Slaying the Silence

Chapter Eleven

        The next morning, the late risers of Versailles was awoken by loud cheers.   The Silent Phantom slipped behind a statue and covered his ears with his hands, frowning.  He had awakened much earlier, in order not to be seen by the grooms of the stables.  But now, the thundering of hoof beats and excited calls rent the air, disturbing the peace of just a few moments ago.  King Louis XIV, the Sun King of France, had come home.

     The paths of the gardens crowded with both servants and noblemen alike, welcoming their king back.  People waved both handkerchiefs and their arms, yelling excitedly.  Young boys sparred viciously with swords, mimicking the battles that the king was sure to have fought. 

     He could not see the sense in the people’s actions.  They behaved as if a war was won, and the king was returning a hero.   He had only been gone six months, and the Silent Phantom was sure that he had merely supervised most battles.  A humorless smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and he slowly lowered his hands.  For men like himself, the return of the king was certainly not something to be celebrated.

     A young girl’s call rent the air.  “Come, Mademoiselle!”

     Soon enough, the speaker came into his line of view.  Judging by her clothing, she seemed to be a servant.  But she appeared to be just as excited as everyone else gathered there.  She ran at a mad pace, dragging someone firmly by the hand.

    It was then that her ‘captive’ came into view.  Stumbling along the path, laughing breathlessly, was Aria de Jacques.  The young woman still wore his cloak, he noticed, though she had changed into a scarlet gown.  The large cloth seemed to hang like a shroud about her slender body.

      The girl continued to talk excitedly.  “Did you know, Miss, that King Louis played the sun in a ballet?”

“Yes,” Aria replied, laughing.  “My father and I attended.  It was quite long.”

“How long?” the girl asked, grinning. 

“Twelve hours,” she replied.  The Phantom could not see her face, but he could imagine the smile that must have lit Aria’s face at the moment.

     The young maid gasped.  At that moment, a shrill whinny came from beyond.  Like magic, the crowd immediately fell silent.  The Silent Phantom cupped her hands over his ears, sheltering them from the noise that was sure to come.

     His prediction was accurate, and soon a roar swept the gathering of people.  The crowd parted in half, leaving a broad path.  A man slowly strutted down a path, astride a large grey warhorse.  He wore a stately dark wig, and his jacket was covered in lace and frills.  Even the sleeves of his undershirt, peeking out from beneath the overcoat, were of white satin, with detailed embroidery.  A long, elegant sword hung from his belt, encased in a sheath of dark leather.  His piercing blue eyes stared out from underneath intimidating brows.   

     The people yelled out welcomes, alternately bowing and throwing triumphant fists in the air.  The king smiled charmingly, inclining his head ever so slightly.  The men who had accompanied him stood against the sides of this main path, keeping the throngs of courtiers and servants at bay.  After what seemed like an eternity, the king arrived at the entrance.  One of his men helped him dismount, careful not to shift any of the heavy rings placed on the king’s hand. 

    Throwing his arms up in the air, the king turned to face the residents of his palace.  He smiled at them, and then turned and moved into the palace. The people gradually followed.  The paths themselves looked like a garden, with the courtier’s bright clothing and flashing jewelry.  A group of young women passed dangerously close to the Silent Phantom, giggling together.  “I heard that there is to be a masquerade this evening,” one stated.