Roberto was not calm, but he had arrived at some conclusions: at the very moment Lilia was touching his hand, he was seen elsewhere conspiring against the State. Mazarin was so convinced of this that the thought had become fact. It was everywhere murmured that the wrath of Richelieu was not yet sated, and many feared being chosen as further examples. However he may have been chosen, Roberto was in any case doomed.
He could have reflected that, not only two nights previously but often, he had participated in some conversation on leaving the Rambouillet salon; that it was not impossible that among those interlocutors there had been an intimate of Cinq-Mars; that if Mazarin, for reasons of his own, wanted to ruin him, he needed only to interpret maliciously any phrase reported by a spy…. But naturally Roberto’s reflections were different, and they confirmed his fears: someone had taken part in a seditious gathering, boastfully assuming his name and his face.
All the more reason to attempt no defense. What remained inexplicable to him was why—if he was already condemned—the Cardinal was taking the trouble to inform him of his fate. Roberto had not been the recipient of any message but was himself the cipher, the riddle that others, still dubious of the king’s decisiveness, would have to solve. In silence he awaited an explanation.
“You see, San Patrizio, if we were not honored by the ecclesiastical dignity with which the pope, and the King’s wish, invested us a year ago, we would say that Providence was guiding your imprudence. For some time you have been under surveillance, while we wondered how we could ask you to render us a service which you were in no way obliged to perform. We receive your misstep of three evenings ago as a singular gift of Heaven. Now you could be in our debt, and our position changes, to say nothing of yours.”
“In your debt?”
“For your life. Naturally it is not in our power to pardon you, but we have the power to intercede. Let us suppose you manage to avoid the rigor of the law through escape. After a year, or even more, the memory of the witness would no doubt be clouded, and he could swear, with no blot on his honor, that the man of three evenings ago was not you; and it could be verified that at that hour you were elsewhere playing tric-trac with Captain de Bar. Then—we do not decide, mind you, we presume, and the opposite could also happen, but we are confident that we are correct—you would be accorded full vindication and unconditional freedom. Be seated, please,” he said. “I have a mission to propose to you.”
Roberto sat down. “A mission?”
“And a delicate one. In the course of which—we will not shirk the fact —you might risk losing your life. But this is a transaction: you are saved from the certitude of the executioner, and are allowed many chances of returning safe and sound, if you are alert. A year of hardship, shall we say, in exchange for a whole life.”
“Your Eminence,” Roberto said, seeing the image of the executioner at least fading, “from what I gather, it is pointless for me to swear, on my honor or on the Cross, that—” “We would be lacking in Christian charity if we absolutely denied the possibility of your innocence or of our being victim of a misunderstanding. But the misunderstanding so coincides with our plans that we see no reason to examine it. For that matter, you would not wish to insinuate that we are proposing to you a dishonest exchange, as if to say either you are innocent and to the block with you, or self-confessed guilty and, by perjury, in our service….”
“Far be it from me to make any such disrespectful suggestion, Your Eminence.”
“Very well, then. We offer you some possible danger, but certain glory. And we will tell you how we happened to have our eye on you, even before your presence in Paris was known. The city, you see, talks much of what happens in the salons, and all Paris has gossiped about an evening not long ago during which you shone in the eyes of many ladies. Yes, all Paris: do not blush. We refer to that evening when you passionately expounded the virtues of a so-called Powder of Sympathy, and when in discoursing (as is said in those places, am I not right?), your ironies gave that subject spice, as your paronomasias lent it grace; your assertions, solemnity; hyperbole, richness; and comparisons, perspicuity….”
“Ah, Your Eminence, I was merely repeating things I had learned…”
“I admire modesty, but it seems to me that you revealed a thorough knowledge of certain natural secrets. Now I need a man of such learning, who is not French and who, without compromising the crown, can discreetly board a ship sailing from Amsterdam with the intention of discovering a new secret, connected in a way with the use of that powder.”
He forestalled another objection from Roberto: “Never fear, we require you to know well what we are seeking, so that you can interpret even the vaguest signs. We would have you thoroughly instructed in the subject, as we see you now so disposed to satisfy us. You will be assigned a gifted master, and do not be deceived by his youth.” He reached out and pulled a rope. No sound was heard, but the act must have made a bell ring somewhere or given some other signal or so Roberto deduced, in those days when great lords still yelled for their servants in loud voices.
In fact, a short time later, a young man deferentially entered; he looked to be slightly over twenty.
“Welcome, Colbert, this is the person of whom we were speaking today,” Mazarin said to him, then turned to Roberto. “Colbert, who is being initiated in a promising fashion into the secrets of the administration of the State, has for some time been considering a problem that means much to Cardinal de Richelieu, and consequently to me.
You may know, San Patrizio, that before the Cardinal took the helm of this great vessel of which Louis XIII is captain, the French navy was nothing compared to the navies of our enemies, in war as in peace. Now we can be justly proud of our shipbuilders, of our eastern fleet and of the western, and you will recall with what success, no more than six months past, the marquis de Brézé commanded off Barcelona forty-four galleons, fourteen galleys, and I do not recall how many other vessels. We have consolidated our conquests in New France, we have won dominion over Martinique and Guadeloupe, and many of those Islands of Peru, as the Cardinal likes to say. We have begun establishing commercial companies, though not yet with complete success. While in the United Provinces, in England, Portugal, and Spain, there is no noble family that does not have one son off at sea making his fortune, in France, alas, this is not so.
The proof is that whereas we know enough perhaps of the New World, we know little of the Very New. Colbert, show our friend how empty of lands the other part of that globe still appears.”
The young man turned the globe, and Mazarin smiled sadly: “This expanse of waters is not empty because of a grudging Nature; it is empty because we know all too little of Nature’s generosity. And yet, after the discovery of a western passage to the Moluccas, this whole vast unexplored zone is at hazard, extending from the western shores of the American continent to the last eastern outcrops of Asia. I refer to the ocean called the Pacific, as the Portuguese have named it, in which surely lies the Austral Terra Incognita, of which only a few islands are known, a few hazy coasts, but still enough for us to assume that it conceals fabulous riches.
And now, for some time, too many adventurers who do not speak our language have been swarming over those waters. Our friend Colbert, with something I consider more than just youthful caprice, cherishes the idea of a French representation in those seas. The more plausible, as we presume that the first to set foot on an Austral land was a Frenchman, Monsieur de Gonneville, sixteen years before the voyage of Magellan. And yet that worthy gentleman, or ecclesiastic as he might be, neglected to record on maps the place where he landed. Can we imagine a good Frenchman being so imprudent? No, surely not. The fact is that in those remote days there was one problem he did not know how to solve completely. And this problem—you will be amazed to learn what it is—remains a mystery even for us.”
He paused, and Roberto understood that since both the Cardinal and Colbert knew, if not the solution, at least the name of the mystery, the pause was solely for his benefit. He thought it wise to play the part of fascinated listener, and he said: “And what is this mystery, if I may ask?”
Mazarin exchanged a knowing look with Colbert
