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Queen Of Chaos

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Part 1 – Episode 4.

So me, I am Luisa Schneider, at least according to what’s on my passport. But actually it does not matter anymore, because my passport has been confiscated. Or perhaps does it matter still! Given my current position.

I find myself in a hanging position.

I am hanging naked to a hoist, by my hands and feet all cuffed together. Quite painful and laborious, my body being folded together tightly. It gives a terrible pressure on my stomach, and on my chest, making breathing very heavy. My head is a problem. Letting it hang backward is painful and sickening. Pulling it up causes cramp in my neck and shoulders. In the floor under me is a drain for liquid. Not a luxury, because my situation sometimes makes it difficult to control the emission of body fluids. And that’s not all that has to be drained. I now see men approaching from two sides, each with a watering can in their hand. One with a spray nozzle, one without. And if they empty both at the same time in my face, two times two and a half gallons, it is impossible to prevent the water gushing into all the cavities in my head. Closing my mouth does not help, because the water violently flows into my nostrils, so I need to open my mouth to get air. In vain! I get choked.

My nose is full of water, my throat and my mouth too! I'm still trying to swallow, but it does not help. I am hang here about to drown, even before the watering cans are half empty! I sneeze! I shake my head. I get terrified. I pull the straps around my limbs to get away from the watering cans. I try to rock my body, but my body responds too slow. I want to cry out, but I can't. I want to call that they must stop, but I cannot, because if I open my mouth, water rushes in. While the waterfall endlessly persists, I get seized by an indescribable panic.

Then it is over. Coughing and spluttering, I try to gasp back to life. Air! At last! They let me recover, while refilling the watering cans at the water tap. However, it takes minutes before I feel more or less normal again. Meanwhile, the refilled watering cans are waiting.

"Well, Luisa, ready for another round of fun with water?"
"No!"
"Please, Louisa, tell us what we want to know!"
"But I have nothing to say!"

They lay their hand on their watering can.
"Come On Luisa! Cooperate!. We don't like to do this either! "
"I am still not so sure about that!"
"Alright then!"

I owed it to my big mouth to get the water treatment another time. This time it was worse, because I already knew what was going to happen. I cursed myself while I tried in vain to resist the force of the water. This time I really feared that I would not survive! When they were done I went on a minute yelling, screaming cursing and crying. And there they were again with filled cans.

"Luisa! Tell us! "
"But I don't know anything!"
"Luisa, think! Be finally wise. We do with you what we want and as long as we want to do it! "

They came back with their full watering cans. This time, something snapped inside me. There was only one way to try to get out of here. By giving them that one big secret!
"Non! Arrêtez! Je you vous en prie! "
Well, Luisa, if you want us to stop, you have to tell us something?" I sighed for a moment and nodded my head.
"Do you? Tell us, Luisa!”
“My name is not Luisa Schneider!”
“No, Luisa? Really? Then tell us who you are!”
"Je...je suis Aurore d'Artois!"

(to be continued)
 
madiosi said:
Napoleon I. founded in his Empire a new nobility. A meritocraty for deserved persons.
Our Barb founded a similar nobility with name "Demeritokratie". And Tree and Wragg are to yet the worthiest members of that group
Click to expand...
Well.... it's good to have achieved merit through demerits :confused:
 
messaline said:
But her mother was coming from Roumania and her father, Daniel Gelin , never recognized her !
Click to expand...

Romy Schneider had French citizenship too.

madiosi said:
Our Barb founded a similar nobility with name "Demeritokratie"
Click to expand...
Demeritocracy! A brilliant concept, judging by today's news of sexist behaviour by Ministers and MPs, that's what we've got at Westminster :D
 
Part 1 – episode 5.

“Aurore d’Artois!? You? Good joke, Luisa, but do not treat us as idiots!”
“But it is true, believe me! I am Aurore d’Artois!”
“Luisa, you clearly need your memory refreshed! Let’s give her more water!”
“Noooo!”

