Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England The King's Esquires; or, The Jewel of France, by George Manville Fenn. ________________________________________________________________________ This excellent book is, as always with this author, a constant succession of tense moments. Dated at the beginning of the 1500s, the action starts in the Court of the King of France. He is fretting because at some time in the past, when the English ruled part of France, one of the French Crown Jewels, a beautiful ruby, was taken from France and put among the English Crown Jewels. So Francis, the King, decides on going to England on a visit to the English King, the young Henry the Eighth, finding out where the jewel is, purloining it before leaving, and restoring it to its place among his own Crown Jewels. This all goes pretty well, except that King Henry notices that the jewel is missing, and a chase is made after them. They are all brought back, but no jewel is to be found. So eventually they return to France, where to the amazement of all it turns out that they were successful in their mission, and they really did manage to bring back the famous ruby. ________________________________________________________________________ THE KING'S ESQUIRES; OR, THE JEWEL OF FRANCE, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. OR, THE JEWEL OF FRANCE. CHAPTER ONE. HOW YOUNG DENIS KEPT GUARD. His Most Christian Majesty King Francis the First had a great preference for his Palace of Fontainebleau among the many places of residence from which he could choose, and it is interesting to glance into that magnificent palace on a certain afternoon in the year 151--. In a special apartment, from which direct access could be obtained to the guard chamber, where a detachment of the favourite musketeers of the King of France was on duty, and which also communicated with the monarch's private apartments, a youth, nearly a man but not quite was impatiently striding up and down. He stopped every now and then to glance out of the low window, from which a view could be obtained over the great Forest of Fontainebleau, where Philip Augustus in the old days, centuries before, loved to go hunting. It seemed as though to the young man there was a chafing disquietude in the silence, the inaction, of the afternoon, when the inmates of the palace, like the inhabitants of the tiny little white town, retired to rest for a time in order to be ready for the evening, when life began to be lived once more. It was a very handsome chamber in which the young man was evidencing a species of disquietude, as of awaiting the coming of somebody, or a summons. As he stopped once in his feverish pacing up and down, a massive clock was heard to strike three. Rich mats lay on the polished floor, and the _salon_ was so lofty that high-up it seemed almost grey dusk by contrast with the bars of sunshine which came through the window. From outside there came the challenging clarion note of a trumpet.