Chapter Text
Minette shuddered even sitting close to the fireplace. The candles left small smoky rings on the elaborately patterned walls, casting long shadows so much more comforting and warm in their light than the wan gray cast of the prison.
“ha-choo,” Minette sniffed daintily into her handkerchief, the smell of mouldering decay and unclean wounds still lodged in her nose.
“Let me see your feet, Minette,” the Queen commanded it.
A moment of hesitation, as I still do not feel attached to this name….to this body……
Wasn’t I Queen Marie? In another life?
But here I am, in another century, staring at “my” predecessor.
Why, it’s like coming home and feeling out of place. This isn’t Versailles…..Versailles is not yet built….This is another similar place….. A place I had seen in my own timeline…….. The Louvre?
Seeing it adorned as living quarters instead of an auspicious but cold and well kempt museum gives me a start.
“Minette?” The Queen asked again, her voice mixed with stern commanding presence and concern. “Your feet?”
“It is not appropriate for her Majesty to view or care for my feet,” I instinctively recoil and tuck my feet further under my skirt, wrapping my ankle, swore and bloodied around the claw footed wooden furniture.
The Queen is like my step-mother. Minette’s mother.
This other me has been her lady in waiting since I was twelve, since my father was killed and my brother joined the musketeers nearly four years ago….. Four years since King Henri was assassinated by Ravaillac….the man I now stood accused of conspiring with, a man I had never met, a man nearly twenty years my senior.
As if I could have any wish to influence Ravillac to murder! As if I would ever seduce a man to accomplish my own ill wishes!
Minette’s forehead….no my head….feels flushed with heat and about to burst with pressure thinking of Richelieu’s vile accusations.
I had never been unchaste or uncouth with any man…..The night of King Henry’s assassination, I had been with my guardian mother, Marie Medici, decorating for a festive event.
Targeting me was most certainly a slanted attack against her Majesty. The Coup launched by the cardinal failed to depose her completely. She was no longer acting as regent for Louis, but neither was she currently banished or under house arrest.
“Very well, Minette,” Marie’s voice snaps me back to the lavishly furnished room beside the comforts of the fire. Her eyes search mine imploringly. She ventures to rest her hand against my forehead and withdraws it swiftly. “As I thought,” she confirms reproachfully. “You’ll catch the ague!”
“If you won’t allow me to see your feet, please allow Cecily to assist you.”
I nod absent mindedly. My feet relaxing, aching as I stretch them out under the chaise. Cecily moves forward as if on cue to assist me as I wince and mincingly make my way to the tub of rose water. My feet are cut where they shackled me, and I stifle a cough as the warm water is poured over my hair, feeling like icy needles piercing through my fever.
I can hear Marie’s voice as she paces the other room.
“That Richelieu! He grows bolder by the day!” She paces the room in anxious fury.
“Minette will be fortunate not to die simply from being held for the interrogation…..Thank the Merciful God in Heaven that you arrived when you did, before he…..” Marie’s voice breaks….. “Before he tortured her to death……”
A baritone, warm voice; familiar and yet novel to my ears carries from the tapestried room….I cannot quite make out each word over Cecily’s splashing and lathering perfume in my hair, finally drowning out the stench of the prison, though my own illness hangs foul on my breath.
Whose is that voice? The room swirls…..I recall Felix Baily walking with me along the Seine…but that cannot be Felix… can it?
Who then? Leopold from the prison? How is he here?
Or is Felix Leopold as I am Minette? How is any of this possible? I never placed a book upon the lectern this time…..I merely held the brochure after speaking with Mr. Bailey.
Have I traveled through so many worlds that I have become unstuck in time? Is there even a ‘real’ me any more?
“My lady!” Cecily cries as I slump forward into the tub of rosewater, losing consciousness.
I am vaguely aware of a scuffle from the other room, a distraught Cecily forcing out a concerned Leopold for the sake of decency.
“I am fine……” I murmur before blackness overtakes me and I light headedly fall face forward into the water.
I lie in a bed of silk sheets, curtains hang heavy around it. I have been asleep for days.
“Hurry, wake up Miss!” Cecily urges me relentlessly.
“Who?” I shake off my grogginess.
“King Louis! He’s on his way here to see you, you must be presentable!”
I hurry to rise. I must pretend to be fine, and unscathed, and fully well, as though I have not been bed ridden for days.
Louis is my childhood friend. Dear to me as the brother lost to me. And yet now….he is estranged….and though I owe him my life, I fear him.
Does he even know me anymore?
