The dispatch from Barnave arrived at the Tuileries late at night, a ticking bomb disguised as a folded piece of paper. Louis read it in his study, the candlelight casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. The news of Danton's fall was stunning, a political earthquake that had just redrawn the entire map of the revolution. But it was the postscript, the desperate offer from the cornered titan, that made his blood run cold. A coup. An alliance with Georges Danton, the bloody man of September, to eliminate Robespierre, the icy man of Virtue. It was a devil's bargain of staggering proportions.
At the very same moment, a military courier had arrived, exhausted and mud-spattered, bearing the first dispatches from the Italian front. They were not from Napoleon—he was moving too fast for that—but frantic, confused reports from Austrian and Sardinian outposts. They spoke of a massive French force appearing as if from nowhere, deep in their rear, where no army should have been. They spoke of lightning attacks, of fortified positions bypassed, of chaos and panic spreading through their lines. Louis's grand strategic gambit, the war abroad, was working. His thunderbolt was striking.
But now, he was faced with this new temptation, this dirty, dangerous gambit at home.
He immediately convened his secret council. It was well past midnight when Barnave and Talleyrand arrived, slipping into the palace like ghosts. The three men, the pragmatic king, the disillusioned idealist, and the arch-cynic, gathered around the great desk, Barnave's explosive dispatch lying between them.
Louis laid out the situation. "We have two fronts," he said, his voice a low, intense murmur. "In the south, our new army is succeeding beyond our wildest expectations. Bonaparte is everything we hoped. But here, in Paris, the revolution is about to eat itself. Robespierre has defeated Danton. He will soon be the undisputed master of the Jacobins, and therefore of the city. We have a fleeting opportunity, a single moment, to intervene."
He looked at Barnave. "You brought me this offer. What is your counsel?"
Barnave, his face pale and strained, did not hesitate. He was horrified by the proposition. "This is madness, Your Majesty," he said, his voice trembling with a passion that was almost pleading. "To ally with Georges Danton? A man whose hands are stained with the blood of the September Massacres? A creature of chaos and pure, brutish power? To unleash him and his mob from the Cordeliers on the city would be to uncork a hurricane. We cannot control such a man. We cannot aim him. He will not just purge the Robespierrists; he will burn half of Paris down in the process. It will be a bloodbath, a new terror, and we—you, Your Majesty—will be stained by it forever. We must let them destroy each other. Let Robespierre cut off the head of his rival. It will weaken him in the long run, make him hated. We must play the long game."
He was arguing for principle, for a strategy that did not require them to descend into the abattoir with the butchers themselves.
Louis then turned to Talleyrand, who had been listening with a look of cool, detached amusement, as if observing a particularly interesting species of insect.
"And you, Monsieur de Talleyrand? What does your famous logic suggest?"
Talleyrand steepled his fingers, his gaze thoughtful. "Monsieur Barnave speaks with the admirable passion of a man who still believes in a noble outcome," he began, his voice a soft, silken whisper that was somehow more commanding than Barnave's fervor. "Such sentiment is a luxury we cannot afford. We are not playing for a noble outcome. We are playing for survival."
He leaned forward, his expression purely analytical. "Let us assess the two men. Robespierre is the true threat. He is an ideologue, an incorruptible fanatic. He cannot be bought, he cannot be bribed, and he cannot be reasoned with. He genuinely believes he is building a utopia, and he will kill anyone and everyone who stands in his way. He is a serpent whose venom is moral certainty."
He gestured dismissively. "Danton, on the other hand, is merely a corrupt thug. A man of immense appetites and no principles whatsoever. And that, Your Majesty, is what makes him manageable. He does not want a utopia; he wants a comfortable retirement with his young wife and his stolen riches. Monsieur Barnave is correct; he is a monster. But a monster driven by greed is a monster that can be controlled. A monster driven by virtue is not."
He laid out his preferred course of action with chilling clarity. "A temporary alliance is the perfect move. We accept Danton's offer. We give him the money and the promise of a pardon. We let his street fighters and the angry men of the Commune do our dirty work for us. Let them storm the Jacobin Club and the halls of the Committees. Let them drag Robespierre and his puritanical friends from their offices. It will be bloody, yes. Messy, certainly. But it will save us the trouble of doing it ourselves, and it will be seen as what it is: a squabble between thieves. Afterward, Danton, should he survive, will be a weakened, compromised figure, stained by a new round of bloodshed and utterly dependent on our goodwill for his continued existence. We trade a serpent for a shackled, declawed dog."
Louis listened to both arguments, his mind a whirlwind. Barnave's idealism, his own past self, was at war with Talleyrand's ruthless cynicism, the man he was being forced to become. He closed his eyes, summoning his HUD, praying for a clear answer, a mathematically superior choice. But the machine offered only a choice between two equally nightmarish futures.
STRATEGIC ANALYSIS: DANTON'S OFFER
OPTION A: Ally with Danton's Faction (Code: 'THE DELUGE')
Probability of Eliminating Robespierre & Saint-Just: 65% (HIGH)
Probability of Large-Scale Street Violence/Insurrection in Paris: 90% (NEAR CERTAIN)
Short-Term Consequence: Establishes Danton as a volatile, dependent, but powerful new political player.
Long-Term Consequence: Shatters Jacobin unity; potential for prolonged factional gang warfare.
Moral Hazard Assessment: CRITICAL. High risk of association with mass bloodshed.
OPTION B: Refuse Danton's Offer (Code: 'THE INCORRUPTIBLE')
Probability of Danton's Arrest & Execution: 95% (NEAR CERTAIN)
Consequence: Maximilien Robespierre consolidates all power within the radical faction, eliminating his only credible rival.
Resulting Threat Level (Robespierre Faction): MAXIMUM. Unchallenged ideological control.
Projected Next Move: Escalation of the Terror; targeting of remaining moderates, including 'King's Men'.
There was no clean victory. No elegant solution. It was a choice between unleashing a bloodbath in the streets now, or facing a methodical, state-sanctioned bloodbath later. It was the ultimate test of his pragmatism. What price, in blood and honor, was he willing to pay for survival?
He stood up and walked to the large map of Paris that hung on his wall, a city blissfully asleep, unaware of the choice being made on its behalf. In the distance, he could almost imagine the faint, impossible sound of Napoleon's cannons echoing in the Alpine passes. His two fronts, the glorious foreign war of cannons and the dirty domestic war of daggers, had both reached their absolute crisis point at the exact same moment.
He looked at Barnave's pained, pleading face. He looked at Talleyrand's cool, expectant gaze. They were the two halves of his own soul, the principled reformer versus the ruthless survivor. He picked up a quill, not to sign a law, but to write a simple, one-word reply to the message that would be carried back to Danton's desperate faction.
Yes. Or no.
His choice would determine the entire future course of the French Revolution. The camera of his mind's eye seemed to zoom in on his face, a mask of unbearable pressure, as he made the most fateful decision of his reign.
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