joined him.
"Bryn's told me about the comedies," Jack said. "She said the more risqué, the better!"
"That's because our merry monarch is leading the way. Once Charles assumed the throne in 1660, the theater was reborn. It grows in popularity daily." Leonard buffed his nails on his doublet. "You're looking at one of the lead musicians in the King's Company."
"Congratulations!" The King's Company had replaced their former troupe, the King's Men, after the Restoration. "What instrument do you play?" Leonard used to play the lute, but it had declined in popularity in England. The new emphasis was on a bright, loud, orchestral sound.
"The violin. All those hours of practice in Venice paid off. There's more music than ever in the plays. It's probably due to the popularity of operas. Often I perform more than many of the actors."
"I'm with a company now too," Jack said. "I joined Molière's troupe a few years ago. Bryn helped me get on. I don't have as many opportunities to play, but the work suits me. The musicians stay in the background, and Molière's often on tour in the countryside." He shrugged as his words trailed off. He knew further explanations were unnecessary. Leonard handled the problem of never aging by relocating to Italy, alternating between Rome, Venice, and Florence. Philippe insisted Jack stay in France, but he spent much of his time in the provinces. And thanks to Freyja and Philippe's patronage, work was never difficult to come by.
Leonard shot him a sharp look. "Does Molière suspect anything?"
"He doesn't suspect. He already knows. He's a daemon as well as a close friend of Freyja's. He appreciates the help she's provided to his career."
Leonard reclined back on his elbows. "I envy your ability to work for Molière. Our English dramatists can't compare with his wit. Does he want you to play the cello?"
"No, in France the viola da gamba is still king. Particularly, the bass viol. Ladies at court have been known to swoon when they hear me in performance."
"No!"
"It's happened twice. The bass viol is gaining in popularity as a solo instrument. More and more women are learning to play it along with the harp."
Leonard chuckled. "Now I know why you're so passionate about it. It's not the instrument. It's the women."
"Hey, that doesn't hurt. How many hearts did you break in Venice?" Jack was glad to bury his initial unsettled thoughts in comfortable teasing.
"About as many as you, I suspect," Leonard said with a laugh. "Are you currently in a Molière production?"
"I will be soon. He has a new play. The title is Love Makes the Painter."
Leonard rolled his eyes. "Now I know you're putting me on."
"I can show you the script. I have it upstairs."
"The title reminds me of the stories we used to invent during breaks from Will Shakespeare's plays," Leonard said. "Do you remember Merry Lads of Blackfriars?"
"How could I forget! I think Midsummer Night's Folly was my favorite. You're being kind to include me, but those were all your brilliant ideas. Did you ever write them down?"
"Nay, they weren't that good."
"To me they were. God's truth, I've missed you." Jack stopped abruptly. Would Leonard get the wrong idea? Or was it the right idea? "Your stories, our escapades," he hastened to add.
Leonard stretched out his hand and stroked his cheek. "I've missed you too." His expression transformed into mock severity. "So did Molière write this play about your past? Just how much does he know about you?"
Jack breathed easier when Leonard switched topics, probably to save him further embarrassment. "Fortunately, next to nothing. And just so you don't get any ideas, the play is also called The Sicilian. It's a comedy-ballet. We're to perform it before the king next month at the chateau in Saint-Germain-en-Laye."
Leonard gave an appreciative nod. "Impressive. I hear the king loves to dance. Will His Majesty have a role?"
"I haven't heard. Bryn might know. She's been giving several of the ladies at court dancing lessons. They hope to impress the king with their fancy footwork."
"Some things never change," Leonard said, snorting. "The masques we used to perform are now called plays but the motivations are still the same. Courtiers flock to them to gain favor."
"And exchange confidences." Sniffing out court intrigues was Jack's primary assignment. His skill had increased thanks to Freyja's guidance. Between royal performances and working on murals at royal palaces, he was in a position to overhear secrets which she then passed on to Philippe. "How long will you be able to stay?"
"The new season in London starts in a couple of months. Till then I'm free to do what I please. I thought I might visit some of those broken hearts in Venice you reminded me of."
