To Dance With Kings [antikvár]

With the crimson, emerald and purple plumes of their hats streaming out behind them, four young men rode at speed into the village of Versailles one May morning in 1664, scattering squawking geese in their path."We should have been here hours ago," Augustin Roussier yelled to his companions, making his horse rear as they halted to view the busy scene. "All the best lodgings will have been taken by the look of it!"The rutted streets were crammed with elegant traffic more at home in Paris, from which most of them had come, than in these countrified surroundings. The sun glinted on gilded coachwork and harness, the warm air hazy with dust thrown up by wheels and hooves. Six hundred of the nobility had been invited to the first grand fete ever to be held at the nearby hunting lodge, which was a small place with only accommodation enough for a few of the King's special guests to stay."Is it any use trying the inns to see if there's a room left?" asked one of his companions as they moved their tired1