***

Aurore d’Artois! Really, that’s me, that’s my real name! I told you, Luisa Schneider, born in Saverne, is what’s on my passport. But that passport is forged as hell and was intended for someone else who resembled me a lot. But they don't look that closely on Chaos, so I could live almost twenty years with my other identity, that of Luisa Schneider. But then, I ran out of luck.

Aurore d'Artois, me, alors, was born forty-something years ago in Compiègne, in the Kingdom of France, but I have spent my childhood in a country town named Courtrai, somewhere in the former county of Flanders. I do remember Courtrai as a somewhat sleepy town under the smoke of its breweries, its spinning and weaving mills and its brick industry. A town with charming narrow streets, paved with cobblestone, typical of the area. And with a nice park with a playground, where we my three brothers and me liked to play. There was a memorial stone that recalled a battle from the year 1302, when the Knights of the King of France had crushed and butchered a revolting peasant army. Afterwards, the King"s army had looted, massacred and burned down Courtrai. That army had been commanded by a certain Robert d’Artois, a direct ancestor of us, but my father remained rather modest about that. To knock down a peasants' revolt is considered hardly a matter of chevalry honor, it’s just a duty that has to be done. Furthermore, the diplomat he was, he did not want to hurt the feelings of the local population. Many men in Courtrai used to carry a knife in their pocket, after all.

When I was twelve, we moved to Rome, where my father got a new assignment. I looked forward to live in the Eternal City. But it became a disappointment. Rome, the capital of the Papal States, turned out to be the oldest prison in the world. Stringent rules forbade everything, including anything that was allowed. Such was certainly the case in the vicinity of the Vatican, where my father had his post. Even worse was the severely severe girl’s college I was sent to, a boarding school. For me, these were a six years during clash with discipline and rules! ‘Mademoiselle/la Signorina d’Artois’ was hard to boil, and it often went the hard way, on both sides.

On my eighteenth, after graduating at the college, further directions were set out. In order to increase my ‘market value’, I was allowed to go to university. I was allowed to go to Paris, to the Sorbonne. I was allowed to study theology. That was a very easy study, so easy that many of my male family members obtained that degree merely for the prestige, together with their main study. But the years on the college had strengthened my will, and I insisted to choose my study myself. Finally, my family conceded. I got my choice : state management sciences, at the Sorbonne. I was allowed to enter the Institut Pâpe Clément V, a school with an international reputation, with many of the best servants of the King among its alumni. But quality had its price. Forget a student’s life! Students lived in the college buildings. Rules were severely severe. There were many restrictions. Students had to be back at 10 p.m., for instance. Three infractions to the rules, and you were out and lost your study year! Another prison without bars! There was nothing left but studying hard! Maybe the rules were a luck, because the curriculum was voluminous. I have spent many nights finishing yet another paper with a too short deadline! They say it was a way to prepare the students for real life work experience in the King’s administration. Add to that, that the school expected from its students…to study theology too! And they implemented a stringent sports scheme. The King expected from his (future) high servants to keep his(her) body in good health and shape!

But after five years I had made it. I had focused on international politics, silently hoping that I would have a chance to work in the service of the King, on foreign stations, just like my father. Hoping that I might get the chance to do so, as a woman in that man's world. My father had already warned me that I should not make too many illusions, and he actually tried to dissuade me, as I would merely encounter disappointments. But deep inside him, it seemed to make him proud that I wanted to follow his footsteps, and he gave me the chance to try it. My parents proudly attended the great promotion ceremony at the Institute in Paris. I had the impression that they were satisfied to have admitted me to do my choice. At the end of the ceremony, my father came to me and he told me that he, and actually the entire family, had plans with me. He would unveil them soon. But not yet there.

The next day, they left. I still needed a week in Paris to finalize everything. Emptying my room in the Institute, some administration about my degree and things like that. My parents and my brothers would now leave for Krainburg, in Slovenia, to the family estate of my mother’s ancestors. I would follow soon. Father would reveal his plans there. I was highly curious what he expected of me. I saw two options: either something with my degree, or either he would propose me a 'good' marriage partner. Or both. I was actually hoping especially the first, because I had put my mind on doing something with my degree and to get started. And I was hoping, since I was the age of majority in the meantime, to get some choice in the course of my own life. But in this society, and in this family, that was not obvious. If my father would start talking like 'Aurore, you are now coming of age, and you have had your way with your studies, but now it is time for duties…’. But as yet, he had given no signs of that, so I kept hoping.