A chill courses my spine.
I select a dark green formal gown, with golden accents and lace trim. How much does he know about what Richelieu has done?
Does he even still have any faith in his mother or myself? A pang wells up in my chest, not my own, drawing my breath in sharply, as though I’ve been tossed in ice water. For a moment, I suspect my ague is stealing air from my lungs, until I realize these foreign feelings are not mine….but Minette’s feelings for Louis.
She……I……love him?
Memories rush in, of riding together. While Louis often hunted, I recall a small fox kit he spared. I recall dancing in socks through the hallways, playing games through the empty corridors when all the servants forsook us. I recall the hawk he gave me for my twelfth birthday, the mare for my thirteenth.
I recall the first time he invited me to a masqued ball, and before everyone, all the princesses and duchesses, and countesses, he committed a faux paus and offered his hand to dance with me….as his first choice…..
I recall scolding him for his lack of diligence in latin, and him writing jests and secret meetings arranged for me in Greek or in Cipher.
All these memories, were awash in gold in Minette’s…..in my heart….. No one can ever replace the childhood confidante that is one’s first love.
And now? What does Louis feel toward me now? Whom does he love? Whom does he trust? My heart aches and my world nearly blackens again as I fear the answer….the cold truth drenches me in dread….he trusts…..he allows himself to love no one……no one can breach the walls of fear, distrust, betrayal that Richelieu has enshrouded around him…..Louis believes he has built his heart a fortress, but he has prepared himself to be blindly led into the perfectly laid trap….a trap no one can rescue him from save….perhaps himself. I resolve myself to be the Minette he knows. The Minette he yearns to trust. And silently, I pray that I can save him from himself.
The ball should have been the epitome of every young girl’s childhood fantasy.
Classical music on the strings, beautiful silk fabrics, everyone swirling and stepping neatly to the music.
It was nice to see everyone attentive to one another and engaged with the music, not glued to cell phones or hanging back sipping drinks and ignoring the opportunity to dance.
That was until….Minette realized, that everyone here was attentive of their own agenda. They needed no masks to conceal their falsehoods, their faces and voices were trained to do just that.
Minette overheard Louis and Reubens discussing the inventions of Leonardo Da Vinci and she wanted nothing more than to follow them.
Yet here she was, entertaining Leopold to avoid Richelieu yet again.
Minette stiffened causing herself to stumble on the hem of her gown, and Leopold faltered only slightly before he caught her hand and shifted his stride to help her regain her balance.
As he brought his face uncomfortably close to hers in attempts to lock eyes with her, Minette was stricken by two terrible thoughts.
First, when Louis had chosen her before all others in the past, perhaps it had been not a testament to his great trust in her, but rather his wish to avoid those he trusted even less. She lowered her head, as if in awkwardness at Leopold’s advance, but truly she wished to shake her head and clear her mind of the nagging thoughts. In that moment dancing together with Louis, she had been truly delighted to be his choice, and felt sheer elation at the warmth and closeness of their friendship. Her face flushed in admiration while dancing with Louis, and now flushed in discomfort, as she could not be certain of Leopold’s intentions.
And therein lay the second terrible thought. Leopold showed up in prison, claiming to be a friend, lied in front of Marie, and now conveniently helped her to escape Richelieu? Or accompanied Richelieu and detained her from following either Marie or Louis and Master Peter Paul Reubens?
Why did he look so much like Felix? Could there be others who traversed the history of the world through books? Someone who might also have an agenda, whether it was akin or controverted to her own?
“I fear I’ve given a bad first impression,” Leopold stated.
His manner of speaking….his colloquialisms were not of this century. This confirmed in her mind that they were from the same future. Just what are you up to Felix.
Suppressing the desire to call him by his true name, Minette waltzed a little more lightly, twirling under his arm, a movement he had not planned.
He seemed amused and nervous by her taking the lead, for one moment she danced with her back pressed to him so that she could view the cardinal moving aside to speak with a stately officer: Minette’s mind immediately identified him for her: The Duke of Epernon.
Leopold spun her around, perhaps to keep her from seeing. “The way you were dancing would invite scandal, the nobles are watching,” he admonished, reminding her that she was not in a regency era drama.
She was in the Louvre, in the same vicious, scathing, judgmental court that would become her gilded prison in Versailles. Where she….as another Marie, would suffer languidly in silence.
Did he know? Did he know her other identities? Or that she had traveled before?
“Are you being coy or do you wish to avoid speaking with me?” Leopold dared.
