The Dream Maker (17 page)

And as for me, I did not know either what this departure implied. Was I to follow the king? And if so, where? Or should I remain alone in this hostile city, where I felt like a stranger? I had gone no further in my conjectures when, one evening shortly before nightfall, I received a visit from a strange character. He was a hideously deformed dwarf who went about in carnival clothing. He was followed by a horde of children who jeered at him. He sent for me, and introduced himself with astonishing self-confidence for someone who had been so afflicted by nature. In truth, if one disregarded his size and his deformity, he lacked neither daring nor nobility. I had heard about these royal dwarves who lived in the society of the highly ranked and adopted their manners, but this was the first time I had been granted the privilege of meeting one of them. He told me his name was Manuelito, that he came from Aragon, and after having served several masters he was now in the personal service of King Charles. No doubt his mission was to distract the king, but he spoke gravely to me. He hoisted himself onto a chair and we had a very serious conversation.

He started by announcing the most important thing: the king wished to see me again, that very night. Manuelito insisted that his master wanted this audience to remain secret. He was surrounded by noblemen who, under the guise of serving him, were actually keeping him prisoner and scrutinizing his every act and deed. He explained how we would proceed so that no one would know of my visit.

We then spoke about Paris, and he confirmed that the king intended to leave the city. He had never liked it there. He continued to be haunted by the memory of the ill-fated night when he had had to flee to escape slaughter by the Burgundians. Ever since he arrived in Paris he hardly slept and was prey to debilitating anxiety. Manuelito then took great liberty in describing the court to me. He explained that the princes were now demanding retribution from the king for their support. If they had helped him to defeat the English it was first and foremost for their own benefit. If the king were to grant them what they wanted, the kingdom he had just reunited would immediately be dismembered. These feudal lords wanted to be their own masters, and the king would be subject to their will.

“And what does the king want?”

“To reign.”

“But he is so weak and indecisive.”

“Don't be mistaken! He may be weak, and even that is a subject for debate. But he is not at all indecisive. The man has a will of iron. He is capable of overcoming all obstacles.”

I was grateful to Manuelito for confirming what my intuition had begun to suspect. To conclude, he urged me to defy everyone. I do not know whether this devilish man had his spies and knew something. He was referring to the noblemen who would surely come to solicit me, and warned me against any temptation I might have to help them.

“Anything that reinforces them weakens the king. If they are in such a needy position today, it is because they are preparing to attack him.”

I had a clear conscience and replied calmly that I would refuse to entertain any dishonest compromises. He nodded silently.

That night, at the appointed hour, I went to the Louvre, crossing the Pont-Neuf. I walked along the gutter until I reached the door Manuelito had indicated. The guard let me in without asking anything. My walk through the palace was short. The king was waiting for me in a small room near the entrance. It was in an outbuilding of the guard room, heated by the back of the big fireplace on the other side. There was no furniture in the room, and Charles was standing. He squeezed my hands. He was the same height as me but seemed smaller, because in his close-fitting garment his legs were twisted and remained somewhat bent.

“I am leaving, Cœur. You must stay.”

“As you desire, sire. But—”

He waved his hand.

“I know. I know. It won't last. Wait. Be patient. I am no more satisfied than you are to see the way things are going. The fact remains that for the time being I must deal with what is most urgent. I need a great deal of money. I must not depend on them any longer.”

From the knowing way he had said these last words, it was clear he knew that I knew about the princes. Manuelito could only have spoken to me on his orders.

“You are doing a dirty work, I am aware of that. Later, for the kingdom, if God grants me the strength, I will proceed differently: we will have a strong and stable currency. For the moment, if I am to survive, what I need is to get out of this city that I despise and which returns the sentiment for all it is worth. You must continue. Do not yield to threats. You will have news from me in due time. Farewell, my friend.”

