The Moon and the Sun

The spanish treasure arrived, heavily guarded. The wagons passed, creaking with the weight of gold. Marie-Josèphe sat on the steps of Sherzad’s prison, imprisoned herself. Guards watched the tent; they watched her rooms; instead of taking their ease when she arrived to visit Sherzad, they intensified their vigilance.

She could have escaped at night though her window and over the roof, as Lucien had shown her, but once she escaped she would have nowhere to go. If she escaped, Sherzad would be alone. If she escaped, Lucien would be left behind.

The sea woman lay with her head in Marie-Josèphe’s lap. The spreading ulcer on her shoulder oozed. The bites on her ankle remained raw. She fasted, in silence.

“Please, Sherzad, listen. If you give His Majesty more treasure, perhaps he’ll relent…” Her voice trailed off. She could not make herself believe the King would free her friend. She certainly could not convince Sherzad.

“Mlle de la Croix.”

At the musketeer’s approach, Sherzad slipped away from Marie-Josèphe and submerged. She lay underwater, face up, staring blankly, waiting to die.

“Come with me.” The guard unlocked the cage to let Marie-Josèphe out, and locked it again behind her.

To her surprise, Zachi waited for her. The mare nuzzled her, accepting her caresses.

I expect everything to be taken from me, Marie-Josèphe thought, even Zachi. Sherzad’s life, my brother’s affection, my sister’s companionship. And Lucien.

She had not seen Lucien since the end of the banquet, which despite the lack of sea monster flesh had been a wonder, stretching past sunset, when the servants whisked away the flowers from the candle-stands and replaced them with candelabra, and beyond midnight, when the servants replaced the guttering candles and carried in another course. Marie-Josèphe had not been able to eat a bite.

At the end of the banquet, His Majesty gave the Chevalier de Lorraine a purse of a thousand gold louis. In Lucien’s place, the Chevalier rewarded M. Boursin.

At the same time, guards bowed courteously to Lucien and ushered him away.

“Don’t worry,” he said.

She had done nothing else. She mounted Zachi. The mare pranced, offering to run, offering to outdistance the plodding mounts of the King’s guard. Marie-Josèphe stroked her neck and calmed her. Zachi might carry her over the rooftops of Versailles, but she still had nowhere to go.

The musketeers escorted her to the top of the garden and into the chateau.

She gasped when she entered His Majesty’s council room. The King sat surrounded by bars of silver and gold bullion, by chests of gold coins, by heaps of jeweled chains.

The King played with a heavy golden chalice. Marie-Josèphe curtsied; she knelt before him.

“What does your monster say?”

“Nothing, Sire. She won’t sing, she won’t eat. Her death will be on your hands if you don’t let her go.”

“Many deaths are on my hands, Mlle de la Croix.”

“Deliberate murder? We saved you from that, Lucien and Yves and I. We saved your soul.”

“Why do you persist in this delusion?” he cried.

“My friend Sherzad is dying of despair.”

“Beasts know nothing of despair. If the sea monster doesn’t please me, I might as well give it to my cousin’s holy Inquisitors.”

He put down the chalice. He wore dark brown and black, with only a little gold lace.

He offered Marie-Josèphe his hand. She took it and let him raise her to her feet, as if they were back on the floating platform in the Grand Canal, about to dance.

“Or I could eat it, which would be a kinder fate.”

Marie-Josèphe wanted to cry, You promised! You’re a great King, how can you break your word, how can you betray me, and Sherzad, and break Lucien’s heart?

“Your Majesty,” she said, as calmly as she could, “you have the power to destroy her. To destroy me, and my brother, and Lucien, who loves you.”

“Do you say you do not love me, Mlle de la Croix?”

“Not as Lucien does.”

“He loves you more.”

“I know it, Your Majesty. It doesn’t mean he loves you less. Please, Your Majesty, is he all right?”

“He lives.”

“You haven’t—”

“I’ve done nothing but ferret his men out of my guard. Why should I trouble myself? His body tortures him.”

“May I see him?”

“I will see.”

“Sire, you have the power to show mercy to us all.”

“You’re even more stubborn than your mother!”

Marie-Josèphe’s outrage exploded. “She—you—my mother submitted to you entirely!”

“She refused…”

Marie-Josèphe watched, in amazement, as his expression grew sad and his eyes filled with tears.

“She refused everything I wished to give her.” He turned away until he recovered his dispassionate expression. “Come with me. Persuade her to carry out my will.”

For an eerie moment, Marie-Josèphe thought the King meant to refer to her mother.

* * *

His Holiness stood beside the cage. He sprinkled holy water through the bars. He chanted, in Latin, a rite of exorcism.

“Cast off your pagan ways,” he said. “Accept the teachings of the Church, and you will receive everlasting life.”

Sherzad snarled.

“If you defy me, your soul will never rest.”

Marie-Josèphe ran to the cage. “Let me in!”