Part I: Duty and Honor

Twice or thrice had I lov'd thee,

Before I knew thy face or name;

So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame

Angels affect us oft, and worshipp'd be;

(John Donne 1572-1631, Air and Angels)

NOTES:

Part I is based on Season 2, ep. 1 "Keep your friends close"

1. The Hanged Man

French-Spanish border, March 5, 1631

The man's hands are tied with a rope and his head covered with an old sack, another rope around his neck ready to be used for the hanging.

"Release him immediately," Athos demands. In the sight of Musketeer pistols aiming at them the villagers lower their forks and sticks, subdued. Their leader spits on the ground in contempt. "You are welcome to him," he says removing the sack. "He is a cold-blooded killer."

The prisoner is disheveled, in tattered clothes, his long matted fair hair almost masks his pale bruised face. Athos recognizes him immediately.

Charles…

2. The Oath

Paris, April 19, 1612*(morning)

He is stirred in his sleep by unfamiliar sounds. The creaking of carriage wheels, horses neighing, impatiently hitting their hooves against a stone pavement, and a multitude of jumbled, disjointed voices. For the few seconds he lingers between sleep and waking, he is panicked. Where is he? He is used to the chirping of birds, his father's hounds barking in the distance, the quiet movements of the servants through the household as they begin their morning chores.

What place is this?

His eyes adjust to the timid light that peeks through the thick folds of the velvet curtains. Its reflection forms neat symmetrical waves along the dark wooden beams of the ceiling. It is an elegant room, austere, and unfamiliar. It all returns to him now. The room looked different the night before. Dark. Ominous even. He would never admit it to his father but he would rather not have to sleep alone in this room. In this city. He misses his hound, Dido. If only she could have been here, curled at the feet of his bed.

First time away from home.

"Monsieur, you are fourteen. It is time to prove yourself. You are no longer a child. And there is no better time and opportunity for you than this." His father's somber voice clashed with the tenderness in his eyes as he spoke. His mother lifted her head from her sewing for a moment. She looked as if she was about to weep. From the other side of the room Thomas, wide-eyed, gazed at him in awe. He felt taller somehow. And sad. As if he had suddenly lost something valuable.

Early the next morning, he bid everyone farewell, and rode off to Paris dressed in his new traveling clothes, alongside his father and Rémy (1), the son of his father's steward. Thomas wept. "Travel safely, Olivier (2), heed your father, and wear your cloak," his mother said as if this was just a regular outing. Yet, her voice trembled slightly. He noticed she held him a little longer than usual. A wave of sorrow overcame him as he buried his head in her embrace. He knew this was the end of something he could never reclaim. He held on to her a little longer too, breathing in her scent of honey and lavender. He wanted to make sure he would never forget her scent and the warmth of her embrace.

He knew not what waited for him in Paris, but whatever it was it must be important. His father had made sure he had four new outfits made especially for this visit. But more significantly, his father carried the Hauteclere (3), the family sword. It was the sword given to his ancestor after whom he is named Olivier Athos, by the great king Francis I at the Battle of Marignano (4). The Hauteclere has been proudly carried by generations of Montmorency and de la Fére men (5). Olivier knows all their names, the family histories, the heraldry, and the battles they fought and won.

He was not permitted to handle this sword. It hangs on the wall of his father's study. Grimaud (6), his father's valet, claims that the Hauteclere has a soul, that its ornate hilt burns the hand of anyone who attempts to hold it except for the hand of him who is meant to wield it. Olivier was doubtful. He had read Aristotle with Monsieur Bardin (7), his tutor. Inanimate objects have no soul. Monsieur Bardin called such beliefs "superstitions" and "logical fallacies." Once, when their father was out hunting, he and Thomas stole into the study. It was Thomas' idea. "Quickly, Olivier!" Thomas urged him on, "hold the hilt!" Olivier balanced carefully on his father's chair. His mind assured him that no harm would come to him, except if they were caught. Still, his heart was beating so loudly he could hear it. The hilt felt pleasantly cold in his hand. "Of course, nothing happened to you," Thomas reasoned, disappointed, "you are the one meant to own it."

Lying in his bed, in this unfamiliar room, in this strange city, Olivier wonders if he may now be allowed to wield the forbidden blade. A soft knock on the door announces Rémy. He is the same age as Olivier but too tall for his age and a little awkward. Olivier calls him the Gentle Giant. They grew up together. Rémy walks in with fresh water in a large copper basin and clean linen towels. A red cheeked young maid follows behind him with a breakfast tray. She leaves it on a table, curtsies, and exits silently. "Good morning, Monsieur," Rémy says. "Your father gave word to get you ready for this afternoon." Olivier notices that his best outfit is already laid out for him. He does not know why but he feels a knot in his throat. He wants to know what is in store for him.

He wants to be back in his own room at home…

He misses Thomas…

He is definitely not hungry…

Mounted on their horses and followed by Rémy, Olivier and his father cross the Pont Neuf, along Aubrevoir Pépin street. They pass by the walls of the Grand Châtelet and enter the Rue St. Denis. Olivier has studied maps of the city but he never thought it would be this large, nor this crowded. He feels elated, as if its colors, sounds, and smells permeate his entire being. It is stranger than he imagined and it fascinates him. He has never felt this way before. Is this what it means to no longer be a child?

