Versailles

'Louis?

'Louis, can you hear that? The flowers, they are singing.'

Henriette?

'Let me bathe in the lake.'

Sire!

Sire, please, go no further.

A bad dream, Your Majesty, that is all. Smelling salts will help.

You were sleepwalking, Sire.

Has Fabien returned? Is there news of my son?

He will find him, Sire.

1,000 men have died here, building this.

Thousands more may perish still before the work is done.

Versailles is a wondrous creation, Sire, an artefact for all eternity.

A king will write his epitaph in stone or he will write it in blood.

I wonder what mine will be.

Is Rohan captured?

Nowhere to be seen.

Dauphin!

Monsieur Marchal, the Dauphin!

Your Highness.

It's all right. Hey, hey, hey, hey!

Please

My name is Fabien Marchal. I serve your father. You're safe.

You're safe.

Is he alive?

Let's see.

Yes.

Bind him.

Our informants in the Kingdom of France grow by the day, Master William.

There is no shortage of courtiers who will talk for money.

I'm all ears.

The King has quashed the rebellion which threatened his son,

the Dauphin, recently rescued from Brittany, I believe.

The French also captured the ring leader who, I'm afraid,

happens to be one of our own agents, the Chevalier de Rohan.

A shame. He was a very promising spy.

A replacement is arranged?

Naturally.

'Versailles grows in stature day by day.

'Exterior works are complete.

'The palace is bursting at the seams with new rules, called etiquette.

'Noble tenants increase in number.'

'And the King's bed?'

'The King is remaining remarkably faithful to his first mistress,

'Madame de Montespan, who is now fully installed as

'the principal favourite in the Royal Household.'

And the brother?

'Prince Philippe enjoys an animated social life away from Versailles

'at his family home in Saint, Cloud

'while his lover, the Chevalier de Lorraine, remains in exile.'

This new spy, tell me more.

Young, very willing, very able.

Let us hope so.

Why do you need a historian?

I need a writer with a loyal mind and the heart of a poet.

Is that why we're going to the theatre?

Possibly.

I'm cold.

We're going to Paris, Madame.

Breathe the fresh air while you can.

With the King in Paris for the night, we shall focus only on

the preparation of an agenda to present to His Majesty tomorrow on his return.

Louvois, what is the status of the prisoner?

Alive, unrepentant, awaiting His Majesty's decision.

What say you, Monsieur de Reynaud?

Does the Justice Ministry have any report on the interrogation?

Reynaud, did you not hear Colbert addressing you in Council?

Help him! Call the guard! He's dying!

Guard, quickly!

A full house. How satisfying.

You cannot be that satisfied, with Chevalier still exiled abroad.

How would you keep warm at night?

It's called a blanket, green and full of feathers

a bit like you.

The King's here.

Don't look at him!

Have you seen this coat? He should be on stage.

Take it from me, he's never off it.

You must promise me that, when we return, you'll come with me

and let my lady do your cards.

I have heard good things about this young writer.

I want you in my cunt. Hm!

Your Majesty,

my name is Thomas Beaumont, playwright.

The story you are about to see takes place many hundreds of years ago

but, despite what you might have read,

the past is not a prologue.

History offers us not a context, but a lens,

a lesson for our present and a vision of our future.

Sire, there's been a poisoning. You must come with me at once.

And

although this is a story of the men of yesterday,

doubt not that, in this moment, in this very space,

they live again, reborn, reaching out over the centuries

to show us all that, as the sands of our lives

dwindle and vanish, we are all of us making history,

here and now.

He's clever you know, very sharp.

Who is, Sire? William of Orange.

He poisons my minister to show what he can do,

to show how close he is to poisoning me.

I'm almost impressed. You realise what is going on, of course,

across Europe, across the world?

Versailles is a shining jewel that glows in the night! She's beauty,

she's power. There can be no doubt of what we symbolise.

So it is, then, that an ambitious upstart in Holland will look over

at his glorious neighbour and the lustrous symbol of his power,

sees it starting to grow.

And what do you do when your enemy's fortunes rise?

Hm? When their fields blossom?

Poison their well. Drip by drip.

You take all that is nourishing them and you pollute and defile it with venom.

William knows what he's doing. He has tried to take my son.

Instead, he has taken my love, my peace, my sleep.

Now he takes my minister. But soon I will take his life,

and that will be the end of it!

Did he pay you? When you fought for me in the Spanish Netherlands,

the Dutch came to you.

They made an approach and they gave you money.

Something has hurt you. I wonder what.

William of Orange paid you to hurt me, to take my son,

poison my Minister.

Poison what minister? You think me a fool.

You believe it is William who hates you?

And, trust me, everybody hates you.

Then know this,

when my scribes lay down the chronicle of my days, I will ensure

that they erase every last nub of you from it.

No drop of ink shall mark your time.

No image nor crest nor lock of hair.

Your worldly goods, your clothes, all burned.

Your lineage disowned, cast out, forgotten.

You will be to history what you are to me at this moment

nothing.

Unlike you, Majesty, I do not care how history will paint me.

My astronomers tell me that, one day very soon,

the moon will traverse the sun

and, for a few seconds, our day will become night.

I want you to remember that moment, if you can,

because whatever your fate, it is then, at that instant,

that you shall meet it.

I was worried.

You're burning.

Is the King awake?

His Majesty is not yet risen.

I will wake him for the lever as usual at eight.

Please tell him that I need to see him at once.

When he wakes, Your Majesty, I will inform him,

although you know his many commitments.

I can assure you, I'm acutely aware of those.

The more of you I consume, the hungrier I become.

Then I cannot be very satisfying. Oh, you stimulate my appetite, Sire.

I'm not ashamed to admit it.

In any case, how else am I going to prevent you from getting up

in the middle of the night and walking to the water?

I'm worried, one day, I shall wake up and find you presenting me with a fish.

Do not eat that!

It's only a biscuit.

It has not yet been tested. Bontemps!

Your man nibbled on it last night, did he not?

And so he must test it again.

Send for the Officier de Bouche and his Esquire to cuisine,

and prepare the room for the lever.

At once, Sire.

Two tasters?

What concern is that of yours?

I would have thought at least three,

one for the hall, one for the kitchen, one for the table.

Who will be next, do you think?

Next?

Well, now that poor, sweet Henriette's gone,

there is, as it were, a vacancy.

Don't tell me Philippe will not be married again!

It's clear that he must, but to whom?

L have not yet decided.

Well, I can't wait to help you.

Where were you?

In the forest, collecting herbs.

Minister Reynaud died one hour ago, long, great pain,

a swift decline.

Our Princess Henriette was the same.

Identical.

And you need me to examine the body?

I do,

but burn it afterwards.

You must take every precaution.

I appreciate your concern for my safety.

It is the King's safety that concerns me, nothing more.

Many stand to benefit from Minister Reynaud's death,

a few enemies in court, Cassel being one of them.

Not to mention the widow herself.

I believe the Reynauds were clients of Cassel

when he held power in his lands in the north.

But now that power has gone, along with much of his lands.

In any case, your investigation must bearfruit, and quickly, Marchal.

That a poisoner had access to the King's own Council Chamber

There is no evidence the crime occurred here.

We must act quickly to stop the inevitable tidal wave of rumour.

All communications are being monitored?

Yes.