Welcome to what will become another trilogy. From the authors of @tkwrtrilogy and @thehouseofdurin comes “The Secret of the House of Bourbon”. It has already found a home on InstagramandWordPress (as well as Facebook), now it comes to Tumblr.
But wait, there’s more: This story cover 197 years of the Bourbon Dynasty–from its “humble” beginnings with Antoine de Bourbon to the height of its majesty with Louis XIV.
Not only do you get to visit Versailles again, you get see it how it all began–from the hunting grounds to golden palace it became–and there are secrets that have been left untold (no, really, we’re not trying to be dramatic).
See something you like? Well, I can say one thing–I get to be the king of France (like I was Thranduil and soon-to-be Oropher in @tkwrtrilogy3) and the generations of the ruling Kings of Dale in @oflordsandkingstkwrtbook (that’s me, too). @fortunatelyclevercandy makes her debut as my brothers, (Duc d’Orléans–Gaston and everyone’s favorite, Philippe de France). As always, I am beginning in the middle of the book as Louis XIII, father of Louis XIV and Philippe. I have already started over on WordPress and I am about to add more (to both trilogies).
You’ll be surprised about what you DON’T know about Louis XIII.
After Louis XIII, I will be Louis XIV. Yes, you’ll be surprised about what you DON’T know about him, too.
AndMANY,many, many, many, many, many more exciting things about the Kings of France and Navarre (which actually ceased to exist around 1620 but that’s another story altogether ).
So, sit back and relax and read a lot of things in multiple languages (as my co-author will be writing in her native Italian and probably some English and I will be writing in my native English and in my third language which just so happens to French).
(Yes, there are even things you don’t know about Philippe, Monsieur, Duc d’Orléans–lots. ).
Welcome to the Kingdom of France–Again.
MyFrance, of course.
Another trilogy, another kingdom. This is going to be fun.
Two footmen opened the doors and father stepped out. Before anyone could stop him, Philippe jumped out, nearly falling on his face.
“Shall I put him down, Your Majesty,” our governess asked Papa as she stepped out of the carriage.
“If you will,” he answered. “Philippe has had quite a day.”
“No,” Philippe said.
I took my first steps out of the carriage and looked around as Papa tried to reason with Philippe. To my recollection, this little château did not impress me much. It was just another one of our many palaces.
“Come, Louis,” Papa said to me, offering his hand. I took his hand he led us into the château. Philippe talked every step of the way in the arms of our governess. Once inside, my father and I were parted and my brother and I were shown to our apartments.
“Philippe,” I asked, as he was put down on the bed while our governess left us alone. “What are you talking about?”
He stopped talking for a moment and thought about what I had asked him.
“I do not know,” he answered as he rolled over in laughter. Our governess returned as quickly as she had left.
“Your Highness,” she said to me. “You are to see your father immediately in his apartments. Straight through those doors.”
“No,” Philippe screamed. “I want Louis!”
She looked at me sternly. I gave her a weak smile as she left me to my brother.
“Philippe,” I began. “Go to sleep.”
“I do not want to,” he said, looking around. “Not here.”
“Please,” I begged. “I must go see Papa.”
“Will you come back,” he asked.
“Yes.”
Philippe yawned.
“I am not sleepy,” he said, as he fell asleep. When I was certain he would not wake up, I turned to leave the room to find Papa. Instead, he had found me.
“You are very good with your brother,” he said. “But you have always been.”
“I wish he were bigger,” I said. “He is still a baby.”
“He will not always be, Louis,” he said. “Just as you will not always be a child.”
Papa sat down in a chair beside the window. Though I was still young, he was not as I had once remembered him. I did not have the mind to ask what plagued him. I would have not understood what he might have told me. I went over to him to see what he was looking at through the window. He motioned for me to join him. I climbed upon his lap, and we sat together in silence for a time. The only sounds of nature came from Philippe’s restless sleep.
“Louis,” he finally said. “You will do as I say, yes?”
“Yes, Papa,” I answered.
“Watch after your brother for me,” he said. “Take care of Philippe.”
I nodded, thinking he was speaking about watching Philippe while we were staying the château. I looked over at my brother. He was sound asleep.
