Chapter 191: The Rose of Versailles
On the second floor of Versailles Palace, Joseph was meticulously planning his agenda for the coming days. The sheer number of royal family members and dignitaries arriving to celebrate Louis XVI's birthday made this a grand European political and diplomatic event. He had to seize this opportunity to maneuver strategically and secure a favorable international political position for France.
This morning, he had just welcomed the Crown Prince of Spain, Carlos Antonio, who would later become Carlos IV. According to the schedule, the Crown Prince of Russia, the Crown Prince of Sardinia, and the Prince of Poland, among others, were expected to arrive tomorrow.
Almost every European nation had sent royal members or special envoys. Countries with good relations with France naturally came to offer congratulations, while those with strained ties sought to gauge if France, after its recent calamity, presented any vulnerabilities to exploit.
Joseph was deep in thought when he heard continuous cheers of "Madame Galan!" echoing from the Marble Courtyard.
He looked at Eman, puzzled.
"Why is this Madame Galan so popular?"
His attendant was equally bewildered. Seeing this, a maid nearby leaned in and whispered a few words to him.
Eman nodded in realization, then addressed Joseph.
"Your Royal Highness, there's a singing and dancing competition happening outside, and Madame Galan is widely considered the favorite to win. Ariel mentioned that she once studied with Monsieur Haydn."
"Franz Joseph Haydn, sir."
Joseph inquired further and learned that this man was a renowned music master, especially famous for two exceptional students: Mozart and Beethoven.
If Madame Galan was Mozart's junior, then winning the championship was practically a certainty.
With this thought, Joseph quickly instructed Eman to ask the Chamberlain about the betting situation for the singing and dancing competition. The King's Birthday Organizing Committee had set up "prize quizzes" for both contests, allowing anyone to bet on the winner and receive double their wager if correct.
Shortly after, Eman returned and reported.
"Your Royal Highness, it seems more than half of the people have bet on Madame Galan to win."
'Damn it! We shouldn't have used fixed odds!' No wonder the nobles were so thrilled. Joseph couldn't help but rub his forehead. 'That was truly careless. It looks like the singing and dancing competition will most likely result in a loss. We'll have to rely on the sword fighting competition to make up for it, or we won't even cover the cost of the birthday celebration.'
Just then, a charming figure in a puffy pink-purple gown, with her hair styled into a bird-like coiffure, knocked and entered, smiling as she curtsied to Joseph.
"Cousin, the sword fighting competition has begun. Please take me to watch the duels."
Joseph chuckled, "Aren't you going to watch the singing and dancing? I hear Madame Galan is an incredible singer."
Clémentine pouted, her voice soft and sweet.
"I see singing and dancing all day in the palace; I'm quite tired of it. Sword fighting is much more interesting! I want to watch the duels."
The young girl usually stayed by Queen Mary's side, but since the Queen was serving as a judge today, Clémentine had to pester her cousin instead.
Joseph, finding himself unable to resist her pleas, had no choice but to indulge her.
As the two stepped out of the main gate of Versailles Palace, they saw the Crown Prince of Spain, Antonio, approaching them. He bore a striking resemblance to Louis XVI.
Although Antonio was nearing forty, his expression carried the innocence and straightforwardness of a much younger man.
He also spotted Joseph, promptly stopped, and performed a standard chest-bow, saying somewhat shyly.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness the Crown Prince."
The noblewoman beside him, with a slightly round face and yellowed teeth, also lifted her skirt and curtsied.
Joseph quickly returned their greetings. His gaze swept over the woman's face, and his mind immediately recalled certain anecdotes about this Spanish Crown Princess.
Maria Luisa was notoriously promiscuous, having presented her husband with an untold number of 'green hats' – a euphemism for being cuckolded.
Her lovers included her servants, guards, Spanish officials, and even the French ambassador to Spain.
The most infamous among them was Manuel de Godoy, who started as a guard and was ultimately elevated by her to become Spain's Chief Minister.
After Antonio ascended to the throne, his fondness for hunting and mechanical inventions meant that Spanish state affairs were firmly controlled by Maria Luisa and her paramour, Godoy. These two mismanaged the country terribly, implementing various suicidal policies that relentlessly wasted Spain's resources.
Ultimately, they succeeded in depleting Spain's national power and military strength, directly leading to Emperor Napoleon's abolition of the Spanish House of Bourbon.
Joseph looked behind Luisa and, sure enough, saw a red-faced guard following with his head bowed.
