Chapter 129: Oscar-Worthy Performance
"Oh, Holy Mother Mary! Why did something so dreadful happen?"
The Princess of the Two Sicilies clutched her small mouth, wanting to peer out the window but too terrified to lift her head. She merely huddled in the corner of her seat, weeping incessantly. "His Royal Highness the Crown Prince was attacked because he came to meet me. It's all my fault... Waaah... It's all my fault..."
Beside her, Ambassador Timothy cautiously glanced out the window, then sharply pulled down the curtain. He offered a handkerchief to the princess, his voice low and somewhat agitated. "Your Highness, please calm down. This has nothing to do with you."
With the handkerchief to dab away her tears, Maria cried even harder. "What will I do if something happens to His Royal Highness?"
"No, that won't happen," Timothy quickly reassured her. "I heard the gunshots; they sounded quite distant. Even if His Royal Highness was hit, it shouldn't be fatal."
"Really?" Maria recalled the physics she'd learned, nodding slightly, her sobs gradually turning into sniffles. "May God protect the Crown Prince..."
Then another thought surfaced in her mind—she had just arrived in Paris, and the Crown Prince was attacked because of her. Would this leave him with a bad impression? Would Queen Mary be angry with her? Perhaps she would be immediately sent back to the Two Sicilies...
At this thought, she began to cry and whimper again.
By now, a crowd of two to three hundred people had gathered around Joseph's carriage. The shouts of people, the neighing of horses, and the occasional gunshots had turned the scene into utter chaos.
The officer dismounted the doctor, pointing to the Crown Prince's carriage and anxiously shouting, "That one, quickly!"
The military doctor rushed to the carriage steps and asked Eman, "Where is the injury?"
"I don't know!" the latter exclaimed, looking utterly panic-stricken.
The military doctor was already praying, 'Please, don't let His Royal Highness the Crown Prince die in my hands...'
Outside the carriage, Besenval also rode up. Seeing the chaotic scene, he wanted to have the Crown Prince's carriage turn around to avoid danger, but then worried it would delay treatment. For a moment, he was at a loss.
In a nearby farmhouse, a Lieutenant of the French Guards was the first to rush up to the attic, only to find two corpses on the floor.
He immediately ordered his subordinates to spread out and search.
Soon, the soldiers returned, reporting that they hadn't found anyone else.
The Lieutenant personally confirmed this, then reported the situation to Adrien, who was waiting outside. Adrien quickly instructed a messenger to transmit the news that the attackers had been killed.
As a series of distinctive bugle calls rang out, the French Guards gradually ceased their indiscriminate firing and began to re-form under the command of their officers.
Upon learning that the attackers had been apprehended, Besenval immediately ordered the Crown Prince's and the princess's carriages to return to Versailles Palace without delay.
He personally led more than two hundred cavalry, his expression solemn, to escort them all the way.
...
Inside Versailles Palace, Queen Mary, resplendent in full attire, hummed a tune while admiring her newly styled wig in the mirror. Suddenly, the Countess of Debeninac scurried in, her face ashen.
Queen Mary was about to inquire why her lady-in-waiting was so uncouth today, when the latter urgently reported, "Your Majesty, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince's carriage was attacked en route! It is said... His Highness is injured!"
Queen Mary's eyes widened. She froze for a second, then suddenly swayed and fainted.
After a long while, the Queen was finally roused by the pungent smell of smelling salts held by the royal physician.
She forcefully pushed away the doctor's hand, searching for Debeninac among the surrounding servants. "Where is Joseph? How is he?"
The lady-in-waiting quickly came to support her, whispering, "Your Majesty, the latest news reports that His Highness is not in life-threatening danger. The Guard's military doctor has already treated his wounds. He should reach Versailles Palace in about two hours."
"Are you certain? Not in life-threatening danger?" Queen Mary completely disregarded her askew wig, gripping the lady-in-waiting's hand tightly, her eyes fixed on her without blinking.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Thank God! Amen!" The Queen made the sign of the cross over her chest and took several deep breaths. Only then did she struggle to her feet, supported by others, her legs unsteady as she walked towards the Versailles Palace square, simultaneously commanding loudly, "Quickly, send Doctor Grousset to Paris to treat the Crown Prince on the way..."
