The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 197

Chapter 197: The Death Knell for Godoy

Although Louis XVI's birthday had passed, the square at the Palace of Versailles remained in a state of relaxed dress code for the celebrations, drawing many Parisians who came to sing, dance, and enjoy free theatrical performances.

Small vendors also gathered in droves, hoping to seize this final opportunity to make a few more coins.

People chatted about recent events, their lively laughter and cheer prolonging the festive atmosphere.

Meanwhile, royalty and dignitaries from various countries finally freed themselves from the exhaustive ceremonial activities and took the opportunity to explore Paris. Places like the Eden Amusement Park were experiencing a renewed surge of visitors.

At 8:40 p.m., Mrs. Garland entered her music hall, her face alight with joy and ease, preparing for that evening’s musical salon.

Thanks to the influence brought by the King's birthday celebrations, she had become one of the most sought-after musicians in Versailles. Her salon was a "sanctuary" for noble elites who craved musical enlightenment. Only those with considerable skill could hope to gain entry into her music room.

Although Godoy was of humble origins, his early participation in the salon, coupled with his solid musical foundation and the few hundred livres Louisa spent to secure his position, allowed him a place among the performers.

A few servants, tasked with arranging instruments, exchanged discreet glances when they saw the Princess of Spain enter with her guards. They checked the position of the balcony and subtly adjusted the guitarist’s chair.

Following behind Louisa, Godoy bowed respectfully to Mrs. Garland and offered some polite compliments. He was then escorted by a male servant to his seat in the performers’ section. Louisa, meanwhile, was led to the elevated VIP box opposite.

With so many nobles attending the salon, Mrs. Garland often borrowed extra servants to help. Thus, the unfamiliar faces did not particularly draw her attention.

At precisely 9:00 p.m., the salon officially began.

Mrs. Garland, as the hostess, broke with tradition by delivering a lengthy discourse on musical theory after her welcome speech, earning waves of admiration from the audience.

Several other renowned musicians from the Palace of Versailles then offered their insights on music theory before transitioning into the performance segment.

A soothing melody began to play—it was François Couperin’s "The Fluttering Ribbon," though re-arranged by Mrs. Garland to adopt a livelier style.

The performers immersed themselves in their instruments, and the audience closed their eyes in rapture, savoring the moment.

Just as the music approached its climax, an unattended double bass, resting on a chair, seemed to lose its balance and toppled over.

Godoy happened to be directly beneath the instrument's scroll.

The double bass, a massive instrument standing over six feet tall and weighing nearly 180 pounds, startled Godoy, who scrambled to dodge. However, his chair seemed to catch on something, preventing it from moving. Instead, it tilted under his push.

Godoy fell backward immediately.

His seat was precariously close to the balcony's edge. As his body slammed into the wooden railing, a loud crack resounded. The thick wooden balustrade, as thick as an adult's arm, shattered like paper mâché.

The Princess of Spain, watching her lover perform with a captivated expression, saw the double bass fall and Godoy crash through the railing in a horrifying sequence.

From below, the faint sound of shattered glass reached the audience’s ears.

The sudden turn of events left everyone frozen in place until Louisa let out a piercing scream:
“Godoy—!”

Several musicians nearest to the scene rushed to the broken balcony, peering cautiously over the edge. In the dim night, they could just make out the fallen guitarist lying motionless on the ground, with a servant beside him backing away in terror.

Louisa hurried to the balcony as well, but she could not discern the details from above. Pale-faced, she turned back with the help of her maid and rushed downstairs. The gathered nobles immediately followed to check the situation.

Two royal guards, passing by below at the time, saw the fall and quickly knelt beside Godoy, anxiously calling out:
“Sir! Sir, are you all right?”

Noticing Godoy was clearly unconscious, one of the guards glanced up at the figures gathered on the second-floor balcony. The poor lighting revealed only blurred silhouettes. Turning back to Godoy, the guard flipped out a small blade and swiftly cut across his face.

The other guard, spotting Godoy’s golden cross pendant, yanked it out, smeared it with a bit of blood, and placed it neatly on his chest.

When Louisa, nearly hysterical, reached the scene with a servant bearing a torch, she saw Godoy lying amidst a scattering of broken glass, likely from a shattered wine goblet.

The two guards were frantically trying to wake him, while a servant stood trembling nearby.

Louisa crouched down cautiously, taking in the horrifying sight of Godoy’s injuries. Two deep gashes marred his face, one running from the corner of his eye to his mouth, exposing pale yellow fat tissue and looking utterly ghastly.

His golden cross pendant lay on his chest, strikingly vivid against his white shirt. The figure of Jesus on the cross appeared drenched in blood, as if foreshadowing something ominous.

One of the nobles who had rushed over crossed himself in alarm, muttering,
“God have mercy! God have mercy!”

The words struck Louisa like lightning. A terrifying thought surged in her mind: This was punishment—a divine retribution for her infidelity!

Hurriedly crossing herself, she whispered in a trembling voice:
“Lord, please forgive my sins. I was wrong. Forgive me…”

“He’s alive!” one noble declared after checking Godoy’s pulse.

About ten minutes later, the palace physician arrived and instructed the servants to carefully lift Godoy onto a stretcher to be brought indoors for treatment.

...

The clock neared midnight when the steward of the inner court at Versailles arrived at the Spanish Crown Prince’s residence. Knocking and entering, he found the prince absent. He bowed respectfully to Louisa instead and delivered his message:

“Your Highness, the physician has confirmed that your guard is not in mortal danger. However, his right arm is fractured, and he has sustained several lacerations.”

Louisa, still consumed by her thoughts, barely acknowledged his presence, her lips moving as if in a silent prayer.

