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Queen Of Chaos

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Loxuru said:
But was there another option? Yes! His solution was very simple:
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You could have elections. It's possible the people might elect someone highly qualified for the job, a tolerant, compassionate person with no shady business ties and a desire to learn as much as he/she can about the issues. :rolleyes::rolleyes::rolleyes:

OK, what were the other choices again?
Loxuru said:
We, the Artois, will give back France its grandeur! And we will return France to the French!
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Well that didn't work so well either:doh::doh::doh: . Perhaps picking someone at random from the phone book...
 
Part 1 – episode 7.

I was about a year working for uncle Benoît, when I was asked once again to come to Paris. I arrived in the evening at the hotel. I was awaited by someone from the staff, who told me that I had to be ready the next morning at half past eight. I would have to undergo a medical examination. Strange. I wasn't ill? The next morning, at the indicated hour, a taxi picked me up and brought me to a clinic in Fontainebleau. It turned out to be a fertility examination. The whole day I was subjected to medical tests. Blood test, urine analysis, I was completely checked, outside and inside. Finally, I was brought back to the hotel in Paris.

I still have to mention that one of the clauses in my contract with uncle Benoît firmly forbade me to get engaged into a relationship whatsoever, with or without intent for a marriage, without the authorization of the head of the family. Any infringement thereupon would result in termination of the agreement. Since I was closely monitored in Compiègne and elsewhere, I could hardly start a secret relationship if I had wanted to. Those two guard dogs, remember? Actually my new situation was again a prison without bars.

For six months I heard nothing about the medical examination. When I inquired about it, uncle Benoît replied only that everything was in good order. Then, I was called once more to Paris. In the Trocadero office, uncle Benoît began with an evaluation of my work. He was clearly very satisfied and he wanted to continue with me on that basis. But he still had plans. Big plans! He had planned for me a 'good marriage’.

Instantly, I got overwhelmed by fear. What was he up to? A marriage? With whom? My first thought, venting an underlying fear I had since months, was that he should give me away to a member of one of the rival houses, so he could bet on two horses.
“Who is it?” I asked, hoping he did not notice the thrill in my voice.
“Robert!”
“Robert? Which Robert?”
“Mais enfin! Robert, my oldest son, mon Dauphin!”
“Robert? But he and me, we are full cousin and niece!”
“Et alors?”
“But imagine we would get children? That could be a problem? Everybody knows the risks of marrying with too close family!”
“Every family sometimes does, out of political necessity. If it does not happen every generation, the risks are small. And by the way, you are supposed to get children! You are supposed to assure succession, for the family and for the throne!!”
“But, why me?”
“Aurore! This is the most important period in the family history of the Artois! Et pour la France! We cannot take risks. We must keep it all in our hands as much as possible! Everybody in the family must stand in the line! You are the right person for it! Your fertility is optimal now! Furthermore, I do not want to lose you for the cause, by marrying you to a stranger! That’s why!”
“Can I consider?”
“Comme d’habitude, non!”

He must have noticed my doubts, my repulsion!
“Aurore, think about what’s in the deal for you! If our plan succeeds, and I am convinced it will, then Robert will once be King of France, Robert III. And you will be the Queen! Aurore, Reine de France! Your place in history will be assured! Think about the gloire! The Grandeur! The whole world will kneel and bow for you! And when it all will be over, you will be immortalized by a magnificent marble gisant on your splendid tomb in the Saint-Denis Cathedral! You will rest between all the other Kings and Queens of France. You will join more than thousand years of history!!”

If he had expected me to get persuaded by the ultimate argument of that gisant stuff, he had it wrong! It hardly impressed me, I must admit! But I knew, I had little choice, although it horrified me. Robert was all arrogance. Worse than his father. In addition, he had the reputation of a partygoer, particularly to decadent, fashionable parties like used to be held in Roissy. And like his father he had the reputation of a womanizer.

But Benoîts plan had to be carried out. Our marriage took place in the spring of 1991, in Compiègne. For the wedding party, Benoît had hired the entire Chantilly Castle and estate! We were flown from Compiègne to Chantilly by helicopter. In Chantilly, all Benoît’s followers and supporters were present. Even one of the daughters of King Jacques had been invited. The hypocrite! Uncle Benoît had saved neither cost nor effort to make it a feast of Royal ambitions. But I was there and looked at it. I felt rather a spectator of the supposedly most beautiful day of my life. That I was awarded the titles of Princess of Compiègne and Countess of Chantilly, could not change that. Those meant nothing at all.

