The brothers

 

By Christiane Märker

Nov. 22nd 2007

Philippe sat in a corner of his cell and tried to understand the past events. During the past night some strangers had come to his estate. They had killed his guards and had kidnapped him. It made Philippe shudder, when he remembered of his dead guards with their faces smeared with blood. Then these strangers had brought him to this place which obviously was a prison and they had put him into that mask. Philippe didn’t understand why. He touched his head and felt the metal. It was a frightening feeling, but Philippe was so dazed and traumatized that he even didn’t really feel the mask. The only things which he felt were coldness, hunger and pain. He was still a boy, just 16 years old. This was too much for him and he started to weep quietly. He didn’t understand anything what was happening and that was the worst thing for him.

After an hour the door of his cell opened and his keeper entered. Fortunately he was a sympathetic man. He was carrying a tray with food.

“Your food, boy”, he said and put the tray onto the plain table.

Philippe didn’t react.

“Are you alright, boy?”

Philippe raised his head. The keeper could see his sad eyes, red from crying. He knew that his question had been a very stupid question. Of course the boy was not alright.

“I… want to go home”, Philippe said quietly.

“I know”, the keeper replied. “Why are you here? You’re only a boy and… why the hell do you wear that gruesome mask?”

“I don’t know”, Philippe sobbed, “I only belong to the lesser nobility. I have lived peacefully at my estate. I haven’t done anything.”

“I believe you”, the keeper said. He also couldn’t believe that this prisoner had committed any crime. He obviously was a political prisoner. This made the keeper angry. What reason could the rulers have to do this to a harmless child? Was this the king’s decision, or was someone else behind this? After all the young Louis XIV was still a boy, too. The keeper couldn’t imagine that a teenager could do such a cruel thing. But he was wrong.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

Philippe nodded.

The keeper smiled. “So come on. Your food is waiting.”

The prisoner stood up and went to the table where the tray with the food was. Philippe took the bread and wanted to eat, but then he noticed that this wasn’t easy with the mask. He moaned desperately and put back the bread.

“Oh dear”, the keeper exclaimed, “come on. I’ll help you.”

And he started to cut up the bread.

 

 

 

At the same time the young Louis XIV was trying to earn his ministers’ respect because they were still treating him like a dependent child and this made Louis angry.

“Your Majesty”, one minister began, “as for the taxes it would be the best, if…”

“I know what the best is!” Louis exclaimed. “I’m not a child anymore! I’m king!”

“But Sire, I only wanted to say…”

“I don’t care what you wanted to say!” the king screamed almost hysterically. “You all have to stop to talk to me as if I’m slow-witted! Stop talking to me as if you are my parents!”

“But your Majesty, we are only giving you advices.”

“I DON’T NEED YOUR ADVICES! NOW LEAVE! EVERYONE OF YOU!!”

The ministers saw that it was useless to talk with the king now. So they left the room and let him alone.

Louis sat down on a chair. Since yesterday he reacted aggressively to everyone who wanted to talk with him. It wasn’t their fault. Actually Louis just had to fight with his feelings of guilt. He had done something very cruel, a terrible crime. Only a few initiated knew it and his father confessor, because Louis had confessed right after Aramis and his men had left to arrest Philippe. But the father confessor had refused the absolution. He had said that he would only give him the absolution, if Louis would cancel this crime. Louis had replied that he couldn’t cancel it, but that he needed the absolution. But the priest had remained firm. Now Louis felt confused, angry and depressed. In principle he felt as alone as Philippe in his cell.

“Pah!” he exclaimed “Who is this priest to refuse me the absolution?! I’m king, ordained by God. This little clergyman has nothing to say to me.”

After this Louis felt better, at least for some minutes. But the feelings of guilt came back. He really needed some diversion.

‘A woman would be good now’, Louis thought. But he found his mistresses boring. He needed something else and he knew that he could only find this outside of the palace. So he started to prepare for a riding.

 


 

Philippe had eaten up his food. Now he sat on his bed and tried again to find a reason why he was here at this prison. His head was hurting because of the mask. The mask… Was there something wrong with this face, or was this just a way of punishment? Philippe had no idea what could be wrong with his face, but the mask almost made him mad. Suddenly he grabbed it and tried to pull it off his face. Of course that was useless. Maybe he could destroy the mask. Philippe started to hit his head against the wall, again and again. But the mask still holds his head tight. Finally Philippe had to stop because his head was hurting and he was completely dizzy. He felt something damp on his neck. So he touched his neck and then looked at his fingers. What he saw was blood. It was paving his way under the mask and was flowing along his neck. Philippe was alarmed. Nausea overcame him and at the next moment he had to throw up. Philippe sobbed. Now he even had made his bed dirty. What would his keeper say? He almost felt like a child who had wet his bed and was now afraid of his mother’s reaction.

The keeper came soon because he had heard the noise when Philippe had hit his head against the wall. When he saw what had happened he froze for a moment.

“I… I’m sorry”, Philippe stammered, “I didn’t want… I suddenly felt sick and…”

“Oh, no, no. Please, you don’t have to apologize, boy”, the keeper said, “Please stand up. I will clean your bed.”

Philippe obeyed. He sat down on the only chair in the room and the keeper started to clean the bed.

“Poor boy”, he murmured. “Do you still feel sick?”

“No”, Philippe replied quietly.

“I could bring you a cup of tea, if you want and maybe also a second blanket.”

The keeper was obviously thinking that Philippe had fever or something like this. But even if this wasn’t the case, Philippe had to admit that he would enjoy a cup of tea now, and a second blanket would also be good, because it was cold inside the cell. So he nodded.

“Yes, that would be nice”, he replied.