“There is no such thing as fearless, Louis,” I heard Papa say. “You must be afraid to do something so that you may find the courage to do anything.”
I turned back to him and nodded. He embraced me. I would not understand anything that happened that day for years but not long after he uttered those words to me, he would be dead and I would be king.
**** **** **** ****
Philippe was awakened shortly before dinner. He was unusually quiet, but nonetheless, took the time to let our governess know he did not like the food put before him. He would take a bite, scowl, then spit it out if the taste was not to his liking. To be fair, I had to admit I was not fond of it, either. I ate it out of obedience.
After dinner, we were put to bed. Getting there was always a chore when it came to Philippe. I am not sure when he learned to splash his bathwater on the servants for amusement, but he had turned it into an unholy ritual at every opportunity. Once we were dressed and in bed, I could hear the sighs of relief behind the doors of our room.
For some time that night, we slept peacefully without interruption. Then, I felt a jolt that woke me instantly. I felt the earth shaking but I knew better than to worry.
“Philippe, stop,” I said. I knew he was jumping on the bed. This was the one time I wish I had never taught him how to do it.
“I cannot sleep, Louis,” he said between each jump.
“Neither can I, Philippe,” I began. “Because you are keeping me awake.”
He stopped jumping, landing on his bottom near my feet.
“I am not a baby,” he said. That was the problem with Philippe. He could remember everything I said when I thought he was not listening.
“Yes, you are,” I said.
Philippe crawled back to his place beside me and lay down.
“Louis,” he began. “You will take care of me.”
“I have to,” I said. “You are my brother.”
“You are my brother,” he said. “I will take care of you, too.”
With that, he kissed my forehead, lay down and fell asleep. I did not understand what he meant until we were older but Philippe always knew and I was glad for it.
**** **** **** ****
When I woke up the next morning, Philippe was gone. I looked around and saw him standing on the chair where Papa and I were sitting the day before. He was looking out of the window. I climbed out of bed and went to join him. The floor was cool, but a servant was stoking the fire in the hearth.
“Look,” Philippe said excitedly, pointing out the window. I saw Papa on horseback, riding with several other men. “Papa is leaving us!”
I smiled to myself. Philippe was still too young to understand.
“Papa is going hunting,” I told him.
“Why,” he asked, looking at me, concerned.
“That is what kings do.”
“Why,” he asked again.
“I do not know, Philippe,” I answered.
“Why,” he asked.
If our governess had not come into the room, I was going smack my little brother. It was time to eat and Philippe had become distracted with something new. As our porridge was served, I wondered how long Papa would be gone. Philippe took an enormous spoonful of porridge and shoved it into his mouth. With his mouth full, our governess took this moment to scold him.
“Smaller bites, Petit Monsieur,” she said. “Your Highness, sit up straight.”
Immediately, I changed my posture. She was stern but kind. We would not have her much longer, but she would come back into my life when I would need her the most.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIV by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 12-18-2021
I just can’t stop Philippe from being cute; it’s just not going to happen.
Unlike Philippe, I had less freedom to do what I wished. I was the heir to the throne. My fate was sealed as the firstborn son. Philippe had the luxury of obstinateness and he delighted in it. He knew quite early that all eyes were on me. He took every opportunity he could to get away with anything.
As children, we spend some time around our mother’s ladies. They were an extravagant mix of the French and the Spanish. Our mother was the Infanta, daughter of Philip III of Spain. Both of us could speak Spanish as fluently as French by the time we began our studies.
“¡Hola, Louis! ¿Cómo estás?,” Philippe said to me one afternoon. He learned to speak rather quickly as if he was born to talk.
“What,” I said, surprised. I looked around to make sure no heard him. “You must speak French, Philippe.”
“No,” he said defiantly, stomping his little feet on the floor. “I hate French. I like Spanish. It is our mother’s language.”
“French is the language of our father,” I answered. “He is the king.”
“I do not care,” he said, crossing his arms.
“We are French,” I began. “We live in France, not Spain.”
“I will speak the language I want when I want,” he said. He knew I would give into his demands but I knew our mother better.
Very well, Philippe,” I began. We will speak Spanish among ourselves. Not with Mother. She will be angry. Do you understand me, Philippe?”