Afterwards, life went on again. The most important change after my marriage was that I had to leave Compiègne. Our marital home, where I would live and works, was a large villa in Rambouillet, on the other side of Paris. My two guard dogs also moved with. In Rambouillet, more staff was around. It meant that I felt a lot less free than in Compiègne, where I could decide my own work rhythm and daily schedule. In Rambouillet, everything was dictated by a work schedule that my father-in-law had prepared for the staff and the servants, including me. The atmosphere was oppressive, patronizing. My position was very subordinate. Officially I was to be spoken to as ‘Your Highness’. The staff and servants did so, but what followed was usually said in the imperative, if not in the commandeering mode. And there was little ‘marital’ in our home in Rambouillet! Robert often stayed in Paris. The family had a large apartment in the VIIe arrondissement. I got there very occasionally, and I hated the place, because I knew that Robert, while I was in Rambouillet, received in that apartment his mistress and his one night stands. Our marriage might have been a 'marriage de raison', imposed by the family politics, but I was at least entitled to a little bit of dignité, right?

Since I had become 'family’, I had duties, like regularly presenting, along with Robert, on the many receptions that my father-in-law used to give at his castle in the Loire region. It was located near Cour-Cheverny, close to Royal residences such as Chambord, Blois and Amboise. There, I met the entourage of the Artois. Those who supported the Royal ambitions of my uncle. Many of them I had already knew from our wedding day, others since longer. And frankly, it was a motley bunch. There were conservative entrepreneurs who supported the case of the Artois, also financially. But many of them were of the rather sinister type. Some even seemed rather half gangsters. There were also a number of retired civil servants, army officers, members of the national police and clergy around. All of them had one thing in common. At least once in their career, they had been passed over for a desired promotion by a Spaniard or a Portuguese. The most despicable among my uncle’s entourage were the members of the Réaction Française, an extreme-conservative political movement, which stood for uncompromising French dominance over the Franco-Iberian Union, by means of a dictatorial absolutist monarchy. And they all hated Spaniards and Portuguese like hell. I felt absolutely not at ease in that dictatorship and repression preaching company, which did not eschew political violence to achieve their targets. But during these garden parties I had to play a different role than in Rambouillet. In Rambouillet I was an employee, here in Cour-Ceverny, I was not supposed to talk about ‘la cause'. In Cour-Cheverny I had to be just part of the decorum, the wife of the (self-declared) Dauphin de France. In Cour-Cheverny, I was just an ever smiling flower pot.

In Rambouillet, I was most of the time little more than a sort of widow, surrounded by a brigade of guard dogs. One of these watchdogs was Germaine, a nurse, who had a specific assignment : to monitor my monthly cycle. I had to report to her every day about that, and when the ovulation came in sight, she stood ready with her thermometer and strips for urine tests. Robert was summoned to Rambouillet for the few days, in which ‘the’ moment fell, as calculated by Germaine. I had to be ready too. Germaine prepared me for it, creating an illusion of intimacy in the bedroom. Then I had to lie down on the bed, naked. After one last encouraging word ("C'est pour la France!"), she let in Robert, in a dressing gown, from the neighboring room where he had been waiting (with some copies of ' Lui ' that had been ‘incidentally’ left behind there). The curtain of the four poster canopy bed was allowed to be closed while we fulfilled our national duty, but Germaine was always there, in case one of us would fail (she had been already in the neighborhood on our wedding night in Chantilly, to discreetly establish that the last formality of the marriage procedure got fulfilled).

As soon as Robert had finished, what usually did not take long, he took on his gown again and he left the bedroom. Germaine stayed with me, watching for me that I kept lying down. She put a pillow under my pelvis in order to increase the chances of success, and she stayed with me the whole time to make sure that I followed her instructions, or until I fell asleep. That ritual was repeated every month during a few evenings.

After half a year it got so far. I was pregnant. I would become a mother! It brought up mixed feelings. My hormones were telling me that I had to be happy and full of joy. But it was no doubt a pregnancy on command! How I would have liked it to be solely my own choice, with a husband of my choice, and how I would have liked to share my happiness with my parents! In the meantime I kept working. My only relief was, that I would be free from these monthly bed drills with Robert. The pregnancy went well and without complications. I gave birth to a boy child, much to the delight of the family of course. His first name had been written in the stars: what else than 'Robert'?

(to be continued)
 
Part 1 – episode 8.

Frankly, being a mother gave me a happy feeling. But I got quickly to hear that I better would not get attached too much to my baby, since the child was not mine alone. It belonged to the Artois family and to France. That child was the future King, the future Robert IV of France, at least according to my Uncle Benoît. I would of course have to contribute to his education, but a large part would have to be left over to others. In Rambouillet, a small brigade of nurses and nannies soon took up the daily care tasks of the baby.