"Or you could stay in Paris," Jack suggested hopefully, not that it mattered if Leonard wanted to visit former lovers. Or it shouldn't matter. Why were his emotions suddenly so chaotic? "Freyja would probably let you live here. Lully is composing the music for the new play. He's recruiting additional musicians."
Leonard frowned. "Has Lully caused any problems for you? I've heard he often flirts with his musicians. His appetite for both men and women is well-known."
"True, but it hasn't affected his standing with the king. Louis dotes on him. They've been close friends for over ten years. Especially in those early years they often danced together. It's thanks to Lully that the ballet has been rolled into Molière's plays."
Leonard scanned his face. "You didn't answer my question. Have you had any difficulty?"
"Only at first," Jack admitted, hoping Leonard didn't press him. "Freyja coached me on how to maintain his favor while keeping a distance. Lully is sufficiently discreet that it hasn't caused issues at court. Louis is tolerant because of his brother."
"It's hard to believe that in Catholic France the Duke of Orléans can get away with wearing women's dresses."
Jack shrugged. "Louis's rule is absolute, and he loves his brother."
Leonard looked up at his portrait of Freyja. "She and the Duke make quite a couple."
"He has an excellent reputation on the battlefield, but I wager Freyja would outshine him."
Leonard stood up to study the painting more closely. "Where's the knot?"
For over forty years, Jack had been incorporating intricate knots in his paintings as a hidden homage to Mistress Roydon. He never signed his paintings, but this was a substitute and to him, much more meaningful. "Look at the rosette of ribbons over her boot."
Leonard grinned. "Well played! Will anyone outside of Freyja's closest friends and family ever get to see this?"
"Just Le Brun. Freyja was so pleased with it, she had him over. He told me he'd like to use a similar pose for the king."
"The foremost painter of France wants to copy you? And you toss it off as 'Just Le Brun?' " Leonard clapped him on the back. "I'd be crowing the news from the rooftops!"
"It's the composition he likes, not my technique," Jack pointed out, trying to be nonchalant, but Leonard wouldn't be fooled. Jack had worked in Le Brun's workshop for five years. He divided his time between the palaces at Vaux-le-Vicomte and Saint-Germain-en-Laye. Eventually, he hoped to help paint the grand murals that were being designed for Versailles. The king had authorized three new wings but only a few of the rooms were ready for painting.
He'd have no shortage of work for the foreseeable future. In addition, Philippe's demands for information and gossip continued unabated. Freyja or Pierre acted as the intermediary for his instructions.
When Jack moved to France, he'd hoped to see his sieur more frequently, but more often than not, years passed between visits. He never received advance notice, and Philippe would only stay for a few minutes at a time. The visits served as a good reminder of how low his status was. The evenings they'd spent together in the crypt of the bell tower in London were now distant memories. Father H and Pierre had been there too. Back then, Philippe seemed like a member of the family.
Jack saw more of Freyja, but she too was frequently away. She'd stay in Paris for a month and then take off, sometimes for years. Bryn frequently went with her. Not that Jack was complaining. How could he? In Freyja's eyes, he was far below her station. Whenever he saw Pierre or Françoise, he couldn't bring up any of the incidents of the past. Being forced to conceal the warm bond they'd shared in London at the Hart and Crown still rankled.
Some might find it odd that he could slip seamlessly between being an artist and a musician, but he'd learned that he was invisible to practically everyone at court. He would work on a mural for weeks and none of the courtiers would recognize him even though they'd often seen him at work. Court gossip and state secrets were often discussed openly as if he weren't there.
When playing in Molière's troupe, he was in the shadows with the other musicians and ignored by the audience. The same thing happened no matter if he played in Lully's orchestra or with a small ensemble. That anonymity was what Philippe prized and what made Jack useful.
When would he be able to return to London? He hadn't seen Father H for twenty years. Leonard said he was well but the same couldn't be said for his other friends. Susanna Norman passed away a couple of years after he left for France. Her son John died several years ago. His wife Annick was still alive but frail with likely only a few years left before her time would come.