Beside her, the Countess of Debeninac said, "Your Majesty, the doctors have already departed."
"Good, that's good..."
Two hours later, a large contingent of cavalry, escorting two carriages, entered Versailles Palace.
The nobles who had been waiting there to welcome the Princess of the Two Sicilies were now concerned only for the Crown Prince's condition. Many young girls were tearfully wiping their eyes, worried about His Highness.
Queen Mary, having removed her wig, flung off the Countess of Debeninac's supporting hand and rushed towards the carriage. Louis XVI followed behind, his expression grave.
The cavalry immediately cleared a path. Through a gap in the soldiers, the Queen spotted bullet holes in the carriage door, and her heart immediately tightened.
When she pulled open the carriage door, she felt a sudden dizzy spell—the interior of the carriage was a mess, full of wood splinters and bloodstains. Her son was leaning against the seat, covered in blood, especially his right arm, which, though simply bandaged, was almost entirely soaked in crimson.
Of course, she couldn't know that most of it was chicken blood.
"Jo—" Her trembling lips had barely uttered a sound before tears streamed down her face.
Behind her, Louis XVI stared at his son, his eyes also reddening.
Doctor Grousset got out of the carriage first, bowing to the Queen and King, then reassured them, "Your Majesties, please do not worry. His Highness is only injured, not in life-threatening danger. He seems to be in shock and needs rest as soon as possible."
"Rest? Oh, yes, yes," the Queen nodded instinctively, instructing the Countess of Debeninac, "Quickly, take the Crown Prince back to rest."
Joseph, feigning extreme weakness, was helped out of the carriage, then placed on a stretcher and carried back to his bedchamber.
The King, Queen, and a host of nobles immediately followed.
Joseph lay in bed, looking utterly frail, with his eyes closed, pretending to sleep. The Queen sat by the bed, her head bowed, stroking the thick hemostatic bandage on her son's arm—the military doctor had wrapped it with a dozen layers at Joseph's repeated insistence.
She wiped away her tears, steadied her breathing, and turned to look at the group of people around them, her voice chilling. "Who can explain to me why things turned out this way?"
Clauzel immediately looked towards Besenval, who stood at the bedchamber door, his face pale. Following his lead, everyone else also turned their gaze to the commander of the French Guards.
Under their stares, Besenval awkwardly moved to the center of the room, bowed to the King and Queen, and stammered, "Your Majesties, it... it was an ambush. Someone fired during the journey..."
Queen Mary glanced at him. "How did the attackers get so close?"
"That, I'm not yet clear..."
"Not clear?!" The Queen's brows furrowed. "How many French Guards were responsible for security?"
"Three thousand men, Your Majesty."
Queen Mary abruptly stood up, glaring at Besenval, her eyes blazing with fury. "Three thousand men! What exactly were you doing?! You didn't even detect an attack?!"
"Y-yes, Your Majesty..." Besenval's head was almost down to his waist as he mumbled, "It was my oversight..."
Louis XVI stood up and gently patted his wife's shoulder.
Queen Mary shot Besenval a harsh look, then ignored him. She turned back to the doctor to repeatedly confirm her son's condition, then faced the assembled officials. "Comte de Robert, Baron Veaumorel, I charge you both to immediately commence an investigation. I want to know exactly what happened today!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
The head of the Secret Police and the second captain of the Queen's personal guard bowed simultaneously to accept the order.
For the remainder of the day, Louis XVI and Queen Mary stayed by the Crown Prince's bedside, not even taking lunch.
It wasn't until dusk that Joseph finally "stirred awake."
The Queen immediately grabbed her son's left hand and said softly, "My darling, you're finally awake! How do you feel?"
"God be praised!" Louis XVI also gazed at his son with immense concern.
Joseph, at the appropriate moment, displayed the panic and helplessness expected of a fourteen-year-old boy. He looked pitifully at his parents, frowning, "I feel very weak, and my wound aches terribly..."
The Queen almost cried again from heartache, quickly soothing him, "God will protect you, my dear! You will certainly be alright."
Louis XVI looked inquiringly at the doctor beside him.
The doctor, somewhat helplessly, leaned in and said, "Your Majesties, His Royal Highness's wound has been meticulously treated. Now, he only needs bed rest. As for the pain, perhaps His Highness could take some Dover's Powder."