Two weeks after giving birth I resumed my regular work. In the summer, I was happy to move elsewhere for work. I stayed a few weeks on a manoir near Beaugency, in the Loire valley, at about twenty-five miles of the castle of my father in law. I knew that place well. The manoir had been from my parents, and I had spent some holidays there in my childhood. In Beaugency I was surrounded by smaller staff than in Rambouillet, and I felt a lot more free there. My mother in law was around, but honestly, that went rather easy. That was, as I had the impression, because we shared something in common : we both had an arranged marriage. Both our husbands were all but faithful when it concerned their marital engagements. We both knew it and we knew we had to live with it. Still, we had to hold our heads upright, and to pretend nothing was wrong, even in the presence of people who also knew about it. It created a bond. (Anyway, in case Benoît would need a female supervisor to remind me to my duties with regard to the family, he could entrust that job to his sister, my aunt Marguerite. Ever since Benoît had become head of the family after the disappearance of my parents, she had totally changed. She clearly was eager to belong to a real Royal family, and she did not hesitate, usually admonishing, to remind me constantly to the duties I had to fulfill to the family!).

The weeks in Beaugency felt much less stressful than in Rambouillet. I could divide my time between work, attention to little Robert and enjoying the surroundings. And then, at the end of September, I was allowed two weeks of vacation with little Robert and with my mother in law, in their apartment in Saint-Tropez.

Finally, I had to return to Rambouillet and get to work again. Germaine was again around with her test strips and her thermometer. Five months after the birth of little Robert, monthly shooting practice sessions with my dear husband started again. The second attempt was already a hit. The new pregnancy made me bad tempered, since I had not yet mentally recovered from the first one and I already got stuck with the discomfort of this one! Germaine noticed it, and I complained about it to her. Afterwards, Benoît told me that if I would give birth to another beautiful and healthy son, I would have no more duties of that kind to the Artois, and further family planning would be a private matter between my husband and me. But on this occasion, I was requested to make an extra effort, and to follow Germaine’s instructions closely!

And frankly, I have to admit, Germaine was very skilled, because the second child turned out to be a little boy too. I was then given the privilege to choose his first name, as a recognition for my efforts. There were of course some limitations, like no names which sounded too much 'D’Archambault' (so no Gaston, Henri or Louis, even though the ancestor of the Artois had been Louis VIII). It was nevertheless communicated to me that 'someone' would have liked him named 'Benoît'. But I took my full freedom and called our newborn ‘Enguerrand’. Enguerrand d’Artois, like my father.

The summer of 1994 went like the previous one. I could work in a few weeks the peace and quiet of Beaugency, and then I got two weeks of real holiday in Saint-Tropez. Winter came. I saw the little kids grow up. I had mixed feeling that these were my children, on one hand, but on the other hand, that they were not mine alone. I had to cede them regularly to 'the family', especially Robert junior. Meanwhile, I hardly saw my husband. Only on official occasions, we played happy family. Otherwise, he was mostly in Paris and me in Rambouillet. Germaine was still around, in Rambouillet, but she did not monitor me like before. But I had the feeling she still had to keep an eye on me. Anyway, the marital bed sessions 'pour la France ', were over.

Spring 1995. Tension rose, crisis came. In early May of that year, King Henry XI of England suddenly died, childless. It meant the end of the English branch of the House of d’Archambault-Toledo. The follow-up kept us in suspense. Benoît feared now for the seizure of power by the House of Charny. But it turned out otherwise. Officially, the King of England was elected among the nobility, although this procedure had been since long usurped by hereditary succession. The College of Electors that was installed, followed the advice of the late King to appoint Edmund, Duke of Walsall, as his successor. Edmund was a descendant of the d’Archambault-Toledo line, however, with female ancestors in his lineage. So he came to the throne as Edmund III. For the sake of good ties with the original House of d’Archambault-Toledo, it was however agreed that Edmund, who had lost his first wife in a car accident, would marry the second daughter of King Jacques II of France. Thus the lineage under the D’Archambault-Toledo family became more strongly anchored. It turned out different than feared by Benoît, but not necessary beneficial for the Artois, he thought.

I took the opportunity to remind my uncle to my earlier point of view. No matter what will happen, the future King of France would have to marry the eldest daughter of King Jacques. Before our marriage, I had recommended him to try to marry Robert with her. But he did not listen, neither then, nor now! No 'mésalliance' with the D’Archambaults! The rights of the House of Artois were absolute and inalienable. The next King of France, had to be either himself, or Robert III. His son! My husband! He advised me to no more spend time to such nonsensical scenarios. I also warned him more than once to avoid hurting the feelings of the Iberian aristocracy, as he often did. These were proud people and creating too much tension could endanger the Franco-Iberian Union. But all I got as an answer was : “Shut up, Aurore!”

I had also talked about it with Lisa. She was in service of the Artois shortly after I had moved to Rambouillet. Lisa Kellermann was a slim brunette with wavy long hair. She had about my age and resembled me a lot in appearance. She was brilliant, a hard worker, and she had an open mind. She did historical research, and although she was assigned to our team in Rambouillet, she regularly shuttled to Paris. Her largest imperfection, she said, was her slightly German accent. She was born in Saverne, in the Vosges mountains, an area long disputed between France and the Holy Roman Empire (and which had been attached to France ‘for perpetuity’ thanks to the Artois, dixit Benoît). Her family spoke the German language, but she was in heart and soul committed to France and to the Artois. But unlike the rigidity of Benoît, she was gifted with the competence to view things from different angles. That allowed her to consider different strategies, and their opportunities and risks. Even with the strategy and plans of Benoît. She also behaved less patronizing to me than most other staff members in Rambouillet, who treated me as 'just ' the future Queen and 'just' an assistant to Benoît. I could get along very well with her and I learned a lot by her method of approach. She was one of the few who had joined me while I was in Beaugency, and we regularly had interesting discussions, in the summer evenings, on the terrace of the manoir, while enjoying a bottle of local Loire wine.

