The Sun King Conspiracy Read Online Free

in fact/As many wise men as fools.” Nevertheless, I trust Your Excellency will permit me to express my regret that Monsieur de La Fontaine has not the good taste to limit his irony to these verses, which his protector Nicolas Fouquet abases himself by reading to you.’
    Mazarin raised an eyebrow, demanding an explanation:
    ‘Monseigneur, I have here ten sheets of those filthy lampoons to which you have alluded, and in which we find much of Monsieur de La Fontaine’s verve …’
    Mazarin smiled.
    ‘Come, Colbert, for pity’s sake don’t waste police time on such childish nonsense: what can La Fontaine do if he has talent and is inspired? And do you think that Nicolas Fouquet, Superintendent of His Majesty’s finances, is amused by these games?’
    Annoyed, Colbert rearranged his papers in silence.
    ‘Returning to what matters most, Colbert, what information do you have about the investigation?’
    ‘It seems that the possibility of an accident has been discounted, Monseigneur. I agree, but I have refrained from telling anyone so, and in the city everyone firmly believes that all that accumulated paper was the source of the fire. The populace has little love for books, Monseigneur. The theory is easy to promote and our friends are eager to spread it. They support it with reference to a partial inventory of the works destroyed …’
    This word provoked a moan of distress from Mazarin.
    ‘… Dante, Herodotus, part of the map collection, the section on medicine, Fathers of the Church, astrology …’
    Mazarin raised his hand to interrupt the litany. His head rolled from right to left and he mumbled phrases in unintelligible Italian; Colbert tried to convince himself that they were prayers. He began again, cautiously:
    ‘There is another thing, Monseigneur, which I fear is more serious. It seems that the fire was merely a diversion to mask a theft. The fire was started deliberately. A guard was murdered. Your secretary, Monsieur Roze, was attacked, and it is a miracle that he escaped with his life …’
    The Chief Minister listened in silence. His mouth twisted into a rictus. Colbert thought that his master was in pain, but changed his mind when he heard him speak:
    ‘Who, Colbert?’
    ‘I do not know, Monseigneur, nor do I know why. But I have deployed all my resources and my finest men in order to find out.’
    The little man came closer and lowered his voice.
    ‘Far be it from me to importune Your Eminence, but if I utter the name of Nicolas Fouquet, it is because certain disturbing elements concern him indirectly.’
    Mazarin’s voice became tired and dull.
    ‘Yet again? The facts, Colbert, the facts.’
    ‘We lost track of the assailants in the new Palais-Royal theatre, whose tenant is Monsieur Molière, who – although his troupe bears the fine name of the Théâtre de Monsieur 1 and therefore honours His Majesty’s brother – also belongs unofficially to Nicolas Fouquet …’
    Mazarin clasped his white hands with their long, thin fingers and, bringing them close to his face, deliberately emphasised each word.
    ‘Enough of all this suspicion, Colbert, I want clear leads, names. Quickly. What do the witnesses say?’
    ‘That the assailants talked constantly of Our Lord, saying that he holds us in his mercy. In the absence of prisoners, that is all we have. The only man the miserable band left at the scene will not be able to tell us more. He died before we could question him, on the very stage of the theatre where Molière is rehearsing. We couldn’t get anything out of him. He was a child, a beggar no doubt, a member of a secret society such as the Cour des Miracles or the Gueule du Chien. He wore a cross around his neck, however, and an olive-wood chaplet at his waist, which is somewhat unusual amongst beggars, whose only religion is sorcery.’
    Mazarin sighed.
    ‘This suggests something else to me: fuel for the fanatical pyre. Yes, that is possible. Do we have spies in the religious factions