The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 129

Chapter 129: Oscar-Worthy Acting

"Ah, Holy Mary! Why did such a terrible thing have to happen..."

The princess of the Two Sicilies covered her mouth, trying to peek outside, but too frightened to lift her head. She shrunk into the corner of her seat, crying uncontrollably. "It’s because the crown prince came to fetch me that he was attacked! It’s all my fault... wuwuwu... it’s all my fault..."

Ambassador Timothy, who stood beside her, glanced warily out the window, then swiftly pulled down the curtain. He handed her a handkerchief and, with some agitation, whispered, "Your Highness, please calm down. This has nothing to do with you."

With the handkerchief to wipe her tears, Maria only cried harder. "What if something happens to the crown prince? What should I do?"

"No, no. That won’t happen," Timothy quickly reassured her. "From the sound of the gunfire, it seems distant. Even if it hit the crown prince, it shouldn’t be fatal."

"Really?" Maria, recalling her lessons in physics, nodded slightly, and her sobbing slowly turned into quiet sniffling. "May God protect the crown prince..."

Then, a thought popped into her head—she had just arrived in Paris, and now the crown prince had been attacked. Would this cause him to have a bad impression of her? Would Queen Maria blame her for this? Perhaps she would be sent back to the Two Sicilies immediately...

With this thought, she burst into sobs once more.

Meanwhile, around Joseph's carriage, a crowd of two to three hundred had gathered. The shouts of the people, the whinnying of the horses, and the occasional gunshots had turned the scene into chaos.

Because the court physician hadn’t come—no one had expected that an escorting mission would require a doctor—the French Guard’s military doctor had been brought over by an officer on horseback.

The officer jumped off his horse and, pointing to the crown prince’s carriage, urgently shouted, "That one, hurry!"

The military doctor quickly approached the carriage and asked Eymond, "Where is he hurt?"

"I don’t know," Eymond responded in panic.

The doctor prayed silently, hoping the crown prince wouldn’t die on his watch...

Outside, Bessonval urged his horse forward, but seeing the surrounding chaos, he wasn’t sure whether to order the crown prince’s carriage to turn back for safety or risk delaying his treatment. He was caught in a dilemma.

Not far away, a lieutenant from the French Guard rushed up to the attic of a nearby farmhouse, only to find two dead bodies on the floor.

He immediately ordered his men to scatter and search.

Soon, the soldiers returned, reporting that no one else was found.

The lieutenant verified this himself, then reported the situation to Adrien, who ordered the messenger to send word that the attackers had been killed.

As a unique signal sounded, the French Guard soldiers ceased their blind firing and, under the officers’ command, began to form up.

Upon hearing that the attackers had been caught, Bessonval quickly ordered the carriages with the crown prince and the princess to return to Versailles.

He personally led over two hundred cavalry, grim-faced, escorting them back.

...

At Versailles Palace, Queen Maria, dressed in her finery, hummed a tune while admiring the new wig she had had made, when Countess Debonynac suddenly rushed in, her face pale.

Queen Maria was about to ask her maid why she was so impolite today, but the latter urgently reported, "Your Majesty, the crown prince’s convoy was attacked on the way! It’s said... that His Highness has been injured!"

Queen Maria’s eyes widened, her gaze frozen for a second. Then, she staggered and fainted.

It was some time before the smell of smelling salts from the royal physician woke her up.

She forcefully pushed away the physician’s hand, searching for the figure of Countess Debonynac among the servants. "Where is Joseph? How is he?"

The maid rushed over, supporting her. "Your Majesty, the latest reports say His Highness is not in danger. The military doctor has treated his wounds. He should be at Versailles in two hours."

"Are you sure? No danger to his life?" Queen Maria, ignoring her disheveled wig, grabbed the maid’s hand tightly, her eyes locked on hers.

"Yes."

"God be with him! Amen!" The Queen made the sign of the cross on her chest, took several deep breaths, and struggled to stand. Supported by others, she tottered toward the Versailles Palace courtyard, commanding loudly, "Quick, send Dr. Grousay to Paris to treat the crown prince on the way..."