“But why, Louis,” he asked sadly. “She is Spanish.”
I could tell he wanted to tempt the hand of fate. He always want to see I was telling the truth.
“Philippe, no,” I said as firmly as I could.
“Very well,” he answered, pouting. It was hard for me not to indulge my brother and he knew this. All we had was each other as there were few children in the court in those days. Papa did his best to see as often as he could. When he was with us, I could see in him a longing in him I did not understand as child.
I came to believe that Philippe and I had a closeness that he never had with our uncle, Gaston. I wondered if their discord was the reason he made sure his sons were seldom apart. I came to believe this when he took us on a trip to a special place one day.
**** **** **** ****
The carriage ride seemed long. As always, Philippe kept himself occupied by wriggling endlessly as he pointed to everything along the way. Papa could not help but laugh.
“Philippe,” he said. “You are a handful.” He seemed to have something on his mind. It must have been sobering because his eyes were longer full of light as I had remembered. As if he could hear my thoughts, his attention turned to me.
“What are you thinking about, Louis,” he asked.
“Nothing, Papa,” I answered softly. “Where are we going?”
“To my favorite place,” he said smiling. “I am sure you and your brother will love it as much I do.”
“Papa, there are trees,” Philippe said, trying to lean out of the window. Our governess struggled to keep him still, but Philippe was having none of that.
“Yes, Philippe,” I said. “Those are trees.”
He turned quickly toward me with a vicious glare on his face. If he thought I was teasing him, he was correct.
“I know, Louis,” he said. “There are lots of trees.”
Suddenly, the trees began to disappear as we came upon a clearing. Looking out of the window, I could see a small château—far smaller than to what I had become accustomed. As our carriage came to a stop, I could see the relief on our governess’ face as Philippe bounced off her lap and over to Papa.
“What is that, Papa,” he asked eagerly.
“That is my home away from home,” he answered. “This is my castle at Versailles.”
Little Philippe shows off his Spanish skills. Then one day, Louis and his brother are taken on a little trip to a château at Versailles.
As Alexandre became my servant, I became servant to my parents. It began simply enough—I was given a napkin to hand to my father at dinner. Soon enough, I was serving both my mother and my father regularly.
One particular morning, I ushered into my mother’s chambers and handed her chemise. I stood there for a moment wondering what to do.
“Kiss it,” I was told. “And hand it to Her Majesty.”
I looked at my mother. She glared at me impatiently waiting for me to fulfill my duty to her. I promptly did what I was commanded and her face softened, much to my relief. Not long thereafter, I was delivering her napkin at dinner as well.
I knew I was above all those that served the King and Queen—my parents. I was the heir to the throne of the Kingdom of France; how dare they? I knew I should not be subjected to such menial responsibilities. I felt there were no lessons to be learned in serving the self-serving so began to object to my parents’ life lessons.
It was winter when I first stood up against my lot in life. I had begun to grow weary of subservience. I realized that my father held little regard to my knowledge of my status in life. I knew he thought I was too young to know I was the son of the king and I felt it my duty to remind him.
It was one evening in December when I was once again called to my duties as servant to the table of my father. I adamantly refused. I was promptly shown to my father’s table.
“What is this,” he asked me. “Why are you not about your duties to your father?”
“No,” I said, my arms folded across my chest. “I do not want to.”
“But I am the master,” he answered. “And you, you are my valet.”
“I am not your valet,” I said. “I am your son.”
“Would a son refuse to serve his father,” he asked. “And are you not the son of the king, Louis?”
I looked around to see everyone watching. My mother’s expression was one of disapproval—and in my youth, I could not tell with whom she was more disappointed. Finally, I gave up my futile mission. In surrender, I unfolded my arms and sighed.
“Now,” my father began. “Who are you?”
“I am Papa’s little valet,” I said softly.
My father smiled triumphantly as I handed him his napkin. Defeated, I turned slowly walked away. It would not be the last time I would give in to the power of my father but in my defeat, I would grow stronger.–The Secret of the House of Bourbon–XIII by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 05-10-2021
Life in the quart of Henri IV is not always what it appears.