I had to travel to Slovenia via Rome. Since I officially still resided there with my parents, I had to go pick up my visa for Slovenia at the Embassy of the Holy Roman Empire at the Papal State. Everything went smoothly. My visa was ready in the Embassy. The next day around eleven o'clock in the morning I would take the plane to Laibach, a flight of an hour and a half. But shortly after I had checked in for my flight, a message 'retardé' appeared at my flight. First an hour, then two hours, then three hours waiting. It was already two o'clock in the afternoon, when the message ' annulé ' appeared. Back to the counter of the airline, I had the choice, either a flight via a stop-over in Vienna, a travel time of at least five hours, and with the departure hours only at half past five in the afternoon, or either the same flight as originally planned, but the next day. I choose the second option, warned my family about the delay and went back to our villa in the city.

Accepting that such things happen – safety first - I decided to enjoy the beautiful evening, and ate outside in the garden. After diner I took a rest, looking forward to a stay on the manor in Krainburg. As it was often the case, the cats of the neighbors were keen on my presence (and on the presence of food). I loved to have them around. Looking at them took away my last feelings of stress from my afternoon on the airport. But then, it must have been around a quarter to eight, something strange happened.

Suddenly both cats jumped up at the same time, with a loud shriek. Hissing, and with their hairs upright, they rushed into the nearest tree. They remained sitting on a branch, skittish and alert. I wondered what had scared them. I tried to calm them and to talk them out of the tree, but in vain. They kept sitting, over an hour long. I stayed in the garden until dark and then I went to sleep.

The next morning I heard the startling news. The previous evening, Slovenia had been hit by a massive earthquake, which was felt as far as Bologna, and which had been registered by the Papal Seismological Observatory in Rome. The time: around a quarter to eight. That had scared the cats! Communication with the area was disrupted. The state of emergency was proclaimed. The airport of Laibach was badly affected and temporarily closed for all traffic. So, for the moment, I could not leave.

There was no option but to stay in Rome, waiting for news. I tried through the Embassy of the Holy Roman Empire, which was however also overwhelmed with questions and which knew really nothing more than what the scarce messages from Laibach told. I also took contact with my uncle Benoît in Paris. He advised me for the time being to stay in Rome and to wait for further news. According to him, it had no point to go to the affected area, since I would only get in the way there. He would try to use his own channels of information.

Both Laibach and Krainburg, lay close to the epicenter of the earthquake. In both cities, numerous houses and buildings had collapsed. The death toll of the earthquake probably ran into the thousands, most of them in the cities. But the estate of my mother’s family lay on the countryside. Perhaps it had also been affected but that would be easy to verify. Hopefully no one was hurt under the rubble. It had also been good weather that evening in Slovenia, so with some chance they had been outdoors at the time of the disaster.

The days passed, but there was no news from my family. The disaster faded away from the news headlines. What was left was a mess. After ten days, the authorities had given up hope to find any survivors under the rubble. After three weeks, the toll was expressed in dead and missing. Both numbering thousands. Including, it was gradually becoming clear, all my family.

How and where they had disappeared, no one knew. One thing was certain: that morning they still had been on the estate. The main building was badly damaged, one wing had collapsed, but under that rubble, bodies of some unfortunate personnel had been found. The servant’s dormitory had also collapsed, with a lot of victims. As a result, none of the people who had survived, had seen my family alive, less than twelve hours before the time of the disaster. We neither found no outsiders who had seen them in between.

How could people disappear without a trace like that? Apparently, weird things happen during earthquakes. Victims could still lie deep under debris, out of reach, to be found only after decades, or to get recovered nevermore. It seems to happen sometimes that deep inside rubble piles, slow fires break out, consuming buried bodies completely. They could lie buried under one of the myriad of slope failures or mudslides initiated by the ground vibrations. It could also occur, as one told me, that the quake opens deep, long scars in the ground over lengths of hundreds of feet, swallowing everything on or near its path, just to close afterward. It would be looking for a needle in a haystack.