In reality, commoners were only permitted to attend the celebrations in the Versailles Palace square these days; there was no need for guards in the areas adjacent to the palace itself. Thus, this man was almost certainly Godoy.
Clémentine, ever the social butterfly, stepped forward to greet the Spanish Crown Prince and Princess, then warmly invited them.
"Your Royal Highness, my cousin and I are going to watch the sword fighting. You should come with us; it's sure to be very exciting!"
Antonio looked hesitantly at his wife. Seeing her slight nod, he then addressed Joseph and Clémentine.
"Thank you for the invitation. We would be pleased to watch the sword fighting competition."
Luisa offered an apologetic smile from the side.
"Your Royal Highness, I'd rather watch the singing and dancing. Perhaps you should accompany the Crown Prince instead."
Joseph nodded subtly. "As you wish."
Joseph and the other two parted ways with Luisa, which actually aligned with his expectations.
Although Spain's current King, Charles III, was a very capable monarch, his health had deteriorated significantly. Joseph couldn't recall the exact year of his passing, but it was likely soon.
After that, Antonio, standing beside him, would become King of Spain—Carlos IV.
Since Spain and France both originated from the House of Bourbon, and Spain had many conflicting interests with Britain in America, France and Spain could be considered natural allies.
Especially now, Spain still held remnants of its former imperial glory. Not only did it possess numerous colonies in America and substantial gold and silver revenues, but it also maintained a formidable fleet—approximately thirty percent the strength of the British Navy.
For France to develop, it would eventually need to break free from Britain's naval blockade, and uniting with the Spanish fleet was the optimal strategy. Historically, France had indeed pursued this path; the combined Franco-Spanish fleet's combat power even equaled Britain's at one point. Unfortunately, they encountered the genius British naval commander, Nelson, and with a stroke of bad luck, were ultimately defeated by the British forces in the Battle of Trafalgar.
In this life, Joseph absolutely could not allow such a tragedy to repeat itself.
Therefore, the first step was to help Spain eliminate the scourge that was Godoy, allowing Spain to avoid detours and continuously strengthen its national power, thereby providing more assistance to France.
Joseph glanced back and said to Antonio.
"Your guard seems quite spirited."
The latter, appearing somewhat socially awkward, whispered.
"Oh, no, Your Royal Highness, he's Luisa's guard. His name is Godoy."
'It is him,' Joseph thought, nodding. He then asked, "Is he a 'regular' guard?"
"He's quite ordinary, I suppose."
A silence followed his remark.
Joseph secretly shook his head. 'It's really difficult to converse with someone so socially awkward,' he thought. 'I'll have to find a way to get to know him better, otherwise, it'll be hard to help him.'
After a short walk, Joseph and his companions arrived at the open ground between Versailles Palace and the Petit Trianon.
This was the venue for the sword fighting competition.
This area was much larger than the singing and dancing competition's venue. A three-tiered wooden grandstand, seating seven or eight hundred people, had even been temporarily erected around the arena.
At this moment, the grandstands were full, with a large crowd of commoners watching from the outer perimeter. Fortunately, the arena was quite elevated, allowing views of the proceedings even from beyond the seating.
The two Crown Princes and one Princess naturally had the best seats.
The three of them sat in a temporary box on the third tier of the western side. Two sturdy young noblemen then stepped into the arena, each taking up a sword with a wooden tip. They courteously tapped their blades together, and at the referee's signal, the match began.
Both clearly had training; their footwork was nimble, their swordplay fluid, and their moves skilled. For a moment, sword glints flashed across the arena, and figures spun and dodged, making for an exceptionally exciting match.
Joseph watched with keen interest, about to strike up a conversation with Antonio about the duel, when he turned and saw Antonio staring at the four-person-tall scoreboard, his eyes gleaming.
One of the nobles in the arena made an ill-advised move and was struck by his opponent. Someone below the scoreboard pulled hard, causing a flywheel to spin, turning the large wooden panel on the scoreboard to reveal the number '1' beneath—1:0.
Antonio exclaimed delightedly, "It's automatic, just as I suspected!" He then looked at Joseph. "Who designed this? It's truly ingenious, using a flywheel to store energy and automatically change the score! Otherwise, someone would have to climb that tall wooden frame."
Joseph rubbed his nose, chuckling, "That's His Majesty the King's masterpiece."
"He's truly amazing," Antonio declared. "I must request an audience with His Majesty."
