Chapter 128: My Life Has Been Like Walking on Thin Ice
Forty minutes later, the lead painter looked at the newly decorated farmhouse, nodded with satisfaction, and motioned for his crew to leave.
The soldier guarding the house didn't notice that an extra paint bucket had appeared in the painter's hand, while his long-handled brush was gone.
The paint bucket, of course, contained the uniforms of Odoric's two subordinates and the three men's artisan clothing, while the "long-handled brush" remained in the attic.
As the painters left the area, an officer from the French Guards stopped them again, checked their documents, and counted the men.
Eight men arrived, and eight men departed, with no issues whatsoever.
The officer nodded, signaling his subordinates to let them pass. Even if he had scrutinized them more closely, he couldn't have verified the painters' situation with every soldier guarding each farmhouse.
The next morning, sunlight slanted onto the wide boulevard outside Paris, and the air was so warm it barely felt like winter.
Several exquisitely crafted white carriages, escorted by more than a dozen cavalrymen, slowly approached from the south.
Inside the middle carriage, Princess Maria of the Two Sicilies looked out the window with wide, beautiful eyes, a hint of nervousness about her.
However, what made her most nervous was meeting the French Crown Prince, known as the "Son of Divine Favor."
He was reportedly only fourteen this year, a year younger than herself, yet he had already completed his studies at the University of Paris, successfully overseen the Police Reform in the city, and was now even serving as the Assistant to the Minister of Finance for France.
'This couldn't simply be described as genius!' She was also studying university-level mathematics and knew how difficult those subjects were, and she understood how troublesome national affairs could be. 'How had he managed all of this?!'
Furthermore, it was said that the Crown Prince had inherited his mother's looks, possessing striking handsomeness, with slightly wavy golden hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a face as perfectly proportioned as an ancient Greek statue. The girls at Versailles would be thrilled for months if they could just exchange a few words with him.
The thought of such an exceptional Crown Prince possibly becoming her fiancé made Princess Maria's heart thump wildly.
Just as she was lost in thought, the carriage suddenly slowed to a stop. Timothy, the Ambassador of the Two Sicilies to France, seated opposite her, softly prompted, "Your Highness, the Crown Prince has likely come to greet you."
Princess Maria quickly gathered her thoughts, checked her attire, then straightened her back, offering a polite and dignified smile.
Timothy stepped out first and opened the carriage door.
Maria descended the wooden steps from the carriage, gracefully walking past a retinue of bowing attendants. As she looked up, she suddenly saw a handsome young man, dressed in a dark blue, thick velvet coat, white trousers, and a tricorn hat, smiling at her.
The elegant curve of his face, and his captivating eyes, left her mind blank for half a second. She could swear that those who had described the Crown Prince's appearance to her hadn't conveyed even a tenth of his true handsomeness.
Maria, feeling somewhat dizzy, stepped forward, not daring to meet the Crown Prince's gaze. She hastily lifted her skirt, curtsied deeply, and said in a demure tone, "It is a great pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness. I am immensely honored that you have come such a distance to receive me."
Joseph smiled, placing a hand on his chest in return. "It is my duty, beautiful Princess. Welcome to Paris."
Following traditional etiquette, he embraced the Princess with a light touch. Hmm, her waist was very slender, her skin delicate and smooth, and her chest...
'Ahem!' Joseph quickly cut off his thoughts. 'She's only a fifteen-year-old girl; what am I thinking?'
After the greeting, he took two steps back and gestured towards the Princess's carriage. "Princess, I will lead the way for you. Their Majesties, the King and Queen, have prepared a banquet at Versailles and await your arrival."
After another exchange of pleasantries, Joseph turned and returned to his own carriage, instructing the convoy to head back to Versailles.
Maria felt a pang of disappointment that he hadn't invited her to ride with him. She suddenly remembered her rival—the Grand Duchess of Tuscany, Clémentine.
The sound of drums and horns signaled the convoy's departure. She reluctantly re-entered her carriage, her heart heavy. 'Was the Crown Prince more fond of Clémentine? Would she be able to compete with her?'
...
In a farmhouse half a kilometer from where Joseph had greeted Princess Maria, Odoric faintly heard the sound of horns. He immediately began massaging his aching arms and legs—he and his two subordinates had been holed up there for an entire night.