Lisa was also convinced that the d’Archambaults would do everything to keep the power within their family. She regarded the English solution, with succession trough female ancestors, as unlikely in the Union. There was no support to it among the French nobility, because it was feared that this would lead to a myriad of claims to the throne. Each important noble branch did have somewhere, by a combined male and female lineage, a King of France in his ancestry. Also foreign families could then present candidates. But she, like me, considered it more than likely that, regardless whom it would be, the d’Archambaults would have the future King of France to marry the eldest daughter of the present king. Lisa feared it was not unrealistic to think that Benoît had misjudged the situation, by letting his son Robert marry me. But how the problem could be solved in favor of the Artois, she had no idea either. The straight, pure male lineage of Hugh Capet had indeed become very thin. The English scenario of an election by the nobility, according to her something for which there was also in France a historical legal basis, seemed to come closer. There were indications that different noble families were taking positions. Lisa estimated that the chances of the Artois in such a scenario were perhaps not insignificant, but still rather small, partly because of the person of Benoît (he would not take a chance in an election), and because of the fact that the most obvious candidate for the throne from our family was already married. With me! Unless Robert junior, (then) twenty-four months old, would be married to a young woman of 24. We both agreed that such an option was not realistic.

“I think something is going to happen soon!”, Lisa said on the last evening we were together in Beaugency that summer of 1995. The next day, she would return to Rambouillet. Another day later I would go with the children on holiday to Saint-Tropez. Where those enigmatic words of her kept haunting me.

(to be continued)
 
Part 1 – episode 9.

The autumn came. I was back to work in Rambouillet. There was nervousness in the air. Somehow, the Charny had been regularly in the news the last weeks. They seemed to be good friends with the new English King Edmund. It made Benoît more and more nervous!. It was clear to him that the House of Charny tried to obtain a favorable position, by building up support from the English King. The meetings with Benoît became terrible. He was badly tempered, reacted angered on every word he did not wish to hear. He regularly scolded on his employees. He did not tolerate replies from anyone. He began to see enemies everywhere. The bad atmosphere spread through his staff in Rambouillet. Only Lisa remained undisturbed. According to her, the Charny House neither had a nubile candidate that would be accepted by the d’Archambaults, and the d’Archambaults were reluctant to an alliance with a bastard line either. According to her, Benoît focused too much on the wrong enemy, but it had even to her become difficult to convince him of that, she told me!

In December, something suddenly changed. Benoît had unexpectedly become calmer. He was back on speaking terms. He became very good tempered. At a reception in his offices in Paris, the week before Christmas, he held a very cheerful speech, even with spicy humor in it, definitely not his usual habit! He thanked everyone for the hard and good work during the past year. He was convinced that our hard work would pay off. Completely against his habit in, he even apologized, for his sometimes harsh and rude behavior during the previous months.
"You are a fantastic team, and together we will succeed and reach all our goals!" So he finished. During the reception he even came to me to thank me personally for my hard work and for the efforts that I had already made to the cause of the Artois. He thanked me for the 'two fantastic grandchildren' that I had given him, and for being such a devoted and good mother to them.

Remarkably, Lisa also had changed, but in the reverse sense. She spent more and longer time in Paris. On the Christmas reception I just mentioned, she seemed to avoid me and she neglected my attempts to contact her. In Rambouillet she avoided me either and she entrusted me less information than before. If we conversed, it remained mostly short and limited to essential business. I didn't know what was going on with Benoît, why he had become so optimistic, but I guessed that Lisa’s simultaneous bad mood change was rather a coincidence. It appeared to me as a typical behavior of a woman with a serious relationship problem. But, I barely knew anything about her private life. The day before Christmas, I tried to find out whether she had a relationship problem. She gave no straight answer, but suggested that it was indeed the case. I saw my suspicions confirmed, and I assumed it would pass eventually, as soon as she would have it settled.

The week between Christmas and New year, we spent in Cour-Cheverny. Together with Robert, his parents and the children. There, I saw Robert in one week time more than during the entire previous year. He and Benoît got most of the day at work, while I could be with the children, and I could take some rest. I avoided as much as possible the hustle and bustle of the work, and the visitors, who still came and went, even in Cour-Cheverny. I was especially with Lisa on my mind.

