lesecretdelamaisondubourbon

[lesecretdelamaisondubourbon]

Book III/Part X: ⚜️XIV⚜️

“En passant, si l'on considère que le Soleil de France s'éclipse à jamais, que tous les charmes de la nature sont ensevelis avec lui dans ce Tombeau, voyant un objet aussi funeste, tu désireras de mourir pour l'amour de celui qui ne confesse que pour un autre: si ce n'est que tu dis en toi-même pour votre consolation, non ce grand Roi n'est pas mort, il ne repose que sous ce tombeau.*”

When we woke up, there was an eerie silence throughout the palace. Even as our valets prepared to dress us for the day, they did so--in silence. The only sounds that could be heard were the rustling of our clothing being handed between the valets. Philippe and I stood still as we were dressed. We somehow knew this was a solemn day, and we acted beyond our years.

We were dressed in silk gowns with embroidered sleeves. Across our shoulders were our blue sashes. Attached to the end was a pendant in the shape of a star. It would be years before I recognized it as the cross of the Order of the Holy Spirit into which we were born as sons of a king. Once our lace falling bands were tied, our valets placed small ermine-lined royal blue mantles covered with little golden fleurs-de-lis around our shoulders.

When we were ready, my chamber doors were opened for Mother. She wore a simple black gown beneath her own mantle. As everyone bowed to her, she stood before us admiringly.

“You look like a king, Louis,” she said. “Your father would be proud of both of you. Shall we go?”

We nodded as she took our hands and walked between us out of my chamber and down the hall. The nobles lined the halls and bowed to us as we walked toward the main doors. Once outside, the royal carriages awaited us. More servants stood in the Court of Honor and paid obeisance as we passed. As we approached our carriage, I saw Mazarin waiting.

“You’re Majesties,” he began as he bowed. “Your Highness.”

We said nothing. As the footmen helped Philippe and me into the carriage, I noticed Mazarin was whispering something to our mother. Once inside the carriage, we sat down to wait. I watched out the window as Maman and Mazarin smiled at each other before she was helped inside the carriage. I did not think much of it until I was much older. We watched as Mazarin helped Maman into the carriage. She sat down across from us. There was no expression on her face to discern. As the carriage pulled away, we sat in silence.

Unlike Philippe, I did not dare look out the window. The buildings cast short-lived shadows upon the velvet curtains. They were tied back for the subjects to catch a glimpse of me, but I kept myself hidden behind them as best as I could. Maman did not seem to mind the adoration. She occasionally waved to onlookers as we rode through the city. I kept my eyes fixed on the sky--what little I could see of it. Suddenly, the sky disappeared behind a large stone arch—only to reappear moments later. It was then that I got the courage to peek from behind the curtain that had been my shield. We had left the city of Paris behind its ancient walls.

There was little beyond the city walls to see. Montmartre was the peak of the lonely valley we had entered. My childish eyes saw little value in the countryside. They were use to seeing vibrant green topiary of the palace gardens. This landscape was colorless by comparison. On the way to Saint-Denis, we passed several tall stones with crosses on top of them. Some had figures carved into them. Their weary faces innocuously stared at us from somewhere in time. It seemed our journey would never end when I looked out to see the walls of another city in the distance. The closer we got to the gate, the more anxious I became. I was king about to oversee the burial of my predecessor rather than a child burying a father.

As our cortège entered the small village from its southern gate, the only fanfare was the ringing of the church bells. Philippe found them fascinating; I found them cacophonous. Our carriage stopped in front of an ancient stone church. We waited briefly for our carriage door to open after the steps were put down. Mother was helped out first, followed by Philippe. Then it was my turn. I slowly emerged. As two footmen helped me down, I looked to see several clergymen waiting by the enormous doors of the church. Though our walk was short, it was made longer by Maman acknowledging all the spectators bowing to us.

“Your Majesty,” one of the clergy said to me as he bowed. “We are honored and humbled to be in your presence.”

I looked at Maman. She nodded. I nodded back at the man.

“Come, Your Majesty,” he said.

We followed him into the church. I paid little attention to anything except the floor beneath our feet. Beneath the ancient stone arched ceilings we stood before the decorated coffin in which my father lay. I did not understand what was being said when the words were not in French, nor could I put those I understood in context. I watched Philippe for a while. He spent most of his time looking at his shoes. When he caught me looking at him, he would grin at me. I knew he knew less about what was going on than I did.

Once the talking was finished, everyone bowed to us. We were led out of the church and into the light of day. The sun hurt my eyes. As Mother spoke to the clergy, I saw the footmen preparing for our return to Paris. I was tired. When Maman took our hands, we were led back to our carriage. Once inside, I sat down and leaned against the side of the window. After Maman had sat down, the door shut, and our journey began. Philippe lay his head on my lap and quickly fell asleep. Soon after, I drifted to sleep. Until my majority, France was in my mother's hands, even as I bore the burden of its people as King Louis XIV.--The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 10-2-2023

*In passing, if we consider that the Sun of France is forever eclipsed, that all the charms of nature are buried with him in this Tomb, seeing such a fatal object, you will desire to die for the love of one who lives only for another: if only you say for your consolation, "No, this great King is not dead, he only rests under this tomb."— 1643, the epitaph of Louis XIII

[lesecretdelamaisondubourbon]

Book III/Part IX: ⚜️XIV⚜️

My father had not been dead long before events were set into motion that would change my life forever. I was too young to understand the chaos my father’s death created in court. Maman would say things to Mazarin I did not understand; whenever they spoke of me, I was present. I learned that as I grew up, I was there to remind everyone that I was the King, even as I was still in my minority. To some in the court, I was an obstacle that needed to be removed. It would be a few more years before I discovered what that meant—especially to my uncle Gaston.

The first time I remember leaving the palace as king was to sit on the lit de justice in the Grand Chamber of the Parliament. I did not want to go because we had to leave Philippe behind. I always wanted to have him by my side. As we grew up, I needed to have Philippe close to me—even when he did not wish to be.

That morning, I rose, had a bite to eat, and then was dressed by my valets in the finest clothing. I was led out of my bed chamber and into the hall where Maman was waiting. She took my hand and we made our way through the palace and into the light of day where a carriage awaited us. I did not notice much except the horses. There were so many of them on that day. As I was helped into the carriage by the footman, I noticed Maman speaking to Mazarin. When she was done, she was helped into the carriage, and sat beside me.

“Today is an important day, Louis,” she said to me. “You will preside over Parliament for the first time.”

“What is that, Maman,” I asked.

“Do not worry about that right now,” she said. “You are still young. I shall speak for you.”

As our carriage pulled away, I looked out the window. We were on our way to Paris. This would be the first time I would ride into the city as the King of France. I would not realize until I was older that it had only been 4 days since my father’s death.