“A Lady does not have to answer such questions designed to malign her character,” Minette raised her brow and tilted her head furtively to one side.
“I’m trying to apologize as I fear I’ve given a poor first impression,” he repeated.
“I’m glad you’re aware of that,” Minette’s neighbors twirled and so did she, sneaking another glance as the Cardinal and the Duke disappeared around a corner.
“Would you allow me to re-introduce myself and to start over?” Leopold looked imploringly.
“Why? Why does my opinion matter so to you?” Minette stepped on the toe of his shoe, just a little.
“Well, I wasn’t lying when I said I fell in love at first sight…..”
“Ah huh,” Minette stepped on his foot fully. “It seems your fear of the cardinal has heightened your acting skills. Instead of stumbling all over yourself, take me over to them,” she gestured lightly with her chin and eyes.
Catching her drift, Leopold slowly meandered their way over to the opposite wall, as if they were breaking for refreshments.
He fetched her a drink and they stood still against the wall, sipping lightly and inclined as if engrossed in conversation with one another, but truly Leopold said nothing and Minette, trying to conceal her face behind her hand-held masque, pressed her ear against the wall.
The details were sparse, and given that Leopold and the cardinal arrived at the same time, and were both present in the prison, Minette wondered if she was meant to over hear this tidbit and carry it back to Marie.
A bargain had been struck, and the Cardinal would give the Duke until the end of the ball to decide. Which did not seem long, as Leopold whisked her away from the glaring faces of the court.
Minette’s heart sickened as Louis, Richelieu, and Epernon left in a carriage together. But not before Louis left the parting announcement that Reubens would paint him in full war regalia on horseback. To commemorate the start of their invasion in Mantua.
The Master’s face whitened, clearly horrified by what Louis committed him to doing. This had not been his anticipation of his stay in Paris.
Minette knew….the other self in her….knew that this would be the start of a thirty years war…. The loss of countless lives, the beginning of the downfall of the French monarchy.
But what would happen if France didn’t enter the war? What would become of her future if countless lives were spared now? If France did not over extend itself now, would it become a force to be reckoned with and win the conflicts for colonial dominance of the New World?
Would there even be a Revolution, a Napoleonic War, a World War I, a World War II?
Would changing things now affect her experiences or erase her journey as Marie Antoinette or Princess Sissi?
Why was it always the same melancholy song, the same chorus of angst, the same refrain of war and despair that fought against hope in each generation?
Minette’s head spun. She couldn’t tell if what she did was right or wrong any more. How did one choose between lives? That sparing one life now might take another later?
How did one choose between futures? Especially when one jumped between so many alternate pasts?
Who are you really Felix Bailey? Minette had not begun the journey herself this time. She felt more convinced than ever that it had been Felix…..what is your angle, Leopold or whomever you are….how did you know to approach me? Had he recognized her as a fellow traveler from the moment they saw Lea’s painting in the park?
She returned to report what she had heard to Marie. As that seemed to be the part they designed for her to play. They…..being Leopold or perhaps he and the cardinal.
She admitted to Marie that she felt she was almost intended to over hear. And advised the Queen not to act rashly.
“Please make no attempt to confront the Duke directly, do not offer to bribe him for information…..I cannot help but feel this is a trap neatly laid for us; we should continue our own investigations…..”
Marie Medici nodded in frustration.
Minette struggled to discern the complex emotions on the Queen Regent’s face.
She was not a fool. She had more than an inkling for power, and it was not for Minette to deny her agency. Had she not also exercised her power to exert her own authority and defend her own beliefs and positions? Having been in the Queen’s position herself, she did not believe Marie Medici to be power hungry simply for power’s sake, but because she was acting on her convictions of what would be best for Louis and for her country. She had no lack of self confidence in her own qualifications, and her demeanor was more commanding, formidable, dare she say frightening than Marie Antoinette had ever been.
Minette tried to shrug off the nagging voice in her mind that Marie might have had a hand in her own husband’s death. Even if she did not love him or have the friendly truce and alliance that Antoinette held with Louis Auguste, she doubted that the Queen Mother could act in such a way that would so harm her son and estrange them both. The Queen clearly loved her son above all else. And now, the more she struggled to resist, the more the Cardinal construed her efforts to estrange her from her son.
I am sooo tired……. This lightheadedness. This thinking of the future as though it were a past…..Would there even ever be a Marie Antoinette…..would there even be a her in the future working as an art curator, successful or not, if she continued to intervene in the past?
Was this dizziness cancelling out her future self entirely? She couldn’t remember her true name anymore.