The steward, sensing her distraction, continued, “It is regrettable that such an accident occurred. I have already conducted a thorough investigation. It appears the balcony railing was hollowed out by termites. The damage was well-hidden and went unnoticed... As you know, the Palace of Versailles has stood for centuries, and these pests constantly damage the woodwork.”

He hesitated before adding, “Godoy collided with the termite-eaten section of the railing, which gave way, causing his fall. Coincidentally, a servant was passing below, carrying a tray of wine to the fountain. Godoy struck the tray, shattering the glasses.”

Pausing briefly, he asked, “Would you like to visit him, Your Highness?”

When Louisa offered no response, the steward sighed, bowed deeply, and excused himself:
“Please do not worry excessively, Your Highness.”

…

The Spanish Crown Prince, Antonio, having overindulged the previous evening, learned of Godoy’s accident only the following morning.

Slumped lifelessly on the sofa, he sprang to life upon hearing the court official’s account. Grabbing the man’s shoulders, Antonio exclaimed with unrestrained excitement:
“You said the Princess’s guard, Godoy? He broke his arm? His face is scarred?!”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the official replied, cautiously adding, “Please do not let this distress you too greatly.”

“Distress me?” Antonio suddenly felt the lingering effects of his hangover vanish entirely. Light and jubilant, he laughed aloud, “Thank you for this news! I shall not be distressed at all!”

The official, concerned by the Crown Prince’s behavior, debated summoning a physician. Fortunately, Joseph appeared just in time, subtly motioning for the man to withdraw.

Antonio, as cheerful as a child, seized Joseph by the shoulders, his voice full of joy:
“My dear Joseph, did you hear? Versailles must be a place blessed by the Lord Himself! My prayers have been answered!”

“I am pleased for you, my friend,” Joseph replied, making the sign of the cross.

Antonio downed half a cup of leftover wine, pulled Joseph along, and headed for the door. “Let’s go see that wretched fool! Oh, by the way, where is he now?”

Joseph glanced at Eymond and instructed, “Please escort His Highness to Godoy’s quarters.”

“Right away, Your Highness,” Eymond replied, leading the way.

As they walked down the corridor, Antonio shouted gleefully, “I love Versailles! I love this place! I want to stay here forever!”

Joseph waited for him to calm down slightly before leaning in and whispering,
“Your Highness, you must return to Madrid without delay.”

“Why?” Antonio asked, grinning.

“While Godoy is still incapacitated, you must leave him here in France,” Joseph explained. “Once in Madrid, inform His Majesty of recent events.”

Joseph knew that while he had dealt with one half of Spain’s notorious “Disastrous Duo,” the remaining half—Louisa—could not be subdued by Antonio alone.

Only Charles III, the most capable Spanish monarch in a century, could suppress her influence.

Antonio, his spirits still high, nodded immediately.
“You’re absolutely right. I’ll leave at once!”

Before departing, he visited Godoy, who lay moaning in pain on his bed. Content with the sight, Antonio left Versailles with a light heart.

...

After seeing the horrifying wounds on Godoy’s face the night before, Louisa no longer wished to look at him. Upon confirming the incident had indeed been an accident—the termite-eaten railings and the absence of anyone nearby to push him—she became resolute in her desire to leave Versailles.

When Antonio proposed their return to Spain, she agreed without hesitation.

By noon that day, their carriage was ready for departure.

Before leaving, Antonio embraced Joseph tightly, declaring earnestly,
“How I wish we could continue discussing machinery at the royal workshop! Joseph, you will always be my best friend!”

In his heart, Antonio held immense gratitude toward Joseph, believing that without his intervention, he might never have discovered his wife’s infidelity.

“We are indeed the best of friends,” Joseph replied, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder.

Leaning in, Antonio whispered, “Dear Joseph, I’ve left someone in Paris. At your convenience, please ensure that Godoy is sent to Paris.”

Despite his fear of his wife and passion for machinery, Antonio remained a Crown Prince with considerable power. Once his initial fury subsided, his resolve to deal with the disgraced lover returned.

Feigning surprise, Joseph replied, “You intend to… This could be…”

“I’m counting on you to handle it for me!”

Joseph sighed, appearing reluctant. “Very well, I will do my best.”

…

Once the Spanish Crown Prince departed, Joseph immediately penned a letter to Charles III, detailing Antonio’s public humiliation by his wife. He pledged to keep the scandal confidential but ensured the letter would reach the King one day after Antonio’s arrival in Madrid.

This ensured that a domestic scandal would escalate into a national disgrace, leaving Charles III little choice but to act decisively.

...

The celebrations for Louis XVI’s birthday finally faded as September approached.

Meanwhile, Joseph, dressed in a pristine white custom-tailored military uniform, arrived at the Paris Police Academy to attend the induction ceremony for its second class of students.

This event also marked the graduation and deployment of the first cohort.

Though the first cohort had trained for only ten months, Joseph deemed their progress sufficient and decided to send them to North Africa for military operations.

The group had trained diligently, with commendable military skills. Combined with two regiments of Prince Berthier’s Royal Guards, totaling 4,400 troops, they would sail under the French Navy’s command to North Africa.

This unit, fiercely loyal to Joseph, faced no operational obstacles.

Should the North African campaign intensify, Joseph intended to draw reinforcements from the Moulin Corps under the Duke of Villars, a force trained by André. Consisting of three regiments, this army’s combat strength could not rival the Royal Guards but had proven its loyalty and would serve effectively if needed.

If the Moulin Corps demonstrated satisfactory combat performance, Joseph planned to re-equip them with superior weaponry and potentially integrate them as part of his core forces.

With nearly 9,000 troops aligned with his strategic goals, Joseph believed victory in North Africa was all but assured.

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