On the way to Paris I fell asleep. When I felt the carriage stop, I woke up and looked out of the window to see the stone court of the Palais de la Cité. There were so many people there I was afraid to get out of the carriage. Once Maman had been helped out, she turned around.

“Your Majesty,” she said. “You must not keep the Parliament waiting.”

I knew she said those words loud enough so the crowd could hear. I hesitated but stood in the frame of the open door. The multitude fell silent. The footman helped me down. Maman took my hand, and we walked to the grand staircase. With each step, the people would bow to us. As we ascended the stairs, we were met by several men. The only one I recognized was my uncle Gaston. He bowed.

“Your Majesty,” he said. “It is good to see you.”

I nodded at him.

“You know why we are here, Gaston,” Maman said. “Louis is king now, and I will become regent on this day. It is only fitting, of course.”

“I was not aware this was something Louis would have allowed,” he whispered. “I can only imagine what you did to convince Mazarin of such a spectacle. My brother has not yet been laid to rest.”

Before mother could answer, we were greeted by several dressed in long red robes and peculiar hats. As they bowed, mother led me into the ancient halls of the old chateau. There were men and a few ladies lining the halls as Maman led me toward the Grand Chamber. Once inside, we met with shouts from the gallery.

“Vive le Roi! Vive le Roi!”

I was led to a special chair by two bailiffs on their knees bearing maces of gold. It was the lit de justice—a chair that was raised above the main floor. Draped in the royal colors covered with the fleur-de-lis, I was placed there beneath the baldachin. Mother sat beside me, yet she had to remain lower than the king. Soon, the room was filled with elaborately dressed nobles. When everyone was assembled, everyone looked at me. I was terrified. I wanted to go home. Thankfully, once the meeting was called to order, everyone’s eyes were on Maman.

I was too young to understand what was said among the counselors. On that day, my name was His Majesty. I had only been king for four days, yet they spoke of me as if I had ruled for generations. They must have known I was a child. I had not yet been breeched. Every now and then, one of the men would look at me and nod in obeisance as if to seek my approval. I was too afraid to move. I could only look at them with my eyes as wide as saucers.

After what seemed hours, Maman looked at me. She smiled and nodded to me. I knew then it was time to leave. I rose from my seat and everyone in the room bowed to me. On their knees, the two bailiffs from before helped me down and led Maman and I out of the chamber. In the hall, there was chaos that turned to whispers as we made our way back to the carriage. All I wanted to do was to return home and play in the gardens with Philippe.

“The power behind the throne can never belong to a woman,” someone said from within the crowd.

“Silence, fool,” a voice shouted. It was my uncle Gaston “You have forgotten that my mother, Queen Marie, did the same for the late king?”

We began walking faster as several men began shouting from behind. Our guards led all three of us quickly down the hall and into the light of day. When I was seen by the crowd, they bowed. Gaston escorted us to our carriage. Not since that day had I ever been so glad to be inside a carriage.

“I am moved by your kindness, Gaston,” Maman said from the window. “I will remember it.”

“I hope that you will, Madam,” he said, as he looked at me. “Your Majesty.”

I waved at him. I felt our carriage pull away and begin its journey home—which I learned was to the nearby Palais-Royal. When we were safe behind its gates, I stepped out. The servants were there to greet us. I saw Mazarin walking toward us. Before he reached us, I heard the familiar sound little feet running in my direction.

“Louis,” Philippe shouted as he ran toward me nearly knocking Mazarin over. He embraced me excitedly.

“Philippe,” Maman said, as she stepped out. “Behave.”

“You’re Majesties,” Mazarin said calmly. “It is good to see you.”

“Go inside,” Mother said to me.

Without a word, I took Philippe’s hand and led him toward the palace doors.

“Where did you go,” Philippe asked.

“I tell you later,” I whispered. I wanted nothing more than to forget. For the first time, I realized my father was dead and his death ended my childhood.

**** **** **** ****

After supper, I was bathed then dressed for bed. I noticed more valets in my chambers than usual. They occupied themselves with my clothing. I knew that new clothing had been made for me before my father died, but few pieces were befitting a king. As they busied themselves, went to the window. Darkness had fallen and all I could see were the shadows of people flitting around the gardens. I did not know what they were doing or if they were real. I imagined them as dark angels that had lost their way to heaven.

“Your Majesty,” a voice called to me. I looked to see Mazarin bowing into me.

“I do not like that word,” I said. “I am tired of hearing it.”

“You are king, Your Majesty,” he began. “From now until your death, everyone must address you as such.”

“Even Philippe,” I asked.

“When in court,” he answered. “And whenever you are performing your duties as king in the presence of your subjects.”

I stared at him as if he had spoken gibberish. How could I be a king when I could barely read or write? What little I had learned came from my governess. My wet-nurse had only left me less than two years prior. I was not ready to rule a kingdom.

“I want Papa,” I said.

“I know, Your Majesty,” he said walking over to me. He kneeled down and looked at me. “Your father was a king, and so must you be. He is in Heaven now but he will always be with you.”

“I am only a child,” I said, trying not to cry. “How can I be a king like Papa was?”

Mazarin smiled tenderly. I could tell he was trying to comfort me as a father would a son.

“Kings are not born, Your Majesty,” he said. “They are made over time. No king that ever ruled knew everything upon ascension. Child or Man, you will learn. I will make sure of it. But, it is late, and you must get some sleep. You must rise early.”

“I know,” I answered softly. “We are going to lay Papa to rest.”

He nodded. As he rose, he did something unexpected. He picked me up and carried me to bed. He pulled the covers over me.

“Good night, Your Majesty,” he said.

“Good night,” I answered.

He smiled then saw his way out. Not long after, I fell asleep. An hour later, I felt the familiar warmth of Philippe lying next to me. He was beginning to become a comfort to me. I drifted back to sleep.

“Louis,” I heard a voice say. I thought I was dreaming. It was the voice of a man, but there were no men that called me by that name since my father died. Philippe’s voice was juvenile; he had only recently learned how to pronounce my name properly.

“Louis,” the voice said again. I sat straight up. I looked across the dark room to see a shadow slip out into the antechamber. Philippe was sound asleep. I decided to follow. I quietly climbed out of bed and into the next room. I followed it into the hall. There were no guards at my door.

“Louis,” the voice whispered in my ear. I jumped as I turned to see my father.

“Papa,” I squealed, throwing my arms around him. I was too happy to notice he was cold to the touch. “I thought you were gone forever.”

“I came to see you before I go,” he said as he knelt before me.

“Where are you going,” I asked.

“You will find out one day,” he said. “But for now, you need not worry. You have your whole life ahead of you, Louis.”

“Papa,” I started. “I do not want to be king. I do not like it. No one calls me Louis anymore.”

He laughed.

“No one called you Louis except for me and your mother. And Philippe, of course.”

“Philippe! He would want to see you.”

“No,” Papa answered. “He needs his rest. Tomorrow will be hard for him.”

“I do not understand, Papa.”