Again he squeezed my hands. I had the impression that he was on the verge of tears. Regardless of what Manuelito might have said, I was still convinced, at that time, of his weakness. And this weakness was all the more repellant to me in that his will, as the jester had said, was strong. I would have given anything to protect him, to provide him with the means to resist and overcome. Thus, I agreed to stay in Paris despite his absence.

 

*

 

The king and his retinue departed from the city the following week. He left a small garrison behind. But it was clear that, in the absence of the sovereign and his army, those who represented him in Paris were in great danger. The city was subject to riots, to great popular uprisings and intrigue among the burghers, and periods of calm were always precarious and deceptive. My position aroused individual envy, and collectively it marked me out for general hatred. Was it not to my workshop that every day the bounty seized from the city in the name of the king was delivered? I was obliged to reinforce the guards around the workshop and arrange for heavily armed escorts to accompany the coin-filled coffers I sent to the king. We had to fight off an attack in the middle of the night, and never discovered who had planned it. I had no difficulty finding a house near the workshop to rent, given the number of empty, boarded-up ones in the vicinity. I engaged an aging cousin of Roch's to serve me. Two mastiffs in the courtyard tasted my food to thwart poisoning.

I had time to take stock, painfully, of my present situation, and a surprise visit from Jean de Villages further stimulated my thoughts. Between two missions he came to Paris to bring me news of our business, which was prospering. Jean had appointed agents or simple correspondents in fifteen towns or more. He managed to ship cloth, gold, leather, and many other goods throughout the realm, as far as England and the Hanseatic League. Guillaume had sent a second shipment to the Levant, and was expecting the return of the first one soon. Our profit was considerable. The agents, once they had taken their own pay, were ordered to reinvest the surplus. Jean was suntanned from riding from town to town. I could see the adventure thrilled him—the element of risk, the success. In spite of the uncertainty of the highways, he had lost only one delivery, and even then, with his mercenaries, they had given chase and recovered from the thieves a booty equivalent to what had been stolen. I gave him all the surplus cash that our coin-making activities had allowed me to put aside, in order that he could use it to increase our purchasing power, and he went on his way. He left me feeling very dejected. I felt as if I had made a fool's bargain. My aim in approaching the king had been to place our enterprise under his protection, and allow it to flourish according to my own ambitions for it. Instead, the king had granted me a partial favor, which, even if it was provisional, nevertheless took me away from my own business. While my partners could enjoy the wind on the road or the salt spray on the sea, I was shut away in a pestilent city melting spoons and sharing my food with mastiffs.

And I was far away from my family. Macé wrote to me; she was totally absorbed by the children, and she gave me their news. I made sure she always had plenty of money. This was the beginning of an unequal and fatal exchange: for my absence and distance I paid a price that seemed sufficiently high to atone for my sins. Thus, material consideration gradually replaced feeling. But while the weights might be comparable in quantity, in quality they were no such thing. And yet even at the time I realized this, and I felt guilty. As time passed, and other presences came to make up for the absence of my family, however imperfectly, I would be less concerned.

I have already said that there were ample opportunities to betray Macé. And I was not lacking in desire. But the two never came at the same time. Until the day I had a visit from Christine.

She had come upon the workshop by chance, or at least that is what she said. Her story was heartbreaking. The daughter of an excellent family, well-educated, she had found herself orphaned after the epidemic of smallpox that had stricken the city a few years earlier. In despair, she had yielded to the advances of one of her distant cousins who wanted to marry her. She consented, although she did not like him. She referred to her own taste by lowering her eyes in a charming way, and blushing. To confess that she might have preferences in the matter was to reveal that she had desires, and the nuns had convinced her that this was evil . . .

The couple settled into a house in the street next to my workshop. Alas, her husband had greatly compromised himself with the English and so he had fled with them, but not before promising to send help. He asked her to stay in Paris to keep an eye on their property. She would quickly discover that he had lied. Creditors came to her door, and she could not honor their demands. Her house was about to be seized along with all her belongings. She told me all this with great dignity, or should I say, in hindsight, with great mastery. I thought she must be no more than twenty years of age. Her beauty was perfect, humble, and modest, but when she looked up, and deep into my eyes, she lit a fire which my vanity drove me to believe was shared.

