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“And the day before?”
“Also unwell. I only began to feel better this afternoon and that’s when I went to see you.”
Robespierre nodded his head. “With a request to see Citoyen Capet.” His eyes, behind the green-tinted glasses, were sharp. “Why, after a bout of sickness, did you decide you needed to visit our young prisoner?”
Tristan kept his hands still. “Before I became ill, on the day of the festival, I heard rumors of drunkenness at the Temple. I thought it best to investigate.”
“Why did you not mention this concern to me earlier?”
“I didn’t want to trouble you with my concerns if they were unfounded.”
“And? Were they?” Robespierre arched a brow.
“Yes, citoyen. All was as it should be when I visited.”
“Good.”
Tristan could end the exchange now. Robespierre would leave in a few minutes, and Alexandra would be safe. But Tristan knew he wouldn’t have another opportunity to mention the boy king. Robespierre was extremely busy. The only reason the leader hadn’t questioned Tristan more before signing the form allowing Tristan into the Temple was that Robespierre was already late for a committee meeting. But the leader of the republic was here now.
“I wonder if I might ask you a question, Citoyen Robespierre.”
“Of course.”
“Have you been to visit Citoyen Capet?”
Robespierre narrowed his eyes. “I have.”
“And what did you think of his care? He seems rather young for such harsh measures.”
Robespierre rose. “You think Simon is doing a poor job reforming the brat?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Good, because I have every faith in Simon. You of all people should know what the nobility is like—their hauteur, their pride, their contempt for those they deem lesser. Simon does not have an easy task. That child will be all but impossible to reform. His sister is already a lost cause. She won’t even speak—not to me, not to anyone.” Robespierre paced the room, coming much closer than Tristan would have liked to the door of the bedchamber. “But the sister does not matter. Only the boy, and yes, Simon’s methods are harsh, but we can’t coddle the brat. He must be shown his new place in the world.”
“I understand, citoyen. But...”
Robespierre rounded on him, expression hard. “But?”
“But he is still a child. Would it not be possible to allow him the comfort of his sister or aunt?”
“So they may undo all of Simon’s teachings? No!”
“Then a peasant woman to act as a mother and help keep him clean and comfort him at night—”
“Yes! And why don’t we just provide the brat with a retinue of servants while we’re at it. He need never lift a finger. I’m surprised at you, Chevalier. I thought you supported the cause.”
“I do, citoyen. I believe in it with all my heart and mind, but I don’t like to see children suffer.”
Robespierre’s expression softened slightly then. “If you want to help suffering children, there are plenty of children in Paris suffering. Help me sweep away the last vestiges of theancien régime. That will do more to end suffering than anything else.”
“Yes, citoyen—”
A thud of something moving or falling came from the bedchamber, and both Tristan and Robespierre turned their attention to that room.
“What was that?” Robespierre asked.
“I’m sure it was nothing. The wind.”