“Remember what I said to you at Versailles,” he asked.

“You told me to watch over Philippe for you,” I answered.

“He will need you more than ever, Louis,” he began. “There will be times when all you will have is each other. Let nothing come between you and Philippe. Promise me.”

“I promise, Papa,” I whispered.

He smiled and stood up. I realized that I could see the hall through him.

“I was a king first, but a father forever,” he said. His voice began to fade. “The last of which brought me the greatest joy I had ever known. Be well, my son. Until we meet again.”

With those words, he was gone. I turned to see the guards holding one of my chamber doors open as Philippe slipped out.

“Louis,” he said. “Why are you awake?”

“Do not worry, Philippe,” I said as I took his hand. “Let us go back to bed now.”

“I had a dream, Louis,” he began as we headed into my chambers. “I saw Papa. He is not coming back.”

As the guards closed the doors, I stopped and looked my brother.

“No, Philippe,” I said. “He is not coming back. He is in Heaven.”

“I want to go there,” he said.

“One day, you will,” I said. “But not yet. I need you here.”

“Why?”

“Who will play with me in the garden if you go away,” I asked.

“You can play with Joujou,” he said.

“I would rather play with you than a puppy,” I said. “Besides, I would miss you.”

“I would miss you, too, Louis,” he said. “But Papa might be lonely.”

“He is there with the angels,” I said. “He is not lonely, I promise.”

Philippe yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“I will stay,” he said. “Papa said I had to.”

I smiled at him. I did not know whether to believe him or not. We went back to bed and slept peacefully until dawn.--The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 10-2-2023

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[lesecretdelamaisondubourbon]

⚜️XIV⚜️: I am Dieudonné (Ch. I/Pt. VIII)

The night after my father died was when a voice called to me. I was sleeping when it whispered my name.

“Louis,” it whispered. “Louis.”

I opened my eyes to see Philippe sleeping soundly.

“Louis,” the voice said again as I sat up and looked around. No one was in the room with us.

“Maman,” I said.

I climbed out of bed and out of the room. No one was in next room. I went to the door and into the hall. I did not notice there were no guards standing at my door. I looked down the dark hall to see something moving slowly near the end. I thought it was the new governess at first until the figure grew closer. It was a lady I had never seen before.

When she was standing before me, I could see she was dressed strangely even as she was beautiful. When she stopped before me, I realized that she was white as snow. She kneeled down to me and smiled.

“What do they call you,” she asked. It was her voice I heard.

I was confused. She had been calling my name.

“Louis,” I said.

“You know what they call you,” she said. “Tell me, Louis.”

“I am Louis,” I said again. She was beginning to frighten me.

“No,” she said. “Vous êtes le Dieu-donné.”

“That is what Papa said,” I said. “They call me Louis Dieu-donné.”

“Yes, they do,” she answered, smiling. “You are very special, Louis because you are le Dieu-donné. Vous êtes le fils des rois; le fils du Soleil. Never forget that, Louis. Promise me.”

I nodded. She stood up and turned to walk away. She stopped and looked back.

“Your father loved you more than you realize,” she said. She turned away and continued on her way until she faded away. Terrified, I turned to run back into my apartments. The doors opened for me and I realized the guards were at the door.

Back in my room, I jumped onto my bed and shook Philippe awake.

“Philippe,” I said, “Wake up!”

He opened his eyes and glared at me.

“What,” he asked.

“There voice called to me,” I said. “It was a lady.”

“The new one,” he asked.

“No,” I said. “She asked me what I was called but I did not want to say it.”

“You are Louis,” he said.

“But I am called Dieu-donné.”

“Who was she,” he asked—his eyes wide with curiosity and fear.

“I do not know, Philippe,” I answered. “But she knew Papa.”

“Papa,” he said excitedly. “Did you see Papa?”

“No,” I said, leaning back against the bed-board. “I did not see Papa.”

He frowned as he leaned on my shoulder.

“I miss Papa, Louis,” he said.

“So do I,” I answered. 

As we both fell asleep, I thought about the lady and my sobriquet. Dieu-donné.

**** **** **** ****

Not long after the death of our father, it was not unusual to wake up and find Philippe curled up next to me. One night, no sooner had I begun to fall asleep, I was made aware by a tugging on the end of my bed. I looked to see Philippe climbing onto the bed. Once he made it up, he crawled quickly to my side, buried himself underneath the covers, and fell fast asleep. I did not bother to wake him to send him back to his room. Our new governess would realize he was gone and come for him.

One night, he returned, but this time, he spoke to me. 

“Louis,” he whispered. “Louis.”

My eyes opened and not on their own. Philippe’s little fingers did the honors. As I began to focus my eyes, I could see it was still night.

“Philippe, what are doing in my room,” I asked. “You should be sleeping.”

“I cannot I find Papa anywhere,” he said. “Where is he?”

“He is not here,” I said. I was still trying to understand myself that our father had died.

“I know,” Philippe answered. “I looked.”

I sat up and looked at my little brother. His eyes wide in fear of the unknown. How could I explain to him that he would never see our father again when I did not believe it myself?

“Maman said he was gone,” I said. “He cannot come back.”

“Why,” he asked. “Where did Papa go?”

“I do not know,” I said sadly. “But he cannot come back.”

“Can we go see him tomorrow,” Philippe asked.

“No, I do not think we can.”

“Why,” he asked, beginning to cry. “I want to see Papa.”

He lay down in my arms next to me. I could feel his tears through my nightshirt. There would be many nights like this until we finally accepted our father was gone forever. –The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 10-2-2022

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[lesecretdelamaisondubourbon]

⚜️XIV⚜️: I am Dieudonné (Ch. I/Pt. VII)

My baptism was one week away. One morning, Philippe and I decided to make our way to the kitchen. I always had a voracious appetite for as long as I could remember. Philippe was a finicky eater. He would only put the finest of delicacies in his mouth. But if the food was good, he could eat as much as I could.

If our mother had known of our near daily sojourns to the kitchen, she would have locked us in our rooms. As royalty, we were fraternizing with commoners too much. How could we not? They were friendly to us. Their children were uninterested in our titles and more into play. On this day, there were few people in the kitchen but there was plenty of food.

Straight away, Philippe headed for the macaroons. I helped myself to the omelettes. While I poked a piece in my mouth, I saw Philippe reaching for his treats. He dropped one and chased it as it rolled under a table. One of the servants noticed him squatting down to reach it.

“Thank you,” he said. “I am Philippe.”

“Who are you talking to,” I asked him.

“A girl,” he said without looking up. I noticed a little hand coming from under the table holding the macaroon he dropped.

A woman gasped and reached under the table and pulled out a little girl. She was as little as Philippe, with a head full of long black curls covering her features.

“Tu es une mauvaise fille,” she said angrily. “Are you stealing food again?”

“No,” she said, tearfully.

