The Dark Shadows of Kaysersberg

 

The Dark Shadows of Kaysersberg

The French Orphan Series, Book 6

By Michael Stolle

It’s 1646 and infant King Louis XIV reigns over France; wily Cardinal Mazarin holds the reins of power - but he needs money, desperately.

Armand de Saint Paul, the younger son of a great and rich noble house, is leading a carefree life in Paris, dedicating his time to such pleasures as gambling, hunting and amorous pursuits.

Unexpectedly, Armand has to defend the honour of his house in a duel that transpires to be a deadly trap, set up by a mighty foe of the house of Saint Paul.

Will Armand be able to escape the deadly net of intrigue that soon threatens to destroy him?

How can a young man deal with love, when it’s no longer a game, but a dream beyond reach?

The leading question is: What is going on behind the façade that is Castle Kaysersberg, 

where nothing is as it seems to be … until the day when the dark shadows come alive?

Excerpt  from The Dark Shadows of Kayserberg

‘Don’t worry, as long as you are under my roof, nobody will drag you out of your bed. Not even the King’s Musketeers,’ François replied. ‘Let me see who has arrived and let me deal with them.’

He left the room and Pierre and Armand looked at each other.

‘He can be relaxed,’ finally Armand broke the silence, ‘what if de Lantenay gave me away? Duels are forbidden, you know the punishment.’

‘How could he? De Lantenay thinks that you’re dead,’ Pierre replied putting on a brave face. ‘Nobody knows that you’ve survived or where you are. Only your parents would know. You’re safe here.’

As the surprise visitor came closer, they could discern the first voices downstairs through the open door.

‘Oh no, I know this voice far too well,’ Armand cried out. ‘That’s even worse than the musketeers. Can I hide somewhere?’

Pierre listened and immediately understood his friend’s predicament. 

‘Oh my God! I hear your father’s voice. You must be very brave now. Hiding is useless.’

The Marquis de Saint Paul entered the room, dressed in most sombre black velvet and lace. Only the sparkle of his diamond buttons and a large sapphire ring lightened up his sober appearance. The light of the candles hit the precious stones and brought them alive with a fierce sparkle. He stepped forward and eyed his son as if he had just discovered a strange exotic animal.

‘Armand, what a pleasant surprise. You seem to be in high spirits?’

‘Oui, mon père.’ Armand swallowed. ‘I hope you and Maman are fine as well?’

‘We couldn’t be any better, my dear son. We might have been slightly bored lately. You know, older people tend to have their daily routines, but luckily enough we have a vivid son who’s trying hard to keep us entertained.’

Armand preferred to stay silent.

‘Can I offer you a chair and refreshment, Monsieur?’ François tried to break the ice.

‘Nothing can beat excellent social graces,’ the marquis replied, ‘I prefer to stand but a glass of wine would be fine, I feel that I should be reinvigorated after my long travel to be reunited with my son.’

‘How, did you know that I was here, sir?’ Armand asked lamely.

‘Let me tell a story, my dear boy, oh please stay here!’ He addressed Pierre and François, ‘I think you’re so much part of this story that it would be a shame if you missed a part of it.’

The marquis sipped at his wine, served in the meantime by the butler, and commented: ‘Excellent. From your wife’s Italian estates, I gather?’

François only smiled and nodded.

The marquis continued:

‘A young man, charming and handsome but not very bright, was lured into a trap recently. Instead of speaking to his father he must have asked his friends to help – young men tend to be a bit rash and see parental guidance as a burden best to be avoided. The trap was all about challenging the young man’s honour and he had himself manoeuvred into accepting a duel. Like a lamb accepting to be slaughtered.’

‘I couldn’t refuse, Monsieur, the honour of the House of Saint Paul was challenged,’ Armand exclaimed, eyes sparking with indignation.

The marquis sighed deeply as if in pain and continued.

‘The young man, did I already mention that he’s not very bright? Well, this young man asked his friends to act as his seconds. His friends, to be fair, were more alert. They couldn’t refuse his request but realized probably very fast that the young man would never survive this ordeal. I guess they pleaded that he should refuse the challenge, but as the young man, who is also very stubborn, discarded this notion, they hatched a plan.’

‘You hatched a plan?’ Armand exclaimed, and looked at his friends. ‘Behind my back?’

François and Pierre looked at the marquis, dumbstruck.