I was occupying an entire house on my own. I stammered a suggestion that she move into the upstairs while waiting for her situation to become clearer. She accepted after an appropriate hesitation.

Two days later, a late winter storm shook the house at night. The wind blew open the windows and hurled tiles into the street. In the middle of the night, Christine let out a scream. I thought something terrible had happened and I rushed to her room. I found her lying on the floor, trembling, prey to an intense terror. Sobbing, she explained that the thunder brought back terrible memories. I stayed with her. Unaware of the fact that she was making a great effort to convey as much to me, I assumed she would only find peace in my arms. Like most men, I was eager to find it natural for a woman to desire my protection, and from this vanity I drew the strength to comply. The moment I put my arms around her, Christine calmed down and her breathing became more regular, until a new source of agitation seized her. Filled with ridiculous pride at having rescued her, I was overcome with desire. We became lovers, and although there were no more storms, I returned nightly to her bedchamber.

Through this relation I discovered a carnal pleasure I had never known with Macé. The clandestine nature of our situation surely had something to do with it. But it must be said that Christine, despite her young age, seemed to possess a level of experience which Macé, married as a virgin to me when I was equally inexperienced, could not hope to attain. In addition to sensual delight, Christine also brought a great deal to stimulate my mind. Until then I had been filled with grandiose dreams, but they were only dreams; as for myself, I was nothing, and I was aware of this. From the beginning, my in-laws had made it clear that they were reluctant to consent to our marriage, and that my condition was inferior. Nothing I had accomplished thus far would ensure me of the distinction that could have offset the deficiencies of my birth.

And now, for the very first time, with my return from the Levant, the creation of our business, and the king's favor, another destiny seemed possible—one which, without yet assuming the grandeur of my dreams, could nevertheless tear me away from the modest condition of my early life. I began to notice a new consideration in the eyes of all those who had never acknowledged me, and who now approached me in Paris. Christine incorporated this admiration into my private life. With her youthful simplicity, she applied herself to making me understand how much she respected me. There was nothing, not even my lack of experience in love, that she did not manage to turn to my advantage, by praising my rapid progress and the natural instinct that allowed me to fulfill her most secret desires. In short, I was happy, or at least I believed myself to be. Thanks to Christine, I forgot the tedium of my chores, and was able to put up with the city and all its inconveniences. I found the energy to turn down all the self-serving invitations I received. In a word, I had the impression that of all of the benefits that good fortune had begun to bestow on me, Christine was the most precious.

The situation altered abruptly because of an event that had on the surface seemed minor but had turned out to be highly significant: I hired a new valet. Since returning from the Levant, I had no personal servants. I had hired guards, a cook, and chambermaids, but a valet—who shares one's everyday life, knows one's most intimate secrets and takes charge of delicate errands—I had not had such a servant since Gautier's departure. The good fellow considered that he had done enough traveling, and had gone back to his village. I needed someone new. As usual, I consulted with Roch, my foreman. He gave it some thought and recommended Marc, one of his nephews.

The aforementioned Marc showed up one morning, his eyes puffy and his complexion waxy. It was obvious that he had not spent the night in a totally honest manner. I have never been satisfied with first impressions, particularly when dealing with rascals. They are a varied species, and, if one pays attention, one can find in them all the best aspects of humanity. The world of crime concentrates a great deal of intelligence, boldness, loyalty, and, dare I say, idealism. Provided these qualities are not spoiled by too great a portion of lying, violence, and fabrication, they can prove extremely useful. For myself, I have been better served in life by people I dug out of the lower depths than by any number of allegedly honest individuals: only cowardice kept them from committing the worst sorts of crime, and often their only merit was to temper vice with fear.