“She gave me my macaroon,” Philippe said, his mouth full. He walked over to the girl, and handed her a macaroon. “Here.”

She took it, smiled and ran out of the kitchen. Philippe gave the woman a mean look.

“Come, Philippe,” I said. I could see he was about say something awful.

He slowly turned toward me, still scowling at the woman.

“She is not nice, Louis,” he said, looking at me. I looked at the woman as I took Philippe’s hand. I did not say a word to her but I could see she feared what we might say to our parents. I led my brother away putting the incident out of my mind.

**** **** **** ****

No more than a few days before my baptism, I was playing with Philippe in the hall. Our mother approached us followed by several ladies with 2 girls and boy.

Everyone stopped in front of us and bowed.

“Louis, Philippe,” Mother said sweetly. “This is Gabrielle, Louis and Diane-Françoise. Louis and Diane have come to play with you.”

I did not know what to say but Philippe did.

“Why,” he asked.

Mother seemed a loss for words as several of her ladies tried not to laugh.

“Philippe, be polite to our guests,” she said.

“Why?”

“Yes, Maman,” I said quickly.

She smiled and left us with the little boy and girl as the older girl left with mother and the other ladies.

“I am Louis,” the boy said.

“Me, too,” I said.

“This is my sister,” he said. “Her name is Diane but we call her Françoise because she is named after our mother.”

“She is a girl,” Philippe said.

“I know,” she said. “And you are a boy.”

Philippe stuck his tongue out at her.

“Who is the other girl,” I asked Louis.

“That is my other sister, Gabrielle,” he said. “Papa said Maman is going to have another baby. I hope it is a boy this time.”

“That is a lot of girls,” I said. “Philippe is my only brother.”

“He is little,” Louis said.

Philippe gave him a mean look before pulling Diane’s hair.

“Philippe, stop,” I said. “That was not very nice.”

“No, it was not,” Diane said, hitting Philippe on the arm.

“Françoise,” Louis said. “You cannot hit him. He is a Prince.”

“That is right,” Philippe said, hitting her back.

She hit him again.

“Mine is two,” Louis said, pulling her away.

“So is mine,” I said, holding Philippe back. “They are still babies.”

“I am not a baby,” they said in unison.

“Come,” I said. “We can go play in the garden. We have a puppy out there.”

**** **** **** ****

On the day of my baptism, I entered the chapel with my mother. Philippe was to remain behind in the pew without our governess. As always, Philippe had other ideas. He managed to escape her grasp, and follow me down the aisle to the altar. Our father was waiting for us beside the font. His skin was pallid and his eyes did not seem to have the shine I remembered. He never moved from his position. He smiled at us as we met him and the priest at the altar.

It was intimate ceremony with only important members of the household in attendance. I stood before the altar of the chapel, I knew it was a solemn occasion even as I was too young to understand its meaning. I stood with my parents before the baptismal font as the priest began to speak.

Suddenly, I heard a splash. At first, I thought nothing of it. Then I heard it again and again. I looked down to see Philippe reaching into the font. I gently nudged him to get him to stop. I should have known that would entice him to continue more vigorously. I noticed everyone trying to ignore Philippe. It was a feat that was futile to attempt. My father gently pushed my brother’s hand away, and Philippe put it back. Even our father knew it was best to let Philippe have his way. So as long as he kept quiet, there was no harm done other than a slightly damp priest.

Papa did not say a word nor moved through it all. He just smiled and nodded once it was over. He and Maman exchanged glances while the priest and I exchanged words before mother took our hands and us out of the chapel of Château-Vieux.

The next time I would see my father would be 23 days later upon his deathbed.

**** **** **** ****

It was a quiet morning. By I remember I was playing with Philippe in my room when our governess came in. Her face was stoic.

“Your Highnesses,” she began, her voice trembling. “His Majesty wishes to you both.

“Papa,” Philippe exclaimed excitedly. “I want to see Papa.”

I knew something was wrong. Everyone in the room seemed disheartened. She picked up Philippe and offered her hand to me. I cautiously took it and she led me away to my father’s room.

It was the last moments of his life.

In his room, I could smell the scent of death and feel the burden that was about to put upon me. Though I was only four years old, I knew my presence in the moment gave everyone a feeling of helplessness and hope. When I saw my father, I was frightened at how sallow he was. Maman, Mazarin and Bontemps held vigil by his bedside as we approached.

“Louis,” he said, weakly. “Philippe.”

Our governess put my brother down beside me. I did not dare move closer to my father. I was afraid; he looked like the corpse he was to become.

“Papa,” Philippe said. “You look sleepy.”

“I am,” he whispered, with a faint smile. “I am going to sleep, Philippe. For a very long time. Louis, remember what I say to you. You will make a fine king. I know you will.”

I nodded. I did not know what else to do. I was passed a torch I was not yet able to carry. Suddenly, Papa said something I could not hear, took two labored breaths, then fell silent. Mother gasped as others in the room weeped softly.

“It is a quarter past two,” Bontemps said softly.

With everyone around him, my father slipped away peacefully.

“Why is Papa sleeping, Louis,” Philippe whispered.

“I do not know, Philippe,” I answered softly.

I knew our father was gone forever, but I did not believe it. Even I thought he was sleeping. It would be a while before I realized he had said his dying words to me months earlier at the château. Watch after your brother for me. Take care of Philippe. Looking at my father’s corpse, I said to myself, But who will take care of me, Papa?

Soon after, everyone turned and looked at me.

“Le roi est mort,” Mazarin said. “Vive le roi.”

I was the King of France.

“You are the king now,” Maman said to me.

“I do not want to be king,” I said.

“Your father is dead,” she said. “You must take his place now, Louis.”

“I do not want to,” I said loudly. “I do not want to be king!”

“Louis,” she began.

“No!”

I ran out of the room and down the hall crying. I did not want to be king. I did not know what it meant to be king, much less what it was. When I reached my room, I expected to see my governess, but there was another woman in her place.

“Who are you,” I yelled.

“I am your new governess, Your Majesty,” she said.

“No,” I yelled, pushing her. “Go away!”

I threw myself on my bed and started to cry into the pillows. I cried myself to sleep. I remembered hearing soft whimpering next to me. When I opened my eyes, it was evening and I was dressed in my nightgown. Philippe was lying next to me, his eyes red from crying.

“You scared me,” he said.

“I did not mean to,” I said.

“Why are you sad, Louis,” he asked.

“I do not want to be king but Maman said I am,” I answered.

“You are too short to be king,” he said. “You have to be tall like Papa.”

“I think he is gone, Philippe,” I said.

“When he comes back, you do not have to be king,” he said yawning.

