The Red Eminence

So this was how it ended. All of the intrigues and gambits and scheming had come to this. Marie looked out the carriage window at the tall buildings of Paris as they faded into the distance, set against a fiery sunset that seemed to consume the French capital.

At least my last view of the city will be a good one, she mused.

As the sun finally set, Marie turned her gaze back inside. With rich fabrics and gilded supports, one could be forgiven if they didn’t immediately recognize the carriage for the prison it was. She was alone now; she had been beaten and was left with nothing but a long journey to Compiegne, and the bitter memories of her own mistakes as company.


Armand had seemed like such a wise choice at the time. Although I’d always had political aspirations, I was certainly not prepared to rule an entire country after the Henry’s assassination. I knew my son Louis would eventually inherit the throne, but he was only a child at the time and the country needed a leader until he was ready to assume his responsibilities as the new king.

I did my best in the intervening years, but I guess I can admit that I didn’t always make the best decisions. Waiving the longstanding anti-Habsburg foreign policy, and then being forced to buy off the noble-blooded French aristocracy was a particularly awful misstep, and one that made me realize I needed help in navigating the turbulent political waters. Armand was such a dynamic and clever member of the Estates General, it only made sense to choose him as an advisor.

Of course, I hadn’t counted on the bastard’s betrayal.

I know it was his whispers in dear Louis’ ear that turned him against me; I’m sure of that. He convinced Louis to overturn my pro-Habsburg, pro-Spanish foreign policy, and insisted on my exile to Chateu de Blois. Naturally, Armand became the King’s new advisor.

For nearly two years, I stewed over Armand’s betrayal and meticulously planned my revenge. My dear son Gaston helped me escape my imprisonment in Blois and helped me build a new aristocratic revolt. Louis and Armand made a formidable team, though, and we weren’t nearly prepared enough for success. I was sure that failure would be the end of me, but to my surprise, Armand was the one who came to my rescue and managed to reconcile me with Louis.

If only I had let things lay at that point. But I just couldn’t forgive Armand for his earlier betrayal and the two awful years I was forced to spend in the wilderness. This time, I learned my lesson and focused on Armand rather than Armand and Louis. It almost worked, too. My compatriots and I celebrated, sure that Armand had fallen from grace and was crawling off into some dark hole.

It would prove to be the second time I misjudged Armand.

He wasn’t was nearly as ready to admit defeat as we had assumed. Instead of crawling off into a dark hole, he followed Louis to Versailles and sought a private audience with the King to make his case again. Whatever he said clearly worked, because Louis returned from Versailles with renewed support for The Red Eminence and an exile order for me once again.


Marie became drowsy as the carriage ride to Compiegne wore on. Her eyes grew heavy and were nearly closed when a deafening boom caused them to snap open. The carriage veered left and right, and the sound of hoofbeats rapidly approached.

“Hello?” Marie called out to her driver. “What’s going on out there?”

No response.

Suddenly, the carriage slid to a stop, nearly throwing Marie forward into the opposite seat. As she struggled to untangle herself from her skirts, shadows approached the carriage door. That familiar feeling of dread welled up in her stomach, wondering if Louis or Armand had changed their mind and perhaps sent someone to make sure she never made it to Compiegne.

The door was wrenched open and a face appeared outside, illuminated by a single lantern.

“Gaston!” Marie cried, as relief consumed her.

“Mother,” he said, beaming. “We weren’t about to let you spend another two years exiled in some god-forsaken village.”

Marie moved to exit the carriage, but Gaston waved her back, instead moving to join her inside the carriage.

“What are we doing, Gaston?”

“We are taking advantage of this very well-apportioned carriage Louis had lent us. We’re just taking it to a different destination than intended.”

Almost on cue, the carriage started up again.

“Where?”

“The Brussels, mother. Where they have agreed to receive you in a manner befitting French royalty!”

Marie had never visited Brussels before, but as an alternative to spending another several years in exile somewhere in the remote French countryside, she had to admit that the idea was rather appealing. Once beyond the borders of France, she would be beyond the reach of Louis and his Red Eminence.

They rode for a while in silence.

“What is the plan now?” Gaston asked conspiratorially, although there was no one around to hear them for miles.

“The plan is the same as ever,” she told her son, affectionately stroking his cheek. “Armand must pay for his treachery.”


They had scarcely been in Brussels for a night before Marie dispatched Gaston back to Paris. Once Marie had been properly received by the Belgians and situated in a large estate that she found acceptable, they immediately set about their new plans for revenge. Gaston was to travel to Paris where he would gather support for Marie and her cause. Once he had gathered the necessary forces, Marie would return to Paris and the physical might of Gaston’s forces combined with her presence compelling those nobles who fell out of favor when Louis overturned her foreign policy would surely give them the advantage over Louis and Armand.

And so, Marie waited. And waited.

And waited.

As the weeks and months passed, her pain and anger grew. She hated Armand for what he had turned her son into; hated him for ruining the plans she had for France.

Gaston was twice the man Louis would ever be. He was bold, brave; he would not fail her.

Which is what made his return to Brussels such a surprise.

“Gaston!” Marie exclaimed as her son came striding up to where she was enjoying breakfast on the patio of her estate. “Why did you come yourself? Surely there are more important matters afoot?”

Gaston hung his head.

“Mother,” he said, his voice catching in his throat. “The rebellion is finished. We were there … nearly there … when Louis’ forces routed us out. There were many arrests. I just barely made it across the border with my own freedom.”

Marie seethed. How many times was she going to be humiliated by Louis and Armand? How many times was she meant to suffer at their hands? Marie stood up from the table, breakfast unfinished, and stalked off leaving a miserable Gaston watching after her.


It wasn’t until years later that Marie had another opportunity to exact her revenge. Once again, Gaston’s connections put them in an advantageous position, this time through Henri Coiffier, the Marquis de Cinq-Mars and a close personal friend of Armand. Coiffier had taken a liking to Gaston and the two of them conspired to assassinate Armand, putting an end to his influence over the King once and for all. That effort failed too, when Gaston abandoned Coiffier at the last moment and left the poor Marquis to be executed.

Gaston did not return to Brussels and did not seek out his mother again.

Upon learning of her Gaston’s lack of fortitude and loyalty, Marie went into a rage. She moved from Brussels to Amsterdam, determined to foster additional support in the new Dutch Republic. They greeted her with all the fanfare of royalty, including pageants and parades in her honor. It was all empty, though, for she had lost not just one son, but two. Louis had been corrupted by Armand long ago, and Gaston proved to be as useless and spineless a confederate as possible.

As her welcome parade wound through the streets of Amsterdam, Marie considered the fact that she was truly alone for the first time.

I have lost my comforter and my support, she lamented.

As the parade progressed, though, she steeled herself and summoned all her strength. She was royalty, a monarch of France with a proud lineage to defend. She would not let a minor setback like this deter her from her goal.

Armand must pay for his treachery.


(1,446 words}