The day after New Year, Benoît and Robert left to Paris. I would stay in Cour-Cheverny until Sunday, and only then return to Rambouillet. In the course of Sunday, the nurses would already move to Rambouillet. I would follow with the children in the late afternoon or evening. But that Sunday morning, little Enguerrand was a little bit sick. It happened sometimes and I did not worry about it. During the day, I got a call from Lisa. She asked if I could pick her up in Vendôme, where she had stayed that weekend. She had already asked a few times (she never told what she did there and it was not my business). It meant that I would not take the autoroute, over Blois and Orléans, but the Routes Nationales over Blois, Vendôme, Châteaudun and Chartres, from where I would continue over the autoroute. It would be a little detour in time and in miles, but it were good, easy roads, with large stretches of dual carriageway in both directions. It would give Lisa and me the opportunity to talk undisturbed about things. It was certainly interesting, as Lisa would have to travel to Paris already the next day. I looked forward to it, because since her mood had changed, we did not had much opportunity to talk to each other.

But eventually, Enguerrand turned out to be really ill. He had fever. It was not worrying, but my mother in law and me decided to keep the children a week longer in Cour-Cheverny. The nurses had already postponed their departure to Rambouillet as a precaution. I would return to pick up the kids the next weekend. So, that evening, I would leave to Rambouillet alone. The meteo was expecting cold weather, clouded but calm and dry, with a possibility, however to icy roads, but only during the second part of the night. I could expect a relatively quiet drive. As I left it was already dark, what was normal that time of the year. As usual, I had to promise to my mother in law to call when I would arrive in Rambouillet.

In Vendôme, I picked up Lisa, at the usual location.
She got into the car.
"Oh! The children are not with you?"
She sounded quite surprised.
"No, Enguerrand is ill. He has fever. Therefore they both stay a week longer in Cour-Cheverny. My mother in law takes care of them. Why?"
"Oh, uh, ..; nothing, I had just looked forward to see them, therefore."

I took the road from Vendôme to Châteaudun. Our usual conversation stayed off, however. Lisa remained silent and she seemed rather nervous. Eventually I took the word myself.
"Lisa, is everything all right?"
"Why?"
"I told you already, you are so taciturn and standoffish to me, lately. Is something bothering you? "
"Oh, Yes, the hustle and bustle of work lately, ..."
"Anything else?"
"Well, I'm a bit troubled with myself, recently."
"Problems with a Monsieur Parfait?"
"Maybe. I am thinking. Wasn’t I better just married, and got kids? Will I ever have children? And with whom? Time keeps running, you know. And those dark days, while all those people cozily celebrate Christmas and new year with their family on their side, it makes my mind a little bit sad."
"This is why you crave that my kids would have been with me?"
"Something like that, Yes."

Then the conversation silenced. But she remained nervous.
"Lisa, do you have health problems?"
"No, absolutely not!"

We were silent again. I wanted to ask about that mysterious pronunciation of her actually several months ago, that ‘something would happen’. But suddenly she took the word herself.
"Aurore?"
"Yes?"
"Téméraire’, does that mean something to you?"
"Téméraire? Yes I have ever even seen that on a cover of a file, in Benoît’s office. I had asked him what that meant."
"And? What did he say?"
"He said Téméraire was part of the motto with which the Artois would defend their claims. It would be the motto of the Artois’ kingship: Téméraire-Hardi-Sans Peur ' ".
"Téméraire-Hardi-Sans Peur?"
"Yes, Benoît said people were working on it. Behind every word would be a vision that supported the claims of the Artois.”
“Did you read it? "
"No, I was not interested. I have just have told him that ' Téméraire ' and ' Hardi ' actually come pretty close in terms of meaning. But Benoît made it clear that they differ indeed. It was all still in concept, but he wanted it anyway as future motto. Why? "
"I just wondered."
"Lisa! Last summer, in Beaugency, remember, you told me that you had the premonition that something would happen. What did you mean that? "
Lisa appeared first to consider her words.
"That hunch, Yes. That I still have it, ... "
"But…?"
"I do not know ... You have surely heard, ' all will be well’, Benoît, said just before Christmas. He seems to be up to something, I think... "
"Lisa, I sometimes have the impression that I am not involved in many things. In the development of plans that anyway could strongly determine my life and that of my children."
"Me too, Aurore!"

I wondered what she meant by that? ‘Indeed, you are not involved in it’, or 'I also have the feeling that you are excluded from important things that concern you’?

We approached Châteaudun. It was quiet on the road. There was little traffic. It was something after eight pm, so I expected that at this rate, we would arrive around nine thirty in Rambouillet. I would have some time to relax afterwards. Open a bottle of wine or so.
There was only one car behind me. It had been following us several miles already. I had expected the driver would overhaul us, but he likely preferred to stay behind me. Probably the driver found it more comfortable to have a vehicle ahead of him, finding the way in the darkness on the unlighted road.

Suddenly I saw in my rear view mirror a flashing light. The car behind us also emitted a siren. "Police?" I said to myself.