He fell asleep, leaving me to my thoughts. I did not think Papa was coming back to us this time.--The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 5-07-2022

#hob official tumblr #france #historical drama #historical fiction #louis xiv #writers of tumblr #history #le petit monsieur #louisxiii #diane francoise #montespan #macaroons #vive le roi #family #the house of bourbon #french history #novels

[lesecretdelamaisondubourbon]

⚜️XIV⚜️: I am Dieudonné (Ch. I/Pt. VI)

It would be a few more days before we got see Papa again. I had never seen Philippe so excited. I will admit, I was anxious to be with our father again. As much as I loved our mother, her demeanor had become indiscernible since father had gotten ill.

After our morning routine, we were taken outside to the gardens where father was sitting upright in a long chair with a blanket covering him from the waist down. Our governess led us to him. When he saw us, he smiled.

“See, Philippe,” he said. “I told you would take you and your brother into the gardens. “Thank you, Françoise.”

She bowed and left us together.

“But Papa,” I began. “You are still not well, and Philippe has not behaved as you wished him to.”

Philippe sneered at me, then kicked me.

“Now, Philippe,” Papa said. “That was not nice.”

“Louis is not nice,” he said. “I have, too, been good, Papa. I did not drop my porridge on the floor today.”

“Well,” Papa said. “I am very proud of you, Philippe.”

“See, Louis,” he said, sticking his tongue out at me. “Papa is proud of me.”

He climbed up on Papa’s lap.

“Are you still ill,” I asked. “Why are you not in bed?”

“I wanted some fresh air and to see my sons,” he answered. “I am feeling better, but I still need some rest, Louis. Do not worry. I will be fine.”

Somehow, even then, I found that hard to believe.

“If you cannot walk,” Philippe began. “Then I will stay with you.”

He curled up on Papa’s lap, with his arms around his chest. I put my head on Papa’s shoulder. We remained quiet together for some time. It was a moment I never wanted to end. After that day, Papa would try to be with us as much as he could, even as his sickness started to take him from us.

**** **** **** ****

One morning, as our governess was taking us to our father’s apartments, we heard a familiar voice coming from his room. When the door opened, we our mother speaking with Papa.

“I do not care what the doctors say, Anne,” we heard him say. “I will not miss my son’s baptism.”

“You can hardly stand up as it is, Louis,” she said. “You do not need to exert yourself unnecessarily. There will be other things in his life you will get to see providing you follow your doctors’ orders.”

Papa looked at us standing in the middle of the room with our governess. I felt Philippe take my hand. The room was uncomfortably silent. I could see our parents trying to create an explanation for what we had just heard.

“Louis,” Papa said.

I knew what they were talking about. I did not understand it entirely, but I knew something was wrong. I wanted to run out of the room, but I could not leave Philippe. I did the only thing I could do—I took him with me.

I turned swiftly and led Philippe out the door we had just entered. Once outside we both began to run as fast as we could. We had not idea where we were going. We found a dark corner behind a statue. We could hear our governess and several others calling for us. I put my fingers to my lips. Philippe nodded. When everyone had gone, I sighed deeply.

“Louis,” Philippe whispered.

“Yes.”

“Why are we hiding,” he asked.

“Philippe, listen to me,” I began. “I think Papa is very ill.”

“Why?”

“I do not know,” I answered. “I wish I knew why.”

“Louis,” he said. “What is ill?”

“That is when you do not feel well,” I said.

“I do not feel well, Louis,” he said.

“Are you ill?”

“I do not know.”

“Come, Philippe,” I said, as we crawled out from behind the statue.

“Your Highnesses,” a voice said. We looked up to see our governess looking down at us. We stood up. Immediately, she picked up Philippe. “Why did you run away?”

“Papa is very ill,” I said. “I am afraid for him.”

“People get ill,” she said. “They also get better.”

“I am ill,” Philippe said.

“No, you are not, Monsieur,” she said.

“Yes, I am,” he replied. “I do not feel well.”

“What is the matter,” she asked.

“I do not know,” he said. “Louis said I do not feel well.”

“I did not,” I said loudly.

“You Highness, I know you are worried about your father, but you should not.”

“I am ill like Papa,” Philippe said.

“No, you are not,” I said.

“But you said I do not feel well, Louis.”

“Monsieur, you need a nap.”

“Because I am ill,” he answered.

“Because you are annoying,” I said.

“Come, Your Highness,” she said taking my hand. “I think you both need a nap.”

She took us to our room and put us in bed.

“Now, Your Highnesses, do not move,” she said. “Rest for a while. I promise you will feel better. I am going to see your father to tell him you are safe.”

We nodded. Once she closed the door, Philippe climbed out of bed and went to the door.

“Philippe, she said not to move,” I scolded.

He looked at me for a moment then continued to try to reach for the door handle. I got out of bed and grabbed him.

“Where are you going,” I asked.

“I want to see Papa,” he said tearing up. “I am ill, too.”

“No, you are not, Philippe,” I said. “You are fine.”

“I do not want to be, Louis,” he said, starting to cry. “I want to be like Papa.”

“Philippe, Papa would not want you to be ill,” I said. “He would want you to be well.”

“If I am well,” he began. “Will Papa be happy.”

“Yes,” I answered. “He would be very happy.”

He wiped his tears away then smiled. As soon as I let him go, he tried to open the door again.

“Philippe, what are you doing?”

“I want to tell Papa I am well.”

I knew I was going to regret what I was about to do but I did it anyway.

“I am going with you,” I said. “You are too young to go alone.”

I slowly opened the door and looked out. There was no one in the connecting room leading to the hallway. I put my finger to my lips to keep Philippe quiet. He nodded as he looked around. We ran to the door. I know there had to be a guard somewhere. I slowly opened the door and looked out. Two guards were there but they were occupied with several ladies. Quietly, we slipped out the door and tiptoed in the opposite direction. When we were far enough away, we began running. Needless to say, we got lost. I had no idea where we were. We went around another corner to another long corridor. I could not tell doors from the walls. When we heard footsteps, we looked around for a place to hide.

“Where do you two think you are going,” a voice asked. We turned around to see Papa in the hall.

“Papa,” Philippe yelled excitedly running toward him. I followed him. Papa must have felt better because he scooped Philippe up.

“Why are two out of your apartments,” he asked.

“Philippe and I were looking for you, Papa,” I said.

“Yes,” Philippe said. “I want to tell you something.”

“What,” he asked.

“I am not ill,” Philippe answered.

Papa started to laugh.

“Well, I am glad, Philippe,” he said.

“We heard you and Maman,” I said. “Philippe wanted to be like you.”

Papa sighed and put Philippe down. Kneeling down, he embraced both of us.

“My sons,” he said. “I love you both so much. I am glad for your good health. I do not wish either of you to be ill, Philippe. Please, Louis, do not worry about me. You are far too young to worry about such things. I will be fine.”

“Are you happy,” Philippe said, yawning.

“I am as happy as you are sleepy.”

“I am not sleepy.”

Papa picked him up. Philippe put his arms around his neck and fell asleep.

“You must be very happy, Papa,” I said.

“Yes, I am, Louis,” he said. “Let us go put your brother to bed. Do not tell your mother about this. Promise me.”