One day, the Ambassador of France in Rome came to me, along with the Ecclesiastic Legate of the Embassy, to inform me of the fact that my family was now officially reported missing. At the same time, they brought me a kind of condolences, after they had prudently made clear that in reality the chances were really very low that they would be still alive. A few days later an official church service was held in Rome that was midway between a commemoration and an expression of hope, a prayer that they would be still alive. I was sitting at the front row of the Church, along with my aunts and uncles and cousins, the Ambassador and the Legate, another associate from the Embassy, a representative of the Crown and one from the Pope. But although I appreciated their presence, I felt actually not involved. It was too official and too formal. I was happy it was over, as I had another perception of ‘mourning’. I just had been wondering all the time what was the sense of ‘theology’ in all this, and what could religion help against such a catastrophe. Nothing! No Ambassador, or Papal or Ecclesiastic Legate could bring my family back, by fulfilling their official duties!

Meanwhile, I had also heard that the King had appointed a successor for my father in Rome. This meant that I could no longer stay in the villa. With the help of my cousin Robert, the removal was organized. I returned to France, to Compiègne, my birthplace, where my father still owned a house. His sister, aunt Marguerite, helped me to accommodate, and she regularly visited me during the first weeks. It was then, I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness. It was only then, that I fully realized the enormity of the disaster. They were gone, all! Disappeared! We would never be together again. They had vanished, together with all our common memories! A tremendous feeling of loss and emptiness overwhelmed me.

(to be continued)
 
Part 1 – episode 6.

But I did not have much time for mourning. I was soon approached by my uncle Benoît. He was my father’s younger brother, and now 'head of the family'. He told me he had plans with me. The good news was, that I could use my degree in state governance I had worked so hard for. But what I didn't know yet was, that I would get implicated into a political adventure that would soon get bizarre proportions.

Uncle Benoît had invited me to his office in Paris, near Trocadero. It would be a conference that would last a whole day. Uncle Benoît received me, in the presence of a lawyer and a notary public. In the morning, the conversation would be about the management of the properties of my parents. They had made up a will, but since they were not officially deceased, but only 'missing’, that will could not be executed. Unless they would ultimately be found, dead or alive, that ‘missing’ status would by law last twenty years. Meanwhile, an administrator had to be appointed for all those goods. Uncle Benoît had appointed that lawyer to do so, a decision, which, it turned out, was already ratified by a civil Court of Paris. It was immediately clear I had nothing to tell here. I tried, using my background knowledge from my studies, which was higher than that of the average woman, to claim some rights, but in vain.

In the afternoon, my uncle and I had a private talk, during which he unfolded his plans, and what role would be in for me. It had to do with the succession crisis that was imminent, both in France and in England. He began with a lesson of history, a history that I knew well. Since about the year 1700, the Kingdoms of France, Spain and Portugal were ruled under a personal union, starting with King Philip, grandson of Louis XIV. The other European nations had accepted this only if the King of France would renounce to the title of King of England, he was holding since the religious wars. But he was allowed to put a family member on the English throne. Descendants from the same royal house now ruled both the Franco-Iberian Union and England.

The existing situation was as follows. The French King Jacques II had four children. All daughters. A problem, since the Union had a Salic law and King Jacques was the last male descendant of his lineage. The English King Henry XI was over fifty years old and still had no children. The two ruling branches of the House of D’Archambault-Toledo therefore had a succession problem.

What if both branches would have no successor? There was one solution that was widely circulating: the House D’Archambault-Charny, which still had a purely Salic lineage. In the current generation were two brothers. One for France, one for England, so went the rumors. England seemed to favor that solution. There was one problem. Somewhere in the lineage was a legitimized bastard. Uncle Benoît spoke it out with repulsion. Imagine! A bastard lineage on the French throne! Unthinkable! Impossible!

