Gamache made a move toward Brébeuf but Lemieux stepped between them. Gamache couldn’t remember Lemieux being so large. He stopped, but just, and his eyes never left Brébeuf.
‘I knew something had changed between us,’ said Gamache. ‘You were distant, polite but no more. It was small things, nothing I could quite put my finger on. Nothing worth mentioning, but it was one tiny thing after another. A birthday forgotten, a party missed, a flippant remark that seemed designed to insult. But I couldn’t believe it. I chose not to believe it.’ I was afraid to believe it, thought Gamache. Afraid it was true and somehow I’d lost my best friend. Like Hazel lost Madeleine. ‘I thought you were preoccupied with family problems. I never dreamed…’ He ran out of words. But one last one formed and fell from his mouth. ‘Why?’
‘Do you remember right after Arnot and the others were sentenced? The case was over, but you were in disgrace. Tossed out of the council. Catherine and I invited you and Reine-Marie for dinner, supposedly to cheer you up. But you were in fine spirits. We went into my study for a cognac and you told me then you didn’t care. You’d done what you had to. Your career was in tatters, but still you were happy. After you left, I sat reading. Some obscure book you probably gave me. In it I found a quote that devastated me. I copied it out that night and put it in my wallet, so I’d never forget.’
He brought out his wallet. From the billfold he withdrew a folded piece of paper, softened and worn as a love letter might be. He unfolded it and started reading. ‘It’s from AD 960. Supposedly said by Abd-er-Rahman the Third, of Spain.’
He sounded like a nervous schoolboy in front of the class. Gamache almost gasped with the pain of it. Brébeuf cleared his throat and read on.
‘I have now reigned about fifty years in victory or peace, beloved by my subjects, dreaded by my enemies, and respected by my allies. Riches and honors, power and pleasure have waited on my call, nor does any earthly blessing appear to have been wanting. In this situation I have diligently numbered the days of pure and genuine happiness which have fallen to my lot: they amount to fourteen.’
Robert Lemieux laughed. But Armand Gamache’s heart broke.
Brébeuf carefully refolded the paper and placed it back in his wallet.
‘All our lives I’ve been smarter, faster, better at tennis and hockey than you,’ said Brébeuf. ‘I got better grades and found love first. Had three sons. Five grandchildren to your one. I won seven commendations. How many have you?’
Gamache shook his head.