Countess Debonynac said, "Your Majesty, the doctors have already left."

"Good, that’s good..."

Two hours later, a cavalry escort with two carriages arrived at Versailles.

The nobles who had been waiting to greet the princess of the Two Sicilies were now more concerned about the crown prince’s condition, with many young girls crying anxiously for fear of His Highness’s fate.

Queen Maria, having removed her wig, broke free from Countess Debonynac’s support and rushed toward the carriage. King Louis XVI, with a solemn expression, followed closely behind.

The cavalrymen immediately parted to clear a path. The Queen, spotting bullet holes on the carriage door, felt a tightness in her chest.

As she opened the door, a dizzying feeling overcame her. Inside the carriage, it was a mess—wood chips and bloodstains everywhere. Her son leaned against the seat, drenched in blood, especially his right arm, which, despite a simple bandage, was nearly soaked through.

Of course, she couldn’t know that most of the blood was chicken blood.

"Jo..." Her trembling lips barely managed to whisper before tears streamed down her face.

Behind her, Louis XVI stared at his son, his eyes bloodshot.

Dr. Grousay exited the carriage, bowed to the King and Queen, and then reassured them, "Your Majesties, please do not worry. His Highness is injured, but his life is not in danger. He’s just shaken and needs rest."

"Rest? Oh, good, good," the Queen nodded instinctively and instructed Countess Debonynac, "Quick, take the crown prince to rest."

Joseph, "weakly" supported by others, was helped down and placed on a stretcher, then returned to his chambers.

The King, Queen, and the nobles immediately followed.

Lying in bed, Joseph acted very weak, keeping his eyes shut and pretending to sleep. The Queen sat beside him, her head lowered as she rubbed the thick blood-stopping bandages on his arm—bandaged in at least ten layers at his insistence.

She wiped away her tears, adjusted her breath, and turned to face the group of people. Her voice was icy as she spoke, "Who can explain to me how this happened?"

Kessold immediately looked at Bessonval, who stood by the door, pale-faced. The others, following his lead, turned their gazes toward the commander of the French Guard.

Bessonval, under their intense scrutiny, reluctantly moved to the center of the room, bowed to the King and Queen, and stammered, "Your Majesties, there was... there was a shooting attack on the way..."

Queen Maria gave him a sharp look. "How did the attackers get close?"

"This, I’m still not sure..."

"Unclear?!" The Queen furrowed her brows. "How many men in the French Guard are assigned to the watch?"

"Three thousand, Your Majesty."

Queen Marie Antoinette suddenly stood up, glaring at Bessonval, her eyes burning with anger. She shouted, "Three thousand men! What are you all doing?! How could no one detect an attack?!"

"Y-Yes, Your Majesty..." Bessonval lowered his head so much that it nearly touched his waist, stammering, "It was my negligence..."

King Louis XVI stood up and gently patted his wife on the shoulder.

Queen Marie Antoinette shot a fierce look at Bessonval, then turned away from him, focusing again on the doctor as she repeatedly inquired about their son's condition. Afterward, she turned toward the group of officials who had come to inquire. "Count Robert, Baron Vémorel, I need you to immediately begin 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 both bowed and accepted their orders.

For the rest of the afternoon, Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette stayed by the Prince's bedside, not even taking lunch.

It was not until dusk that Joseph finally "slowly regained consciousness."

The Queen immediately grabbed her son's left hand and softly said, "My dear, you’ve finally awakened! How do you feel?"

"God bless!" Louis XVI also looked at his son with great concern.

Joseph made an appropriate display of confusion and helplessness, typical of a fourteen-year-old, looking pitifully at his parents and furrowing his brow. "I feel so weak. My wound hurts so much..."

The Queen almost burst into tears from the pain, hurriedly comforting him. "God will protect you, my dear! You’ll be fine, I promise."

Louis XVI looked over at the doctor with a questioning gaze.

The doctor, somewhat helpless, came over and said, "Your Majesty, the Prince's wound has been carefully treated. He just needs to rest now. As for the pain, perhaps the Prince could take some Dover's Powder."

