The Man in the Iron Mask Page #16

LOUIS:

Never mind, it seems we have already

told her.

But Michelle's appearance brings him up short. It is not the

cruel brush-off; she is already harshly different: her eyes

are red from crying, her lips are tight in anger.

MICHELLE:

Murderer! Murderer!

She holds a letter, crushed in her hand.

MICHELLE:

I wrote Fromberge! Under your seal!

I wrote as you, demanding to know

why he disregarded my order to keep

Raoul from danger! He writes back:

"But your Majesty! Your last letter

ordered me to put him in front of

the cannon!"

She hurls the crumpled letter into his face. Everyone is

frozen, silent. She staggers toward Louis as if to attack

him, then falls to her knees, weeping. No one helps her...

Except d'Artagnan. He kneels, hugs her shoulders, helps her

to her feet, and guides her toward her room. But d'Artagnan

looks back once, toward Louis.

LOUIS:

Hysterical woman.

CLAUDE:

Sire, misuse of the royal seal -- !

LOUIS:

She'll be gone tomorrow.

As d'Artagnan and Michelle move out, they pass Anne, coming

in. Anne and d'Artagnan exchange a look; he remembers to

give her a respectful nod, but she moves past, into the

King's dressing room. Louis is surprised.

LOUIS:

Mother -- ?

ANNE:

May I speak with you? Alone?

LOUIS:

I am preparing for a ball!

ANNE:

We haven't visited in three years.

And we should have privacy.

Exasperated, Louis waves his attendants away.

LOUIS:

What is it, mother?

ANNE:

I wish to discuss your brother.

LOUIS:

He is dead! By God's choice! There

is nothing to discuss.

ANNE:

First they told me he had died at

birth. Then your father admitted he

was alive, but well cared for, in

secret. But the message that told

of his death said he had been a

prisoner.

LOUIS:

I am King, Mother! And I do not

wish to discuss this with you.

ANNE:

He was my blood -- and I demand to

know what happened to him.

LOUIS:

Why would you ask now? You never

asked before!

ANNE:

Because I have dreamed of him. Not

as the baby they took away, but as a

man.

LOUIS:

You have prayed too much. Your mind

is weak.

Avoiding her stare, Louis lifts a plaster bust of his father,

its eyes like the sightless pupils of Greek gods.

ANNE:

I believe in dreams, Louis. They

are our souls speaking to us, from

that world beyond our eyes. And

that son I never saw in daylight was

standing in the moonlight of my

dreams. And he wore an iron mask.

We see her from a low angle, from a POV behind Louis -- and

we see the plaster bust burst upon the marble floor.

LOUIS:

It -- it doesn't matter, Mother! He

is dead now! Dead!

ANNE:

Yes. Dead. Two nights ago. The

night of my dream.

And the night of Louis' "dream." Anne begins to walk out.

LOUIS:

If... if he was wearing an iron mask

in your dream, then how could you

know he was your son?

Louis smiles; he thinks he has her.

ANNE:

Then you did do it, Louis. You did

put your brother in an iron mask.

All the blood is gone from Louis' face. Anne walks from the

room, past Louis' waiting tailors. He snaps at them.

LOUIS:

I have a ball to attend!

They rush in. As they scurry about, dressing him in gold,

Louis' composure returns; he stares at himself in the golden

mirror, likes what he sees... and smiles.

EXT. ROAD - NIGHT

Aramis' carriage pulls off the road and into the trees. The

Musketeers and Phillippe pile out, to find another much

grander carriage there waiting. Aramis ushers them into it.

PHILLIPPE:

Whose carriage is this?

PORTHOS:

It was mine. But since you are

about to be the king, it is yours.

The new carriage lurches away.

INSIDE THE NEW CARRIAGE

are bundles of elaborate clothes.

ARAMIS:

Phillippe first.

They begin to dress Phillippe in a masquerade costume.

ARAMIS:

Remember, Phillippe... nobility is

born in the heart.

ATHOS:

Hold your goblet with two fingers.

PORTHOS:

And make love as if you don't care.

The way Kings do. And fart whenever

you wish.

Aramis tucks a note into Phillippe's pocket.

ARAMIS:

Remember, all you have to do is get

through tonight. Smile and nod a

lot, and if you get stuck just wave

and announce, "Continue." In the

morning you hand this note to

d'Artagnan, pardoning Athos and

instructing that he, Aramis and

Porthos be brought to the palace as

your advisors. And all is well.

Phillippe nods; everyone's nervous. Aramis grabs more

clothes and hands them out.

ARAMIS:

Now the rest of us.

EXT. THE PALACE - NIGHT

Carriages disgorge guests, wildly attired for the masquerade

ball. Porthos' carriage pulls in among them.

INT. PALACE BALLROOM - NIGHT

A magnificent masquerade ball is in full swirl; the dazzling

light of chandeliers bounces off the gilt ceiling and

sparkles on the jewels of swirling dancers, their numbers

multiplied in the polished mirrors that line the walls.

The King is dancing and laughing with sexy young ladies.

D'Artagnan stands to the side of the ballroom, ever watchful,

ever remote.

As the dancers swirl, each one wearing a distinctive mask in

the garish style favored by the French nobility of the

1600's, we see one particular couple -- a large man, with an

excessively large woman. They are dancing vigorously, and as

they take a break behind a huge pillar, they lift their masks

enough for us to see that the man is Aramis, and the "woman"

is Porthos.

From the folds of their elaborate costumes they both withdraw

replicas of the iron mask that Phillippe once wore.

PORTHOS:

D'Artagnan watches everything. We

have to be lucky.

ARAMIS:

We will make our own luck tonight...

if Phillippe holds up.

Aramis peers across the ballroom, to where Athos and

Phillippe mix among the revelers, using thin sticks to hold

broad masks to their faces. Behind the masks we see their

eyes -- Athos' intense, Phillippe's nervous and darting.

ATHOS:

Stay calm, you're doing fine.

Then Phillippe's eyes go strangely still; he sees, for the

first time in his life, his twin brother, the King.

PHILLIPPE:

My brother...

Louis dances the minuet, prancing as if he is the center of

the universe; but this bliss is broken when one of the

dancers who swirls by him -- it is Aramis -- lifts the

baroque outer mask he's wearing and reveals an iron mask

beneath.

The King staggers, stopping. The sight stuns him, confuses

him; he looks around but the wearer of the mask has

disappeared among the weaving patterns of dancers. Louis'

hands dart to his eyes: are they playing tricks on him?

Seeing his reaction, Phillippe whispers --

PHILLIPPE:

He knew. He knew what they did to

me.

The YOUNG BEAUTY dancing with Louis notices him falter.

YOUNG BEAUTY:

What is wrong, your majesty?

LOUIS:

Nothing, I -- continue.

Louis rejoins the dancing... and then sees, on the balcony

above him, a different person -- a huge "woman," Porthos --

who lifts off an outer mask to reveal an iron mask below.

LOUIS:

There! Do you see it?

YOUNG BEAUTY:

See what, Majesty?

Porthos has slipped away from the railing when the King looks

back up; the young beauty sees nothing, and turns back to the

King with a look that questions his sanity.

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