Although Jack's life crept forward at a snail's pace, his friends vanished in the blink of an eye.
"Hey, I lost you," Leonard said. "Is anything troubling you?"
"Not really." Jack shrugged and added, "You're reminding me of how much I miss London."
"There's an easy solution. I don't have to go to Italy. We could return to London together. Surely you can leave for a few months without angering Philippe. You don't have to work but if you want to, I could probably get you on with the King's Men." He chuckled. "I could introduce you as the virtuoso gambist Jean le Blonde from Louis's court. That's bound to impress them!"
"Every time I've asked, Philippe has turned down my request," Jack confided gloomily.
"I can understand why he might have been reluctant during the Commonwealth, but with Charles's position on the throne secure, England is a changed country. Philippe has no good reason to refuse. If he wants your presence to be a secret, you don't need to work. I have plenty of money for both of us."
Leonard was an expert cutpurse whose skill improved with each passing year. But then so had his. Yet another skill that had been useful for Philippe.
Leonard nudged him. "Don't tell me you haven't helped spread the wealth? All those courtiers who have more gold than they know what to do with."
"Philippe frowns on thievery"—Jack smiled—"except when the cause warrants it."
Leonard snorted. "Exactly! And we have to keep in practice. Don't soldiers constantly drill? It's our sacred duty to keep our skills razor-sharp for God and country." He sat up, his face growing even more animated. "Several of the French card games have taken England by storm. Charles became adept at them during his exile, and gambling clubs are sprouting up everywhere. Are there any clubs you could get me into?"
"I know of a couple, but be careful if you play with Freyja. I've given up trying to beat her."
#
Baldwin slapped his cards onto the table in frustration and glared at Freyja. "I should have known you'd be a beast at playing Bête."
Freyja calmly tallied her score. "That makes two hundred livres you owe me. Would you like to play another round? Who knows? Luck might be with you."
Philippe kept his smile to himself. Baldwin was a skilled diplomat but had little ability in gamesmanship. On a rainy afternoon, he and Freyja had gathered in the petit salon of the de Clermont townhouse on the Place Royale to play cards. Freyja had coaxed Philippe into being the third. He kept his losses to a minimum while observing closely Freyja's technique. He suspected she cheated, but he'd never caught her.
Baldwin had arrived from Amsterdam a few days ago. Philippe intended to make use of his financial acumen. The Second Anglo-Dutch War had already gone on for far too long. It was depleting the reserves in both England and the Dutch Republic.
Matthew had been in London for the past several years. He'd maintained the close friendship with Charles that had started during the period of the king's exile in France. Matthew reported that Charles was ready to talk peace. He realized he could no longer afford costly battles. Baldwin had discovered that the Dutch were similarly inclined.
But Louis was a sticking point. While outwardly expressing his desire for peace, he'd secretly been plotting the opposite. Louis hoped to use his Dutch allies to his advantage in a future war against the Spanish Habsburgs. The French king was young and far too bellicose. Despite the laudable efforts of Colbert, his finance minister, to rein in extravagances, Louis was burning through his treasury at a prodigious rate. His construction of the new palace at Versailles was a huge expenditure. Add to that a costly and—and in Philippe's judgment—unnecessary war, and Louis could destabilize the monarchy.
How would Baldwin manage at Louis's court? He had no gift for flattery nor did he take guidance easily. Like all of Philippe's children, Baldwin was strong-willed, but he lacked subtlety and wit. He could easily antagonize courtiers with his harsh demeanor. He was as impatient as Freyja and too proud by half. Still, he should get along well with Colbert.
Later in the day, Freyja came to see Philippe in the library while he was reading dispatches. He suspected it wasn't a coincidence that she approached him after Baldwin had left.
"I heard from Domenico yesterday," she said, settling her voluminous silk gown into a chair. "He should arrive in Paris shortly. Gerbert has requested he provide information on Louis's court. Domenico has asked for my assistance."
