May 1643
The rains pounded the shutters, causing the wooden panels to shake violently. The gentle patters on the window had long since turned to hammering, and at any moment it seemed the glass could give way to the downpour and let in a flood.
A candle flickered in the corner, gently stuttering as a breeze from the window threatened to blow it out. Rather than let it die, the cardinal moved it from its place on the small, gilded table by the window and the shaking shutters and placed it closer to the large four poster bed.
As he set it down gently, his eyes connected with those of the woman on her knees on the other side of the bed. Her hands were clasped in fervent prayer, her fingers desperately turning over the beads of her rosary. Her lips moved quickly, muttering prayers too quick and too quietly for the cardinal to overhear. Without breaking the string of prayers, her eyes conveyed all she needed him to know. One pleading glance was all it took.
He sank to his knees opposite her and interlaced his own fingers. He raised his clasped hands to his lips, and he too began to pray in hurried whispers.
The man between them was almost lifeless, lying still and pale beneath the sheets. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and he shifted uncomfortably. The cardinal's eyes immediately flashed up to him, but the man was already lying still once more by the time the Cardinal eyes had reached him. Looking at the woman before him, she had closed her eyes tightly and her hands were beginning to shake. As soon as she had felt him moving beneath the sheets, the urgency of her prayers had increased.
The man gasped, and began to splutter and cough. Such sudden urgency made the cardinal almost jump out of his skin, and he jumped to his feet swiftly.
"Get the doctor," The woman said, her face pale. She looked like she was about to be sick.
The cardinal nodded. Sticking his head out of the door, he called down the hallway. The doctors were already there, waiting outside for the moment when they would be most needed.
When he turned back to the room, he saw the man in the bed had quietened. The coughing fit had ended, but blood lingered on his lips.749Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHvE23qRUTP
The head physician tentatively approached the bed. Taking up the man's wrist, his fingers searched for a pulse in vain. Gently shaking his head, he placed the arm down. He looked up to the others gathered in the room and made the sign of the cross over his forehead, shoulders and heart.
"The king is dead."
The cardinal steadied the woman by his side by placing his hand on her forearm.
"The king is dead." He repeated. "Louis XIII is dead. Your highness, your son shall now be king." He said, turning to the lady beside him. She nodded stiffly.
"Long live king Louis XIV."
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