Medvedev Dmitriy: http://www.proza.ru/2013/02/04/816
The king of France had trouble stomaching anything Italian, including the cuisine; his own mother and the more than once forced, thrice damned second Italian campaign in the first lines. Therefore it wasn’t much of a surprise that not a moment after arriving to the active army led by Richelieu, Louis XIII got dysenteric and rushed back to Lyon to relieve himself.
The wife and mother took their best care of him, hoping that the health of the married son won’t fail them and he’ll eventually pass away. Or, if he gets better, he’d appreciate the care of those closest to him and will bring them even closer. But that was the least preferred option, because Marie didn’t want much- she wanted EVERYTHING. Basically, that “EVERYTHING” is what everything was coming down to- the kings’ condition got worse by the day. After spending half the summer leave nauseated by one thing, at the beginning of the autumn our sicko switched to another thing (and we’re not talking about the abovementioned relatives): the gentle dysentery was replaced by a harsh fever.
“Big boys don’t cry” The late Henry the 4th used to say, without suspecting that 29 years later, the “big boy” with his big health issues will undergo an unction at his very birthday. Louis once again forgave his mother and promised that one day she can have his place at the death bed, as a ruler of Paris and the whole of France. As for Marie, she hopelessly rejoiced at the restored balance and the order of things.
Under the maintained image of a god-fearing dame, she often went to a confession at the local pontiff. After all, it’s nice to occasionally recall all the accumulated sins: from unconditional capitulation to unconventional copulation*. And she constantly thanked her skeleton for the support it gave her through the years, because nobody else seemed to deserve gratitude in her eyes.
The varying rumors rushed like a shockwave across France, because the level of democracy has reached its peak, and no one was afraid to say aloud you know what about you know whom. It’s today that there’s a ‘Net full of brave people with anonymous nicknames, but back then, a word about a lack of faith could bring the one of little faith to stand in the corner, and get him walled in there.
But before Scorpio liberated Libra from its position, Louis suddenly got better, and liberated each poisonous bug in that jar of spiders called the royal court from the status quo. The approximated mother was the first one to get the guarantees of support from her son regarding dealing with her enemies, while those fight in the glory of the king somewhere in the lands far away.
“How fast has a close man turned up to be some cardinal we know of?” Marie
bemoaned during one of her tete-a-tete conversations with Louis. “I don’t know what kind of a friend he is, but me makes an impressive enemy. So, with all due respect, how about we fill the vacant places in Montfaucon** with those who support him? After all, it’s been standing there empty with no use for a whole year. And as for his niece, my chamber maid, we can have a custom cell built.”
The kind, seated in a fancy chair, looked pensively around the small but luxurious guest room of the Luxembourg palace, which was arranged according to the Florentine tradition, but said nothing, as his gaze fell upon the hourglass with the seconds flowing. Louis wasn’t a cruel man, and didn’t like when the answer to ‘how’s it hanging’ was ‘well, somebody certainly does’. On the other hand, it was obvious that he’ll have to make a choice between a veteran of civil wars and a dear person dressed in red. That meant Marie, who had multiple civil marriages, and the cardinal.
Suddenly, at the door, Richelieu himself made an appearance, and marched cheerfully towards both Highnesses, and with a polite bow changed the atmosphere in the room. Tension fell, and the monarch relaxed. Marie on the other hand froze in anabiosis, due to foreseeing the cardinal’s arrival and ordering the servants to not allow him into Rubens’ gallery (funnily, she also ordered Rubens to stay away from Richelieu in his artwork), leading to the main entrance of this guestroom. But the sneaky cardinal took a leaf from the kings’ book and used the backdoor.
And that’s how plans are often made by predictable people- chaos still wins, because it’s better organized. Richelieu, however, arrived at that exact moment not by accident of any measure. It was a well thought through step that de Medici wasn’t ready for. Once the stupor has ended, she mindlessly fell upon the old man like a hawk, with ludicrous accusations, based more on emotions than on logic and truth, such as:
“Mon cher, this homie came in to spread his bull! Just look at that ugly mug of his! Instead of street-speech he studied English, for no cause other than to make a hit on an embassy, because his good manners are a thief’s best weapon! Also, this meanie did a battery as he dropped a battery on my foot, that somabitch***!”
Unfortunately, the real text of the accusations seems lost in the pages of history, so, in order to look smart I had to use some street phrases. That, and the fact that Richelieu mentioned in his memoirs only that the women are quite different from the rest of humanity, politely letting some of the queen-mother’s special effects and phraseology drop. His own opinion about the subject was summed up to: Now I can’t keep that mama, though I know she’s always there.
Finally Marie ended her tirade with what she thought to be a strong fact, that there’s no person that he proposed to, so he had no purpose. And the word was given to the defense, and the defendant, instead of the classical ‘did not did too”, fell on his knees and praised the queen, swearing his undying loyalty to her and begging not to fall for the evil lies spread by common enemies.
The starlet was stunned, while her brain digested the situation of “what just happened here”, but after a long pause she stood up and exploded with improper cusses, with the obvious purpose to scare the wind out from the sickly pest in red, or at least him from Marie’s vicinity. Her inner wolf huffed, puffed and was out for blood, ending the patience of Louis, who rushed to calm her down. The furious Marie didn’t know much about space, so she couldn’t tell her opponent far enough and with good enough manners. But I’ll take the liberty to assume that her erudition at least included using Italy to go as far as Kintyre peninsula#.
The cardinal took his bow and sadly removed himself with the silent blessing of the king, and assuming that he had lost, started gathering his possessions in order to move to Chateau Pontoise. Marie and her closest have rejoiced, celebrating winning the elections through eviction, in which the monarch was the sole voter. As any politician, she already promised three “don’t you just wish” to those who’ll support her in the upcoming reign. The first wish was the promised to spend crazy amounts of money wisely, the second- political immunity (translated as “there’s no written law for idiots”) and the third one- the cancellation of the first two points, should she fail to follow them through. Well, she could make good on at least one third of those promises.
And yet, on the very next morning, Louis XIII has summoned Richelieu to see him in Versailles, and named him the best friend ever, a loyal subject of the crown, one who forgives his enemies and ready to repent in the name of the peace. And in one moment, the political chart has turned on its head, making fools of enemies and friends alike, and thus the day made it into history as “the day of the Dupes”.
Those who sided with Medici were immediately taken into custody and from there things heated up quickly for them- some went to prison, some were executed. Marie herself was exiled to Compiegne##, where she could complain as loud as she wanted to her ladies of court about how miserable she was and how much she hated Mondays###. Then again, the suffering of the crowned persona wasn’t long. During July of the next year, she made her move to move out from the castle, as she escaped her exile.
*Copulation (lat.)- having sex.
**Montfaucon- a multi-leveled hanging tree near Paris, which served as an intimidating tool of mass execution during more than three centuries. The last hanging took place at 1629, after which the complex was abandoned.
# The Kintayr peninsula is shaped like a penis. Italy is shaped like a boot.
## Compiegne- a city in northern France, in the Picardy region.
### The day of the Dupes, November 11, 1630, was in fact Monday.