“Do you think you know God’s truth better than I do?” His Holiness asked, affronted.
“No, Your Holiness, of course not — I only seek knowledge of His will through His material creations.”
“You shall study His Word,” His Holiness said. “Not the utterances of demons.”
“Demons lie!” Marie-Josèphe cried. “Sherzad’s said nothing but the truth.”
“The truth isn’t for you to determine, Mlle de la Croix,” His Holiness said.
“What has she said, that’s false? She’s told us ugly truths. But they are truths.”
“You would have done better to follow my predecessor’s order. Women should remain silent and obedient.”
“Even women have souls. Sherzad is a woman. Killing her would be a mortal sin.”
“Do not lecture me on sin.”
Silence fell, and deepened; the only sound was the faint shussh of Mme de Maintenon’s silk passing through the tapestry.
“I believe my sister is right, Your Majesty. Your Holiness.”
“Do you?” His Holiness said. “Have you discussed souls with this creature? Have you discussed Christian faith? Have you converted it?”
“No, Your Holiness.”
“Then on what evidence do you believe your sister correct and the Church in error?”
“Not in error!” Yves exclaimed. “I believe God put me in the position of witnessing a miracle. I believe He has raised the sea monsters toward humanity. “
“The creature is grotesque,” His Holiness said. “There’s nothing of humanity about it.”
“Sherzad is less grotesque than I,” Count Lucien said, his voice like a rose: perfect, beautiful, hiding thorns. “And I am human... Of course, I am very rich.”
Marie-Josèphe wanted to run to Lucien, to embrace him, to deny his description of himself, for he was splendid.
Innocent rose from his chair and turned on Lucien in a fury.
“You deny the existence of God! Perhaps the Grand Inquisitor was right after all.
Perhaps you and the monsters are the spawn of demonic fornication.”
“My father and my mother would be offended to hear it,” Lucien said calmly.
“Chrétien, enough of your atheistic wit,” His Majesty said.
“Chrétien!” His Holiness spat out a word he would ordinarily speak with reverence. “Even your name is a mockery!”
“Then it mocks Charlemagne, who gave it to my family for our service to him.”
“Cousin,” Louis said to Innocent, “M. de Chrétien enjoys my protection for his beliefs — even for his lack of beliefs.”
“Your Majesty,” Marie-Josèphe said, “you’re the Most Christian King. Champion the sea folk — their conversion would add to your glory!”
“This is only a tactic, to save your pet,” Louis said.
“It’s true I can’t bear to think of her being killed,” Marie-Josèphe said. “But I truly believe she’s a woman. Sire, if you eat her flesh, you’ll endanger your immortal soul.”
Louis leaned back in his chair, weary and old beneath his bright chestnut perruke.
“Marie-Josèphe, dear child,” he said, “I’ve ruled for fifty years. Compared to what I’ve done for the glory of France, cannibalism’s a small sin.”
Marie-Josèphe was too shocked to reply.
“Give me the sea monster, cousin,” Innocent said. “You must.”
“Must I?”
“It must be studied. It’s dangerous. If Father de la Croix is in error, then the creature is a demon, and it must be exorcised. But perhaps Father de la Croix is correct, and we’ve witnessed a miracle of creation. If that is true, the creature must be brought to God. Converted from its pagan wildness, for the glory of God.”
“I’ll give you my baboon,” His Majesty said. “You have as much chance of converting it.”
Affronted, His Holiness rose. “You will forgive me,” he said, “if I take my leave. I’m an old man. Your opposition exhausts me. Father de la Croix, attend me.”
He swept out of the apartment.
“Please excuse me, Your Majesty,” Yves said. “Please forgive me —”
“Go,” His Majesty said. “Leave me in peace.”
Yves bowed to His Majesty and hurried after Innocent.
Marie-Josèphe’s nails cut into her palms. Tears stung her eyes. The faint melody of Sherzad’s song crept through the open window, her grief carried by the cold breeze.
“You shouldn’t provoke our holy cousin, M. de Chrétien,” His Majesty said.
“Pardon my bad manners, Your Majesty. Your holy man surprises me, with his revulsion.”
“What do you care for holy men?”
“Nothing, Sire. Yet I’m always surprised when they turn out to be hypocrites.”
“I require him as an ally. France requires His Holiness, his armies — and his treasury.”
“If you allowed it, you would get more loyalty from the Protestants —”
Mme de Maintenon jerked her head up, glaring at Lucien; His Majesty replied with cold fury.
“Don’t provoke me, Chrétien. How fortunate that you’re only an atheist — and not a Protestant.”