Tannhauser 02: The Twelve Children of Paris by Tim Willocks Read Free Book Online Page B

diverse times, and currently a composite of different architectural eras. To the west, the city walls loomed. A gateway pierced the wall just short of the river and this was where the carriage had stopped. Through this gate Tannhauser saw lavish gardens and the wing and pavilion, both incomplete, of another half-built structure of elaborate dimension and design. Building materials littered the area in massive stacks but workers were nowhere to be seen.
    A section of Swiss Guard met the carriage. Their halberds and harness shone in the long yellow light. They avoided eye contact, as professionals will. Also present were three courtiers. Their self-esteem seemed injured by the sight of Tannhauser emerging from the carriage. He watched them wonder who he was and what entitled him to such fellowship with Retz. Most of all they wondered what threat he might pose. Retz chose the youngest, who happened to be the most corpulent.
    ‘Arnauld, escort the Comte de La Penautier into the palace. He will tell you what he needs, make sure he gets it.’
    Arnauld grovelled to hide his chagrin at being expelled from distinguished company into that of a ruffian. He glanced at Tannhauser with unconcealed distaste.
    ‘They feed them well at the palace, then,’ said Tannhauser.
    Retz laughed as if a laugh were what he needed.
    In response to Retz, the courtiers tittered, the bloated youth included.
    ‘I regret our meeting was so short,’ said Retz. ‘God bless you and happy days.’
    They exchanged bows. Retz headed towards the gardens with his entourage. Guzman winked in passing and Tannhauser nodded. He turned as Grégoire ran up. He was drenched in sweat. The cloth wrapper tied with ribbon that contained the christening robe was crumpled under one armpit. He appeared to have developed a limp.
    ‘Are the new shoes nipping you? If so, take them off.’
    Grégoire, though in pain, was horrified. ‘The shoes are a marvel, sire.’
    Arnauld’s horror was the greater. ‘That creature is coming with us?’
    ‘Grégoire, this kind young gentleman has volunteered to take us into the Louvre.’
    ‘Tannhauser!’ Retz had paused at the gate. ‘One last question.’
    Tannhauser looked at him and waited.
    ‘Would you kill your dearest friends for the good of the people?’
    ‘My dearest friends are the only people I have. For their good, I’d kill anything that breathes.’

CHAPTER THREE
     

Swine
     
    ARNAULD DE TORCY led them through a sequence of corridors, salons and halls whose extravagance left Grégoire agape and filled Tannhauser with contempt. He was not immune to architectural beauty, but of late he’d seen too much scorched earth; and the Italians did it better.
    Statuary inspired by the Romans abounded, along with ornamented masonry, delicate friezes, and allegories in relief that portrayed the fantasy of Valois genius. Each gallery and ceiling sang the praises of its patrons and recast historic acts of violence and greed as grand myths. All was newly built and on a scale so lavish that Tannhauser did not wonder that Italian cash, at excruciating interest, was paying the bills. He foresaw years of fresh taxes with every step he took. Household officials scuttled back and forth to assuage the whims of the lordly, who were as numerous as they were repellent. As Arnauld strutted towards each new room, footmen bowed and opened twin gilt doors.
    ‘Note that most courtiers merit the opening of only one door,’ explained Arnauld.
    ‘Did you hear that, Grégoire? For such as we, you must open both doors.’
    ‘Very amusing. But here, in the jewel box of civilisation, such distinctions are not inconsequential, nor are they empty ceremony. Each detail helps to define one’s rank in the court hierarchy. If such details are neglected or ignored, then how can we tell who – or indeed what – a given individual truly is?’
    In the salons of the pavilion, as on the streets, an undertow of disquiet was general, but this did not prevent