The Shadow of Albion by Andre Norton, Rosemary Edghill Page A

of
    Princesse Eugenie’s drawing room. The Red Jacks were only moments behind him
     
    – and deMorrissey was in the miniature summer house in the Princesse Eugenie’s
    garden. Wessex might, just, have enough of a lead to winkle deMorrissey out of the
    garden and along the route prepared for him. Just.
    A hand fell heavily upon the immaculate brocade of Wessex’s coat. „My dear
    Chevalier, how fortunate indeed that I should find you here.“
     
    Wessex turned, and raised his glass to regard the smaller man. So now I know
    who it was that gave Talleyrand my scent.
     
    M. Grillot was round, red-faced, and ambitious. He was a frequent visitor to the
    shadowy half-world in which Wessex lived his real life, and mis time had managed, it
    seemed, to lay his gaff upon quarry of note.
    „Fortunate, my dear Grillot? Fortune favors the brave, it is said,“ Wessex
    answered idly, in the person of the Chevalier de Reynard.
     
    „And my very dear Chevalier – it was brave of you indeed to venture among us!“
    Grillot could not quite repress a smirk at the cleverness of his own double meaning.
     
    Wessex-as-Reynard made an elegant leg, slowly. Almost he reached for his
    quizzing-glass again, but not quite.
     
    „No, Monsieur Grillot,“ he said cordially to his betrayer, „it was you who were
    the brave, to venture to attend a party with such a potential for dullness. And your
    bravery is my good fortune – do let us celebrate it in a glass of wine.“
     
    Wessex’s French was flawless, but then, French had been one of the civilized
    accomplishments only a generation ago… in the world that had preceded the
    Revolution, before the self-anointed Emperor of France’s bloody conquest of half
    the world.
     
    „But of course, my dear Chevalier.“ Grillot was minded to relish his triumph.
    „The Princesse keeps an excellent cellar and a dull guest-list, eh?“ He linked arms
    with Wessex and the two men strolled away. No one would expect „Reynard“ to
    make the bow to his hostess. The license of Eugenie’s gatherings was nearly as
    proverbial as their dullness.
     
    Wessex smiled. Certainly Madame la Princesse should thank him – after tonight
    no one would ever again call one of her soirees dull.
     

 
    Grillot and Wessex passed a number of small knots of conversants debating
    everything under the sun in fervent obsessed voices. Only a few of them glanced up
    from their talk to mark „Reynard“ and Grillot’s passing. The attraction of Eugenie’s
    salons – aside from the excellent table she kept – was that one might meet anyone
    and talk of anything here. From crop-headed Incroyables and their slovenly damsels
    to the properly corseted and bewigged haute bourgeoisie, eyes and tongues burned
    with the light of the Idea – the Idea that France had the moral obligation to enslave
    half the world.
     
    The two men reached the buffet. Wessex shook back his lace and poured wine
    for them both. Grillot gazed with affected distaste at „Reynard’s“ fantastical mode
    of dress.
     
    „But my dear sir, what would you have me do?“ Wessex protested blandly,
    catching the direction of Grillot’s glance. „All the world knows that Man’s natural
    state is to be at war, and yet some of us are not meant for rude martial exercise. We
    must each choose our battlefield where we may.“
     
    Grillot snorted and tossed off his wine. Wessex poured him another glass. Above
    the buffet the wax candles in their gilded wooden garlands burned with a steady
    white light multiplied in the mirrors that hung upon the walls.
     
    „Ah, the battlefield….“ For some reason, Wessex’s choice of words was a
    source of particular amusement to M. Grillot. „But there are battlfields and
    battlefields, are there not, my dear Chevalier?“
     
    Grillot was not a subtle man. Any person not already awake to his treachery
    would surely be alerted by the gloating in his voice now.
     
    „It is entirely as you say.“ Wessex