Part 6 [The scene is King Louis XIII's personal chamber in the Louvre Palace, Paris [1]. The King is packed for a hunting party in the Dordogne. He is champing at the bit to take his carriage to the waiting royal train at the gare de Lyon. But Armand J. de Plessis and his flunky, the Vatican envoy Mazarini, have come at the last minute to discuss Affairs of State. [De Plessis is smoking an Franciscanos cigar from Havana, in an attempt to draw attention from his fine, almost feminine features. He will abandon this habit the following winter, being reluctant to be dependant on any product of the Hapsburg Empire. [Hiding in the cupboard is Abbé l'Harpe, Queen Anne of Austria's Cistercian confessor, who has come to spy on the other three. L'Harpe has just discovered the cupboard door does not open from the inside. He is seeking assistance by means of a horn he always carries about his person; his vow of silence precluding him from calling for help in a more conventional manner. De Plessis and Mazarini are ignoring the honking, being used to it by now, but the King occasionally looks around distractedly.] LOUIS XIII: Well then, well then, what's this important matter that cannot wait until my return? DE PLESSIS: Majesty, it is the Dauphin of England. He is to marry the King of Spain's Daughter. MAZARINI: It'sa true, your kingship. The deal with Princess Henrietta, she is off. L'HARPE: Honk! LOU.: Holy Blue! Charles has stood my sister up? That's almost as bad as that time the Duc de Beaufort refused to provide the services of his stallion when my mare Héloïse was in season. Perfidious Albion! DE P.: Indeed, majesty. To make matters worse we are faced with the sticky question of who to send to the wedding. MAZ.: We didn't think thata you woulda want to go, your royalness. LOU.: Absolutely not! The humiliation would be unbearable! L'HA.: Honk! [Louis XIII is sure there is some alien sound. Yet clearly the Cardinal and the Envoy have heard nothing. Louis, an expert on the stable and kennel, may not know much else, but he does know not to hear sounds that others cannot. It is a lesson he learnt as a very small boy at great cost from the hand of his dear nurse, who convinced him that of course his pony, M. Edouard, could not talk.] DE P.: But some notable representative of France should go, majesty. LOU.: What of you, Cardinal? You are the Duc de Richelieu. Or Father Joseph[2]? DE P.: We are holy men, your majesty. It would not be fitting for us to attend a sacramental service of the heretical Church of England. LOU.: Well who else does that leave? MAZ.: How abouta your wife, your crownfulness? She is a very pretty lady! L'HA.: Honk! LOU.: (distastefully): Her? She wouldn't be missed, I'm sure. But who would chaperone her? MAZ.: (raising hand): Your supremacy, coulda... DE P.: (subtly treading on Mazarini's foot): Majesty, I understand that King James' first minister, the Duke of Buckingham, would be willing to serve as such a chaperone. LOU.: (jealous despite himself): I'm not sure, Cardinal. I mean, the Queen is my wife. DE P.: Have no fears on that score, majesty. The talk of the court in London is that Buckingham has no interest in ladies. And I am given to understand that he is now happily married to Lady Katherine Manners. LOU.: (trying to deal with two conflicting ideas): Ah. Hmm. Yes. That seems... suitable. Will you tell the Queen? I really must be off. [The King sweeps from the room. De Plessis bows low and prompts Mazarini to do likewise. They follow Louis XIII out.] L'HA.: (desperately): Honk! Honk!

Armand J. de Plessis looked around his apartment in the palace. The bare spots on the walls were becoming more obvious. And his housekeeper, Madame Cluny, was starting to give de Plessis her looks. De Plessis could dominate the men of court but his spell was infallible only for his own sex. He fidgeted and felt for the signet ring on his finger. Of course it was gone. He would like to win it back. He waited. Giulio Mazarini played the five of diamonds. As de Plessis thought about the card he would play next he made conversation. "It is all very well for Queen Anne to go to England for show but we really need someone there who can advance France's interests." "Why isa that, boss?" "Well, a state wedding is like a state funeral, only more so. With a funeral you get a few nearby nobles and princes to attend, more if the ceremony is in winter or the departed has been embalmed. But with a wedding there is a bit more notice." Mazarini snorted. This wedding had had less notice than many but as much as some. The word about the Louvre was that this was a joining that could not decently be left much longer. De Plessis continued, "There is unlikely to be such a gathering of crowned heads and their representatives for a long time, unless Emperor Ferdinand himself should die in an ice storm. There is fruitful intercourse to be had in London next month. We need an envoy there who can advance French interests. But as I told the King, he can't be a holy man like myself or Father Joseph. You must go, Mazarini." Mazarini put one hand on his torn biretta. "But boss, I'm a holy man too, you know." The Cardinal tugged at the Italian's sleeve. A pair of aces of clubs fluttered to the gaming table. "A holy man?" Richelieu asked tartly. "Oh, boss! Can I at leasta travel with the Queen?" "No you may not. I've seen you making moon calf eyes at her. You will travel separately. Now here's what I want you to do..."