"Careful, Olivier!" His father casts a careful look on his horse. "You hold your reins too tightly. Look how your horse is already tired and foaming whereas mine looks as fresh as if just out of the stables." Olivier blushes to the whites of his eyes. How could he have ever made such as novice mistake? He eases his grip on the reins. "Thank you, Monsieur for your kind advice," he whispers embarrassed. His father smiles attempting to alleviate the severity of his admonishment. "Such a fresh breeze. It has quite the touch of winter although it is almost Easter," he observes.

"Monsieur," Olivier ventures, "may I inquire where we are going?"

"We are expected at the Louvre this afternoon," his father responds quietly. "But before that, there is another place we must visit. Ah, here we are, we have reached St. Denis."

"We are visiting the church," Olivier's father tells the sentinels at the town gate.

They dismount in front of the church, leaving Rémy with the horses. His father offers Olivier the holy water, crossing himself, and whispers something to a verger. An early mass is being said before Easter so the church is not empty. "Follow me, Messieurs," says the verger quietly leading them towards a crypt. Olivier's eyes slowly adjust to the darkness as he descends the steps, following his father, towards a vaulted underground chamber lit by a single silver lamp. He knows now where they are. These are the royal tombs. Father and son both stand before a marble catafalque supported by carved horses, enveloped in a large velvet mantle with embroidered golden fleurs de lis; the remains of the great Henry IV, whose life had ended violently but a mere two years since. (8)

"This is the sepulcher of a man who was a great King," his father's voice resonates in the silence of the crypt. "We know not what the King who succeeds him will be, for he is still a child. We may hope he proves himself as great as his father. He may not. There are two things enclosed in the Louvre, Olivier. A king who dies, and the royalty which does not. Learn to distinguish one from the other. The King is but a man. Royalty is the spirit of God. When you find yourself in doubt as to which of the two you should serve, forsake the man for the principle. For the principle is God's power and God's power is infallible. Love, honor, and serve your King. If he proves a tyrant, love, honor, and serve royalty. Remember it is France and God you serve." (9)

Olivier kneels. "I shall worship God, Monsieur. I shall honor royalty. I shall serve my King. I shall endeavor to do my duty to France following your example and the examples of all those who bore our name honorably. Have I understood you?"

"You are a noble and loyal young man," his father smiles proudly handing him the Hauteclere. "This is your sword now. My father wore it and his father before him. All were men of honor. All were men of duty. All served God and France. If your arm is still too weak to wield it, so much the better. You will have more time to learn how to draw it only when duty demands that you do."

"Monsieur," says Olivier, receiving the ancient sword, "I owe you everything. But this is the most precious gift you have given me. I shall wear it with pride." He lifts the sword and kisses the hilt with reverence.

"Rise, Olivier Athos, Comte de la Fére," his father says quietly, "rise and let us embrace.

NOTES:

* In 1612, Easter Sunday was on April 22.

Rémy: Character in the BBC Musketeer series. Appears in S1: "Commodities." He was present at Milady's execution and appears to have been a servant close to Athos from his youth. The backstory for the character developed for this story is not in the BBC series.

Olivier: In his play "La jeuneusse des mousquetaires" (1849), A. Dumas uses "Olivier" as Athos' original name.

Hauteclere (or Halteclere, or Hauteclaire, literally "High and neat") is the sword of Olivier, a character in the medieval French epic The Song of Roland (La Chanson de Roland.) It is described as being of burnished steel, with a crystal embedded in a golden hilt. It was not unusual for swords to be named since medieval times. These names were often inspired by legendary swords such as the one in the Song of Roland. Therefore, to name the family sword "Hauteclere" would not be unusual. Given the coincidence of names (Olivier/Olivier), I thought it would be an interesting option.

Battle of Marignano: Fought in Sept 13-14, 1515, near Milan, Italy. Part of the "War of the League of Cambrai" between France and the Old Swiss Confederacy. The French King was Francis I. In "The Three Musketeers" but also in "Twenty Years After" and "Louise La Valliere," Dumas hints that one of Athos' ancestors fought with Francis I and was honored with a sword, which Athos has brought with him from his older life. The biography of the sword developed for this story is based on the various hints in Dumas combined with historical facts.

Montmorency and de la Fére: In "Twenty Years After" Porthos connects Athos both to the Montmorency and the Rohan families. The story here builds on this fictional genealogy from Dumas.

Grimaud: the character in this story is based on Dumas, and not on the BBC series (s3.)

Monsieur Bardin: fictional character, inspired by Pierre Bardin (1590 – 29 May 1635,) French philosopher, mathematician and one of the first members of the French academy. The idea is that Athos was raised with a thorough education, including academics, which would be rather unusual for gentlemen of the period.

