The Poisoned Veil : Chapter 1
Jan. 3rd, 2009 05:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seraph7Seeing as I have been going on and on about my Nano 2008 novel 'The Poisoned Veil' for what seems like an age , I thought It would be a good idea to post a couple of chapters as a teaser. I won't publish the entire thing but I thought maybe my LJ friends might like to read a bit of what I have been working on since Nov! So without further ado....
Title: The Poisoned Veil
Genre: Historical Romance, Fantasy
Author: Seraph7
Rating: Mostly PG-13 (Will definitely become NC-17 at some points) Character death, Moderate Violence
Chapter Summary: Jonah Wetherby travels to France and starts his new case. On the way, he tackles an unscrupulous foe and witnesses the execution of an unrepentant sinner.
Chapter 1
A Royal Mission
Jonah Wetherby watched the captain carefully count out his gold for his fare to Dieppe. Over and over the thick rough hands riffled through the bag of gold, piling it up into neat piles, making sure that he had all that was owing for his voyage to France.
“Well Sir, everything seems to be in order. And you paid the primage swift enough as well-”
Jonah nodded in acknowledgement briefly, before setting down his chest and his pack. It was a plain room, almost Spartan in it’s furnishings just a bed, a small press for some clothes and a tiny window, but that suited Jonah and his simple tastes just fine.
“I only wish that the King’s men were always so prompt in paying their due. Is there anything else you require on your voyage with us?”
Jonah inclined his head. “I do have a few special requirements, yes-“
“Anything I can do, my good sir?”
“I keep my own hours, so I expressly do not wish to be disturbed for anything. See that your men obey this, as in all things. It is very important.”
The captain nodded. The letter he had got from the Admiralty office signed by his Majesty himself had said as much. In fact there was much to be figured out between the lines with this particular passenger. A most mysterious man was he, according to what he had read.
“Do not allow your men to touch my belongings without express permission. Not my chest-“ he pointed to the large bronze bound chest that he had dragged on board, refusing to allow anyone else to touch it. “Not my paperwork, or my possessions. I will be most displeased if this is disobeyed.”
“As you command, sir.” The captain reassured him. “I will instruct my men immediately regarding your wishes.”
Jonah’s eye wandered to the first mate who stood behind the captain with a curious look on his mean weatherbeaten face. There was something about the man and his manner that Jonah didn’t trust.
I can’t just penetrate his mind with no justification. That would be unjust and an abuse of my powers. Perhaps I’m just on edge about the case. It certainly was a strange one. His Majesty had said as much when he had assigned him to it.
Despite Jonah’s best efforts not to read the man’s mind , he couldn’t ignore his instincts about him. He means me harm, I can’t help but think that. He’s practically hurling his malice at me, it was almost visceral. Assuring himself that it was mere self-defence, Jonah looked the man right in the eyes and broke into the sanctuary of his mind.
Hatred. Contempt for this passenger. A nameless atavistic fear that he could scarce explain just a feeling that something about this tall mild-looking man in his unfashionable Puritan style clothes and his pale ashen face above the white starched linen of his collar was wrong. Arrogance that a wily old dog like him would have no trouble robbing him of that mysterious treasure in his chest that he was so protective of. And murderous intent lurking deep beneath the surface. The ruthlessness and resolve to murder to get his own way. Tonight , he plans to do it tonight.
He’ll get a turn if he tries to do it tonight, though Jonah with a grim glint in his eye. Of that I am sure.
“Go now, I wish to rest. If I need anything, I will call you.”
The captain and his mate withdrew, sensing dismissal, but Jonah could still feel the malevolent burn of the first mate’s eyes on him.
I will not go without a fight. So help me God, I will not.
“Cephas, what ails thee? You took on so ill with that gentleman I was well nigh ashamed of you. Staring at him like he was the Devil from hell himself-“
“I don’t like him. Do you?”
“Fair gives me the creeps , he does-“ agreed one sailor still swabbing the deck. “Summat ‘bout him I don’t trust, but I can’t explain-“
Captain Goldsworthy frowned. “It doesn’t matter whether I like him or no, He’s paid his way and prompt enough so we’ll take him wherever he need to go. The King of England himself demands it. Who are we to argue, his loyal servants?”
“What does he do?”
“By all accounts, he’s a detective. Ever since the famous case of the Whitehall Vampire his Majesty uses him for his missions. All I know is that he’s heading to France for a top secret mission. Asked for by the King of France himself-”
When Cephas got an idea in his head it was hard to shake it. “I dinna like him, that’s all-“ he muttered under his breath as they changed the watch.
He was still pondering it as he went to his bunk for a break. That treasure was still on his mind. What could be in that chest? It was large, able to store treasure enough to support him the rest of his days. If he took it...he was pretty sure that he could overpower him, given the advantage of surprise. The man must be asleep by now. By the time the man awoke, he could have slit his throat in his bed and made off with the loot.
Resolved on his course of action he rose from his bunk and padded towards the door, trying not to wake his bunkmates. The last thing he needed was for one of them to wake and start asking awkward questions, trying to stop him. Or even wanting to share the treasure. A low snarl sounded in his throat from the thought of it. It’s mine! He told himself with a covetous gleam. Mine! I’m damned if I share it with anyone!
It took him a long time to pick open the lock of the cabin. He had to work slowly, sliding the oiled pin in and wriggling and caressing it in the lock until it finally yielded and gave him his secrets. At last the door slid open and he padded in, knife in hand ready to carry out his desperate plan, whatever the cost.
The treasure is mine at last...
The next thing he knew he was caught in the grip of a deadly headlock and skilfully disarmed. No matter how he struggled he couldn’t get free, could hardly breathe to make a sound, call for help. He felt the iron hardness, the coldness of the passenger’s body holding him fast.
“I knew you were coming for me, I just didn’t know when you would be foolish enough to risk it.” said the soft, well spoken voice of the passenger close to his ear.
Despite the panic that overtook him and the surprise that the mild looking passenger was well able to defend himself, he still tried for some sort of defiance.
“I wouldn’t struggle if I were you.” Jonah said coolly increasing the pressure on the man’s windpipe, slowly choking the life out of him.
“Spare me! “ he wheezed, fighting for air. “I’ll talk. Promise-“
Jonah let him go and hurled him down, pressing him to the ground with one well-shod foot.
Cephas was unmanned by terror as those eyes bored into him, pitiless in their grey scornful scrutiny.
“You planned to do me harm, didn’t you? I saw it in your head, in your heart. You cannot lie to me-”
“No-“ he gasped rubbing the livid bruises on his neck.
A ruthless little smile curved the severe lines of the man’s mouth.“Liar. What do you want?”
“The treasure. All I wanted was the gold, I swear-“
Jonah chuckled softly, a chilling sound to the man still trapped under his foot. “There is no treasure. You are a fool and a dishonest knave to boot.”
“What’s in the chest then? You could be lying to me-“
“Tell me, why should I lie?” Jonah removed his foot from the wretched man. “I have no reason to, do I? Face it, there is no treasure-”
Crazed by desperation, fear and greed Cephas renewed his attack as soon as he got up from the floor. It was no use. Jonah pinned him up against the wall of the cabin with ease. It was faintly unnatural how much strength there was in that hand holding him up.
