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.
