The Moon and the Sun

Innocent’s command jarred the stunned servants to obedience. Yves seated Pope Innocent in his own place and took the new chair in the no-man’s-land at Innocent’s right hand. While the guests marveled in horror at the Pope’s breach of etiquette, servants rearranged the high table, whisking away Innocent’s place and leaving the King’s gold setting in the center. The usher looked faint.

“His Majesty, Louis the Great, King of France and Navarre, the Most Christian King.”

Everyone rose; everyone bowed. His Majesty, in cloth-of-gold, rubies, and diamonds, took his place without acknowledging that something terrible had happened. He gazed down the Hall of Mirrors, impassive. One moment of his glance raked Marie-Josèphe, and her brother, and Lucien, and pierced His Holiness.

“Your Holiness...” Yves said. “Your place —”

“Our Savior ministered to lepers. Can I do less?” Innocent regarded Lucien. “Though Our Savior was not required to traffic with atheists.”

Marie-Josèphe blushed with anger at the insult.

“If He had,” Lucien said, “no doubt He would have been gracious about it.”

“You are gracious, Your Holiness,” Yves said quickly, “to share our dishonor.”

“My royal cousin is very angry,” Innocent replied.

“We deprived him of a meal,” Marie-Josèphe exclaimed. “To keep him from committing murder.”

“We feared for his soul, Your Holiness,” Yves said.

“Perhaps you’ve protected a demon,” Innocent said, addressing Yves. “Or perhaps you deprived my cousin of immortality.”

“Sherzad cannot give anyone immortality, Your Holiness,” Marie-Josèphe said. “Only God can do that.”

Innocent ignored her, ignored her impudence. “You claimed the sea monster’s flesh had the power —”

“I lied,” Yves said miserably. “God forgive me, I lied. I made no tests, Your Holiness. The truth doesn’t matter —”

“Yves, how can you say such a thing?” Marie-Josèphe exclaimed.

“All that matters is what the King believes.”

“And he believes in immortality, because you told him it was true. Now he’ll wonder, he’ll be tempted — he’ll break his word, and kill her.”

Lucien met her gaze, but he said nothing.

I hoped he would deny it, Marie-Josèphe thought. I hoped he would say, His Majesty never breaks his word. Even if he rebuked me, I’d know Sherzad would live.

“You could save Sherzad, Your Holiness,” Marie-Josèphe said. “You’re revered for correcting the Church’s errors, for stopping the corruption —”

“Be quiet!” Yves cried.

“Allow me a moment of praise, Father de la Croix,” Innocent said. “Allow me to indulge in a moment’s sin of pride. I did stop corruption.”

“I beg your pardon, Your Holiness.”

“God gave us beasts to use, the devil to oppose, and pagans to convert. Which is the monster?”

“She’s a woman.”

“I am not speaking to you, Mlle de la Croix. Father de la Croix, the monster claims death is everlasting.”

“Your Holiness,” Yves said carefully, “would a beast understand death?”

“If devils existed,” Lucien said, “surely they’d affirm life after death, Heaven and Hell. Otherwise, where would they live?”

Fighting her urge to giggle, Marie-Josèphe dared to speak to the Pope again. “Your Holiness, you could teach Sherzad about everlasting life.”

“Stop meddling, Signorina.” Impatience and anger tinged Innocent’s voice. “Women must be submissive, obedient — and quiet. It is God’s will.”

Lucien leaned toward Innocent, making a sharp, angry gesture. He froze; when he recovered himself, even his lips had paled. Marie-Josèphe feared he might faint.

“If you believe in your God,” Lucien said, his voice harsh, “then you must accept that He made Marie-Josèphe de la Croix both audacious and brave.”

“You —” Innocent said. “You and the creature both are unnatural!”

The disk of the sun touched the western horizon. The light turned scarlet, filling the Hall, blazing from the wall of mirrors like fire, streaming all over with blood.

28

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.