The Confusion

He was there for all of a month. Then a French frigate came and took him away. They gave him clothes, soap, and a razor. Jack had a most enjoyable journey to Le Havre, for he knew that there was only one man in the world who could have countermanded the orders of Etienne de Lavardac, duc d’Arcachon.

Book 5

The Juncto

Hotel Arcachon

OCTOBER 1702

“WE ARE VERY SORRY to hear of your little ship-wreck,” said King Louis XIV of France. “But consider yourself fortunate you did not book passage on the Spanish treasure-fleet. The English Navy fell upon it in Vigo Bay and sent several millions of pieces of eight to the locker of David Jones.”

The King of France did not seem especially troubled by this news; if anything, discreetly amused. His majesty was sitting in the biggest armchair that Western Civilization had to offer, in the center of the Grand Ballroom of the Hotel Arcachon in Paris. Jack, somewhat to his surprise, had been allowed to sit down on a stool. The Kings of France and of the Vagabonds were alone together; the former had made a great show of dismissing his glorious courtiers, who had made a great show of being astonished. Now Jack could hear the murmur of their voices in the gallery outside as they smoked pipes and batted witticisms at each other.

But he could not make out any of their words. And this, he began to suspect, was all by design. This room was large enough to race horses in, but it had been emptied of furniture, except for the big armchair and the stool, which were in its center. The King could be certain that any words he spoke would be heard by Jack, and no one else.

“You know,” said Jack, “I was a King for a while in Hindoostan, and my subjects would get worked up into a lather about a potato, which to them was worth as much as a treasure-chest. At first I’d want to know everything about the potato in question, and I would take a large stake in the matter, but towards the end of my reign-”

Here Jack rolled his eyes, as Frenchmen frequently did during encounters with Englishmen. Leroy seemed to take his meaning very clearly. “It is the same with every King.”

“Potatoes grow back,” Jack pointed out.

Louis took this as a witty and yet profound apothegm. “Indeed, mon cousin; and in the same way, there will always be more pieces of eight, as long as the metallic heart in Mexico City continues to beat.”

Jack was a bit unsure as to why King Louis XIV was referring to him as my cousin, but he reckoned it must be a matter of protocol. Jack had been a king once. King of a ditch in Hindoostan, true; but no less a king.

“There is so much that is better ignored,” Jack tried, hoping Leroy would agree, and apply the principle to his particular case.

“The King must not descend into these broils,” said Leroy. “He is Apollo, riding above all in his bright chariot, seeing the entire world as if it were a courtyard.”

“I could not have put it better myself,” Jack said.

“But even bright Apollo had his adversaries: other Gods, and loathsome monsters, spawned before Time from the Earth and the Deep. The legions of Chaos.”

“I never had to contend with those legions of Chaos myself, cuz, but then everything you do is on a much, much larger scale.”

“There is another Heart that beats in London.”

Jack had to ponder this ?nigma for a moment. The happiest possible interpretation was that the King was speaking of Eliza, and that she was waiting for Jack on London Bridge. But given the general turn of recent events, this did not seem likely; the Jack-Eliza matter would definitely be classed as a “broil,” not worth bringing up in conversation. Thinking of London Bridge reminded him of the water-pumps there at the northern end, which banged away like giants’ hearts; this, then, reminded him of the Tower, and finally he got it.

“The Mint.”

“Mexico beats out the divine ichor that circulates through, and animates, Catholic realms. Sometimes the treasure-fleet sinks and we feel faint; then another one reaches Cadiz and we are invigorated. London beats out the vile humour that circulates through the countless grasping extremities of the Beast.”

“And that would be a spawn-of-Chaos type of primordial beast you’re talking about there, I am guessing, the sort of foe worthy of Apollo’s attention.”

“The beating of that Heart can be heard across the Channel sometimes. I prefer silence.”

Twenty years ago Jack might have heard this as a baffling, eccentric sort of remark. Today he understood it as a more or less direct order for Jack to go up to London straightaway and personally sack the Royal Mint and level the Tower of London. Which raised more questions than it answered; but the largest of them all was: Why should Jack run errands, especially dangerous ones, for the King of France? It seemed obvious now that Leroy had saved him from the duc d’Arcachon, who had in turn preserved him from de Gex; but this King was far too intelligent to expect loyalty and service from one such as Jack on that score alone.