In front of me, where the road widened on the approach of a roundabout, stood a policeman -or on closer view a member of the Gendarmerie Nationale - with a fluorescent jacket, waving a red torch lamp, indicating I had to stop in the side street on the right. There stood a Gendarmerie van with flashing lights too.

I followed his instructions and parked my car behind the van with the flashing light. The other police stopped behind me. A Gendarme came to the side window and I turned it open.
"The papers of your car, please, Madame?"
I gave him the papers. He looked at them with a torch. Meanwhile, there was also a Gendarme on the side of Lisa.
"Okay, can I now see your papers and your driving license please? And from the other lady as well?"
"Why?" asked Lisa.
"Just give them, Lisa!" I said.
I gave them our papers.
"Okay, ladies, can you now get off for an alcohol control please?"
"Me also?" asked Lisa.
"You too, Madame! You have a driver's license. If the driver would be under the influence, and you are not, then you can take over the wheel, after we have finished here. "

Lisa and I got off. They brought us to the van and asked us to get in along the side door of the cargo area. This cargo area turned out to be largely empty. Then the side door was closed behind us.
"You are both under arrest!"
"Under arrest? Why? "I asked surprised.
"For conspiracy against the King!"
"Conspiracy ... but?"
"Both of you, hands to the back please!"

It sounded compelling. They handcuffed both of us on the back.
"Go sit there! You are to be brought to a secure custody! "
Lisa and I sat down. By now the van started driving. Then we got both a blindfold.

The van apparently turned to the right, towards Châteaudun. Shortly afterwards we turned right again (they were bringing us to Paris?). But then we slowed down and turned right. We proceeded slowly and I had the impression we were driving in an area. My impression turned out to be correct, because we soon stopped. The side door was opened. We had to stand up and still blindfolded we were had to get out, walk over a tarmac-like surface and climb upstairs. Then we had to sit in a chair and we were clipped a safety belt around the waist. I suddenly realized that we were in an airplane. I wondered what it all had supposed to mean? A conspiracy against the King? One could interpret the claims of the Artois like that. But actually Benoît had never been trying to betray the King directly, or put up a conspiracy to take power. He was obviously doing a campaign concerning the legitimate claims of the Artois, but that was not directed against the person or the power of King Jacques himself. It had to do with a throne that would be vacant soon. But one never knew. Did the Artois get too dangerous for other pretenders, and had some of thm therefore fabricated a story of a conspiracy?

My suspicion that we were sitting in a plane, turned out to be correct. I heard on my right an engine startup, a turbo-prop judging from the sound. Then, an engine started on my left side. The aircraft started moving and shortly thereafter we took off. I wondered where they would bring me to it and what to expect.

And I wondered what was the meaning of the strange talking I heard around me.

(to be continued – end of part 1)
 
Loxuru said:
Part 1 – episode 9.

The autumn came. I was back to work in Rambouillet. There was nervousness in the air. Somehow, the Charny had been regularly in the news the last weeks. They seemed to be good friends with the new English King Edmund. It made Benoît more and more nervous!. It was clear to him that the House of Charny tried to obtain a favorable position, by building up support from the English King. The meetings with Benoît became terrible. He was badly tempered, reacted angered on every word he did not wish to hear. He regularly scolded on his employees. He did not tolerate replies from anyone. He began to see enemies everywhere. The bad atmosphere spread through his staff in Rambouillet. Only Lisa remained undisturbed. According to her, the Charny House neither had a nubile candidate that would be accepted by the d’Archambaults, and the d’Archambaults were reluctant to an alliance with a bastard line either. According to her, Benoît focused too much on the wrong enemy, but it had even to her become difficult to convince him of that, she told me!

In December, something suddenly changed. Benoît had unexpectedly become calmer. He was back on speaking terms. He became very good tempered. At a reception in his offices in Paris, the week before Christmas, he held a very cheerful speech, even with spicy humor in it, definitely not his usual habit! He thanked everyone for the hard and good work during the past year. He was convinced that our hard work would pay off. Completely against his habit in, he even apologized, for his sometimes harsh and rude behavior during the previous months.
"You are a fantastic team, and together we will succeed and reach all our goals!" So he finished. During the reception he even came to me to thank me personally for my hard work and for the efforts that I had already made to the cause of the Artois. He thanked me for the 'two fantastic grandchildren' that I had given him, and for being such a devoted and good mother to them.

Remarkably, Lisa also had changed, but in the reverse sense. She spent more and longer time in Paris. On the Christmas reception I just mentioned, she seemed to avoid me and she neglected my attempts to contact her. In Rambouillet she avoided me either and she entrusted me less information than before. If we conversed, it remained mostly short and limited to essential business. I didn't know what was going on with Benoît, why he had become so optimistic, but I guessed that Lisa’s simultaneous bad mood change was rather a coincidence. It appeared to me as a typical behavior of a woman with a serious relationship problem. But, I barely knew anything about her private life. The day before Christmas, I tried to find out whether she had a relationship problem. She gave no straight answer, but suggested that it was indeed the case. I saw my suspicions confirmed, and I assumed it would pass eventually, as soon as she would have it settled.