A moment later, Odoric, dressed as a farmer, cautiously slipped out of the wardrobe. He peeked down from the attic and immediately saw the soldier guarding the place leaning against the doorframe, dozing.
He grabbed a short club that had been prepared under the bed, crept down from the attic, and precisely struck the soldier on the head. The man instantly collapsed unconscious.
Odoric then drew a short knife, tossed it to the bald henchman who had followed him, and made a cutting motion towards the fallen soldier.
The bald man immediately and without hesitation stabbed the soldier to death, then dragged the body into the house—killing for him was as easy as drinking a glass of wine.
Odoric returned to the attic, retrieved the long-handled brush from under the bed, unwrapped the cloth around its handle to reveal a gun barrel. Next, he detached the bulging brush head, inside which was a wooden gunstock.
Soon, a British-made Brown Bess 1742 Flintlock Musket lay in his hand.
He found gunpowder and lead shot at the other end of the brush handle, swiftly loaded the muzzle, and handed the musket to the red-haired henchman. "When the gold carriage passes by, fire at it," he ordered.
"Huh?" The red-haired man looked at the distant road, puzzled. "Boss, it's too far; we probably won't hit anything..."
"Fool, we're just lookouts. I'm telling you to fire to signal our people that they can make their move."
As Odoric spoke, he bent down and pulled a sawed-off French carbine from under the bed—this had been brought in by the painters, hidden in a bucket—he loaded it with ammunition and handed it to the bald henchman. "You fire too."
"Leave it to us, Boss!" The two thugs, thrilled at the thought of earning seven or eight thousand livres just by firing a couple of shots, felt incredibly fortunate to have joined the L'Écuyer Gang.
Next, Odoric picked up the Charleville Flintlock Musket from the dead soldier, searched the body for gunpowder and shot, then checked the chamber. Finding it already loaded, he meticulously poured out the powder and reloaded it.
From the attic window of the farmhouse, white carriages appeared in Odoric's telescope. He recognized the coachmen—they were all the Crown Prince's men, whom he saw frequently.
Odoric immediately directed his two henchmen to the window, then stepped back a few paces and loudly commanded, "Fire!"
Still immersed in the fantasy that the L'Écuyer Gang had taken control of the situation, the two thugs unhesitatingly opened fire on the distant carriages.
Two thunderous reports suddenly erupted in the quiet outskirts of Paris, startling the birds in the nearby woods, who flapped noisily into the air.
The French Guards nearby, from officers to soldiers, all reeled as if slapped, instantly panic-stricken, looking around to determine the source of the gunfire.
Besenval's face turned ashen, veins throbbing on his forehead. He turned and roared hoarsely at a messenger, "Sound the horns, quickly! Tell the Crown Prince's convoy to turn back!"
"What are you waiting for?! Protect the Crown Prince and Princess! Quickly!"
"Balthazar, Chloé, take your men and search!" Saying this, he drew his own pistol and scanned his surroundings. "Who dares to be so audacious?!"
French Guard officers began directing their soldiers to fire indiscriminately in the direction of the gunshots, attempting to suppress the assailants' fire.
Inside the farmhouse, the bald henchman heard the rattling gunfire and assumed their comrades had begun their attack. He eagerly turned to Odoric and asked, "Boss, is that enough?"
Odoric merely smiled calmly, pulled him to the center of the attic, and, standing by the window, his Charleville Flintlock Musket suddenly spat fire.
A bloody hole appeared on the unsuspecting bald man's chest. The enormous force of the projectile sent him flying backward, and he died without even a struggle.
Odoric had intentionally reduced the amount of gunpowder, so the body was not shattered, making it difficult to tell that the shot had been fired at close range.
The red-haired man by the window froze for a moment at the sight, but Odoric, without hesitation, slammed the musket butt into his stomach. As the man bent over, he delivered another crushing blow to his occiput.
Ignoring the crackle of gunfire outside, Odoric calmly reloaded the Charleville, then dragged the unconscious red-haired man to a pillar in the attic, stepped back a few paces, and fired a shot into his throat.
Having finished these tasks, Odoric scanned the room, found nothing left behind, immediately grabbed the remnants of the long-handled brush he had previously packed, returned the Charleville to the dead French Guard soldier, and slipped out the back door of the farmhouse.