"Your recommendation to approach Domenico is paying dividends." Domenico was a slippery character. Among his fellow creatures, he was known as an opportunist, ready to sell his services to the highest bidder. Freyja had recognized his usefulness early on and established a productive working relationship with him while remaining en garde for any act of treachery.
"Did Domenico speculate about what Gerbert was up to?"
She smiled. "We engaged in a game of hypotheticals. Gerbert allied himself with the Habsburgs during the Thirty Years War. Domenico believes he has the ear of the Holy Roman Emperor."
Emperor Leopold was Louis's first cousin. Their rivalry extended back to childhood. Some of their activities were harmless. Louis was a patron of music and the arts, and so was Leopold. Louis loved to dance. Leopold composed music. But on the battlefield, their rivalry had deadly consequences.
Leopold would naturally ally himself with the Spanish throne against Louis in the current dispute. If Gerbert was sowing discord all the while, the results could plunge Europe into a never-ending series of wars. Had the Thirty Years War only served to whet Gerbert's appetite? Now, more than ever, Philippe needed eyes and ears at Louis's court. Baldwin would be useless as a spy . . . "Where is Jean currently employed?" he asked.
Freyja didn't blink at the seeming non sequitur. "He's in rehearsals for Molière's new play. It's to be performed at Saint-Germain-en-Laye in August. Leonard Shoreditch arrived for a visit and is staying with me. I presume you know who he is?" She arched an eyebrow.
Philippe was quite familiar with Leonard but Freyja wouldn't know that . . . unless she'd learned about Jack's history in England. Given her friendship with Bryn Walbrook, it was likely Freyja knew about the close ties of the three young manjasangs. But she'd never mentioned it nor had he. Philippe wasn't bothered if Freyja knew about Jack having lived in London. She was well aware of Hubbard's insistence on feeding off any creature within his domain and would assume Jack was a member of his flock, but his sire remained unknown. It could be for the best that Freyja knew about London. That would provide additional justification for keeping Jack away from Matthew who was adamantly opposed to the priest.
"I'm familiar with Leonard and his friendship with Jean as well as Bryn," he said. "I assume the three are still devoted to each other?"
"Very much so." A smile ghosted her face at Philippe's tacit confirmation of the London connection.
"Is Bryn also a member of Molière's troupe?"
"Yes. Jean was able to secure a position for Leonard in Lully's orchestra. He's an accomplished violinist. Reportedly, Lully is already quite taken with him."
Philippe rolled his eyes. "Will this cause a problem?"
"No, Leonard excels at the game of flirtation. The king is scheduled to arrive at his chateau at Saint-Germain-en-Laye in a couple of weeks and has requested the play be performed during the weekend festivities. I could alert Domenico about the event?"
"And thus heighten your value in his eyes? Go ahead. I expect Leonard will be happy to join his fellow spies."
She nodded. "Giving them a mission will help keep them from indulging in less valuable mischief."
Philippe snorted. Leonard and Jack were capable of sneaking in virtually anywhere and stealing almost anything. Philippe had already taken advantage of Jack's forgery skills. Freyja had facilitated access for Bryn such that she was now the confidante of many of the ladies at court. Bryn instructed them in dance, music, and acting while helping herself to secrets. The trio would make ideal spies for sniffing out Gerbert's plot.
Notes: Louis XIV was 28 years old at the time of this story. His love for dance is well documented. His cousin Leopold was a couple of years younger. Charles LeBrun did paint that portrait of Louis XIV in much the same pose Jack used. Pins of the painting, Louis, Leopold, and the other historical characters mentioned are on this story's Pinterest board.
The story's title is derived from this quote by Shakespeare:
"Look you, sir,
Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris,
And how, and who, what means, and where they keep,
What company, at what expense; and finding
By this encompassment and drift of question
That they do know my son, come you more nearer
Than your particular demands will touch it."
— Hamlet
Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation. See the Six-Crossed Knot page for background information on the series and an introduction to the world of All Souls Trilogy.
Visuals and Music on Pinterest: Six-Crossed Knot board on Silbrith's Stories