“Minette!” Marie Medici cried seizing her hand as she staggered back onto the chaise. “Cecily!” The Queen cried for the one other attendant she could still rely upon.
Was it the corset and gown squeezing the air from her lungs? Or the pain of being silently erased?
“Milady, Please…..” Cecily urges me from the other side of the dressing panel. “You’re not well enough to go out!”
“I have been appointed spokesperson in place of the Queen at the Estates General. It is not often that a woman, queen or otherwise is permitted to speak. I have to gather evidence and prepare my speech.”
Cecily sighs, and I can visualize her eye roll. “Minette, with all due respect, you are invited to attend to be the Queen’s eyes and ears. No one expects or wishes for you to speak or take an active role in participating.”
This is enough to fairly send me into a rage. I wanted to see this century to experience the height of art, fashion, and culture. But I forgot or perhaps failed to fully realize how much oppression women and minorities endured, or how much the enlightened thinkers of this era faced persecution.
I step out from behind the screen and Minette fairly gasps.
“My Lady! You cannot be serious! You cannot go out dressed like that!” She drops the pitcher for the wash basin and it rolls across the ornate rug, she fumbles to pick it up before more water runs out, although she still cannot remove her transfixed gaze from my untraditional attire.
Well, actually, my attire is very traditional…..traditional for a man, that is.
“Are you not afraid you’ll be discovered? Do you not yet fear the cardinal? Think of poor Jeanne D’Arc, burnt at the stake for wearing men’s clothing……” Cecily is dissolving in a sputtering heap of nerves, the water sploshing as she nearly drops the pitcher again.
“I will not be discovered. I used to dress as a boy routinely for traveling with my father. I know how to walk like a man when wearing trousers, and it’s less likely I will be recognized this way.” I look at myself in the mirror. The glass of this era ripples or bubbles with imperfections, yet I love it.
Wearing my-no, Minette’s father’s uniform is a little dated. The Musketeer dark blue velvet cape over a linen under shirt, knee high boots, and a delightful feathered cap. I tip the feather up playfully with my hand, and then pull a handkerchief over my nose and mouth.
“It is cold enough outside, no one will question why I conceal my face.” My frame is slim, but I can lower my voice an octave to sound almost like my brother.
“You sound like a young boy, too young to be a musketeer…..” Cecily issues her final objection, knowing full well that her warning will go unheeded.
“I must find my brother’s whereabouts, and I must know what trouble it is the Duke of Epernon faces that the Cardinal is able to blackmail him so. Leopold is going with me, I will accompany him, and just won’t speak. “
Cecily stiffens, and spins around on her heels without another word……that is until she reaches the door. Her hand braced upon the filagree trim, “Leave by the servants quarters, then out by the stable. The disguise is no use if you’re spotted leaving.”
“Thank you, Cecily…..” I reply, turning to face her directly rather than speaking her reflection in the mirror. But she has already gone. My brother has my father’s rapier, though he wears his own uniform now…..he deserves it. All I have is the old practice blade I used when Louis and my brother allowed me to participate. What once seemed such a great game, now seemed rather a dreadful prospect.
I loved fencing, and my competitive spirit made me determined to master it every bit as well…..if not better than my brother and the King. They never let me win, but it seemed they would let me get close to a point, only to taunt me. When I finally gained a point on Louis fair and square, my father was proud, but he still scolded me, admonishing me that it was best not to humiliate the King.
My moment of victory did not seem to tarnish our relationship at the time, it only heightened Louis’ interest in me.
Me…… I’m doing it again……I’m confusing myself with Minette. I am becoming her…..
It was inevitable. Part of the process. Each time I travelled, I became part of the person whose place in history I took, and she became a part of me. I wondered what happened to the other soul. Was she displaced? Erased? Or was she truly me in another place or time? As in reincarnation?
As much as I had travelled, I still did not have a satisfactory answer. But gradually, I can stop distinguishing between myself and the other.
There is a book case that swings open in the study and goes down a stairwell to the musketeers' quarters, but this area is now monitored by the cardinal's guards.
So instead, I lower myself through a laundry chute. Perhaps it used to be a coal chute. But I emerge behind the kitchen galley, and out to the stables.
And there is Leopold, standing near a carriage, expecting to see…..me…..He glances at me, but doesn’t recognize me and continues speaking with the driver.
I saddle a horse, not mine that Louis gave me…..as that would be too obvious. My mare knows me, and flares her nostrils. Plainly jealous that I am today, taking a gelding.
