Armand’s First Letter. Amelia’s First Letter.

3 March 1019
Bois-de-Bas

Dear Journal,

In light of Amelia’s letter of 28 January, and my own investigations, I must believe that it is all true. M. Sabot is conspiring with Royalists in Provençe to put a scion of the Provençese royal line back on the throne in Toulouse. He is seeking aid from His Cumbrian Majesty’s subjects in Armorica, and he is promising titles of nobility to those who support him when le Roi returns to his throne.

If, not when. I must hope it is “if”.

At first it surprised me that Sabot, a member of the old nobility, would offer Provençese titles to the sort of folk who left Provençe for Armorica; but it is his intent that le Roi be re-established as king here in Armorica, and that these are to be Armorican titles, not Provençese. He may promise them freely without diluting his own heritage. And that, alas, puts his activities under the heading of treason to the Crown of Cumbria.

I have not related any of this to Madame Truc; I believe she would be devastated.

His Cumbrian’s Majesty’s Armorican subjects have agreed, in the person of Le Grand Parlement, that they are his subjects in truth, and will be loyal; and He for his part has agreed that the Cumbrian Parliament does not rule here. But this is a delicate agreement, and the ink is barely dry as such things go. I fear what may come if Le Grand Parlement breaks their agreement.

I have made several attempts to see Lord Winthrop, His Cumbrian Majesty’s governor-general, but to no avail. His Lordship’s secretary, Mr. Blankenship, has been most obliging, but has made it plain that His Lordship “has no time for provincials”; and though Blankenship has not said it outright, it is equally plain that His Lordship has no time for his duties either. I feel for him; it is hard to serve a man you despise.

This came as no surprise; it simply confirms the impression I formed last month, when I first approached His Lordship. But it leaves me with few options.

Sabot must be stopped, and the attempt to overthrow His Majesty’s sovereignty put an end to. He ought to be arrested, but His Lordship will not help; and His Majesty’s troops in Armorica answer to His Lordship.

Le Grand Parlement will not help; the deputés with whom I have spoken are either dismissive, bedazzled by thoughts of titles, or hesitant to take steps that might curtail their own actions—the Parlement has never been eager to censure its own members at the best of times.

The provost of Mont-Havre, the head of what Armoricans still call the  Maréchaussée and Cumbrians would call the constabulary, assures me that “M. Depillage” has done nothing contrary to the laws of Mont-Havre; it is for le Gouverneur to address. Which I already knew, but I thanked him for his time, for he was most civil.

I have done my best here. I have sent word to Amelia in Toulouse, to pass on to His Majesty’s ambassador there, and also Lord Doncaster in Yorke. Lord Doncaster no longer has any authority over Armorica, either in his own right or as a member of the Cumbrian parliament, but he has His Majesty’s ear.

And what will His Majesty do? What can His Majesty do? He might replace Lord Winthrop with a man less dilatory; but what genuine authority has His Majesty, short of declaring the agreement broken and asserting his rule by force? His Majesty’s troops garrisoned here are members of the Royal Army and Navy, administered from Yorke and firmly under the control of the the Cumbrian Parliament.

M. Poincaré, our own deputé in le Grand Parlement, says that we are on the edge of a constitutional crisis. Le Parlement has pledged loyalty to His Majesty, but there are no civil mechanisms in place by which we might compel the deputés to hold to that if le Parlement‘s loyalty fails. And worse, he fears that some of his colleagues regard His Majesty’s sovereignty as a polite legal fiction, a fiction to be cast off at any convenient time. I fear this view has been strengthened by Lord Winthrop’s ill behavior here in Mont-Havre.

I am greatly disturbed. I can only hope that the Royalists fail of their purpose in Provençe, fail with a grand finality, for if they do, then Sabot’s actions here can bear no fruit.

Next letter

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