“You’re not a very wise man, are ye?” he mused.
Cephas could see the ruthless glint in his steel grey eyes and he began to feel true fear prickle like burning needles under his skin. This mysterious man, he was dangerous. He was a killer. With no compunction at all, he would crush the life out of him, and now no one knew where he was it was unlikely that anyone would come to his rescue.
“I’d try for a little repentance if I were you.” Jonah’s voice was soft and deadly in his ear. “Before you meet your maker.”
“Spare me. I beg thee, sir-” He groaned. He could feel Jonah smelling him, drinking in the pungent aroma of sweat, dirt and fear. The horror washed over him. What was he planning to do to him, this implacable dangerous killer?
“The scent. The sweet scent of the blood-“ he heard Jonah whisper raptuorously almost to himself.
He felt the sharp stab of fangs in his neck and then mercifully felt no more as the blood began to drain and the life flowed out of him....
Jonah lay on his pallet, glutted with blood. It had been a long time since he had fed so generously. Usually he contented himself with small drinks from a variety of dazzled victims, never going as far as to kill. Even though he had been a vampire for years he couldn’t help feeling disgusted by the sheer animal pleasure of the kill. Drinking his fill of the dark rich life blood of his victims. Feeding on the abundant blood of the heart, squeezing the still throbbing organ like a ripe, lush fruit into his mouth. There was something almost carnal about the act and it repelled and nauseated him as much as he longed and craved for it. He dared not indulge too often for fear that he would become dependant on the pleasure of the act.
Get rid of the body, Jonah. Cover your tracks. He told himself, dragging the body outside. He hauled the corpse, heavy in death to the side of the boat and dropped it overboard, watching it sink into the dark waters below.
That should be enough to tide me over until I arrive at my destination. God forgive me for enjoying the hunt too much.
The next morning, no one could find Cephas Norton. The captain had his men search the Galatea from port to starboard, but no sign could be found of the First Mate.
“Bugger him, where has he got to? He can’t have collapsed half-drunk somewhere could he?” said Captain Goldsworthy crossly. “I’ve a good mind to flog the hide off his back when I get hold of the knave!”
“We’ve been searching for hours and hours and not one sign of him.”
“He left his bunk late at night, sir. I saw him. He woke me up with his tossing and turning and stirring. In a right state he was.” said one of the sailors calm as you please.
“Damn me Rickman, you have to take over as First Mate. The stupid shite’s probably got drunk and fallen overboard like an idiot.”
“Too pissed to call for help, he’s probably drownded by now. Poor Cephas-“
“Has anyone seen the passenger. Mr Wetherby?”
The captain shook his shaggy head. “He told us not to disturb him under any circumstances. Was very stern on the subject.”
“One of our crew is missing, sir!”
“I know that , but let’s face it he was unlikely to have seen anything was he now? We have our orders and he is the King’s man. He’ll come out when he’s ready and we’ll ask him then.”
Though some of the crew muttered rather mutinously about vague suspicions, they left it at that and got on with their work.
As soon as the sun had set, Jonah made his way up on deck.
“Well sir, you do keep singular hours!” the captain said.
“I work better at night. In my line of work I’m accustomed to it. I hope it doesn’t inconvenience you.” He said with a polite incline of the head.
“Not at all sir. May I ask a question if you don’t mind?”
Jonah smiled trying to put him at ease. “Certainly.”
“Our first mate, he’s gone missing . Didn’t return to his bunk last night. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of the radge all day. Did you see anything untoward last night?”
“Untoward?”
“Well, the letter from the king said you was some kind of detective. So we thought there’s no harm in asking.”
Jonah never lost his self-possession. “I suspect the man fell overboard in a drunken stupor. I thought I heard a splash very early in the morning and some fumbling outside my door. I didn’t go and investigate for I was rather tired after embarking. I’m sorry to hear of your loss.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you then, sir. Good night to you.”
The captain left although he had a niggling sensation deep in his gut that there was more to this situation than first appearances; and there was a distinct possibility that he could never prove that his mysterious passenger Mr Wetherby knew more about the disappearance of Cephas Norton than he was letting on. A most dangerous man, even though he is the King’s own servant he found himself thinking as the ship sailed towards France.
Jonah read the letters in the folio by the dim light of the candle, writing copious notes for his case. A most singular case indeed he thought to himself, spreading the papers out onto the small desk to get a better overview of what was going on.
The letters from De la Reynie were to one side: Jonah was quite looking forward to meeting the Frenchman. He seems like a man after my own heart. A sensible shrewd soul who’s love of justice and fairness will allow me to find out the truth without interference.
He’d even included case notes from the prosecutions that had been going on in the capital. Jonah read with interest about the Brinvilliers case and all the details ascertaining to it. Quite the scandal, I see... A high born lady, a marquise no less and her lover Godin Saint-Croix poisoning most of her family for financial gain and sheer wickedness. By all accounts they died wretched terrible deaths from the poisons she administered with a smiling face and she’d nearly got away with it as well.
Only the testimony of her ex lover de Briancourt and the discovery of incriminating letters and substances when they searched Saint-Croix’s belongings for evidence had exposed the serial poisoner. They had to capture the prisoner at Liege and it had been quite an undertaking, Madame de Brinvilliers being desperate to escape justice.
It was the last letter in the file that made Jonah frown deeply, even though the content was positive.
Dear Mr Wetherby,
I have attempted to contact Mme Ravensbourne about working on this case with you, but the lady seems somewhat reluctant to return to duty. I understand she has retired from court and desires in her own pithy words: ’to live a peaceful life.’
While I do not blame her for her wish, this is a serious matter of great national importance. We need someone on the ground floor who can infiltrate the gilded halls of Versailles and help us gather essential yet sensitive information for the investigation. She is uniquely qualified for such a task due to her contacts by friendship and marriage and her experiences both at the French court and English court. So far she seems most reluctant to co-operate with us.
I understand you have a good working relationship with la belle Ravensbourne. Perhaps you can persuade her of the necessity of putting duty before self-interest and returning to Versailles. I shall meet you when you embark and we will discuss our strategy in this important endeavour.
Till your arrival on our fair shores, I bid you adieu and a safe and swift journey
Monsieur Nicolas De la Reynie
Chief of Police in Paris, Head of the Chambre Ardente
What is going on? he thought. Evelyn Ravensbourne has never been one to shirk her duty. Not if she knows Charles and Louis want her talents on the case. Her loyalty to the King has never been under question. Something else must be going on.Well, I’ll be seeing her soon when we get to Paris, I can ask her the truth of the matter myself then.
The ominous lowering clouds gathered in the dark sky above his head as Jonah disembarked at last from the Galatea. As he heaved the chest with a great effort onto the quayside and shook hands with the captain bidding him a hearty goodbye and thanking him and his crew for their service, he spotted a figure waiting for him, cloaked and masked.
“Mr Wetherby?” the figure greeted with a courtly bow sweeping the hat off to reveal a shock of thick dark hair.
