Yes, I thought. It’s good. A dish fit for a king.
This was what Audiger would never understand: that ices were not simply a novelty, a way of demonstrating man’s ingenious mastery over the natural order of things. They were a completely new way of combining tastes and flavours, only ever as good as the recipes that you created for them.
The footman who had chivvied us held out his hands for the
platter. Audiger ignored him. For a moment the two of them locked eyes, then the footman simply turned so that he was walking in front of Audiger. A second footman fell in behind, and another behind him, while a fourth an^ fifth unfolded elaborate parasols to shade the ice from the sun. In command of this platoon was a craggy-faced, periwigged muitre d’hotel^ bearing as a mark of his seniority a long silver baton. He rapped out a command, and together they all set off at a brisk trot through the rose garden.
The effort of keeping in step meant that, despite the fact they were jogging, the procession of footmen actually went little faster than I did, walking behind them. In any case, I knew where they were headed. At the edge of the rose garden, where the hedges opened out to an ornamental lake, thirty or forty courtiers and their ladies were promenading in their finery. Tables were set out under the shade of a cedar tree. Behind these, in rows four abreast, stood a small army of servants, sweating under their short wigs. To one side, a group of musicians played. In the middle, where the throng of courtiers was densest, I could just make out the dark, luxuriant wig of the king himself.
The trotting servants followed the zigzagging paths down through the formal gardens. I simply walked across the lawn, rejoining them as they skirted the lake. The procession slowed to a more dignified pace as it threaded its way through the outer circles of the party, a few courtiers turning curiously'to inspect the platter as it passed. Many, I knew, had not yet had the opportunity to try this passion of the monarch’s for themselves. And given how litde of it there was, and how large the party, most would not get the chance today. Louis would already have singled out those who were to be honoured with a taste.
As we approached, the king turned. ‘Ah! My strawberry ice!’ he exclaimed.
Audiger stopped and went down on one knee - a little awkwardly, because of the platter in his hands. Louis waved him
forward. ‘And now you will see if I am not right, My Lord Duke. It is a most remarkable confection.’ The words were addressed to the man at his shoulder. He was dressed in a somewhat similar fashion to the servants, but I knew that he was actually an Enghshman, an important visitor, here to negotiate a treaty between the two countries. It amused Louis to have his servants wear the fashions of foreign courts. It was a way of reminding visitors how much wealthier and more magnificent his court was than theirs.
On the other side of the visitor was Madame, as she was called: Henrietta d’Angleterre, the sister of the Engfish king. She was married to Louis’s brother, but was also a favourite - it was said of Louis himself.
‘Yes, George, it may give you sustenance enough to contemplate joining us in a game of pailk muille' she was saying. ‘I know that you know how to play: I am told my brother has introduced it to your country, and that the court plays every day’
‘Indeed,’ the English lord said with an easy smile. ‘Like so many French fashions, there is quite a craze for it in London just now. His Majesty has established a playing ground beyond Whitehall, which the people are already calling Pall Mall.’ He inspected the dish of strawberry ice, a little doubtfully. ‘He has built an ice house in St James’s Park, too - another idea he brought back from his exile here, I beheve, although his cooks have not yet thought of putting ice in their desserts.’
‘This is rather more than an iced dessert,’ Louis said. ‘Try some, and you will see what I mean.’ The king held out his hand. For a moment I saw panic in Audiger’s eyes as he realised that not only had he not brought any bowls or spoons, but that with both hands holding the platter, he was unable to serve the king. But I was ahead of him. Having picked up half a dozen blue-and-white porcelain bowls as I passed the tables at the rear, I was able to fill one with strawberry ice and present it with a bow.
‘Demirco here comes from Florence,’ the king said as he took
it. ‘He is one of only a handful of men in Europe who know how to prepare this confection. What are you giving us this time, signor?’ ‘
‘A sherbet of strawberries, sir, just as you requested, with a little creamed milk and white pepper.’
I saw Audiger’s jaw tighten. With the Frenchman holding the platter as I served from it, not to mention discussing recipes with the king, it looked for all the world as if it were Audiger who was the former apprentice and I the master.
‘Your Majesty?’ It was the king’s new physician, a man called Felix, edging forward.
‘What is it, Felix?’
The doctor coughed. ‘The day is particularly warm, sir, and the ladies . . . Even those who are not already of a dehcate disposition have been warmed considerably by playing pciille maille. In the circumstances, I caution against it.’
‘Against the ice?’ The king looked surprised.
Felix nodded firmly. ‘On this particular point medical authorities are agreed. The consumption of ice on such a hot day can bring on a number of maladies. Even seizures. The English gentleman, perhaps, but for the ladies and yourself. . .’
‘You mean that you are happy to kill our honoured guest the Duke of Buckingham, but not ourselves?’ the king exclaimed. ‘My God, Felix, we will make a diplomat of you yet.’ Those around him laughed, but - I noticed - no one touched- their ice. An uneasy silence fell on the assembled court.
It was an impasse. Already the shavings were starting to melt in the sun. I knew it was useless to argue with this fool of a doctor: it would simply embarrass the king in front of his guest. I tasted something in my mouth, and reahsed I had bitten my own cheek with the effort of keeping my courtier’s smile fixed to my face.
Then a voice - a cool, female voice - said from behind the king, ‘Perhaps I might try it for you. Your Majesty.’ «
It was a woman who had spoken - a girl, rather, for she was
even younger than Madame; perhaps eighteen or nineteen years old, and wearing a dress that looked like one of Madame’s castoffs, which made her seem younger still. There was something childish, too, in the set of her face: she was pretty, but with her overlarge lips and the dusting of freckles on either side of her
A
nose, it was the rather severe, unformed prettiness of adolescence. The mass of unruly black ringlets that tumbled around her neck, du naturel, was more like a man’s wig than the pinned elaborate coiffures the other ladies wore, and her skin was unusually pale, as pale as milk ice. But it was her eyes you could not help noticing: they were green, and one of them had a slight slowness to it, as if that eye had to think for a moment before it followed the other.
She turned to the doctor. ‘That is the basis of the New Method, is it not? Hypothesis, investigation, and only then deduction?’
The physician nodded reluctantly.
‘Well, then,’ she said, ‘I shall be your investigation, and iff die you can make your deductions accordingly.’
‘Bravo, la belle BretonneV the king exclaimed. ‘But what if you do have a fit, my dear? Your parents would never forgive me.’
‘It is a risk I am honoured to take on your behalf, sir.’ There was a sardonic note in her voice, as if to say. But this is silly nonsense, and we know it. ‘Besides,’ she added, deftly taking the bowl which Madame was holding, ‘There is so little to be had. This way I ensure that despite my lowly station I get to taste this marvel that I have heard so much about.’ She raised the spoon to her lips.