I noticed that this had once been the case in England, with the Tudors. But that argument made little impression on him. "In England, let them do what they like! England is a country without history, without culture, without.. without prestige and grandeur! Its nobility is a lot of redhead toothless savages always ready to smash each other’s heads!. If not on the battlefield, then by playing barbaric sports such as football and rugby! They should not think they suddenly have risen in esteem, simply because they happen to be sitting on rich coal deposits and have learned how to build an iron warship! A country with that grocer’s mentality will not teach us, France, a lesson!" Lesson learned! Do not refer to England in uncle Benoît’s presence!

The second solution was even more undesired for uncle Benoît. The Ratisbona House, descending from a bastard lineage from the Hohenburg, the rulers of the Holy Roman Empire! A Hohenburg bastard line on the throne of France was even more a nightmare for my uncle. But the Ratisbona family had lived since long in Spain, as the Dukes of Sevilla. Therefore, there was some support for them among the Iberian nobility. Was it an attempt to break up the personal union? Uncle Benoît now started fulminating on the Spaniards, who always got in the Kingdom what they had their mind set on!

“More and more they weaken our monarchy and seize power in Paris, while we, the French, hardly can set foot in affairs below the Pyrenees! That is the D’Archambault’s fault! To consolidate their personal power, they weakened the French nobility! It started with Louis XIII who ordered our nobility to tear down their fortified castles. Under Louis XIV, it went much too far! He used our nobles as their valets in his daily life in Versailles! He let them show up to admire him! He demoted them to his servants. They had to dress him or put him into bed or serve him during diner! The worst was, that they accepted it! They stood in a queue for it! They even paid for being the King’s servant! They left their castles behind, gave up their territorial rights, slept in bunks in the attics of the Versailles castle and spent all their money for being a servant! They voluntarily ruined themselves! When the Union was established, French nobility had been wiped out as a power, but the Iberian nobility was still strong as ever! Now, we pay for these mistakes!”

But was there another option? Yes! His solution was very simple:
“We, Aurore! We are the solution! We, the Artois! The D’Archambaults came to power with Henry IV, after the Valois branch got extinct! Henry IV was a descendent of Louis IX. As all male lineages from Louis IX will soon be extinct on their turn, they will have to go back a generation, to the oldest intact male lineage from Louis VIII! And that’s us, the Artois! It will be about time! What would the crown of France have been without the Artois! We have always been loyal defenders of the crown! Against renegade vassals, such as the Count of Flanders, or the Duke of Burgundy. We were for centuries the guardians of the northern border of the Kingdom! It is thanks to the Artois that the D’Archambaults, at their ascent to the throne, got a kingdom that nearly extended to the Rhine! But those damn D’Archambaults were thinking only about their own interests, not of the interests of France! They have weakened us. They stole our territorial rights! Well, now it's our turn! We, the Artois, will give back France its grandeur! And we will return France to the French! The Iberians will have to learn stay in line! In exchange, they will get their share of the restored glory and grandeur of the new France! "

He was ready preaching. He leaned backward in its high office chair, folded his hands together on his stomach, moving his thumbs back and forth against each other. He looked at me straight in the eyes.
“What do you think of it, Aurore?”
I was a little overwhelmed. I had knowledge, of course, of our royal ancestry. My father had mentioned it on several occasions. It had given him a certain pride, an aura of distinction. But never, never had I heard him talk about rights to the throne. He had never, in any way, profiled or presented himself as a pretender to the throne. Never! I mentioned that to uncle Benoît.

According to Uncle Benoît, I was wrong about that. He may never have mentioned it, but he was working on it, discretely.
"He may have not involved you, because you were a girl. He did not want to worry his family. But he was actively committed on the case, and he had planned to involve your brothers too. Remember, Aurore, you were never at home, and therefore you have noticed little about his commitment. I think, Aurore, that the 'plans' my brother had intended to reveal to you in Krainburg, had to do with it."

I could little object to it. The last ten years, I had been away from home for long periods. I had not heard of such plans, but I had no idea whether uncle Benoît spoke the truth or not. And my father and my brothers were dead. I could not ask them anymore.