“At your service, sir. I take it you are Monsieur Nicolas De la Reynie?”
As he shook the man’s hand he was careful not to forget his unnatural strength and crush his new master’s hand in his leather gauntleted one.
“Let the porters take your luggage. We have much to discuss in the carriage on our way to Paris. I am glad you have arrived at last. His Majesty King Charles assured us you were his best agent, and God knows we need all the help we can get at the moment.”
“I read your case notes and took notes on the journey here, sir.”
“Good. Then you understand exactly what we are facing here. You must understand the delicacy to the situation and how seriously his Majesty Louis takes this.”
He nodded.
“I was assured of your discretion and effectiveness, Mr Wetherby. I’ve heard many good reports of your handling of some very sensitive cases. I have every confidence that you will manage the situation to the best of your ability.”
Jonah decided the time was right to tackle an issue that had been troubling him throughout his journey.
“Monsieur De la Reynie, do you know about my ‘special circumstances’?”
“Special circumstances?”
“I would not like for there to be any lies between us if you are going to be entrusting me with state secrets.” He said with unaccustomed firmness.
De la Reynie took off his mask and looked at him frankly. “It was mentioned in the report and discussed with his Majesty at length, yes.”
“You are not concerned about my nature? I am a murderer. I am a killer by nature.”
The Frenchman nodded serenely.
“I am a monster. I live by blood. How can you bear to be near me, let alone do business with someone like me? Many would say I am an abomination of nature and should be burnt at the stake. An undead thing-”
“I know what you are, and I have weighed the risks most carefully. On balance you are no worse than the forces that threaten us. ”
“And they are worse than employing a vampire? Let us be blunt here-”
A look of vulpine cunning crossed De la Reynie’s fox like face. “Did you read the reports, Mr Wetherby? This isn’t just a few random cases of poison. Evil things are afoot in Paris, horrors beyond imagination lurk in our ancient streets, in our drawing room, nay they infect the court itself, the most glorious of it’s kind in Europe. I am prepared to over look your ‘special circumstances’ as you so delicately put it, if you can track down these wicked souls and bring them to justice. Perhaps we need evil to fight evil in this case, who knows? Of course, that does not give you a licence to run riot in my town killing at will. I am told in your report that you are capable of excercising some restraint-”
Jonah acknowledged his wisdom. “Of course, Monsieur-“
“I believe you are a man of a sort after my own heart. I hope I will not regret doing business with you, Mr Wetherby.”
Jonah settled back in his seat, feeling like he’d passed some arcane and obscure exam by the skin of his teeth. He watched the miles speed past on the way to Paris, the great and glorious city.
Jonah heard the mob before he saw them. Gathered by the roadside, all reading the same tattily printed woodcuts depicting the lurid crimes of the ‘Evil Marquise’ or staring at the crudely printed posters pinned up on every wall and tree.
“Burn her! Burn the witch! Send her to Hell for her sick crimes!”
“No better than she ought to be, for all her blue blood, money and privilege!”
“Sick whore! Read the confession printed here. It says she lost her virginity at age seven!” sauid one citizen reading the woodcut with a most scandalised expression.
“Indulged in unrepentent incest with her own brothers for many a year. No wonder she resorted to crime!”
“What is this, sir?” asked Jonah, warily looking at the hatred that suffused their faces.
De la Reynie looked grave. “Aah, yes. The execution of the infamous Marquise de Brinvilliers today. All Paris demands justice for her crimes. I’m afraid we’ll have to make a stop at the Place de Greve. I’m expected to see that justice is done. I wanted the death sentence to be carried out at deepest night to avoid this, but the Parisians are adamant that they must see her downfall, and we cannot deny them.”
As they approached the Place de Greve, the anger of the mob grew. Some threw missiles at the stage, hoping to score a direct hit at the prisoner. Others contented themselves with shouting the vilest abuse at the woman, as she made her way slowly off the tumbril; clad in nothing but a rough chemise of sack cloth with a rope round her neck to signify the sentence of beheading and burning passed on her by the court.
Looking at the small pathetic figure of the prisoner as she mounted the steps to the scaffold, Jonah wondered at the crowd’s virulent hatred of this prisoner. She was tiny, with a mass of rich brown hair even though it was tangled and dirty from her stay in prison. Her even small features were almost placid, though as she got closer and held Jonah’s curious gaze for a moment he fancied he saw a glint of insane caprice in her mild blue eyes, the colour of faded violets. It took him aback to see that. He was reminded of Theodora and her lightning fast changes in mood, the demonic rage behind the slipped mask of her dark queenly beauty. That moment he believed Madame de Brinvilliers was capable of anything, as harmless looking as she seemed.
“Burn in Hell, you aristo slut! With all yer worthless kind!” roared one furious peasant near the front to the noisy vocal encouragement of the others.
“Now do you see how important it is that we do something about these murderers and are seen to take a hard line against these terrible crimes?” De la Reynie observed from his vantage point to Jonah. “We cannot afford this to foment social unrest in the city and across the country. Things are unequal and unfair as it is and I see it all the time. If the populace gets it into their heads that the nobility are protected from justice of the realm by sheer accident of birth...” Jonah understood De la Reynie’s fears.
“I have lived through such times.” He said quietly.
The confessor now stood on the scaffold, ready to perform the last offices before the sentence of death was carried out. He held the cross high so the audience could see and intoned the rote words said to every prisoner facing the death sentence.
“Are you ready to kiss and venerate the cross and plead forgiveness for your sins before our Father, Almighty God?”
The woman turned away from the golden cross to the hisses and scornful howls of the crowd.
“No sir. Do not waste your time.”
“What is she doing?” muttered De la Reynie besides himself with vexation at her utter pigheadness on the very scafffold, the executioner beside her sharpening his sword to behead her. “Does the stupid woman want a bloody riot? Why in God’s name would you refuse absolution right in the very face of Death? This is her only chance of salvation. Why would she be so arrogant and reckless to throw it back in our faces? ”
The crowd reacted badly increasing their boos and hisses until it was a hellish deafening din of hate.
She stepped foward, holding up her hand as if to speak.
“Good gentle sirs and gentlewomen-“
The din rose in pitch and ferocity as the crowd surged forward crazed by rage and bloodlust to rend, tear, gouge. The guards had their work cut out trying to restrain the zeal of the audience.
“Some of you may wonder why I refused the consolation of absolution as I head toward an ignominous death. In truth, I refuse to be a hypocrite and ask forgiveness for acts that in all honesty I do not regret. ”
Though her voice was quiet, as the crowd settled down to listen to her last words it carried over the Place de Greve. They really wanted to know now just how shameless and unrepentant on the very edge of death the condemned marquise could be.
“If I chose, I could ruin half the people in this town. Oh yes, even people who stand and watch me right now, congratulating themselves that they are more virtuous and more lucky than I. But I am too generous to betray them-“
“Shame on you!” shouted the peasant overcome with loathing and disgust at her cool defiance of public opinion. “You deserve to burn in hell!”
