CHAPTER 1. THE TWO-HEADED JANUS.

January 1, 1515.

“Have you ever heard anything like it, Bernard?!”

O, Holy God! O, greatest treasurer of the universe! O, sovereign of all that exists! The streets of Paris are in a frenzy, and it's not for a celebratory reason — today, January 1, 1515, a king, perhaps the greatest king in France's truly ancient history, has died... today, January 1, 1515, the father of the French people has died... today, January 1, 1515, the young Count of Angoulême ascended to the French throne, and his unrestrained passion, indomitable ardor, and immeasurable, and what's more, incalculable thirst for glory, truly portends nothing good for France, nothing that was characteristic of her until this very moment! The Count of Angoulême is a warrior, and tell me, my friend, which of the currently living warriors sustains himself?! Today, the scent of rosemary — the scent of immortality and, at the same time, the scent of death! — blows from Paris across all of Europe! Today, a rumor has spread from Paris across all of Europe — as is well known, a man's life progresses at two paces, while a rumor about a man... at four! Louis XII is dead! Being freer than all others, he enslaved himself with his own hands! On this day, the true face of France died; on this day, France died with her father, and her new existence from now on, or rather her current existence in a new form, is nothing more and nothing less than the chaotic flickering of atoms in an immeasurable universal wasteland, countless numbers of which either senselessly collide with one another or, with no less senselessness, move away from one another!

“Of course, I’ve heard it, good-natured Girolamo! I happened to hear something similar in April 1498, when the relatively welcoming land of simple-hearted Amboise mercilessly snatched from France's possession, use, and disposal a truly unique personification of its kindness! Indeed! I once heard a similar sound, which is essentially like the buzzing of flies when they gather on the scent of a rotting body and then, with no less chaos, are scattered by stronger and, importantly, more powerful beasts like snakes, wolves, or bears! But... Ah! How wrong you are, my friend! You claim that France has died on this day, but at this very hour, the French land is more inspired than ever before! If one person died for everyone, it still doesn't mean that everyone must die for one! Look into the true essence of these events — a relatively formless matter, a relatively formless stone cannot die, but only the sculptor can, who reveals form in that seemingly homogeneous essence! France is alive and will live — only its rulers die! Look into the nature of things — the visible is temporary, and the invisible is eternal: Louis's flesh is the visible, and his soul is the invisible! Besides, if the root is holy, then the branches of that tree are certainly no less holy than the root!

“But isn't the ruler France itself?! Isn't the ruler its integral part?! Isn't the ruler still the very first citizen of the state?!

“Why do you ask questions, my friend, when your questions already contain the answers to them?! The ruler, indeed, is the very first citizen of the state, but should one citizen be equated with an entire state, one inhabitant with an entire people, and one person with an entire society?! No, absolutely not! And therefore, the death of one citizen, even the very first and most influential, is in no way, truly in no way, capable of influencing the true essence — I repeat, the true essence, but not the appearance — of a particular people, even if they are significantly dependent on the existence of that specific representative of the human race.”

“And yet, the death of Louis XII will change...”

“Don't say 'people,' say 'state'!”

“So be it! The Duchy of Milan has won back its freedom, the sons and fathers of France are dead, and the treasury is empty — a dark cloud hangs over France, or rather, a dark surcoat... a surcoat with a hood! So what awaits her whose body is one, but whose members are many? Ah, dear, good France! Nothing more and nothing less than a woman, and a woman, as you know, is a pearl oyster that is somehow located on the countless grains of sand of inexhaustible time!

“The same thing that awaited us before: the more fiercely France yearns for peace, the more cruel and mercilessly she will fight! Besides, there is no more awakening a means for a people than military fanfares. Ah! If only rulers knew that often the one who does not participate in wars wins them! And besides, such close attention and concern for the citizens of the Duchy of Milan speaks not of love for the citizens of one's own state, but rather of the absence of such love, for if the King truly loved his subjects, he would never, truly never, have sent a single one of them across the Alps, just as if Julius Caesar loved his subjects, he certainly would not have sent them across the Rubicon, to exaggerate what was already considerable! Ah! What do you think, tell me, what do you think, my friend, if all the bullets of all countries were turned into flowers, how much area would be needed to fit them all? An acre? A hectare, or even the area of the whole earth?! Or maybe more?!

“One who has not crossed the Tiber has no right to judge the beauty of other countries! However, we must also not forget that no matter what angle one looks at war, and no matter how peaceful and virtuous an action it may seem at certain moments, it would be the greatest transgression against the truth to call it anything else or to attribute properties and characteristics to it that are completely foreign to it! And besides, it must be admitted that Louis XII made countless mistakes in this war, and as is well known... the crew always pays for the captain's mistakes!