Uncle Benoît, as new head of the family, wanted to claim our legitimate rights to the crown of France. He could use me, because of my knowledge of state management. He wanted me getting involved because I belonged to the family. He hoped to count on my loyalty and commitment to the cause, keeping so the project as much as possible within the family. Particularly for the sake of security. It all had to be done discretely. But he insisted on my ‘voluntary’ cooperation’ to 'the cause' for enforcing our rights. Because, as he said, “those bastards of the Charny and Ratisbona, shall not hesitate to work for their cause too!”

I wanted to think about it. But I didn't get any chance to consider. Actually, he made clear to me that I had no choice. I had to accept his proposal, otherwise I would be cast out from the family. I would stand alone without a penny or a home! I would be nothing and nowhere! And what is in this Europe more piteous than being cast out nobility?

I made my last bid. For me, the solution was simple. One had to end the strict requirement in France of Salic law. Then Benoît could arrange his eldest son to marry the eldest daughter of King Jacques. The next generation would then automatically rule as the House of Artois. If necessary, this solution could be backed by the rights ensuing from our lineage, as he had mentioned. But for Benoît, that option was absolutely unthinkable. In that case, his son would end up in the subordinate role of Prince Consort. And an alliance with a D’Archambault? Ça, jamais! The full throne or nothing, that was the goal! And the idea of a woman on the French throne seemed to him even more ‘inacceptable’! It was clear to me that such a solution was unacceptable to him, particularly because he actually was hoping for a chance to get himself to become the first king of the House of Artois.

So, I forcedly accepted his proposal. Right away, that lawyer and notary came back into the office, to formally establish the modalities of my function in a contract. It would be an unpaid commitment. I would, of course, recover expenses to a, frankly admitting, more than fair rate. I got my parental House in Compiègne as a working place. Maintenance and living costs also fell under the expenses regime. I got modern communication equipment available, and a car. Uncle Benoît had also assigned two employees to me, a man and a woman, for administrative and technical support. However, they gave me the impression that they had also been assigned to keep an eye on me. Especially the man, who had the appearance and the body language of a policeman, seemed rather a combination of a guard dog and a bodyguard, although, it have to admit, both did very well in their supporting work. I had no complaints about that.

Regularly, I was summoned to Paris for a meeting or to report about a project. Usually I went by train and stayed the previous night in a hotel, close to Trocadero. A matter of arriving in time, uncle Benoît being very punctual about that. And so the months passed by. I was actually not dissatisfied with the intensive work regime, because that allowed me to put away my sad feelings and my grieves about the loss of my family. In the house in Compiègne, I was surrounded by memories to them all day long, but luckily I had merely stayed in this house in my early childhood as a visitor, when my grandparents were still alive and inhabited it. That at least, prevented the memories to overwhelm me too much.

(to be continued)
 
Loxuru said:
Part 1 – episode 6.

But I did not have much time for mourning. I was soon approached by my uncle Benoît. He was my father’s younger brother, and now 'head of the family'. He told me he had plans with me. The good news was, that I could use my degree in state governance I had worked so hard for. But what I didn't know yet was, that I would get implicated into a political adventure that would soon get bizarre proportions.

Uncle Benoît had invited me to his office in Paris, near Trocadero. It would be a conference that would last a whole day. Uncle Benoît received me, in the presence of a lawyer and a notary public. In the morning, the conversation would be about the management of the properties of my parents. They had made up a will, but since they were not officially deceased, but only 'missing’, that will could not be executed. Unless they would ultimately be found, dead or alive, that ‘missing’ status would by law last twenty years. Meanwhile, an administrator had to be appointed for all those goods. Uncle Benoît had appointed that lawyer to do so, a decision, which, it turned out, was already ratified by a civil Court of Paris. It was immediately clear I had nothing to tell here. I tried, using my background knowledge from my studies, which was higher than that of the average woman, to claim some rights, but in vain.