“Many others do exactly as I have done, and worse. I was unlucky enough to be caught for it and condemned by the court. Therefore I deserve my fate, and no doubt –“ she gave the hostile crowd an ironic yet courtly bow. “- I may see some of you good people in hell very soon. Adieu-”
She knelt by the block laying her little neck in the groove. The axeman swung his heavy weapon limbering up for his final moment of glory in front of the baying crowd.
“I hope he’s good.” observed De la Reynie with a frown on his intelligent fox-like face. “A nice clean cut, that’s what we need. I’ve heard horror stories about what happens when they get it wrong and they have to have more than one attempt at the job. The last thing we need is for the axeman to be reduced to chasing the infernal woman round the stage raining blows down on her. It took twenty blows to finish off Chalais, poor soul-”
Jonah shuddered at the thought.“It happens.” He murmured.
As last the axeman held the head aloft by the hair for all the crowd to see.
“Thus end the enemies of the great and glorious Louis XIV!” he intoned. “Take heed and learn from the fate of this godless woman and let our Lord have mercy on her soul if he can!”
The crowd cheered.
“We’ve seen enough, Wetherby.” said De la Reynie soberly. ”Let’s see if we can rest and perhaps tomorrow night we can try and see Eve and find out exactly what is going on.”
De la Reynie let wearily himself back into his office with a sigh. A terrible business , and who knows where it will end? The populace were right to be unhappy with the way the case had panned out, but with the powers that had been his at the time there was little else that could be done. He’d argued ‘til he was practically blue in the face but with the defendants’s connection to the legal fraternity, there was no way that she would have faced the same level of justice as everyone else.
The scandal about the Pennautier case hadn’t helped at all. The whole of Paris was crying foul that he was being protected by his legal peers, that the rich and aristocratic were given a free pass to commit any sins they desired.
The public didn’t even know many of the true facts of the case which had to be suppressed. All references to Saint-Croix’s links to the famous poisoner Egidio Exili had been carefully excised by his own hand from the record. His claims that he had developed poisons which were devilishly effective and impossble to detect or counteract with an antidote. The ability to impregnate everyday commonplace items such as bouquets of flowers, fruit, gloves, handkerchiefs and cups with deadly substances to baffle the intelligence and learning of even the most skilful of doctors. His studies with Christopher Glaser, the famous chemist and scientist who had earned the title of the king’s Apothecary in ordinary and resident lecturer at the Royal Botanical Gardens in Paris.
It would have caused a huge outrage in the arts and sciences community had it been known that Glaser, paid handsomely by the disgraced minister Nicolas Fouquet, had travelled to Italy in his youth to study the subtle art of poison from the Italians, and that he had passed on his knowledge to his student Saint-Croix with devastating results.
Now the threat of poison in society had magnified to a terrifying degree. The current knowledge of toxicology was feared to be rendered completely obsolete by Exili and Glaser’s efforts and the developments of undetectable poisons. What a terrible thing! Who would know whether any death past or present was natural or sinister now?
We are sitting on a time bomb and God alone knows what will happen when it finally explodes. At last Louis agreed with his gloomy prognostications and the Chambre Ardente was opened to bring these murderers to justice.
I hope that Jonah Wetherby can help us bring this to a swift yet just conclusion. I’ve heard many good things about this agent. Charles Stuart declares him to be one of his best, despite what he is. I have to admit he did very well on the Le Roux case a couple of years ago. The Sieur de Marcilly had made a serious threat against the life of the King whilst dwelling in England and when the Duke of York had sent classified information to that effect, Jonah had joined the search, tracking the wretched man to Switzerland where he was captured.
If he can help, and if he can persuade Eve Ravensbourne to get back in the field again then I will gladly keep his secrets....
“Sir?” Ghislain was still in the office working away. De la Reynie looked at the young man scribbling by candlelight, dark shadows under his eyes with an almost fatherly fondness. The lad was a hard worker, willing to put the hours in when necessary. Such a shame he didn’t really have a legal vocation and stayed simply to please his father Comissioner Narcisse Bouchard, who simply wouldn’t hear of a son of his singing for a living. If he applied that fine mind of his, he could have a promising career. A shame though, to waste that glorious honey sweet voice slaving in an office though-
“Ah, Bouchard. I didn’t expect to see you here at this time. I thought you might have gone to the Place de Greve to see justice be done-“
He looked up at his superior and de la Reynie noticed how tired he looked. Maybe I should schedule a little time off for him. He works far too hard and considering I know he has a mistress he probably needs it.
“I had no taste for it, sir. The crowd baying for blood and justice-”
“Yes, well I didn’t care for it much either to be honest. An unpleasant business all round. Some of the statements she made from the scaffold were a bit inflammatory; we could have done without all that. Crowd were getting a bit bloodthirsty-“
Ghislain’s dark eyes narrowed with interest. “What did she say? Did the Marquise make a good death?”
“She was quite unrepentant, Ghislain-“
A crooked smile tugged at the younger man’s mouth in response. “Any gems you want run by me? I can well imagine-”
The lad’s too damn young to become so cynical- thought de la Reynie with a pang.
“Apparently she knows enough to ruin half the town if she pleased but she’s too damned generous to incriminate anyone. She also didn’t think she should crave forgiveness for a crime that she didn’t regret in the slightest-”
“Bet that went down really well with the crowd-“
“Like a lead weight.” De la Reynie remarked.
“Did she say anything else about Pennautier, sir?”
De la Reynie shook his head. “Not a word.”
“Damn!”
“I met Wetherby tonight. We went to the execution and then I told him to retire and come in for briefing tomorrow evening.”
“What do you think? Is he good?”
De la Reynie shrugged. “Well, he’s been briefed thoroughly. He’s up to date on the cases and ready to work. We’ll see what he can come up with. He did a good job on the Le Roux case-“
“Shall I send a note to Desgrez just in case?”
De la Reynie paused. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Desgrez’s skills on the case, he just had other plans for his detective right now, deep in the Paris underworld. Desgrez himself hadn’t wanted the case, advising them to contact Jonah. It would be good for Ghislain to work with other detectives, learn some new methods.
“No harm in sending him a note, but remember he’s very firm he’s on semi-retirement. This fellow’s good, I promise you. You’ll learn a lot from him. And he’s tough enough to cope with the criminal element of the case. You couldn’t have a more ideal companion-”
“And the ‘Ange de Feu?’” he asked referring to their spy who it was planned to send undercover to Versailles to gather information.
“That’s a bit more tricky. You see, she’s rather reluctant to rejoin and I’m hoping that having Jonah on board will persuade her of her duty once more. Apparently she has an excellent working relationship with him-”
“Reluctant of her duty? It’s her job!”
“Not everyone finds it as easy as you do to compartmentalise their lives. She knows there is a lot at stake and I suspect her circumstances have changed somewhat. But I have every confidence that we can persuade her-”
“The sooner we get someone competent into Versailles, the better it will be. I feel as if we’re working blind here sometimes. We need to know the gossip, the intrigues and the scandals and you can only get so much from opening letters, sir-“
"I know Ghislain. But we have to trust this man, strange as he is. He is the best and only hope we have-" he looked at the clock. "Come on lad, don't you have a home to go to? Eve will have my guts if you're late again."