Joseph's eyelid twitched at the mention—'Dover's Powder' was a common painkiller of the time, made from poppy, and not something good.
He quickly changed the subject, feigning terror as he told the Queen, "Mother, that bullet flew right between Eman and me. If it had been off by half a foot, it would have struck my heart..."
Both the Queen and Louis XVI were filled with dread upon hearing this, and they hastened to comfort their son.
Eman chimed in, "Your Majesties, though the bullet didn't hit His Highness, the splintered wood inside the carriage was also very dangerous. You see, His Highness's wound was caused by the flying wood fragments.
"Thankfully, God protected him. Otherwise, if a splinter had pierced His Highness's eye or something similar, the consequences would have been too horrific!"
Joseph and his butler exchanged an imperceptible glance, silently praising each other's acting skills.
It wasn't until late into the night that Queen Mary and Louis XVI left the Crown Prince's bedchamber, their hearts still fluttering with fear.
The next morning at ten o'clock, all the cabinet ministers were summoned to the meeting hall. Several sketches lay before the Queen, and Comte de Robert stood beside her, detailing the investigation into yesterday's attack.
"It was a British-made Model 1742 Flintlock Musket bullet," Robert said, pointing to a sketch of the carriage's interior. "It entered through the carriage door and was ultimately stopped by a pillar on the opposite side of the compartment. Judging by the penetration power, it must have been fired from a considerable distance."
Anyone investigating would inevitably reach this conclusion.
This was because the marks on the carriage had been made by Clauzel himself, using a Model 1742 Flintlock Musket. To ensure the appropriate power, he had carefully adjusted the gunpowder charge.
Afterward, he sealed the damage on the carriage door and interior with wax and painted over it, making it difficult to detect from the outside. When the "attackers'" shots rang out, Joseph's side would remove the wax seals and add the previously collected bullets and wood fragments, recreating the scene of the shooting.
"What was the identity of the perpetrators?" Archbishop Brienne asked, frowning.
"They were two gang members," Robert indicated the sketches of the culprits' bodies. "They belong to a group called the Blood Blade Gang. They've committed several crimes recently, ambushing and robbing, having killed seven or eight people."
Baron Veaumorel, the Queen's guard captain, added, "Your Majesty, we carefully compared them with wanted posters and had police from Molette-Rowan Town identify them. They are undeniably members of the gang."
Baron Breti, the Minister of Justice, was very puzzled. "How did they get close to the convoy?"
Robert pointed to the map. "They must have snuck in from the eastern farmlands, then, taking advantage of the French Guards' negligence, slipped into the farmhouse."
Both he and Veaumorel had initially been perplexed. The farmland was more than three hundred paces from the farmhouse, and at least ten French Guards soldiers in the vicinity should have been able to see it.
They discussed it for a long time, finally attributing it to Besenval's carelessness, such as flaws in the patrol arrangements or lax discipline leading to soldiers slacking off and sleeping.
No one would have guessed that the attackers were brought to the scene by the biggest victim himself.
Robert continued to report the investigation results. "Then the two men killed the soldiers guarding the farmhouse and hid in the attic. When the convoy passed, they fired their muskets at His Royal Highness the Crown Prince.
"The French Guards heard the gunshots and returned fire on the attic, killing the attackers on the spot."
Baron Veaumorel added, "We compared the bullets, and the conclusion perfectly matches."
The Minister of Justice mused, "Why would these two fellows try to assassinate His Highness?"
"Hmph, someone must have hired them for a large sum," Monnot snorted. "There are too many schemers who wish to ruin France's future."
Archbishop Brienne pondered, "Or perhaps, they intended to assassinate Princess Maria, but the distance was too great, and the bullet went astray."
If his words were true, then the killers' objective was to provoke a war between the two nations. But no matter what, the consequences of this attack were extremely severe.
Queen Mary closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and spoke, "It seems the course of events is quite clear. Comte de Robert, please continue to investigate the mastermind behind this."
She then looked at Breteuil. "I now want to know what punishment the French Guards, especially Besenval, will receive for their responsibility in protecting the Crown Prince's convoy?"
Breteuil considered for a moment, then carefully said, "Your Majesty, I believe General Besenval displayed serious dereliction of duty and should be dismissed and exiled."
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