In the afternoon, my uncle and I had a private talk, during which he unfolded his plans, and what role would be in for me. It had to do with the succession crisis that was imminent, both in France and in England. He began with a lesson of history, a history that I knew well. Since about the year 1700, the Kingdoms of France, Spain and Portugal were ruled under a personal union, starting with King Philip, grandson of Louis XIV. The other European nations had accepted this only if the King of France would renounce to the title of King of England, he was holding since the religious wars. But he was allowed to put a family member on the English throne. Descendants from the same royal house now ruled both the Franco-Iberian Union and England.

The existing situation was as follows. The French King Jacques II had four children. All daughters. A problem, since the Union had a Salic law and King Jacques was the last male descendant of his lineage. The English King Henry XI was over fifty years old and still had no children. The two ruling branches of the House of D’Archambault-Toledo therefore had a succession problem.

What if both branches would have no successor? There was one solution that was widely circulating: the House D’Archambault-Charny, which still had a purely Salic lineage. In the current generation were two brothers. One for France, one for England, so went the rumors. England seemed to favor that solution. There was one problem. Somewhere in the lineage was a legitimized bastard. Uncle Benoît spoke it out with repulsion. Imagine! A bastard lineage on the French throne! Unthinkable! Impossible!

I noticed that this had once been the case in England, with the Tudors. But that argument made little impression on him. "In England, let them do what they like! England is a country without history, without culture, without.. without prestige and grandeur! Its nobility is a lot of redhead toothless savages always ready to smash each other’s heads!. If not on the battlefield, then by playing barbaric sports such as football and rugby! They should not think they suddenly have risen in esteem, simply because they happen to be sitting on rich coal deposits and have learned how to build an iron warship! A country with that grocer’s mentality will not teach us, France, a lesson!" Lesson learned! Do not refer to England in uncle Benoît’s presence!

The second solution was even more undesired for uncle Benoît. The Ratisbona House, descending from a bastard lineage from the Hohenburg, the rulers of the Holy Roman Empire! A Hohenburg bastard line on the throne of France was even more a nightmare for my uncle. But the Ratisbona family had lived since long in Spain, as the Dukes of Sevilla. Therefore, there was some support for them among the Iberian nobility. Was it an attempt to break up the personal union? Uncle Benoît now started fulminating on the Spaniards, who always got in the Kingdom what they had their mind set on!

“More and more they weaken our monarchy and seize power in Paris, while we, the French, hardly can set foot in affairs below the Pyrenees! That is the D’Archambault’s fault! To consolidate their personal power, they weakened the French nobility! It started with Louis XIII who ordered our nobility to tear down their fortified castles. Under Louis XIV, it went much too far! He used our nobles as their valets in his daily life in Versailles! He let them show up to admire him! He demoted them to his servants. They had to dress him or put him into bed or serve him during diner! The worst was, that they accepted it! They stood in a queue for it! They even paid for being the King’s servant! They left their castles behind, gave up their territorial rights, slept in bunks in the attics of the Versailles castle and spent all their money for being a servant! They voluntarily ruined themselves! When the Union was established, French nobility had been wiped out as a power, but the Iberian nobility was still strong as ever! Now, we pay for these mistakes!”

But was there another option? Yes! His solution was very simple:
“We, Aurore! We are the solution! We, the Artois! The D’Archambaults came to power with Henry IV, after the Valois branch got extinct! Henry IV was a descendent of Louis IX. As all male lineages from Louis IX will soon be extinct on their turn, they will have to go back a generation, to the oldest intact male lineage from Louis VIII! And that’s us, the Artois! It will be about time! What would the crown of France have been without the Artois! We have always been loyal defenders of the crown! Against renegade vassals, such as the Count of Flanders, or the Duke of Burgundy. We were for centuries the guardians of the northern border of the Kingdom! It is thanks to the Artois that the D’Archambaults, at their ascent to the throne, got a kingdom that nearly extended to the Rhine! But those damn D’Archambaults were thinking only about their own interests, not of the interests of France! They have weakened us. They stole our territorial rights! Well, now it's our turn! We, the Artois, will give back France its grandeur! And we will return France to the French! The Iberians will have to learn stay in line! In exchange, they will get their share of the restored glory and grandeur of the new France! "

He was ready preaching. He leaned backward in its high office chair, folded his hands together on his stomach, moving his thumbs back and forth against each other. He looked at me straight in the eyes.
“What do you think of it, Aurore?”
I was a little overwhelmed. I had knowledge, of course, of our royal ancestry. My father had mentioned it on several occasions. It had given him a certain pride, an aura of distinction. But never, never had I heard him talk about rights to the throne. He had never, in any way, profiled or presented himself as a pretender to the throne. Never! I mentioned that to uncle Benoît.