Ghislain's mouth stretched into a smile. "True, we'll talk gain tomorrow , sir. Good Night, Monsieur De la Reynie-"
"Good night."
Hope you like it. I need comments and suggestions so please feel free to comment on the chapter.
Title: The Poisoned Veil
Genre: Historical Romance, Fantasy
Author: Seraph7
Rating: Mostly PG-13 (Will definitely become NC-17 at some points) Character death, Moderate Violence
Chapter Summary: Jonah Wetherby travels to France and starts his new case. On the way, he tackles an unscrupulous foe and witnesses the execution of an unrepentant sinner.
Chapter 1
A Royal Mission
Jonah Wetherby watched the captain carefully count out his gold for his fare to Dieppe. Over and over the thick rough hands riffled through the bag of gold, piling it up into neat piles, making sure that he had all that was owing for his voyage to France.
“Well Sir, everything seems to be in order. And you paid the primage swift enough as well-”
Jonah nodded in acknowledgement briefly, before setting down his chest and his pack. It was a plain room, almost Spartan in it’s furnishings just a bed, a small press for some clothes and a tiny window, but that suited Jonah and his simple tastes just fine.
“I only wish that the King’s men were always so prompt in paying their due. Is there anything else you require on your voyage with us?”
Jonah inclined his head. “I do have a few special requirements, yes-“
“Anything I can do, my good sir?”
“I keep my own hours, so I expressly do not wish to be disturbed for anything. See that your men obey this, as in all things. It is very important.”
The captain nodded. The letter he had got from the Admiralty office signed by his Majesty himself had said as much. In fact there was much to be figured out between the lines with this particular passenger. A most mysterious man was he, according to what he had read.
“Do not allow your men to touch my belongings without express permission. Not my chest-“ he pointed to the large bronze bound chest that he had dragged on board, refusing to allow anyone else to touch it. “Not my paperwork, or my possessions. I will be most displeased if this is disobeyed.”
“As you command, sir.” The captain reassured him. “I will instruct my men immediately regarding your wishes.”
Jonah’s eye wandered to the first mate who stood behind the captain with a curious look on his mean weatherbeaten face. There was something about the man and his manner that Jonah didn’t trust.
I can’t just penetrate his mind with no justification. That would be unjust and an abuse of my powers. Perhaps I’m just on edge about the case. It certainly was a strange one. His Majesty had said as much when he had assigned him to it.
Despite Jonah’s best efforts not to read the man’s mind , he couldn’t ignore his instincts about him. He means me harm, I can’t help but think that. He’s practically hurling his malice at me, it was almost visceral. Assuring himself that it was mere self-defence, Jonah looked the man right in the eyes and broke into the sanctuary of his mind.
Hatred. Contempt for this passenger. A nameless atavistic fear that he could scarce explain just a feeling that something about this tall mild-looking man in his unfashionable Puritan style clothes and his pale ashen face above the white starched linen of his collar was wrong. Arrogance that a wily old dog like him would have no trouble robbing him of that mysterious treasure in his chest that he was so protective of. And murderous intent lurking deep beneath the surface. The ruthlessness and resolve to murder to get his own way. Tonight , he plans to do it tonight.
He’ll get a turn if he tries to do it tonight, though Jonah with a grim glint in his eye. Of that I am sure.
“Go now, I wish to rest. If I need anything, I will call you.”
The captain and his mate withdrew, sensing dismissal, but Jonah could still feel the malevolent burn of the first mate’s eyes on him.
I will not go without a fight. So help me God, I will not.
“Cephas, what ails thee? You took on so ill with that gentleman I was well nigh ashamed of you. Staring at him like he was the Devil from hell himself-“
“I don’t like him. Do you?”
“Fair gives me the creeps , he does-“ agreed one sailor still swabbing the deck. “Summat ‘bout him I don’t trust, but I can’t explain-“
Captain Goldsworthy frowned. “It doesn’t matter whether I like him or no, He’s paid his way and prompt enough so we’ll take him wherever he need to go. The King of England himself demands it. Who are we to argue, his loyal servants?”
“What does he do?”
“By all accounts, he’s a detective. Ever since the famous case of the Whitehall Vampire his Majesty uses him for his missions. All I know is that he’s heading to France for a top secret mission. Asked for by the King of France himself-”
When Cephas got an idea in his head it was hard to shake it. “I dinna like him, that’s all-“ he muttered under his breath as they changed the watch.
He was still pondering it as he went to his bunk for a break. That treasure was still on his mind. What could be in that chest? It was large, able to store treasure enough to support him the rest of his days. If he took it...he was pretty sure that he could overpower him, given the advantage of surprise. The man must be asleep by now. By the time the man awoke, he could have slit his throat in his bed and made off with the loot.
Resolved on his course of action he rose from his bunk and padded towards the door, trying not to wake his bunkmates. The last thing he needed was for one of them to wake and start asking awkward questions, trying to stop him. Or even wanting to share the treasure. A low snarl sounded in his throat from the thought of it. It’s mine! He told himself with a covetous gleam. Mine! I’m damned if I share it with anyone!
It took him a long time to pick open the lock of the cabin. He had to work slowly, sliding the oiled pin in and wriggling and caressing it in the lock until it finally yielded and gave him his secrets. At last the door slid open and he padded in, knife in hand ready to carry out his desperate plan, whatever the cost.
The treasure is mine at last...
The next thing he knew he was caught in the grip of a deadly headlock and skilfully disarmed. No matter how he struggled he couldn’t get free, could hardly breathe to make a sound, call for help. He felt the iron hardness, the coldness of the passenger’s body holding him fast.
“I knew you were coming for me, I just didn’t know when you would be foolish enough to risk it.” said the soft, well spoken voice of the passenger close to his ear.
Despite the panic that overtook him and the surprise that the mild looking passenger was well able to defend himself, he still tried for some sort of defiance.
“I wouldn’t struggle if I were you.” Jonah said coolly increasing the pressure on the man’s windpipe, slowly choking the life out of him.
“Spare me! “ he wheezed, fighting for air. “I’ll talk. Promise-“
Jonah let him go and hurled him down, pressing him to the ground with one well-shod foot.
Cephas was unmanned by terror as those eyes bored into him, pitiless in their grey scornful scrutiny.
“You planned to do me harm, didn’t you? I saw it in your head, in your heart. You cannot lie to me-”
“No-“ he gasped rubbing the livid bruises on his neck.
A ruthless little smile curved the severe lines of the man’s mouth.“Liar. What do you want?”
“The treasure. All I wanted was the gold, I swear-“
Jonah chuckled softly, a chilling sound to the man still trapped under his foot. “There is no treasure. You are a fool and a dishonest knave to boot.”
“What’s in the chest then? You could be lying to me-“
“Tell me, why should I lie?” Jonah removed his foot from the wretched man. “I have no reason to, do I? Face it, there is no treasure-”
Crazed by desperation, fear and greed Cephas renewed his attack as soon as he got up from the floor. It was no use. Jonah pinned him up against the wall of the cabin with ease. It was faintly unnatural how much strength there was in that hand holding him up.
“You’re not a very wise man, are ye?” he mused.
