Leopard in Exile (51 page)

"De ot'ers are waitin' inside, Your Majesty," Corday said in his broad Acadian
patois
.

"Oh, don't call me that!" Louis begged. "The others, perhaps—I know Lafitte enjoys it—but not you."

"Ver' well," Corday relented, smiling crookedly. "But perhaps I will, a liddle, when ot'ers can hear. Jus'

so dey will respec' you, hahn?"

The two men walked side by side into the courtroom.

The flag of France and the Imperial arms were gone, and the new flag of Louisianne was proudly

displayed: the Lilies of France in silver and blue quartered with the Tower of Castille in gold and red, and

superimposed upon them the heraldic pelican feeding her young with the blood from her own breast, and

the motto:
Piété, Justice, Liberté
.

Louis' chief ministers and generals were gathered here—the head of his fledgling army, the captain of the

Civil Militia, the admiral of his navy (who was also his First Minister), his ministers for Acadian Affairs,

for the Affairs of Persons of Color, his Ambassador to the Parliament of Tribes—all in their best clothes,

and wearing newly-created honors gleaming in gold and bright enamels. Before the dais, the Chief Justice

stood in his scarlet robes and powdered wig, preparing to administer the civil oath that would have the

force of law.

Louis stood before him as the judge raised the Book for Louis to kiss, and then the young King raised his

hand and swore his sacred oath.

"I, Louis-Charles Philippe Capet d'Bourbon, who will reign as Louis I of the House of Orléans, do vow

and undertake before Almighty God and Christ our Lord to uphold the Constitution of the Kingdom of

Louisianne, to uphold the rule of Law, to subordinate myself to both of these things as much as any of my

subjects, and to rale justly as a Christian King of a free, tolerant, and Christian nation, renouncing my

crown when I feel I can no longer do so."

When he had spoken the words, the knot of tension in Louis' stomach eased. What would follow in the

Cathedral would only be pageantry and gilding upon the oath he had taken here.

When he stepped back Lafitte embraced him roughly and kissed him on both cheeks. "When I saw you,

I knew you were the King—and it is I who have brought you into your kingdom!" the pirate exulted.

"And I will remember that, Jean," Louis answered, smiling. He shook the hands of his witnesses—some

friends, some only allies, all as uncomfortable with kingship as Louis himself was.

"Only one last journey," Corday said, beckoning.

Now came the passage across the square, his footsteps muffled by the red carpet laid down from the

door of the Cabildo to the door of the Cathedral. Louis walked alone—the last time, perhaps, he would

ever do so—with his ministers following behind.

The doors of Saint Louis swung open at his approach, and he saw the interior of the Cathedral, scrubbed

and blessed and gilded, filled with those who had come to see him crowned. Steadily, looking neither to

the right or left, Louis walked down the aisle.

"I always seem to be standing about in churches waiting to see someone crowned," the Duchess of

Wessex whispered to her husband. "I wonder where Meriel is?"

"The last time was six months ago, when Stephanie was married and created Princess of Wales," her

husband answered in an equally low voice, "so you may not tease me with this Banbury tale of

coronations filling your days, my wife. And you shall see Meriel soon enough, for she will be led out to be

crowned as soon as Louis has been."

Six months
! Such a short time to have encompassed all the events that had befallen her. She had come

from London to Wiltshire, and thence to Baltimore, and from there on a journey that had led in and out of

the world, through perils unimaginable, until at last it had ended here.

Louis reached the altar and stopped before the Bishop. There he turned and faced the congregation, the

Bishop standing behind him.

"Is it by your will and with your consent that I crown this man, Louis-Charles de Bourbon—king of the

sovereign nation of Louisianne?" the Bishop asked.

"Yes!" the people shouted—and, a moment later, as the question was relayed to the people

outside—their cheers of assent came as well.

Now Louis knelt before the Bishop upon a plump violet cushion with gilded tassels and swore to the

Bishop as he had to the judge:

"I, Louis the First, do vow and undertake before Almighty God and Christ our Lord to be a true King

and husband to Louisianne, to love and respect my subjects and to cherish them as my own children, to

rule over them in accordance with the Constitution and the Law, and to uphold the power of the Church.

I further pledge that Louisianne shall be a state under God, united in purpose and ideals, confident that

justice shall prevail for all of those abiding here."

Then Louis rose to his feet, and as the choir sang the "Misericordia," Louis seated himself upon the

Coronation Chair that had been carried out from the vestry. The anointing oil was brought, and poured

out by the Bishop onto his head.

Now peers of the new realm brought the robe of gold tissue and the cloak of red velvet trimmed with

ermine, concealing every inch of the white velvet suit and turning Louis from a living man into a gilded

statue. As the choir sang, the Bishop presented him with a sword that symbolized his might and justice,

and a Bible, jeweled and bound in gold, to symbolize his wisdom and mercy. Each was carried forward

on an opulent cushion by men who had been private citizens four months before, and who now must

make the stuff of government from nothing more than their goodwill and honor.

Then the Te Deum rang out through the Cathedral, and the Bishop lifted the crown. It was a simple gold

coronet, for the goldsmiths had not had time to create anything more elaborate, but it had been blessed

and sanctified, and was the tangible symbol of all that was done here today. He raised it high above his

head, displaying it to the congregation, before placing the crown upon Louis' head.

Now Meriel was led out, with Robie carrying her train, to kneel before her husband and sovereign as the

first of his subjects to do him homage. She swore her oath of fealty to him in a clear, steady voice, her

green eyes shining as she gazed up at him. The Bishop placed a coronet of pearls upon her dark hair, and

a cloak of velvet and ermine about her shoulders, and she was raised up to stand beside her husband.

The thing was done.

The church bells of the Cathedral de Saint Louis began to ring—joined, one by one, by the carillons of

churches all over the city. Beneath that joyous sound came the dull booming of the guns along the

riverfront, and the choir broke into the joyous strains of the Recessional.

There was more to follow, of course—feasts and celebrations public and private, dancing and fireworks

and horse racing—but the new nation now had its king and queen. Louis led Meriel back down the aisle

to the church door, and the two of them stood upon the church steps in the pale winter sunlight as the

assembled crowds roared their approval.

"It's like watching a fairy tale come to life!" Sarah said, craning to get a better view of Louisianne's

fledgling Royal couple. "I hope that everything to come will be as wonderful as today."

"I think," said the Duke of Wessex, gazing at his beloved wife fondly, "that this is the best of all possible

beginnings."

Footnotes

1. Fact.

2. "This is the cup of my blood."

3. "This is my body."

4. "The Goat Above, The Goat Below."

5. Charles James Fox sent overtures to Talleyrand in February

1806, but whatever might have become of them was

short-circuited by Fox's death the next month. Talleyrand was

infamous for conducting independent clandestine peace

negotiations with various members of the Grande Alliance.

6. "Mobile" is short for "mobile party," a witticism of this

period, as only landowners held the vote, while the "mobile

party," workers and city-dwellers, were for the most part

without a political voice. The phrase has been shortened further

in our own time to "mob."

7. In the corrupt Anglo-French of the period, it signifies the

Upper Ten Thousand, the titled and noble society that was

composed of England's aristocracy.

8. A couch to you.

9. Which is to say, temperatures between 60 and 70 and muggy.