According to Uncle Benoît, I was wrong about that. He may never have mentioned it, but he was working on it, discretely.
"He may have not involved you, because you were a girl. He did not want to worry his family. But he was actively committed on the case, and he had planned to involve your brothers too. Remember, Aurore, you were never at home, and therefore you have noticed little about his commitment. I think, Aurore, that the 'plans' my brother had intended to reveal to you in Krainburg, had to do with it."

I could little object to it. The last ten years, I had been away from home for long periods. I had not heard of such plans, but I had no idea whether uncle Benoît spoke the truth or not. And my father and my brothers were dead. I could not ask them anymore.

Uncle Benoît, as new head of the family, wanted to claim our legitimate rights to the crown of France. He could use me, because of my knowledge of state management. He wanted me getting involved because I belonged to the family. He hoped to count on my loyalty and commitment to the cause, keeping so the project as much as possible within the family. Particularly for the sake of security. It all had to be done discretely. But he insisted on my ‘voluntary’ cooperation’ to 'the cause' for enforcing our rights. Because, as he said, “those bastards of the Charny and Ratisbona, shall not hesitate to work for their cause too!”

I wanted to think about it. But I didn't get any chance to consider. Actually, he made clear to me that I had no choice. I had to accept his proposal, otherwise I would be cast out from the family. I would stand alone without a penny or a home! I would be nothing and nowhere! And what is in this Europe more piteous than being cast out nobility?

I made my last bid. For me, the solution was simple. One had to end the strict requirement in France of Salic law. Then Benoît could arrange his eldest son to marry the eldest daughter of King Jacques. The next generation would then automatically rule as the House of Artois. If necessary, this solution could be backed by the rights ensuing from our lineage, as he had mentioned. But for Benoît, that option was absolutely unthinkable. In that case, his son would end up in the subordinate role of Prince Consort. And an alliance with a D’Archambault? Ça, jamais! The full throne or nothing, that was the goal! And the idea of a woman on the French throne seemed to him even more ‘inacceptable’! It was clear to me that such a solution was unacceptable to him, particularly because he actually was hoping for a chance to get himself to become the first king of the House of Artois.

So, I forcedly accepted his proposal. Right away, that lawyer and notary came back into the office, to formally establish the modalities of my function in a contract. It would be an unpaid commitment. I would, of course, recover expenses to a, frankly admitting, more than fair rate. I got my parental House in Compiègne as a working place. Maintenance and living costs also fell under the expenses regime. I got modern communication equipment available, and a car. Uncle Benoît had also assigned two employees to me, a man and a woman, for administrative and technical support. However, they gave me the impression that they had also been assigned to keep an eye on me. Especially the man, who had the appearance and the body language of a policeman, seemed rather a combination of a guard dog and a bodyguard, although, it have to admit, both did very well in their supporting work. I had no complaints about that.

Regularly, I was summoned to Paris for a meeting or to report about a project. Usually I went by train and stayed the previous night in a hotel, close to Trocadero. A matter of arriving in time, uncle Benoît being very punctual about that. And so the months passed by. I was actually not dissatisfied with the intensive work regime, because that allowed me to put away my sad feelings and my grieves about the loss of my family. In the house in Compiègne, I was surrounded by memories to them all day long, but luckily I had merely stayed in this house in my early childhood as a visitor, when my grandparents were still alive and inhabited it. That at least, prevented the memories to overwhelm me too much.

(to be continued)
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Intriguing. Following this with interest!
 
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