Cephas could see the ruthless glint in his steel grey eyes and he began to feel true fear prickle like burning needles under his skin. This mysterious man, he was dangerous. He was a killer. With no compunction at all, he would crush the life out of him, and now no one knew where he was it was unlikely that anyone would come to his rescue.
“I’d try for a little repentance if I were you.” Jonah’s voice was soft and deadly in his ear. “Before you meet your maker.”
“Spare me. I beg thee, sir-” He groaned. He could feel Jonah smelling him, drinking in the pungent aroma of sweat, dirt and fear. The horror washed over him. What was he planning to do to him, this implacable dangerous killer?
“The scent. The sweet scent of the blood-“ he heard Jonah whisper raptuorously almost to himself.
He felt the sharp stab of fangs in his neck and then mercifully felt no more as the blood began to drain and the life flowed out of him....
Jonah lay on his pallet, glutted with blood. It had been a long time since he had fed so generously. Usually he contented himself with small drinks from a variety of dazzled victims, never going as far as to kill. Even though he had been a vampire for years he couldn’t help feeling disgusted by the sheer animal pleasure of the kill. Drinking his fill of the dark rich life blood of his victims. Feeding on the abundant blood of the heart, squeezing the still throbbing organ like a ripe, lush fruit into his mouth. There was something almost carnal about the act and it repelled and nauseated him as much as he longed and craved for it. He dared not indulge too often for fear that he would become dependant on the pleasure of the act.
Get rid of the body, Jonah. Cover your tracks. He told himself, dragging the body outside. He hauled the corpse, heavy in death to the side of the boat and dropped it overboard, watching it sink into the dark waters below.
That should be enough to tide me over until I arrive at my destination. God forgive me for enjoying the hunt too much.
The next morning, no one could find Cephas Norton. The captain had his men search the Galatea from port to starboard, but no sign could be found of the First Mate.
“Bugger him, where has he got to? He can’t have collapsed half-drunk somewhere could he?” said Captain Goldsworthy crossly. “I’ve a good mind to flog the hide off his back when I get hold of the knave!”
“We’ve been searching for hours and hours and not one sign of him.”
“He left his bunk late at night, sir. I saw him. He woke me up with his tossing and turning and stirring. In a right state he was.” said one of the sailors calm as you please.
“Damn me Rickman, you have to take over as First Mate. The stupid shite’s probably got drunk and fallen overboard like an idiot.”
“Too pissed to call for help, he’s probably drownded by now. Poor Cephas-“
“Has anyone seen the passenger. Mr Wetherby?”
The captain shook his shaggy head. “He told us not to disturb him under any circumstances. Was very stern on the subject.”
“One of our crew is missing, sir!”
“I know that , but let’s face it he was unlikely to have seen anything was he now? We have our orders and he is the King’s man. He’ll come out when he’s ready and we’ll ask him then.”
Though some of the crew muttered rather mutinously about vague suspicions, they left it at that and got on with their work.
As soon as the sun had set, Jonah made his way up on deck.
“Well sir, you do keep singular hours!” the captain said.
“I work better at night. In my line of work I’m accustomed to it. I hope it doesn’t inconvenience you.” He said with a polite incline of the head.
“Not at all sir. May I ask a question if you don’t mind?”
Jonah smiled trying to put him at ease. “Certainly.”
“Our first mate, he’s gone missing . Didn’t return to his bunk last night. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of the radge all day. Did you see anything untoward last night?”
“Untoward?”
“Well, the letter from the king said you was some kind of detective. So we thought there’s no harm in asking.”
Jonah never lost his self-possession. “I suspect the man fell overboard in a drunken stupor. I thought I heard a splash very early in the morning and some fumbling outside my door. I didn’t go and investigate for I was rather tired after embarking. I’m sorry to hear of your loss.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you then, sir. Good night to you.”
The captain left although he had a niggling sensation deep in his gut that there was more to this situation than first appearances; and there was a distinct possibility that he could never prove that his mysterious passenger Mr Wetherby knew more about the disappearance of Cephas Norton than he was letting on. A most dangerous man, even though he is the King’s own servant he found himself thinking as the ship sailed towards France.
Jonah read the letters in the folio by the dim light of the candle, writing copious notes for his case. A most singular case indeed he thought to himself, spreading the papers out onto the small desk to get a better overview of what was going on.
The letters from De la Reynie were to one side: Jonah was quite looking forward to meeting the Frenchman. He seems like a man after my own heart. A sensible shrewd soul who’s love of justice and fairness will allow me to find out the truth without interference.
He’d even included case notes from the prosecutions that had been going on in the capital. Jonah read with interest about the Brinvilliers case and all the details ascertaining to it. Quite the scandal, I see... A high born lady, a marquise no less and her lover Godin Saint-Croix poisoning most of her family for financial gain and sheer wickedness. By all accounts they died wretched terrible deaths from the poisons she administered with a smiling face and she’d nearly got away with it as well.
Only the testimony of her ex lover de Briancourt and the discovery of incriminating letters and substances when they searched Saint-Croix’s belongings for evidence had exposed the serial poisoner. They had to capture the prisoner at Liege and it had been quite an undertaking, Madame de Brinvilliers being desperate to escape justice.
It was the last letter in the file that made Jonah frown deeply, even though the content was positive.
Dear Mr Wetherby,
I have attempted to contact Mme Ravensbourne about working on this case with you, but the lady seems somewhat reluctant to return to duty. I understand she has retired from court and desires in her own pithy words: ’to live a peaceful life.’
While I do not blame her for her wish, this is a serious matter of great national importance. We need someone on the ground floor who can infiltrate the gilded halls of Versailles and help us gather essential yet sensitive information for the investigation. She is uniquely qualified for such a task due to her contacts by friendship and marriage and her experiences both at the French court and English court. So far she seems most reluctant to co-operate with us.
I understand you have a good working relationship with la belle Ravensbourne. Perhaps you can persuade her of the necessity of putting duty before self-interest and returning to Versailles. I shall meet you when you embark and we will discuss our strategy in this important endeavour.
Till your arrival on our fair shores, I bid you adieu and a safe and swift journey
Monsieur Nicolas De la Reynie
Chief of Police in Paris, Head of the Chambre Ardente
What is going on? he thought. Evelyn Ravensbourne has never been one to shirk her duty. Not if she knows Charles and Louis want her talents on the case. Her loyalty to the King has never been under question. Something else must be going on.Well, I’ll be seeing her soon when we get to Paris, I can ask her the truth of the matter myself then.
The ominous lowering clouds gathered in the dark sky above his head as Jonah disembarked at last from the Galatea. As he heaved the chest with a great effort onto the quayside and shook hands with the captain bidding him a hearty goodbye and thanking him and his crew for their service, he spotted a figure waiting for him, cloaked and masked.
“Mr Wetherby?” the figure greeted with a courtly bow sweeping the hat off to reveal a shock of thick dark hair.
“At your service, sir. I take it you are Monsieur Nicolas De la Reynie?”
As he shook the man’s hand he was careful not to forget his unnatural strength and crush his new master’s hand in his leather gauntleted one.