Clickety-clack! Clickety-clack! George Villiers had put on his extra charming manner. "Your majesty. As the flower of Austria transported to France to blossom into full bloom, I must take you to see our fair English roses, though they pale in comparison." Anne had laughed. "And where are the fairest English roses to be found?" "Margate, your majesty," the Duke had said earnestly. "It is but a day trip by locomotive and the wedding is still three days away." "But that only gives me two days to have my hair done and make myself beautiful!" she wailed. "Oh fairest star of the firmament, you will not even need that time to outshine all other ladies present." And so she had let herself be persuaded. Clickety-clack! Clickety-clack! Men! They were such bastards! Louis was the biggest bastard of all. His hunting, his horses and his hounds. No time for her interests. And not listening to her but taking advice from Armand, Joseph and Guilio, those three stooges. This George, this Duke of Buckingham was clearly a bastard too. He had used people to climb to his present position. He had married the daughter of the Earl of Rutland for her place in society more than any thing else. And clearly he wanted to play court to a queen for some advantage too. A bastard. But a charming bastard. And one that was paying attention to her, which was more than could be said for the other bastards in her life. Clickety-clack! Clickety-clack! "My husband doesn't understand me!" she cried. "I love my wife but oh! you kid!" he replied. Clickety-clack! Clickety-clack!

Maria was at the narthex of the cathedral. Her father Philip IV was, as he said, 'thteadying' her arm. Orlando Gibbons was given the signal that the Infanta was about to walk down the aisle. He swung into the processional music. It had been agreed with the Archbishop that the processional would not be triumphalist or have a hint of popery. That ruled out most wedding marches. Orlando had settled on a very English, very un-Catholic, folk air. The mighty steam organ of St Paul's thundered out 'The Ash Grove' [3].

The festivities continued for many days after the ceremony was over. Queen Anne was unable to tarry. She felt it important that she spend more time with her husband. Very soon. Even if it meant joining him on one of his beastly hunting parties. Yet others stayed and enjoyed themselves. Many meetings occurred. Much discussion took place. And fun and games were had by all. Including Gustav II Adolphus, King of Sweden and Father Giulio Mazarini, nominally of Pope Urban VIII's diplomatic corps. "So, your monarchity, do you play pinochle?" "I can't say I do, reverend sir. Do you play skart?" "I never hear of it, highesty. Can you please explaina the rules?" The Lion of the North explains. "Oh. Thatsa very hard, royalness. You may have to explaina some more as we play. Tella you what! Why don' we play for stakes to make it a more interesting, eh?" "Well, why not! What sort of stakes had you in mind?" "I thought that ifa you win, boss, France she gives you 400,000 livres in your war against Denmark." "Capital idea! And if I lose?" "Then France gives you 400,000 livres in your war against the Empire." "But the Kingdom of Sweden is not at war with Ferdinand II." "What a good job that you a so good at this card game, boss. So you no lose." [To be continued]

[1] In our timeline it would be Louis' successor, Louis XIV who would, after the unhappy experiences of his youth, move the Royal Court to Versailles. [2] The former François Leclerc du Tremblay, who entered the Capuchin [4] order in 1599, was originally Richelieu's mentor. In our timeline Father Joseph went on to become the Cardinal's confident and collaborator, a role in this TL being filled by Mazarini. [3] http://wilstar.com/midi/ashgrove.htm This Welsh air took the imagination of the English public. Although originally just an instrumental piece, various wits composed words in honor of the Infanta. Sadly, many of these words are unfit to print. [4] "So called because of their coffee colored habits" - Fritz Spiegel. A harsh judgement but fair.