Smiling ever so lightly, the marquis continued: ‘Yes, they hatched a plan. They found out that the opponent owed a lot of money to his valet and to his own friends, especially the one he had appointed to act as his own second. Luckily, the young man’s friends could afford to bribe both of them, the valet and the second. The deal was to replace leaden bullets by painted clay bullets. Gilbert de Lantenay was reputed to be the best marksman of the Royal Musketeers, known to never miss a target. But of course, the clay bullets wouldn’t do any serious harm. The young man therefore was shot down by one of his own friends as they needed the young man to fall to the earth and bleed. The illusion had to be perfect.’

‘You, you … shot at me?’ Armand was all indignation. ‘How dare you? I could have died!’

‘I did,’ François said calmly, ‘Pierre was too nervous. How did you find out, Monsieur?’

‘Gilbert de Lantenay died some days ago, in his own house. All they could find were some charred bones.’ The marquis replied.

‘I can’t believe my ears, this sounds so strange,’ Armand exclaimed, ‘but that’s great news, I can go back to Paris.’

The marquis continued unperturbed: ‘Listen first. In the meantime, de Lantenay’s valet had been arrested. An anonymous informer had filed a complaint with the authorities. The valet was accused to have killed his master and then staged the fire to cover up his traces. Torture was applied unusually fast and he confessed, as they all do.’ The marquis looked at the friends and his son. ‘I found Gilbert de Lantenay’s sudden death very surprising and most suspicious. Ah yes, I forgot to mention, all was set into motion by the visit of a most beautiful lady, her name is Eloise, does this ring a bell?’

‘Eloise de Verneuil came to visit you?’ Armand exclaimed with a groan.

‘Yes, I had the pleasure, as had your mother who met her even before me. A charming lady, ah, before I forget, she’s expecting a child and sends you her best regards.’

‘Oh no, I’ll never be able to face Maman again.’ Armand was dumbfounded.

‘Eloise opened our eyes as she told us in confidence that she had overheard that our beloved Cardinal Mazarin, the pillar of righteousness and Christian clemency, is planning the demise of the House of Saint Paul.’

The marquis’s mood changed all of a sudden; he was no longer playful:

‘She made it clear that the riding accident of your brother might have been no accident after all – but cold-blooded murder. Murder instigated by the cardinal himself. The duel, she told us, fitted beautifully as the next vicious step to eliminate a potential heir of our house. Amory, my second son, is to be made a cardinal of the Church, thus depriving the House of Saint Paul of future heirs. A devious plan and you, my son, played into the cardinal’s hands by accepting to be lured into this stupid trap. I immediately sent a man of my confidence to the prison. The valet knew that his time was up. He confirmed my suspicions and told me about the duel and the tampered pistols.’

The Marquis de Saint Paul looked at François and Pierre: ‘Let me thank both of you from the bottom of my heart that you saved my son, he may behave stupid from time to time, but he’s my son all the same and strangely enough, we hold him in high esteem.’

‘That’s what friends are for,’ Pierre said simply. ‘Armand saved me so many times, I can’t even remember. I also do tend to behave – stupidly – as you would call it, Monsieur.’

‘I did save you several times, didn’t I? Just think about Montrésor …’ Armand fell in.

‘We have no time for rehearsing old stories, I’m afraid.’ François looked worried.

‘I don’t understand, all is good now. Gilbert de Lantenay is dead and I can return to Paris.’ Armand was upbeat.

‘It’s not that easy.’ Pierre said, ‘there’s a catch to it, right?’

‘Two, to be precise,’ François replied.

‘Can’t you speak in clear terms, why the hell should I not be able to return to Paris now?’

‘You tell Armand.’ The marquis sighed and took another sip of the wine.

François took the clue: ‘First of all, although you survived, the cardinal can still prosecute you as duels are punishable by law. We talk about capital punishment. Even if this is isn’t applied often, it would be an elegant way to get rid of you. Legal, clean, above reproach.’

Armand swallowed, he looked less confident now. ‘And the second catch?’

‘Even if he can’t stage a trial now, you’re on his list if the Countess of Verneuil is correct. The cardinal has a whole army of secret agents working for him,’ Pierre added, ‘your father first must use his influence with Queen Anne to stop this sordid business and make the cardinal understand that he’s playing with fire now that his plans have been discovered. Until then you must stay out of reach and hide.’

‘It’s a great relief that my son has friends who are quick-witted. I haven’t given up hope yet, maybe one day …’

‘Oh, stop it Father, I’m not that dumb. But all of this was a bit much.’

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Author Bio:

Michael Stolle was born in 1957, living and educated in Europe, Michael has always been intrigued by the historical setting and the fact that what makes us human was as true in the 17th century as it is now.

He has been reading and writing about history for longer than he cares to recall...

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