She stamps her hooves impatiently and nips at my face covering as I pass by.
“Not today,” I brush her nose and she presses her warm breath into my glove searching for treats. Seeing that I have none today, she turns her back to me and snorts, ears pinned back in irritation.
I suppress a girlish chortle, and lead the horse from the stable.
I tap Leopold lightly on the shoulder. He whirls in confusion, and then upon seeing my eyes, his own eyes widen in surprise at the recognition.
Fortunately, he only gasps and says nothing to divulge my identity by remarking about my uncharacteristic attire.
“I won’t be needing the carriage,” he waves off the driver. “The lady I was waiting for is too unwell to accompany me today.”
Leopold saddles another horse and follows me to the Rue de Ferronerie.
I stop at the Bistro across the street from the hotel where Ravaillac once lodged. I meet with the artist who drew a sketch of the King’s assassination. The artist seems so sad.
“Were you acquainted with his Late Majesty or with Ravaillac?” I ask, taking care to lower my voice.
The artist looks concerned, gazing at the fleur de lis emblazoned upon my uniform.
“This will be kept in confidence,” I add. Leopold looks at me with a warning glower of caution.
Can I trust him to keep this in confidence?
“It’s not as though the Kingsguard reports to Cardinal Richelieu,” I shove his shoe under the table, and he looks down with a mild grimace. He knows that I still do not trust that he is not acting as a double agent.
“No offense, please sir, but you must understand my hesitation,” the artist drinks from his mug and glances across the room anxiously. “Not long ago, the cardinal’s men apprehended a young noble lady, a close friend of the Queen’s and a patron of the arts. Never had anyone met a soul so sweet, and still they imprisoned and tortured her. If not for the direct intervention of his majesty, she would have rotted in the Bastille……You must understand, were I to be detained for questioning, no royal would intervene on my behalf……”
“Tell us what you know.” Leopold does not meet the artist’s eyes directly, but his sudden forcefulness shocks me, and seemingly propels the artist forward.
As though, Leopold’s weak assurance was enough? How could he pretend to be honest if he couldn’t maintain eye contact? Or perhaps the edge of a threat in his voice convinced the artist that he would be behind bars if he did not comply…….
“The….King……” The artist stammers and then continues with a soft sigh, tears lining his eyes “His Late Majesty and Ravillac were well acquainted. In fact, before the end of the civil war, they often dined here together. Before a battle, they exchanged letters, and each promised the other they would deliver it to their kinsmen if one of them did not survive the battle.”
I am visibly surprised by this information. “What happened?” I place my gloved hand over his weathered, charcoal covered fingers, perhaps in a gesture of comfort that is a little too feminine. Withdrawing my hand quickly, I add, “Please continue.”
The artist looks to make certain the barista and proprietor are occupied with other guests before lowering his voice further. “They had a falling out, peace over principle if you will. His Majesty sent the Captain of the Guard….Duke Epernon, to bring a message of reconciliation to Ravaillac…..but for the sake of their old friendship, neither of them wanted to believe Ravaillac was a real threat. The Duke warned him many times to be careful what nonsense he spouted when drunk, or he would be confined to house arrest…..But I saw Ravaillac…..Ravaillac left his final will and testament with the Barista, for she also runs the lodge across the street. She…..she helped his family escape after word of his arrest and execution……..”
“Thank you, you’ve said enough.” I slip the artist a coin under the table. “May we have this sketch as a sample of your work? I may need to commission your skills in the future…..” The artist looks pale as a sheet. The Barista glares at us from behind her counter.
A chill courses down my spine and somehow I know, we’ve already consigned this innocent man to death. A bold idea comes to mind. I whisper to Leopold, who states loudly enough in his baritone voice for all to hear, “Master Reubens has requested your presence at his studio. I am to convey this payment for your appointment.”
The artist clutches Leopold’s sleeve in disbelief and gratitude. “Truly, the great genius has summoned me?”
This seems to satisfy the Barista, who turns away with chuff and resumes wiping the sloppage from the counter tops.
“Give him this,” I had the artist a seal with the emblem of Queen Marie Medici. I add more softly, “And go directly, do not return to Rue De Ferronnerie if you value your life. It is not safe for you here anymore.”
The old artist fairly bows, and scuttles out of the bistro. Leopold goes to the counter to pay for our beverages, and I pretend to prepare the horses while I watch the artist’s retreating figure.
I cannot guarantee his safety, but I have to give him a chance.
Now to convince this woman to give me Ravaillac’s will.