Joseph suddenly recalled that this Crown Prince seemed to have a passion for machinery, which meant he shared a lot in common with Joseph's own father.
Now that he had found an opening, things would be easier. Joseph steered the conversation to various mechanical topics, from machine tools to steam engines, from carriage suspension to self-propelled traction vehicles—the earliest form of the train.
After nearly an hour of conversation, the Spanish Crown Prince's eyes were wide, and he gesticulated wildly with excitement, feeling as though he had met Joseph far too late.
'The Crown Prince of France is truly the lifelong confidant I've been searching for!'
Once they had grown more familiar, Joseph cautiously asked.
"Antonio, don't you find anything... problematic about Godoy?"
"Problematic? Oh, I suppose his left eye isn't very good." The Spanish Crown Prince was less socially awkward now, waving his hand. "Why bring him up? Let's talk more about how that crank-rod transmission you mentioned earlier works!"
Joseph couldn't help but smile wryly, shaking his head. It seemed his cousin truly hadn't noticed the "colorful" situation atop his head.
'I need to find a way to warn him! Otherwise, once Godoy gains power, it won't be so easy to get rid of him.'
Joseph narrowed his eyes slightly. 'It seems I need to create some opportunities for the adulterous couple first.'
As he pondered, the two combatants on the stage finished their match and departed. The palace official overseeing the event signaled servants to clear the "battlefield," then announced loudly.
"Next, warriors number 631 and 112 will compete! Welcome them to the arena!"
For fairness, all pairings were determined by random draw. Before the draw, no one knew which number corresponded to which participant.
Two figures were about to ascend the curved steps when, at that moment, an official rushed over and whispered something to the referee. The latter immediately stood up and declared.
"Number 631, you cannot compete! Please leave the arena."
"That's unfair!" Sorel's indignant voice rang out from beside the arena. She waved her registration certificate, her eyes wide as she declared, "I've already signed up! I can compete!"
"But you are a lady." The referee, seeing the audience begin to laugh, became even more stern. "This is not according to the rules!"
"I believe whoever has superior swordsmanship should stand in the arena." Sorel brandished her rapier, looking at her opponent. "Don't you agree?"
She then turned to the audience, declaring loudly, "They shouldn't drive away the champion!"
The young nobleman looked somewhat embarrassed, simply averting his gaze and remaining silent.
The referee, a respected Duke, was now quite displeased. He turned to a servant and ordered, "Have someone escort her away!"
"Yes, sir."
Joseph frowned at the sight, recalling that he had successfully acquired the British automatic loom, and this rather theatrical young woman by the arena had played a part in it.
He then stood up and gestured to the referee. "Duke Saint-Simon, perhaps we can overlook her gender.
"A keen blade cares not whether it is wielded by a man or a woman. As long as its wielder can strike their opponent, they are a good swordsman."
"Thank you, Your Royal Highness the Crown Prince!" Sorel, in a masculine stance, touched her sword hilt to her chest and saluted Joseph with her hat.
"But..."
Joseph interjected, "Let her compete. I've witnessed her skill; she's remarkably agile."
Duke Saint-Simon found it difficult to openly contradict the Crown Prince. After a moment of hesitation, he finally turned and sat back in his chair, pretending not to have seen anything.
Sorel leaped onto the stands in a few quick steps, then bowed to Joseph. "Thank you again. But truly, Your Royal Highness, you've made the correct decision—you've saved the champion of this competition."
She then whispered, "You can bet on me to win; I guarantee you'll receive the prize money."
Joseph saw her looking at him with utter confidence, and his mind immediately flashed to an old anime—'The Rose of Versailles'. 'Could this rather theatrical beauty truly be like Oscar, the protagonist, whose swordsmanship is unrivaled in France?'
He gestured to the palace official managing the bets nearby. When the official respectfully approached, Joseph raised his hand and held up five fingers.
Seeing this, Sorel turned contentedly and ascended into the arena.
The official in charge of bets hesitated. "Your Royal Highness, are you wagering 500 Livres on Mademoiselle Sorel to win?"
"What are you thinking?" Joseph immediately shook his head. "It's 5 Livres."
"Your Royal Highness, I apologize, but the minimum bet is 10 Livres."
"Oh," Joseph scratched his cheek. "Then 10 Livres it is."
Sorel ascended the curved steps to the arena, glanced towards Joseph's position, and murmured to herself.
'Your Royal Highness, 500 Livres is a bit meager to bet,' she thought. 'But I will certainly ensure you receive that 1,000 Livres prize.'
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