Reaching a small copse of trees a few dozen paces away, he swiftly donned his former Crown Prince's Guard uniform, hurriedly buried the remains of the long-handled brush, and then crouched behind a tree, waiting nervously.
At the instant the first shot rang out, Clauzel forcefully reined in his warhorse, waving his hand as he shouted, "Don't panic! Everyone gather around the Crown Prince's and Princess's carriages, guard against ambush!"
The French Guards, utterly disoriented, immediately complied. Over a hundred men encircled Joseph's and the Two Sicilies Princess's carriages.
When the third shot rang out from the direction of the farmhouse, Clauzel exchanged a glance with a subordinate officer and loudly declared, "Clément, over there! Take men and capture the assassins!"
"Yes, sir!" Clément spurred his horse, waved his hand, and called out, "Third squad, with me!"
Immediately, under the astonished and admiring gazes of the French Guard officers and soldiers, over twenty of the Crown Prince's personal guards charged towards the distant farmhouse.
Besenval, meanwhile, didn't pinpoint the attackers' exact location until the fourth shot echoed from afar. He immediately pointed his pistol at the farmhouse. "They're there! Adrien, take your men!"
"Yes, sir!"
Clément and his third squad, seemingly disoriented, first veered towards a small grove not far from the farmhouse. After making a small circle, they "suddenly enlightened" and turned, charging back towards the farmhouse.
As they passed the edge of the woods, Odoric dashed over in a few steps, took the flintlock handed to him by a comrade, slung it over his shoulder, and blended into the ranks.
In fact, at this point, the desolate outskirts were thick with gunpowder smoke from the continuous musket fire. Even if he had run directly back to Joseph's side, it was unlikely any of the French Guards would have noticed him.
Clément deliberately had his men slow down, waiting for the French Guards to first surround the farmhouse, before pretending to rush forward in a frenzy.
Adrien, an officer of the French Guards, was hesitating whether to charge straight in or suppress them with fire first when he heard Clément shout, "Cowards! Do you want to wait for them to shoot at His Royal Highness again?!"
Adrien stiffened, quickly drew his sabre, and gestured towards the farmhouse. "Charge in! Capture the assassins!"
The French Guards immediately surged forward, first spotting the dead soldier guarding the farmhouse. Someone nervously fired a volley of shots into the attic, then cautiously ascended the stairs.
Meanwhile, upon hearing the gunshots, Joseph immediately locked the carriage door from the inside—a perfectly reasonable action, as the first priority during an attack was to prevent assassins from rushing into the compartment.
Next, he and Eman swiftly peeled off the wax seals from the carriage door, walls, and wooden table, placing all the wax pieces into their pockets.
Eman retrieved a paper packet from under the seat, scattered the wooden splinters inside the carriage, and finally forcefully embedded a flattened lead bullet into a damaged spot on the opposite wall of the carriage.
At this moment, the carriage appeared to have two bullet holes, one on the door and one on the wooden table. A lead bullet was embedded in the opposite carriage wall, and wooden splinters were scattered everywhere inside the carriage.
Evidently, a bullet had just struck the carriage.
Joseph then extended his arm to Eman, giving him a firm look. "Proceed."
Eman drew a short sword from his calf and said in a low voice, "Your Highness, I apologize."
With a flash of his sword, a streak of blood appeared on Joseph's upper right arm. He immediately felt a searing pain.
Eman sheathed his sword, picked up a seemingly sharp wooden splinter from the carriage, then pulled a pouch filled with chicken blood from his pocket and gently pricked it.
The chicken blood instantly stained the wooden splinter, making it look as though the splinter had grazed Joseph's arm as it flew apart.
Eman sprinkled more blood around the carriage, put away the pouch, then cried out in an extremely anxious voice towards the outside of the carriage, "Oh, heavens! The Crown Prince has been shot!"
"Doctor! Call a doctor, quickly!"
The heart-wrenching cry traveled hundreds of meters, and everyone who heard it felt as if struck by lightning, freezing on the spot. Besenval, in particular, felt a ringing in his head and nearly tumbled from his horse.
In the Princess's carriage trailing behind, Princess Maria, hearing that the Crown Prince had been shot, turned pale with fright, and tears gushed from her eyes.
Comments