The week between Christmas and New year, we spent in Cour-Cheverny. Together with Robert, his parents and the children. There, I saw Robert in one week time more than during the entire previous year. He and Benoît got most of the day at work, while I could be with the children, and I could take some rest. I avoided as much as possible the hustle and bustle of the work, and the visitors, who still came and went, even in Cour-Cheverny. I was especially with Lisa on my mind.

The day after New Year, Benoît and Robert left to Paris. I would stay in Cour-Cheverny until Sunday, and only then return to Rambouillet. In the course of Sunday, the nurses would already move to Rambouillet. I would follow with the children in the late afternoon or evening. But that Sunday morning, little Enguerrand was a little bit sick. It happened sometimes and I did not worry about it. During the day, I got a call from Lisa. She asked if I could pick her up in Vendôme, where she had stayed that weekend. She had already asked a few times (she never told what she did there and it was not my business). It meant that I would not take the autoroute, over Blois and Orléans, but the Routes Nationales over Blois, Vendôme, Châteaudun and Chartres, from where I would continue over the autoroute. It would be a little detour in time and in miles, but it were good, easy roads, with large stretches of dual carriageway in both directions. It would give Lisa and me the opportunity to talk undisturbed about things. It was certainly interesting, as Lisa would have to travel to Paris already the next day. I looked forward to it, because since her mood had changed, we did not had much opportunity to talk to each other.

But eventually, Enguerrand turned out to be really ill. He had fever. It was not worrying, but my mother in law and me decided to keep the children a week longer in Cour-Cheverny. The nurses had already postponed their departure to Rambouillet as a precaution. I would return to pick up the kids the next weekend. So, that evening, I would leave to Rambouillet alone. The meteo was expecting cold weather, clouded but calm and dry, with a possibility, however to icy roads, but only during the second part of the night. I could expect a relatively quiet drive. As I left it was already dark, what was normal that time of the year. As usual, I had to promise to my mother in law to call when I would arrive in Rambouillet.

In Vendôme, I picked up Lisa, at the usual location.
She got into the car.
"Oh! The children are not with you?"
She sounded quite surprised.
"No, Enguerrand is ill. He has fever. Therefore they both stay a week longer in Cour-Cheverny. My mother in law takes care of them. Why?"
"Oh, uh, ..; nothing, I had just looked forward to see them, therefore."

I took the road from Vendôme to Châteaudun. Our usual conversation stayed off, however. Lisa remained silent and she seemed rather nervous. Eventually I took the word myself.
"Lisa, is everything all right?"
"Why?"
"I told you already, you are so taciturn and standoffish to me, lately. Is something bothering you? "
"Oh, Yes, the hustle and bustle of work lately, ..."
"Anything else?"
"Well, I'm a bit troubled with myself, recently."
"Problems with a Monsieur Parfait?"
"Maybe. I am thinking. Wasn’t I better just married, and got kids? Will I ever have children? And with whom? Time keeps running, you know. And those dark days, while all those people cozily celebrate Christmas and new year with their family on their side, it makes my mind a little bit sad."
"This is why you crave that my kids would have been with me?"
"Something like that, Yes."

Then the conversation silenced. But she remained nervous.
"Lisa, do you have health problems?"
"No, absolutely not!"

We were silent again. I wanted to ask about that mysterious pronunciation of her actually several months ago, that ‘something would happen’. But suddenly she took the word herself.
"Aurore?"
"Yes?"
"Téméraire’, does that mean something to you?"
"Téméraire? Yes I have ever even seen that on a cover of a file, in Benoît’s office. I had asked him what that meant."
"And? What did he say?"
"He said Téméraire was part of the motto with which the Artois would defend their claims. It would be the motto of the Artois’ kingship: Téméraire-Hardi-Sans Peur ' ".
"Téméraire-Hardi-Sans Peur?"
"Yes, Benoît said people were working on it. Behind every word would be a vision that supported the claims of the Artois.”
“Did you read it? "
"No, I was not interested. I have just have told him that ' Téméraire ' and ' Hardi ' actually come pretty close in terms of meaning. But Benoît made it clear that they differ indeed. It was all still in concept, but he wanted it anyway as future motto. Why? "
"I just wondered."
"Lisa! Last summer, in Beaugency, remember, you told me that you had the premonition that something would happen. What did you mean that? "
Lisa appeared first to consider her words.
"That hunch, Yes. That I still have it, ... "
"But…?"
"I do not know ... You have surely heard, ' all will be well’, Benoît, said just before Christmas. He seems to be up to something, I think... "
"Lisa, I sometimes have the impression that I am not involved in many things. In the development of plans that anyway could strongly determine my life and that of my children."
"Me too, Aurore!"

