The Royal Succession Read Online Free PDF Page B

enormous concern! They have branches everywhere. And they have to refer to, Florence for the smallest demand. They're as slow as an Ecclesiastical Court. Has your uncle many prelates among his customers?'
    Guccio's cares were very far removed from the bank. The fog was growing thicker in his head; his eyelids were burning.
    `We have mostly the great barons,' he said, `the Count of Valois, the Count of Artois. We should be greatly honoured, Monseigneur. . .
    `We'll talk of that later. For the moment you're in the shelter of this monastery. You will pass for a man in my employ; perhaps we'll make you wear a clerk's robe. I'll talk to my chaplain about it. You can take off that livery and go a nd sleep in peace; that appears to be what you need the most.'
    Guccio bowed, muttered a few words of gratitude and went to the door. Then, coming to a halt, he said: `I can't undress yet, Monseigneur; I've got another message to deliver.'
    `To whom?' asked Dueze somewhat suspiciously.
    `To the Count of Poitiers.'
    `Give me the letter; I'll send it later by one of the brothers.'
    `But, Monseigneur, Messire de Bouville was very insistent...'
    `Do you know if the message concerns the Conclave?'
    `Oh, no, Monseigneur! It's about the King's death.'
    The Cardinal leapt from his chair.
    `King Louis is dead? But why didn't you say so at once?'
    `Isn't it known here? I thought you would have been informed, Monseigneur.'
    In fact, he wasn't thinking at all. His misfortunes and his fatigue had made him forget this capital event. He had galloped all the way from Paris, changing horses in the monasteries whose names he had been given, eating hastily and talking as little as possible. Without knowing it, he had forestalled the official couriers.
    `What did he die of?'
    `That's precisely what Messire de Bouville wants to tell the Count of Poitiers.!
    'Murder?' whispered Dueze.
    `It seems the King was poisoned.' The Cardinal thought for a moment.
    `That may alter many things,' he murmured. `Has a regent been appointed?'
    `I don't know, Monseigneur. When I left, everyone was talking of the Count of Valois.''
    `All right, my dear son, go and rest! '
    'But, Monseigneur, what about the Count of Poitiers?'
    The prelate's thin lips sketched a rapid smile, which might have passed for an expression of goodwill.
    `It would not be prudent for you to show yourself; moreover, you're dropping with fatigue,' he said. `Give me the letter; and so that no one can reproach you, I'll give it him myself.'
    A few minutes later, preceded by a linkman, as his dignity required, and followed by a secretary, the Cardinal in Curia left the Abbey of Ainay, between the Rhone and the Saone, and went out into the dark alleys, which were often made narrower still by heaps of filth. Thin and slight, he seemed to skip along, almost running in spite of his seventy-two years. His purple robe appeared to dance between the walls.
    The bells of the twenty churches and forty-two monasteries of Lyons rang for the first office. Distances were short in this city, which numbered barely twenty thousand inhabitants, of whom half were engaged in the commerce of religion and the other half in the religion of commerce. The Cardinal soon reached the house of the Consul, where lodged the Count of Poitiers.
    3. The gates of Lyons
    THE COUNT OF POITIERS was just finishing dressing when his chamberlain announced the Cardinal's visit.
    Very tall, very thin, with a prominent nose, his hair lying across his forehead in short locks and falling in curls about his cheeks, his skin fresh as it may be at twenty-three, the young Prince, clothed in a dressing-gown of shot camocas, greeted Monseigneur Dueze, kissing his ring with deference.
    It would have been difficult to find a greater contrast, a more ironical dissimilarity than between these two figures, one like a ferret just emerged from its earth, the other like a heron stalking haughtily across the marshes.
    'In spite of the early hour, Monseigneur,' said the