“Yes.”
“And he is Catholic, and a Francophile.”
“He is Savoyard in name, but he saw very early that Louis XIV would eclipse the Duke of Savoy, and swallow up his dominions, and so he became more French than the French, and served in the army of Louvois. That alone should prove his bona fides to the King of France. But after the recent show of force by the French Army next door to his lands, Fenil evidently feels some further demonstration of his loyalty is needed. So he has devised the plan I mentioned, of abducting William from the beach and carrying him back to France in chains.”
They had now paused at a corner where they could look out over the Plein toward the Binnenhof. To Eliza this had seemed grand (at least by European standards) when d’Avaux had taken her skating there. Now that she’d grown accustomed to Versailles, it looked like a woodshed. Lit up for this evening’s fete, it was as grand as it would ever be. William Penn would be there, and various members of the diplomatic corps-including d’Avaux, who had invited her to attend it on his arm. She had accepted, then changed her mind so that she could organize the present dinner. D’Avaux had not been happy about it and had asked questions that were difficult to answer. Once d’Avaux had recruited her, and sent her down to Versailles, their relationship had changed to that of lord and vassal. He had allowed her to see his hard, cruel, vengeful aspects, mostly as an implicit warning of what would come if she disappointed him. Eliza supposed it must have been d’Avaux who had supplied intelligence to Fenil concerning William’s routine.
It had been a mild winter so far, and the Hofvijver, in front of the Binnenhof, was a black rectangle, not yet frozen, reflecting gleams of candlelight from the party as gusts of wind wrinkled its surface. Eliza recalled her own abduction from a beach, and felt like crying. Fatio’s yarn might or might not be true, but in combination with some cutting remarks that d’Avaux had made to her earlier, it had put real melancholy into her heart. Not connected with any one particular man, or plan, or outcome, but melancholy like the black water that ate up the light.
“How do you know the mind of M. le comte de Fenil?”
“I was visiting my father at Duillier-our seat in Switzerland-a few weeks ago. Fenil came on a visit. I went for a stroll with him and he told me what I have told you.”
“He must be an imbecile to talk about it openly.”
“Perhaps. Inasmuch as the purpose is to enhance his prestige, the more he talks about it, the better.”
“’Tis an outlandish plan. Has he suggested it to anyone who could realize it?”
“Indeed, he proposed it to the Marechal Louvois, who wrote back to him and directed him to make preparations.”
“How long ago?”
“Long enough, mademoiselle, for the preparations to have been made by now.”
“So you have come here to warn William?”
“I have been striving to warn him,” Fatio said, “but he will not grant me an audience.”
“It is very strange, then, that you should approach me. What makes you believe that I have the ear of the Prince of Orange? I live at Versailles and I invest money for members of the Court of the King of France. I journey up this way from time to time to consult with my brokers, and to meet with my dear friend and client the comte d’Avaux. What on earth makes you believe that I should have any connection to William?”
“Suffice it to say, I know that you do,” Fatio returned placidly.
“Who else knows?”
“Who knows that bodies in an inverse square field move on conic sections? Who knows that there is a division between the Rings of Saturn?”
“Anyone who reads Principia Mathematica, or looks through a telescope, respectively.”
“And who has the wit to understand what he has read, or seen.”
“Yes. Anyone can possess Newton’s book, few can understand it.”
“Just so, mademoiselle. And likewise anyone may observe you, or listen to gossip about you, but to interpret those data and know the truth requires gifts that God hoards jealously and gives out to very few.”
“Have you learned much of me, then, from talking to your brethren? For I know that they are to be found in every Court, Church, and College, and that they know each other by signs and code-words. Please do not be coy with me, Fatio, it is ever so tedious.”
“Coy? I would not dream of so insulting a woman of your sophistication. Yes, I tell you without reserve that I belong to an esoteric brotherhood that numbers many of the high and the mighty among its members; that the very raison d’etre of that brotherhood is to exchange information that should not be spread about promiscuously; and that I have learned of you from that source.”
“Are you saying that my lord Upnor, and every other gentleman who pisses in the corridors of Versailles, knows of my connexion to William of Orange?”
“Most of them are poseurs with very limited powers of understanding. Do not change your plans out of some phant’sy that they will penetrate what I have penetrated,” Fatio said.
Eliza, who did not find this a very satisfying answer, said nothing. Her silence caused Fatio to get that pleading look again. She turned away from him-the only alternative being to scoff and roll her eyes-and gazed down into the Plein. There something caught her eye: a long figure darkly cloaked, silver hair spilling out onto his shoulders. He had lately emerged from the Grenadiers’ Gate, as if he had just excused himself from the party. A gust of steam flourished from his mouth as he shouted, “How is the seeing tonight?”
“Much better than I should like,” returned Eliza.
“Bad, very bad, Mr. Root, because of our troublesome neighbor!”
“Do not be disheartened,” said Enoch the Red, “I believe that Pegasus, to-night, shall be adorned by a meteor; turn your telescope thither.”
Eliza and Fatio both turned and looked towards the telescope, which was situated cater-corner from them, meaning that Huygens and Waterhouse could neither hear nor see Enoch Root. When they turned back around, Root had turned his back on them, and was vanishing into one of the many narrow side-streets of the Hofgebied.
“Most disappointing! I was going to invite him up here… he must have come from the fete at the Binnenhof,” Fatio said.
Eliza finished the thought herself: Where he was hobnobbing with my brethren of the Dutch court-the same ones who cannot keep their mouths shut concerning you, Eliza.
Fatio looked toward Polaris. “It is half past midnight, never mind what the church-bells say…”
“How can you tell?”
“By reading the positions of the stars. Pegasus is far to the west, there. It shall descend beneath the western horizon within two hours. A miserable place to make observations! And in any case, meteors come and go too quickly for one to aim a telescope at ’em… what did he mean?”
“Is this a fair sample of the esoteric brotherhood’s discourse? No wonder that Alchemists are famed mostly for blowing up their own dwellings,” Eliza said, feeling somewhat relieved to get this glimpse into the mystery, and to find nothing but bafflement there.
They spent the better part of an hour looking at, and arguing about, the gap in Saturn’s rings, which was named after Cassini, the French royal astronomer, and which Fatio could explain mathematically. Which was to say that Eliza was cold, bored, and ignored. Only one person could peer into the telescope’s eyepiece at a time, and these men quite forgot their manners, and never offered her a turn.
Then Fatio persuaded the others to point the telescope into Pegasus, or those few stars of it that had not yet been drowned in the North Sea. The search of Pegasus was not nearly so interesting to them as Saturn had been, and so they let Eliza look all she wanted, sweeping the instrument back and forth, hoping to catch the predicted meteor.
“Have you found something, Mademoiselle?” Fatio asked at one point, when he noticed Eliza’s stiff fingers pawing at the focusing-screw.