I wondered what she meant by that? ‘Indeed, you are not involved in it’, or 'I also have the feeling that you are excluded from important things that concern you’?

We approached Châteaudun. It was quiet on the road. There was little traffic. It was something after eight pm, so I expected that at this rate, we would arrive around nine thirty in Rambouillet. I would have some time to relax afterwards. Open a bottle of wine or so.
There was only one car behind me. It had been following us several miles already. I had expected the driver would overhaul us, but he likely preferred to stay behind me. Probably the driver found it more comfortable to have a vehicle ahead of him, finding the way in the darkness on the unlighted road.

Suddenly I saw in my rear view mirror a flashing light. The car behind us also emitted a siren. "Police?" I said to myself.

In front of me, where the road widened on the approach of a roundabout, stood a policeman -or on closer view a member of the Gendarmerie Nationale - with a fluorescent jacket, waving a red torch lamp, indicating I had to stop in the side street on the right. There stood a Gendarmerie van with flashing lights too.

I followed his instructions and parked my car behind the van with the flashing light. The other police stopped behind me. A Gendarme came to the side window and I turned it open.
"The papers of your car, please, Madame?"
I gave him the papers. He looked at them with a torch. Meanwhile, there was also a Gendarme on the side of Lisa.
"Okay, can I now see your papers and your driving license please? And from the other lady as well?"
"Why?" asked Lisa.
"Just give them, Lisa!" I said.
I gave them our papers.
"Okay, ladies, can you now get off for an alcohol control please?"
"Me also?" asked Lisa.
"You too, Madame! You have a driver's license. If the driver would be under the influence, and you are not, then you can take over the wheel, after we have finished here. "

Lisa and I got off. They brought us to the van and asked us to get in along the side door of the cargo area. This cargo area turned out to be largely empty. Then the side door was closed behind us.
"You are both under arrest!"
"Under arrest? Why? "I asked surprised.
"For conspiracy against the King!"
"Conspiracy ... but?"
"Both of you, hands to the back please!"

It sounded compelling. They handcuffed both of us on the back.
"Go sit there! You are to be brought to a secure custody! "
Lisa and I sat down. By now the van started driving. Then we got both a blindfold.

The van apparently turned to the right, towards Châteaudun. Shortly afterwards we turned right again (they were bringing us to Paris?). But then we slowed down and turned right. We proceeded slowly and I had the impression we were driving in an area. My impression turned out to be correct, because we soon stopped. The side door was opened. We had to stand up and still blindfolded we were had to get out, walk over a tarmac-like surface and climb upstairs. Then we had to sit in a chair and we were clipped a safety belt around the waist. I suddenly realized that we were in an airplane. I wondered what it all had supposed to mean? A conspiracy against the King? One could interpret the claims of the Artois like that. But actually Benoît had never been trying to betray the King directly, or put up a conspiracy to take power. He was obviously doing a campaign concerning the legitimate claims of the Artois, but that was not directed against the person or the power of King Jacques himself. It had to do with a throne that would be vacant soon. But one never knew. Did the Artois get too dangerous for other pretenders, and had some of thm therefore fabricated a story of a conspiracy?

My suspicion that we were sitting in a plane, turned out to be correct. I heard on my right an engine startup, a turbo-prop judging from the sound. Then, an engine started on my left side. The aircraft started moving and shortly thereafter we took off. I wondered where they would bring me to it and what to expect.

And I wondered what was the meaning of the strange talking I heard around me.

(to be continued – end of part 1)
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Tree thinks there is danger in the air but will drink more...
 
Are we off to Chaos yet? Somehow all this has to make sense:

Loxuru said:
A Greek, a Russian, a Pole, an English and a French are stuck on an Island.
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Loxuru said:
A community we had become part of : Olga, Maryszkà, Judith, Smyrna and me!
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Loxuru said:
An finally, the French girl, that is me : Luisa Schneider.
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Loxuru said:
I am hanging naked to a hoist, by my hands and feet all cuffed together
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Loxuru said:
Aurore d’Artois! Really, that’s me, that’s my real name!
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I'm sure it will, thanks to Loxuru's excellent storytelling.
 
End of part one. A little break of a few days, for checking story continuity after last minute changes, and to leave you all in suspense. Where is Aurore brought to? What is going to happen to her? What does Téméraire mean? Does Lisa Kellermann know more about it? Find it out in Part 2!:popcorn:

Thanks for the comments so far.:)
 
This has the air of what the CIA called in the days after 9/11 "extraordinary rendition". I always felt if it were me, I would have said something like, "Don't go to any special trouble for me, guys. The ordinary rendition will be just fine.:p"

But an intriguing story so far..
 
old slave said:
This story may need an edition of Wragg's Digest.
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I'll take that as a compliment, OS... I am just about hanging on to all this, I'm not sure I could condense it as I used to for poor Velut Luna... but it is a well plotted and carefully thought out story, much kudos to Loxuru!
 
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