“Yes, Papa,” I said, taking his hand.

He returned us to our apartments. That was the last time I would see my father walking again.--The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 1-15-2022

#books #novels #hob official tumblr #louisxiii #louis xiv #philippe duc d'anjou #queen anne of austria #anne of austria #saintgermaineenlaye #historical fiction #france #the kingdom of france #kings of france #historical drama #writers of tumblr #writing #stories #french history

[lesecretdelamaisondubourbon]

⚜️XIV⚜️: I am Dieudonné (Ch. I/Pt. V)

It would be a few days before we would get to see Papa again. It was difficult to keep Philippe occupied the first day. It seemed he would ask to see our father every hour of the day. At night, he would cling to me so tightly, my arm would become numb. Once he fell asleep, I pulled my arm away gently. When I fell asleep, he take my arm again.

One morning, I opened my eyes to see a face I was not often accustomed.

“Louis.” It was Maman.

I sat up quickly. My movements woke Philippe.

“Maman,” he said, sitting up. “Where is Papa?”

“You will both get to see your father today,” she said. She was smiling at us. As a child, I never questioned her motives, but I knew she was always thinking behind a pleasant façade.

“Now,” I asked.

“After you have dressed and have eaten,” she said motioning to the servants. “Your father is eager to see you both. He is feeling much better, but he must stay in bed until his health recovers completely.”

“Yes, Maman,” I said softly.

“I want to go now,” Philippe said.

“Philippe, you will listen to your mother,” she said, sternly. “Do as you are told.”

“Yes, Maman,” he answered, giving her a cold stare. While our father lived, his confidence was unbroken.

“Good boy,” she said. “Françoise, bring them the king when they are ready.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” our governess answered, bowing to our mother. With that, Maman left the room. Her grace and beauty was as undeniable as her ambition. As our governess took Philippe to be dress, I got out of bed to be dressed.

After we had eaten, we were taken to my father apartments. When the doors were opened, Philippe nearly flew out of our governess’ arms.

“Papa,” he squealed in delight. We both ran to our father. He was lying in bed propped up by pillows. He looked far better than before as color had returned to his face.

“Bontemps,” Papa said to the man standing beside his bed. “If you would, please.”

“Of course, Sire,” he said. He had a gentle smile. He lifted each of us up onto the bed. Philippe jumped on top of Papa. He tried to hide the pain but I could see it.

“Easy, Philippe,” he said. “I am still recovering.”

“Take us outside,” Philippe said. 
 “I am afraid I cannot do that today,” he answered. “But perhaps when I am feeling better.”

“Why are you ill, Papa,” I asked.

“Do not worry, Louis,” he said. “It is nothing.”

“Then take us outside,” Philippe said. “I want to go outside.”

Papa laughed as he looked at me.

“Has your brother always been this persistent,” he asked.

“Since he learned to speak.”

“When I get better, I promise I will take you out into the garden, Philippe,” Papa said. “Will you behave until then?”

Philippe thought about it for a moment.

“Yes, Papa,” he finally answered. “But you must get better.”

“I promise,” Papa said.

“Your Majesty,” a man from across the room. “Monsieur has arrived.”

“Send him in,” Papa said.

My uncle came into the room. Gaston Jean-Baptiste, Duc d’Orléans, our father’s younger brother. I could hardly remember a time when they got along. I never understood their relationship.

“Good Morning, Brother,” he said. He was remarkably gleeful. “I see my two nephews are doing well.”

“Gaston,” Papa said, smiling. “How are you?”

“I am doing much better than you are,” he said, approaching the bed. “I pray that God may return you to good health. France needs its king.”

“I can rule from my bed,” Papa answered. “It is my body that recuperates, not my mind.”

“How is Le Dauphin,” Gaston said to me.

“I am well, Uncle,” I answered softly.

“That is good,” he said. “And le Petit Monsieur?”

Philippe looked at him. I could not tell what he was thinking until he opened his mouth.

“What?”

“How are you,” Gaston asked.

“Good,” he answered. “I am not ill. Papa is.”

Though faint, I could hear soft chuckles around the room.

“I have an idea, Philippe,” Papa began. “How would you like Gaston to take you into the garden?” I wished he had not asked that question.

“Why,” Philippe asked.

“Because you wanted to go into the garden, remember?”

“Not with him, Papa,” Philippe said.

“Your Majesty,” our governess said as she walked over to us. “I will take them. I am sure you require some time with His Highness.”

“Thank you, Françoise,” Papa said.

“Yes, Thank you, Françoise,” Gaston said, as she took Philippe into her arms. I jumped off the bed.

“Papa, will we see you later,” I asked.

“We shall see, Louis,” he said. “For now, I wish for you and your brother to play. Do not worry about me. I shall be with you for some time.”

“Yes, Papa.” I took my governess’ hand and she led us away. I thought his words to me were unusual. I did not understand how long ‘some time’ would be.--The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 1-5-2022

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[lesecretdelamaisondubourbon]

⚜️XIV⚜️: I am Dieudonné (Ch. I/Pt. IV)

It was later that morning when Papa returned from the hunt. We had begged our governess to allow us outside. It was early spring, and though winter had faded, it still clung onto its last vestiges.

Walking out into the gardens, I noticed they were far less extravagant than the ones at home. Even with the early buds of the new season, they seemed bare.

"Put me down," Philippe said to our governess. By the look on her face, this was one request she gladly fulfilled. Philippe had started squirming in her arms all the way down the stairs at the very sight of nature through the windows. Before we could play, Papa approached us. Beside him was an imposing man.

"Your Majesty," our governess said to him, bowing. She then addressed the other man. "Your Eminence."

Papa bent down to us.

"How are my sons today," he asked us.

"We are well, Papa," I answered.

"You left us," Philippe whispered.

"I went hunting," he whispered back.

"Why," Philippe asked.

Papa was about to answer when he noticed me shaking my head.

"I will tell you when you are older, Philippe," he said, rising.

“Your Highness is growing into a fine young man,” the man said, bowing to me.

“Yes, he is, Mazarin,” Papa said. “He takes after Anne. He will make a fine king one day.”

“Yes, he will, Your Majesty,” the man answered, looking at me. As with most people in the court, he looked past Philippe. I was thankful he was too young to understand, but I was learning the hierarchy of the royal family. I was their priority. I was the one anyone seemed to care about. I did not like that. While looking at the man, I took Philippe’s hand.

“Papa, may I take Philippe to play in the garden?”

“Of course, Louis,” he said, proudly. “Be careful with him.”

“Yes, Papa,” I said. “Come, Philippe.”

Without a word more, we left Papa—our governess not far behind us. I led my brother to a nearby bush a short distance away. We watched as Papa and the man went inside.

“I do not like him,” I said to myself.

“Me, too,” Philippe said. I knew he did not know why I said that, but his words were comforting. “I want to play.”

