Slaying the Silence

Chapter Sixteen

     As Aria followed the servant through the halls of Versailles, her mind worked at a frantic pace.  What could the king possibly wish to speak with her about?  If it was a family matter, he would surely wish to speak with her father – obviously, he was the more distinguished of the two of them.  

   One solution presented itself to her, but she banished it to the back of her mind.  She could not – would not - admit it, though she knew that it was the most likely answer.  Taking a deep breath, she focused on her way. Perhaps she could learn more of the layout of Versailles.

   Sooner than Aria would have wished, they arrived at the gilt doors of the throne room.  The servant pushed the door open and strode ahead of Aria, commanding the attention of the courtiers.  He bowed and issued his proclamation.  “The Lady Aria de Jacques has arrived to see His glorious Majesty, King Louis XIV.” 

    The courtiers simultaneously turned to gaze at Aria, some of the women fluttering their eyelashes and gossiping exaggeratedly from behind sheltering fans.  But Aria’s eyes were unavoidably drawn to the king.

    She curtsied deeply, waiting for the king to speak.  He shifted his position in his throne and held out his hand.  “Greetings, Mademoiselle,” he greeted.

“Bonsoir, your Majesty,” she replied.

“Rise,” he ordered. 

    She tentatively straightened, and gazed straight into the face of King Louis of France.

 At once, she felt both honored and afraid.  Here in front of her was a man who had inspired terror in his enemies, and adoration in his subjects.  Here was the man who was cursed in the homes of Huguenots, forced to abandon their faith or flee, and adored amongst the nobles who wished to keep their positions.  Here was one who was, at the same time, the most loved and hated man of France.  She suddenly thought of the Silent Phantom.

   She resisted the urge to frown at this thought.  The king was the first to break the silence. “I trust you find Versailles satisfactory?” he asked, surveying her closely. 

    Aria felt uncomfortable under his gaze, as if she was an animal being inspected for purchase.  She cleared her throat and held her head high.  “Yes, your Majesty.  Your courts are magnificent.”

      He smiled.  “Wonderful.”

   After a moment of languid silence, the king spoke up again.  “Do you know why you are here, Lady de Jacques?”

“I had hoped that you would tell me that, your Majesty,” she answered cautiously.

“Then I shall do so,” he answered.  “It is no secret that you are to wed my son.”

     Aria tensed, her fists clenching at her side.  But she quickly smoothed over her face, blinking rapidly.  The king went on.  “If such comes to fulfillment, you will one day become queen of France.  Do you fear that, Mademoiselle?”

   She hesitated before replying.  “It would be a great responsibility, your Majesty, and one not to take lightly.”

   He seemed satisfied by her answer.  Leaning back, he regarded her with a new light in his eyes.  “France must not fall, and she requires a powerful ruler.  Obviously, she will not inherit such a king, but perhaps her queen will remedy that.”

   Seeing Aria’s confused expression, he began to explain.  “All of France knows that my son is lazy and weak,” he said, scowling.  Aria’s brows arched, but he did not notice.  “Nonetheless, he is my heir.  He must be king.  I can only pray that his wife shall be better.”  His expression suddenly changed, and he glowered down at Aria.  “I trust that you shall not disappoint me.”