“Let the porters take your luggage. We have much to discuss in the carriage on our way to Paris. I am glad you have arrived at last. His Majesty King Charles assured us you were his best agent, and God knows we need all the help we can get at the moment.”
“I read your case notes and took notes on the journey here, sir.”
“Good. Then you understand exactly what we are facing here. You must understand the delicacy to the situation and how seriously his Majesty Louis takes this.”
He nodded.
“I was assured of your discretion and effectiveness, Mr Wetherby. I’ve heard many good reports of your handling of some very sensitive cases. I have every confidence that you will manage the situation to the best of your ability.”
Jonah decided the time was right to tackle an issue that had been troubling him throughout his journey.
“Monsieur De la Reynie, do you know about my ‘special circumstances’?”
“Special circumstances?”
“I would not like for there to be any lies between us if you are going to be entrusting me with state secrets.” He said with unaccustomed firmness.
De la Reynie took off his mask and looked at him frankly. “It was mentioned in the report and discussed with his Majesty at length, yes.”
“You are not concerned about my nature? I am a murderer. I am a killer by nature.”
The Frenchman nodded serenely.
“I am a monster. I live by blood. How can you bear to be near me, let alone do business with someone like me? Many would say I am an abomination of nature and should be burnt at the stake. An undead thing-”
“I know what you are, and I have weighed the risks most carefully. On balance you are no worse than the forces that threaten us. ”
“And they are worse than employing a vampire? Let us be blunt here-”
A look of vulpine cunning crossed De la Reynie’s fox like face. “Did you read the reports, Mr Wetherby? This isn’t just a few random cases of poison. Evil things are afoot in Paris, horrors beyond imagination lurk in our ancient streets, in our drawing room, nay they infect the court itself, the most glorious of it’s kind in Europe. I am prepared to over look your ‘special circumstances’ as you so delicately put it, if you can track down these wicked souls and bring them to justice. Perhaps we need evil to fight evil in this case, who knows? Of course, that does not give you a licence to run riot in my town killing at will. I am told in your report that you are capable of excercising some restraint-”
Jonah acknowledged his wisdom. “Of course, Monsieur-“
“I believe you are a man of a sort after my own heart. I hope I will not regret doing business with you, Mr Wetherby.”
Jonah settled back in his seat, feeling like he’d passed some arcane and obscure exam by the skin of his teeth. He watched the miles speed past on the way to Paris, the great and glorious city.
Jonah heard the mob before he saw them. Gathered by the roadside, all reading the same tattily printed woodcuts depicting the lurid crimes of the ‘Evil Marquise’ or staring at the crudely printed posters pinned up on every wall and tree.
“Burn her! Burn the witch! Send her to Hell for her sick crimes!”
“No better than she ought to be, for all her blue blood, money and privilege!”
“Sick whore! Read the confession printed here. It says she lost her virginity at age seven!” sauid one citizen reading the woodcut with a most scandalised expression.
“Indulged in unrepentent incest with her own brothers for many a year. No wonder she resorted to crime!”
“What is this, sir?” asked Jonah, warily looking at the hatred that suffused their faces.
De la Reynie looked grave. “Aah, yes. The execution of the infamous Marquise de Brinvilliers today. All Paris demands justice for her crimes. I’m afraid we’ll have to make a stop at the Place de Greve. I’m expected to see that justice is done. I wanted the death sentence to be carried out at deepest night to avoid this, but the Parisians are adamant that they must see her downfall, and we cannot deny them.”
As they approached the Place de Greve, the anger of the mob grew. Some threw missiles at the stage, hoping to score a direct hit at the prisoner. Others contented themselves with shouting the vilest abuse at the woman, as she made her way slowly off the tumbril; clad in nothing but a rough chemise of sack cloth with a rope round her neck to signify the sentence of beheading and burning passed on her by the court.
Looking at the small pathetic figure of the prisoner as she mounted the steps to the scaffold, Jonah wondered at the crowd’s virulent hatred of this prisoner. She was tiny, with a mass of rich brown hair even though it was tangled and dirty from her stay in prison. Her even small features were almost placid, though as she got closer and held Jonah’s curious gaze for a moment he fancied he saw a glint of insane caprice in her mild blue eyes, the colour of faded violets. It took him aback to see that. He was reminded of Theodora and her lightning fast changes in mood, the demonic rage behind the slipped mask of her dark queenly beauty. That moment he believed Madame de Brinvilliers was capable of anything, as harmless looking as she seemed.
“Burn in Hell, you aristo slut! With all yer worthless kind!” roared one furious peasant near the front to the noisy vocal encouragement of the others.
“Now do you see how important it is that we do something about these murderers and are seen to take a hard line against these terrible crimes?” De la Reynie observed from his vantage point to Jonah. “We cannot afford this to foment social unrest in the city and across the country. Things are unequal and unfair as it is and I see it all the time. If the populace gets it into their heads that the nobility are protected from justice of the realm by sheer accident of birth...” Jonah understood De la Reynie’s fears.
“I have lived through such times.” He said quietly.
The confessor now stood on the scaffold, ready to perform the last offices before the sentence of death was carried out. He held the cross high so the audience could see and intoned the rote words said to every prisoner facing the death sentence.
“Are you ready to kiss and venerate the cross and plead forgiveness for your sins before our Father, Almighty God?”
The woman turned away from the golden cross to the hisses and scornful howls of the crowd.
“No sir. Do not waste your time.”
“What is she doing?” muttered De la Reynie besides himself with vexation at her utter pigheadness on the very scafffold, the executioner beside her sharpening his sword to behead her. “Does the stupid woman want a bloody riot? Why in God’s name would you refuse absolution right in the very face of Death? This is her only chance of salvation. Why would she be so arrogant and reckless to throw it back in our faces? ”
The crowd reacted badly increasing their boos and hisses until it was a hellish deafening din of hate.
She stepped foward, holding up her hand as if to speak.
“Good gentle sirs and gentlewomen-“
The din rose in pitch and ferocity as the crowd surged forward crazed by rage and bloodlust to rend, tear, gouge. The guards had their work cut out trying to restrain the zeal of the audience.
“Some of you may wonder why I refused the consolation of absolution as I head toward an ignominous death. In truth, I refuse to be a hypocrite and ask forgiveness for acts that in all honesty I do not regret. ”
Though her voice was quiet, as the crowd settled down to listen to her last words it carried over the Place de Greve. They really wanted to know now just how shameless and unrepentant on the very edge of death the condemned marquise could be.
“If I chose, I could ruin half the people in this town. Oh yes, even people who stand and watch me right now, congratulating themselves that they are more virtuous and more lucky than I. But I am too generous to betray them-“
“Shame on you!” shouted the peasant overcome with loathing and disgust at her cool defiance of public opinion. “You deserve to burn in hell!”
“Many others do exactly as I have done, and worse. I was unlucky enough to be caught for it and condemned by the court. Therefore I deserve my fate, and no doubt –“ she gave the hostile crowd an ironic yet courtly bow. “- I may see some of you good people in hell very soon. Adieu-”
She knelt by the block laying her little neck in the groove. The axeman swung his heavy weapon limbering up for his final moment of glory in front of the baying crowd.