“Yes, Philippe,” I said. “Let us play.”

As we roamed around the gardens together, I started to forget about the encounter with the strange man. We were carefree that day—children in the prime of their youth; in the age of their innocence. The sounds of our laughter echoed through the gardens of Versailles until we were called by our governess to return. As Philippe and I walked toward the château, I asked him a question.

“Philippe, what do you want to be when you are older?”

“I want to be your brother,” he said.

“You will always be my brother,” I said with a giggle.

“Then that is all I want to be,” he answered.

That was what he needed him to be to me. We stayed at the château for a few more days before we returned home.

**** **** **** ****

When we returned to Saint-Germaine-en-Laye, Maman was there to greet with entire court it seemed. I did not understand the concern on their faces as we climbed out of the carriage. I wish I had known then how ill Papa had become. He had kept it from his children in hopes he would regain his health.

“Louis,” Maman said to Papa. “You do not look well. You should be in bed. Françoise, please take my sons to their rooms.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” our governess answered. It was the first time I remembered hearing fear in her voice. As she led my brother and I away, the court seemed frantic. I watched them surround my father and begin to lead him away. He had grown pale and fragile. I had not noticed it while we were away. To a child, time has no boundaries and life is never-ending.

“Where are they taking Papa,” I asked.

“Do not worry, Your Highness,” our governess said. “They will take good care of him.”

“Papa,” Philippe screamed, as he turned back. I could see our father look over his shoulder at us.

“Philippe,” he said weakly. “Louis.”

Before Philippe could run back to him, I grabbed him.

“Papa! Papa!”

Philippe’s screams were heart-wrenching. As I struggled to keep him still, I noticed our mother take her leave in our father’s direction. Her face told me nothing of how she felt. She nodded to us and led her procession down the hall behind our father.

“Papa,” Philippe screamed again as he began to cry. “I want Papa, Louis.”

He wrapped his arms around my waist and cried into my cloak. I held my brother as close as I could.

“Come now, Your Highnesses,” our governess said. “You need rest. You will see your father again.”

Philippe looked up at her with his eyes filled with tears. He released me and let her pick him up. She extended her had to me. I took it and she led us away to our rooms. I wondered if I truly would ever see our father again.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 12-28-2021

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[lesecretdelamaisondubourbon]

⚜️XIV⚜️: I am Dieudonné (Ch. I/Pt. III)

Two footmen opened the doors and father stepped out. Before anyone could stop him, Philippe jumped out, nearly falling on his face.

“Shall I put him down, Your Majesty,” our governess asked Papa as she stepped out of the carriage.

“If you will,” he answered. “Philippe has had quite a day.”

“No,” Philippe said.

I took my first steps out of the carriage and looked around as Papa tried to reason with Philippe. To my recollection, this little château did not impress me much. It was just another one of our many palaces.

“Come, Louis,” Papa said to me, offering his hand.  I took his hand he led us into the château. Philippe talked every step of the way in the arms of our governess. Once inside, my father and I were parted and my brother and I were shown to our apartments.

“Philippe,” I asked, as he was put down on the bed while our governess left us alone. “What are you talking about?”

He stopped talking for a moment and thought about what I had asked him.

“I do not know,” he answered as he rolled over in laughter. Our governess returned as quickly as she had left.

“Your Highness,” she said to me. “You are to see your father immediately in his apartments. Straight through those doors.”

“No,” Philippe screamed. “I want Louis!”

She looked at me sternly. I gave her a weak smile as she left me to my brother.

“Philippe,” I began. “Go to sleep.”

“I do not want to,” he said, looking around. “Not here.”

“Please,” I begged. “I must go see Papa.”

“Will you come back,” he asked.

“Yes.”

Philippe yawned.

“I am not sleepy,” he said, as he fell asleep. When I was certain he would not wake up, I turned to leave the room to find Papa. Instead, he had found me.

“You are very good with your brother,” he said. “But you have always been.”

“I wish he were bigger,” I said. “He is still a baby.”

“He will not always be, Louis,” he said. “Just as you will not always be a child.”

Papa sat down in a chair beside the window. Though I was still young, he was not as I had once remembered him. I did not have the mind to ask what plagued him. I would have not understood what he might have told me. I went over to him to see what he was looking at through the window. He motioned for me to join him. I climbed upon his lap, and we sat together in silence for a time. The only sounds of nature came from Philippe’s restless sleep.

“Louis,” he finally said. “You will do as I say, yes?”

“Yes, Papa,” I answered.

“Watch after your brother for me,” he said. “Take care of Philippe.”

I nodded, thinking he was speaking about watching Philippe while we were staying the château. I looked over at my brother. He was sound asleep.

“There is no such thing as fearless, Louis,” I heard Papa say. “You must be afraid to do something so that you may find the courage to do anything.”

I turned back to him and nodded. He embraced me. I would not understand anything that happened that day for years but not long after he uttered those words to me, he would be dead and I would be king.

**** **** **** ****

Philippe was awakened shortly before dinner. He was unusually quiet, but nonetheless, took the time to let our governess know he did not like the food put before him. He would take a bite, scowl, then spit it out if the taste was not to his liking. To be fair, I had to admit I was not fond of it, either. I ate it out of obedience.

After dinner, we were put to bed. Getting there was always a chore when it came to Philippe. I am not sure when he learned to splash his bathwater on the servants for amusement, but he had turned it into an unholy ritual at every opportunity. Once we were dressed and in bed, I could hear the sighs of relief behind the doors of our room.

For some time that night, we slept peacefully without interruption. Then, I felt a jolt that woke me instantly. I felt the earth shaking but I knew better than to worry.

“Philippe, stop,” I said. I knew he was jumping on the bed. This was the one time I wish I had never taught him how to do it.

“I cannot sleep, Louis,” he said between each jump. 

“Neither can I, Philippe,” I began. “Because you are keeping me awake.”

He stopped jumping, landing on his bottom near my feet. 

“I am not a baby,” he said. That was the problem with Philippe. He could remember everything I said when I thought he was not listening. 

“Yes, you are,” I said.

Philippe crawled back to his place beside me and lay down.

“Louis,” he began. “You will take care of me.”

“I have to,” I said. “You are my brother.”

“You are my brother,” he said. “I will take care of you, too.”

With that, he kissed my forehead, lay down and fell asleep. I did not understand what he meant until we were older but Philippe always knew and I was glad for it.

**** **** **** ****

When I woke up the next morning, Philippe was gone. I looked around and saw him standing on the chair where Papa and I were sitting the day before. He was looking out of the window. I climbed out of bed and went to join him. The floor was cool, but a servant was stoking the fire in the hearth.

“Look,” Philippe said excitedly, pointing out the window. I saw Papa on horseback, riding with several other men. “Papa is leaving us!”

I smiled to myself. Philippe was still too young to understand.

“Papa is going hunting,” I told him.

