"Put the factional disputes on steroids," said Lefebvre. "They'd also say something about 'turbo-charged,' and when I find out exactly what a 'turbo' is I'll let you all know."
That brought another laugh, from everyone except de Gassion, who was now frowning. "Are you serious, Marshal? How can such as de Valois and de la Valette possibly do anything but hide their heads? That's after they ransom themselves from captivity, mind you."
One of the men at the table who'd hitherto been silent now spoke. That was Urbain de Maillé, one of the many relatives of Cardinal Richelieu who'd entered military service and had distinguished themselves. In his case, enough to have been made a marshal of France—the only one in the room besides Turenne himself. Being now at the age of thirty-seven, he was the oldest man in Turenne's inner circle of officers.
He was both liked and respected by Turenne's other officers. Liked, because he was a likeable man. Respected, in part for his talents but also because, despite being much senior to Turenne and with great accomplishments of his own, he had never exhibited the hostility and jealousy toward their very young commander that so many other figures in the French military establishment had done. In fact, he'd volunteered for Turenne's force on his own initiative—a decision which most of the French officer corps had considered insane at the time, but which was now looking smarter and smarter by the day.
"I'm afraid our normally impetuous young commander has the right of it, Jean. This is, indeed, a time for great caution. True enough, we will now be the apple of Richelieu's eye, as the Americans would put it. But don't fool yourself—the moment our army at Ahrensbök surrendered, after suffering such terrible casualties, was the moment a new civil war began in France. For the next few years, my brother-in-law the cardinal will be fighting not just to retain power. He'll be fighting for his life."
Those sober—even somber—words brought silence to the table. De Maillé stretched out his hand and laid a finger on the newspaper on the table, then tapped the finger a few times.
"Please take note of the one name that is not included in this list of officers and great figures humiliated at Ahrensbök." Seeing the blank looks on the faces around him, he chuckled humorlessly. "Oh, come, gentlemen. It's obvious."
Francois Lefebvre sighed, and leaned back in his chair. "Monsieur Gaston."
The same little sigh was echoed elsewhere. Monsieur Gaston was the phrase commonly used in France to refer to Gaston Jean-Baptiste, duc d'Orléans—the younger brother of King Louis XIII. Thereby also, since the king had not yet produced a successor, being the immediate heir to the throne of France.
Monsieur Gaston was an inveterate and incorrigible schemer, whom many—including all of the men at that table—suspected to be guilty of treasonous actions in his pursuit of power. He was also Richelieu's chief antagonist in the nation's political struggles and maneuvers, and a man who hated the cardinal with a passion.
"But—" Still frowning, Jean de Gassion looked about in some confusion. The bluff Gascon cavalry commander really was notoriously thick-witted when it came to parsing his way through the intricacies of French factionalism. "I still don't understand."
He, too, reached out and tapped the newspaper. "Most of these idiots—these craven bastards—are partisans of Monsieur Gaston. Ah . . . aren't they?"
De Maillé issued that same, completely humorless chuckle. "No, as a matter of fact. Some were, some weren't. Charles de Valois himself, for instance, has normally been considered one of Richelieu's men. But you may rest assured, Jean, that from this moment forward—from the moment they yielded at Ahrensbök—every single one of them became Monsieur Gaston's fiercest enthusiast. They have no choice, really."
Lefebvre shook his head. "I think that's a bit too sweeping, Urbain. Not every French officer at Ahrensbök covered himself with pig shit. I grant you, poor de la Porte will probably take the blame for the surrender itself, but what else could he do under the circumstances? And while his charge failed, the reports would seem to indicate that Guébriant conducted himself courageously."
De la Mothe-Houdancourt stroked his huge nose. "Much good that'll do them. The cardinal can probably save them from any other penalties, but their careers are still ruined. They may wind up joining Gaston's camp simply because they don't see any choice."
Both Lefebvre and de Maillé gave Turenne a sharp, meaningful glance. The young marshal cleared his throat. "This is all speculation, gentlemen. Interesting, but not of immediate concern. To go back a bit, Francois, you said there was one exception to the general run of reports."