“I hope he’s good.” observed De la Reynie with a frown on his intelligent fox-like face. “A nice clean cut, that’s what we need. I’ve heard horror stories about what happens when they get it wrong and they have to have more than one attempt at the job. The last thing we need is for the axeman to be reduced to chasing the infernal woman round the stage raining blows down on her. It took twenty blows to finish off Chalais, poor soul-”
Jonah shuddered at the thought.“It happens.” He murmured.
As last the axeman held the head aloft by the hair for all the crowd to see.
“Thus end the enemies of the great and glorious Louis XIV!” he intoned. “Take heed and learn from the fate of this godless woman and let our Lord have mercy on her soul if he can!”
The crowd cheered.
“We’ve seen enough, Wetherby.” said De la Reynie soberly. ”Let’s see if we can rest and perhaps tomorrow night we can try and see Eve and find out exactly what is going on.”
De la Reynie let wearily himself back into his office with a sigh. A terrible business , and who knows where it will end? The populace were right to be unhappy with the way the case had panned out, but with the powers that had been his at the time there was little else that could be done. He’d argued ‘til he was practically blue in the face but with the defendants’s connection to the legal fraternity, there was no way that she would have faced the same level of justice as everyone else.
The scandal about the Pennautier case hadn’t helped at all. The whole of Paris was crying foul that he was being protected by his legal peers, that the rich and aristocratic were given a free pass to commit any sins they desired.
The public didn’t even know many of the true facts of the case which had to be suppressed. All references to Saint-Croix’s links to the famous poisoner Egidio Exili had been carefully excised by his own hand from the record. His claims that he had developed poisons which were devilishly effective and impossble to detect or counteract with an antidote. The ability to impregnate everyday commonplace items such as bouquets of flowers, fruit, gloves, handkerchiefs and cups with deadly substances to baffle the intelligence and learning of even the most skilful of doctors. His studies with Christopher Glaser, the famous chemist and scientist who had earned the title of the king’s Apothecary in ordinary and resident lecturer at the Royal Botanical Gardens in Paris.
It would have caused a huge outrage in the arts and sciences community had it been known that Glaser, paid handsomely by the disgraced minister Nicolas Fouquet, had travelled to Italy in his youth to study the subtle art of poison from the Italians, and that he had passed on his knowledge to his student Saint-Croix with devastating results.
Now the threat of poison in society had magnified to a terrifying degree. The current knowledge of toxicology was feared to be rendered completely obsolete by Exili and Glaser’s efforts and the developments of undetectable poisons. What a terrible thing! Who would know whether any death past or present was natural or sinister now?
We are sitting on a time bomb and God alone knows what will happen when it finally explodes. At last Louis agreed with his gloomy prognostications and the Chambre Ardente was opened to bring these murderers to justice.
I hope that Jonah Wetherby can help us bring this to a swift yet just conclusion. I’ve heard many good things about this agent. Charles Stuart declares him to be one of his best, despite what he is. I have to admit he did very well on the Le Roux case a couple of years ago. The Sieur de Marcilly had made a serious threat against the life of the King whilst dwelling in England and when the Duke of York had sent classified information to that effect, Jonah had joined the search, tracking the wretched man to Switzerland where he was captured.
If he can help, and if he can persuade Eve Ravensbourne to get back in the field again then I will gladly keep his secrets....
“Sir?” Ghislain was still in the office working away. De la Reynie looked at the young man scribbling by candlelight, dark shadows under his eyes with an almost fatherly fondness. The lad was a hard worker, willing to put the hours in when necessary. Such a shame he didn’t really have a legal vocation and stayed simply to please his father Comissioner Narcisse Bouchard, who simply wouldn’t hear of a son of his singing for a living. If he applied that fine mind of his, he could have a promising career. A shame though, to waste that glorious honey sweet voice slaving in an office though-
“Ah, Bouchard. I didn’t expect to see you here at this time. I thought you might have gone to the Place de Greve to see justice be done-“
He looked up at his superior and de la Reynie noticed how tired he looked. Maybe I should schedule a little time off for him. He works far too hard and considering I know he has a mistress he probably needs it.
“I had no taste for it, sir. The crowd baying for blood and justice-”
“Yes, well I didn’t care for it much either to be honest. An unpleasant business all round. Some of the statements she made from the scaffold were a bit inflammatory; we could have done without all that. Crowd were getting a bit bloodthirsty-“
Ghislain’s dark eyes narrowed with interest. “What did she say? Did the Marquise make a good death?”
“She was quite unrepentant, Ghislain-“
A crooked smile tugged at the younger man’s mouth in response. “Any gems you want run by me? I can well imagine-”
The lad’s too damn young to become so cynical- thought de la Reynie with a pang.
“Apparently she knows enough to ruin half the town if she pleased but she’s too damned generous to incriminate anyone. She also didn’t think she should crave forgiveness for a crime that she didn’t regret in the slightest-”
“Bet that went down really well with the crowd-“
“Like a lead weight.” De la Reynie remarked.
“Did she say anything else about Pennautier, sir?”
De la Reynie shook his head. “Not a word.”
“Damn!”
“I met Wetherby tonight. We went to the execution and then I told him to retire and come in for briefing tomorrow evening.”
“What do you think? Is he good?”
De la Reynie shrugged. “Well, he’s been briefed thoroughly. He’s up to date on the cases and ready to work. We’ll see what he can come up with. He did a good job on the Le Roux case-“
“Shall I send a note to Desgrez just in case?”
De la Reynie paused. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Desgrez’s skills on the case, he just had other plans for his detective right now, deep in the Paris underworld. Desgrez himself hadn’t wanted the case, advising them to contact Jonah. It would be good for Ghislain to work with other detectives, learn some new methods.
“No harm in sending him a note, but remember he’s very firm he’s on semi-retirement. This fellow’s good, I promise you. You’ll learn a lot from him. And he’s tough enough to cope with the criminal element of the case. You couldn’t have a more ideal companion-”
“And the ‘Ange de Feu?’” he asked referring to their spy who it was planned to send undercover to Versailles to gather information.
“That’s a bit more tricky. You see, she’s rather reluctant to rejoin and I’m hoping that having Jonah on board will persuade her of her duty once more. Apparently she has an excellent working relationship with him-”
“Reluctant of her duty? It’s her job!”
“Not everyone finds it as easy as you do to compartmentalise their lives. She knows there is a lot at stake and I suspect her circumstances have changed somewhat. But I have every confidence that we can persuade her-”
“The sooner we get someone competent into Versailles, the better it will be. I feel as if we’re working blind here sometimes. We need to know the gossip, the intrigues and the scandals and you can only get so much from opening letters, sir-“
"I know Ghislain. But we have to trust this man, strange as he is. He is the best and only hope we have-" he looked at the clock. "Come on lad, don't you have a home to go to? Eve will have my guts if you're late again."
Ghislain's mouth stretched into a smile. "True, we'll talk gain tomorrow , sir. Good Night, Monsieur De la Reynie-"
"Good night."
Hope you like it. I need comments and suggestions so please feel free to comment on the chapter.
