Page 99 of The Darkest Oath

Rollant’s stomach churned at their cruelty. He wanted to believe they would at least spare the children, but the Revolution left no room for innocence.

The Convention set up a trial with the judgment and sentence already written for Louis. Riots broke out in favor of the former king across the countryside; the rioters were disturbed by the trial and possible execution.

Rollant had watched Louis revise his last will on Christmas Day, bent over his desk with the soft scratch of the quill the only sound in the cold, still air. His hand moved steadily, unflinching, as he inked his final thoughts to his family. For a moment, Rollant’s gaze fell on the king’s shoulders, stooped under the weight of centuries of monarchy—and the burden of its end. It should have been just another moment in his centuries of servitude, but Élise’s face rose in his mind. The tremble in her voice when she called him a monster flooded his memory. He had traded love for duty and sacrificed his chance for happiness on the altar of an eternal oath. But what was his service worth if it could not save the man doomed to die?

A new year began, and the Convention voted to execute Louis for his high crimes of treason. They had let him see his family one last time as they delivered the verdict. Rollant gritted his teeth. The family did not even have time to grieve together, except for a few hours the day before his execution. The unfairness of it all turned his stomach. The irony was sadistic: A government that would kill for alleged injustice yet commit the same injustice and consider it righteous.

The guards laughed as Marie-Thérèse and Louis Charles clung to their father’s legs, their hands trembling with desperation. “Look at them,” one guard sneered, “clutching to their precious king as if he could save them.”

“Do not mock pain,” Rollant barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through the laughter. “Especially the pain of children.”

The guards fell silent, muttering curses as they shuffled into the hall. Rollant stood his ground, his fists clenched. He had made enemies with his outburst, but he didn’t care. Let them hate him. Let them mock him. He would endure it all for the sake of the family. Night fell, and Louis retired to his cell.

Rollant let himself into Louis’ room and closed the door. Tomorrow would be the day the new king took the proverbial crown, the young Louis Charles, a new master to serve. Rollant glanced through the bars in the door’s top at the other guards, laughing at crude jokes.

Louis sat at his desk, dry-eyed with a vacant stare. His calm demeanor unsettled Rollant, who had witnessed the man’s moments of indecision and weakness far too often in life. But tonight, the king seemed resolute, as though he had made peace with the inevitable.

“Hugh Capet,” Louis whispered. “June 1, 987 AD. The day my ancestor was elected to the throne. Louis XVI. January 17, 1793. The day the last king was elected to die.”

Rollant remained silent, unsure what to say, but Louis spoke again.

“I will miss my son’s laughter,” Louis murmured, his voice low. “And Marie-Thérèse’s stubborn wit. I wanted more time to guide and prepare them for a life without me. But perhaps the Lord will grant me mercy and take me before I see them suffer further. Perhaps . . .”

He trailed off, his gaze distant.

“Perhaps my death will mean something. Perhaps it will bring peace. If not for France, then for them.”

Rollant lowered his head. He wanted to reassure Louis and promise him everything would be fine. But lies had no place in this room. “Your children will remember you as a king and as a father,” Rollant said softly. “That will be your legacy.”

Louis nodded with a finger rubbing his lip. “You don’t think a rescue would bring more bloodshed?”

Rollant thinned his lips. For all the qualities Louis was not, he had always wanted peace.

“They are closing the city walls in the morning to fend off any rescue attempt,” Rollant whispered as he stood by the dim flicker of a candle, its feeble glow casting long shadows across the cold stone walls. “They have stationed me in the crowd to prevent revolt. My only regret is that I will not be by your side.”

Louis nodded, controlling his hand’s fall to the table. “At least I will have Father Edgeworth with me on the scaffold and my friend Chevalier Rollant de Montvieux in the crowd. I shall look at Father for the strength of my spirit, and I shall look at you to bring strength to my body.”

“It was an honor to serve your crown,” Rollant said in hushed tones to not draw the other guards’ attention.

“My name and monarchy are blameless,” Louis said with a reassuring nod. “Though few believe it.”

“I would argue most of France believes it,” Rollant said. “I can see the corrupted minds of those leading the Convention. Half of the deputies attempted to argue against a trial and execution. I wish I were able to save you from this.”

“Oh, Rollant,” Louis said as he cradled his forehead between his thumb and forefinger. He reached out and patted Rollant’s forearm. “I never knew how much you cared for us. I only assumed you were this silent, stoic knight forced to live an oath.”

Rollant hung his head. “I was for a long time. I feel I have failed you.”

“You haven’t failed anyone, my friend,” Louis said softly.

Rollant lowered his gaze to the floor. It felt like a lie, even if Louis believed it. He had watched the monarchy falter under a weight he couldn’t lift, seen centuries of kings and queens fall to their human frailties while he stood powerless to save them. He was no guardian. He straightened his shoulders, shoving the thought aside. “I only wish I had done more.”

Louis removed his hand and rubbed his lip. “No, you have watched over me all of my life, Rollant, and I am sorry I did not listen to you for most of it. Perhaps it would have been different had I listened and leaned on you in the cabinet from early on.” He shook his head. “Now, all I ask, my immortal guard, is that you watch over my family the best you can.”

“If I could give my life for them, I would. You know this.”

“I do, but the numbers are too great. Just as they subdued you in the Tuileries, they would do it again, and rather than take my children prisoner, they’d execute them on the spot if they saw you resurrect from the dead . . .” Louis chuckled with sorrow and a shake of his head. “Or they’d all burn for associating with sorcery.”

Louis palmed his face. “I will own my fate, and I am again sorry yours is tied to the crown. Maybe with my death, you will finally be rid of your oath.”

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