“Why,” he asked, looking at me, concerned.

“That is what kings do.”

“Why,” he asked again.

“I do not know, Philippe,” I answered.

“Why,” he asked.

If our governess had not come into the room, I was going smack my little brother. It was time to eat and Philippe had become distracted with something new. As our porridge was served, I wondered how long Papa would be gone. Philippe took an enormous spoonful of porridge and shoved it into his mouth. With his mouth full, our governess took this moment to scold him.

“Smaller bites, Petit Monsieur,” she said. “Your Highness, sit up straight.”

Immediately, I changed my posture. She was stern but kind. We would not have her much longer, but she would come back into my life when I would need her the most.--The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 12-18-2021

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[lesecretdelamaisondubourbon]

⚜️XIV⚜️: I am Dieudonné (Ch. I/Pt. II)

Unlike Philippe, I had less freedom to do what I wished. I was the heir to the throne. My fate was sealed as the firstborn son. Philippe had the luxury of obstinateness, and he delighted in it. He knew quite early that all eyes were on me. He took every opportunity he could to get away with anything.

As children, we spend some time around our mother’s ladies. They were an extravagant mix of the French and the Spanish. Our mother was the Infanta, daughter of Philip III of Spain. Both of us could speak Spanish as fluently as French by the time we began our studies.

“¡Hola, Louis! ¿Cómo estás?,” Philippe said to me one afternoon. He learned to speak rather quickly as if he was born to talk.

“What,” I said, surprised. I looked around to make sure no heard him. “You must speak French, Philippe.”

“No,” he said defiantly, stomping his little feet on the floor. “I hate French. I like Spanish. It is our mother's language.”

“French is the language of our father,” I answered. “He is the king.”

“I do not care,” he said, crossing his arms.

“We are French,” I began. “We live in France, not Spain.”

“I will speak the language I want when I want,” he said. He knew I would give into his demands but I knew our mother better.

Very well, Philippe,” I began. We will speak Spanish among ourselves. Not with Mother. She will be angry. Do you understand me, Philippe?”

“But why, Louis,” he asked sadly. “She is Spanish.”

I could tell he wanted to tempt the hand of fate. He always want to see I was telling the truth.

“Philippe, no,” I said as firmly as I could.

“Very well,” he answered, pouting. It was hard for me not to indulge my brother and he knew this. All we had was each other as there were few children in the court in those days. Papa did his best to see us as often as he could. When he was with us, I could see in him a longing I did not understand as a child. 

I came to believe that Philippe and I had a closeness that he never had with our uncle, Gaston. I wondered if their discord was the reason he made sure his sons were seldom apart. I came to believe this when he took us on a trip to a special place one day.

**** **** **** ****

The carriage ride seemed long. As always, Philippe kept himself occupied by wriggling endlessly as he pointed to everything along the way. Papa could not help but laugh.

“Philippe,” he said.  “You are a handful.” He seemed to have something on his mind. It must have been sobering because his eyes were longer full of light as I had remembered. As if he could hear my thoughts, his attention turned to me.

“What are you thinking about, Louis,” he asked.

“Nothing, Papa,” I answered softly. “Where are we going?”

“To my favorite place,” he said smiling. “I am sure you and your brother will love it as much I do.”

“Papa, there are trees,” Philippe said, trying to lean out of the window. Our governess struggled to keep him still, but Philippe was having none of that.

“Yes, Philippe,” I said. “Those are trees.”

He turned quickly toward me with a vicious glare on his face. If he thought I was teasing him, he was correct.

“I know, Louis,” he said. “There are lots of trees.”

Suddenly, the trees began to disappear as we came upon a clearing. Looking out of the window, I could see a small château—far smaller than to what I had become accustomed. As our carriage came to a stop, I could see the relief on our governess’ face as Philippe bounced off her lap and over to Papa.

“What is that, Papa,” he asked eagerly.

“That is my home away from home,” he answered. “This is my castle at Versailles.”--The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 12-11-2021

#louis xiv #philippe i #duc d'anjou #louis xiii #brothers #royal brothers #spanish #french #french history #historical fiction #the house of bourbon #big brother #little brother #versailles

[lesecretdelamaisondubourbon]

⚜️XIV⚜️: I am Dieudonné (Ch. I/Pt. I)

There are a million reasons why I should not tell you the truth, but only one reason why I should--I have to. Even I know that things are not always what they seem. I may be the Sun King, but I have lived in the shadows--most often, of my own light. There was nothing I could not have in this life except for one thing--her. My life began at my birth, but I only had begun to live it when we met. Until that moment and every moment thereafter, life for me seemed an endless misadventure--a staged performance I longed to end.

**** **** **** ****

I was an unexpected gift from God. After years of struggling to produce an heir, I was born 5 September 1638 at Château Neuf Saint-Germain-en-Laye. I was known as Dieudonné. I was the God-given and I came to believe it to be true as I grew older. My father, Louis XIII, was as a walking shadow to me. I wish I had more time to learn from him the secrets of the crown I was to inherit. I remember very little about my father, but what I remember was good. He kept me at arm’s length until the birth of my brother. I did not understand why, but I credit him for the miracle of our father’s love in those last two years we had with him.

When I was barely two years old, my parents received leur second cadeau de Dieu—my brother Philippe. His arrival was my earliest and most treasured memories. When he arrived, I wanted to see for myself. I knew it was coming but at the time, I did not know from where. I wanted to see for myself this new baby everyone had been talking about. I had been separated from my mother because this creature for what seemed an eternity.

“Louis,” a voice said. I looked up to see who called my name. It was my father. “Would you like to see your new brother?”

I nodded. He scooped me up from the floor, addressed my governess and whisked me away. Moments later we entered a room where my mother was resting. Papa put me down and I made my way over to her. I heard strange noises coming from a cradle nearby. I quickly changed course and cautiously moved toward it. I peered inside to see a small infant. For a moment he seemed to look at me in fascination. I looked at my parents as I pointed at my new brother.

“His name is Philippe,” my mother said.

I turned my glance back to my new baby brother who seemed to be smiling at me. I knew then he was my Philippe—a friend and a brother for life. I could hardly wait for him to grow up. That, too, seemed to take forever in my infantile understanding of the world.

Once Philippe learned to walk, he seemed to want to follow me everywhere. Though I was but two years older, I towered over him like a shading tree. Whenever I would leave a room, Philippe would slowly rise from the floor and begin his trek behind me, stumbling awkwardly and flailing his arms to keep his balance. When he would fall, he would burst into tears. I would comfort him until he stopped crying. Then, as if nothing had happened, he would get up again and carry on behind me. It seemed like an eternity to walk down the long halls of the palace with him. 

I was never more thankful to God than when he learned to run. Even at my tender age, I was protective of Philippe. He was no more helpless than I was, but I was going to be king one day. At that age, I thought my only responsibility as a future king was taking care of my brother.--The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 10-16-2021

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