Joseph winced at the mention of Dover's Powder—an effective painkiller made from Ying millet, but not exactly a pleasant remedy.

He quickly changed the subject, feigning terror as he looked at his mother. "Mother, the bullet flew right between me and Count Éymond. If it had shifted half an inch, it would have struck my heart..."

The Queen and Louis XVI both sighed in relief, continuing to reassure their son.

Éymond, standing nearby, added to the narrative, "Your Majesty, though the bullet didn’t hit His Highness, the wooden splinters from the carriage were also very dangerous. You see, His Highness’s wound was caused by a flying shard."

"Luckily, God was watching over us, or if a splinter had hit His Highness’s eye, the consequences would have been unimaginable!"

Joseph and his servant exchanged a brief, unnoticed glance, silently praising each other's performance.

It was deep into the night when Queen Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI finally left the Prince’s chamber, still shaken.

The next morning, at ten o'clock, a group of cabinet ministers was summoned to the meeting hall. In front of the Queen were several sketches. Count Robert was beside her, detailing the results of the investigation into the previous day's attack.

"That was a British-made 1742 flintlock bullet," Count Robert pointed to a sketch of the inside of the carriage. "It entered through the door and was finally stopped by the pillar on the opposite side of the carriage. Given the force of penetration, it must have been shot from a distance."

Anyone investigating would certainly come to this conclusion.

The traces in the carriage confirmed that the shot had been fired by Kessold, who had carefully adjusted the powder charge for optimal force. Later, he had sealed the door and the damaged areas of the carriage with wax and covered it with paint, making it almost impossible to notice. When the "attacker" fired, Joseph removed the wax seal and placed the bullet and splintered wood from the earlier incident to recreate the scene of the shooting.

"What kind of people were the perpetrators?" asked Bishop Brienne, frowning.

"They were two gang members," Count Robert gestured toward the sketch of the murderers' bodies. "They belong to the Blood Knife Gang. They've been involved in numerous robberies and have killed seven or eight people recently."

Baron Vémorel, the Captain of the Queen’s Guard, added, "Your Majesty, we cross-referenced the wanted posters and had the police from Moret-sur-Loing identify them. There’s no doubt they were gang members."

The Minister of Justice, Baron de Bréteuil, seemed puzzled. "How did they get so close to the convoy?"

Count Robert pointed to a map. "It seems they came from the farmland to the east and, taking advantage of the French Guard's lapse in vigilance, ran into a nearby farmhouse."

He and Baron Vémorel had been puzzled at first—after all, the farmhouse was over three hundred steps from the fields, and at least ten soldiers from the French Guard should have been able to spot them.

After much discussion, they could only attribute it to Bessonval’s negligence, such as gaps in the patrol arrangements or soldiers being lazy and sleeping on duty.

No one would have expected the greatest victim of the attack to have been the one to bring them to the scene.

Count Robert continued the report. "The two men then killed the guard at the farmhouse and hid in the attic. When the convoy passed by, they fired at the Crown Prince."

"The French Guard heard the gunshot and immediately opened fire on the attic, killing the assailants."

Baron Vémorel added, "We’ve compared the bullets, and everything matches the conclusion."

The Minister of Justice thought for a moment. "But why would these men try to assassinate the Prince?"

"Ha, surely someone paid them a large sum," Morneau scoffed. "There are many conspirators who want to destroy the future of France."

Bishop Brienne mused, "Perhaps they were trying to assassinate Princess Maria, but the shot missed because of the distance."

If what he said was true, then the assassins' goal was to provoke a war between the two nations. Regardless, the consequences of this assassination attempt were incredibly serious.

Queen Marie Antoinette closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and spoke. "It seems the sequence of events is now clear. Count Robert, please continue investigating the mastermind behind this."

She then turned to Baron de Bréteuil. "Now I wish to know, as the ones responsible for guarding the Prince's convoy, especially Bessonval, what punishments will the French Guard face?"

Baron de Bréteuil thought for a moment and carefully replied, "Your Majesty, I believe General Bessonval’s dereliction of duty is severe. He should be dismissed and exiled."

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