Royal crypt: Basilique royale de Saint-Denis, or simply Basilique Saint-Denis is a large medieval abbey church in the city of St. Denis, a suburb of Paris. The basilica was a place of pilgrimage and the burial place of French Kings from the 10th to the 18th c. The King's grave that Athos and his father visit is Henry IV (father of Louis XIII) who was assassinated in 1610. The scene here is similar to a scene in Dumas' "Twenty Years After," between Athos and his son Raoul. It is consistent with the character of Athos. It makes sense that Athos repeats a rite of passage/oath he experienced in his youth with his own father.

Oath: The oath and the sequence of the ritual are similar to those described by Dumas in "Twenty Years After." In that case it is between Raoul Bragelonne with his father Athos.

3. In the Company of Strangers and Relatives

Paris, April 20, 1612 (afternoon)

"Monsieur, approach" his father invites him with a wave of hand. He has been conversing for a while with another gentleman, standing in the fragrant shade of a rose pavilion in the Louvre gardens. The gentleman is younger than his father, tall, with strong, handsome features, and holds a feathered hat. Olivier has no doubt as to his occupation. It is marked on the leather pauldron decorating his right arm. A Musketeer. Who has not heard of their exploits and courage? Olivier remembers all the times he and Thomas pretended to be Musketeers defending France against the Protestants in the arboretum behind the old church of Pinon.

Olivier removes his hat and approaches, bowing politely. "This is my dearest friend, Monsieur de Treville, soon to be Captain of the King's Musketeers," says his father. Olivier has heard this name before. In fact, he has heard it all his life. Monsieur de Treville is his godfather. "Monsieur, it is an honor to finally meet you," he says.

"The pleasure and honor are mine, Monsieur le Comte." The Musketeer smiles a warm, congenial smile, and turning again to Olivier's father he observes, "my dear Marquis (1), your description failed to convey the exceptional young cavalier I see before me. Young man, I hear you have a strong arm and a special talent for the sword."

Olivier hopes he is not blushing as he responds quietly, his hand reaching for the hilt of the Hauteclere as if to draw courage, "I am but an amateur Monsieur, compared to your renown and acclaim." He wonders, if his father considers a Musketeer career for him. That is of course unlikely, but Olivier would have welcomed such a prospect.

"Perhaps, if your father permits and your duties allow, we may practice together while you are in Paris," says Monsieur de Treville. What duties? Olivier is certain he is being prepared for something important.

It does not take long to discover what it is…

The Queen, dressed in black still even after two years of widowhood (2), bows her head slightly. She smiles a satisfied smile. "Marquis," she says, addressing Olivier's father, "We congratulate you for the noble cavalier you brought to Our Court. The young Comte will make a perfect companion to His Majesty. The King's gentlemen should be the best in France…"

Olivier realizes his life has changed forever. He is led to his new apartments; all his belongings already arranged by Rémy, who is now his valet. Farewells with his father are brief. "Take care, Olivier," says his father, "remember to uphold your oath and honor your name."

Alone in his new Louvre apartments, Olivier sits carefully at the edge of his new bed, as if it is not his; as if he is afraid to disturb it. The room is lavishly decorated. Cold. Uncomfortable. A scratching at the door moves him to his feet. "Enter!" He tries to sound assertive.

The young man at the door is a complete stranger. He is older. Perhaps eighteen or nineteen. Handsome. That is the first word that comes to Olivier's mind. He resembles paintings of Apollo. Tall, statuesque, with a Grecian profile, and blond curls framing a pair of blue intelligent eyes. The edges of his lips are slightly curved. Is it disdain, Olivier wonders? But the young man's deep voice is pleasant and affable.

"Welcome to the Louvre, Monsieur le Comte!" He dashes forward extending his hand warmly. "It must feel strange to suddenly find yourself one of the King's gentlemen!" he remarks.

Olivier is taken aback by the forward manner of this complete stranger. "Monsieur, I do not believe I have the honor of your acquaintance," he replies, "although you seem to know me."

The young man laughs softly and his blue eyes glimmer playfully. "Oh, you will get used to our familiar manners, my dear Monsieur. I am the Comte de Rochefort. Charles-César de Rochefort." (3) He completes his introduction with a deep elaborate bow. Is he mocking me, Olivier asks himself, and at the same time he tries to remember where he has heard that name before.

"Oh, for goodness sake!" exclaims the young man, laughing heartily, shaking his hand. "Do not look so confused, damn you! Try to be less of a provincial! And call me Charles. We are, after all, cousins!"

NOTES:

Marquis: The specifics of Athos' family history are all developed for this story. In "La jeuneusse des mousquetaires" (1849), A. Dumas gives young Athos the title of Vicomte. I opted for a higher rank for the family because of the storyline.

Queen: Marie de Medici (26 April 1575 – 3 July 1642), second wife of King Henry IV and mother of King Louis XIII. In 1612 Louis is still in his minority. Marie de Medici remained Regent until 1617. The story here follows the historical events related to this transition of power.

Charles-César de Rochefort: In Gatien Courtilz de Sandras' "The Memoires of the Count de Rochefort, containing an account of what past most memorable, under the Ministry of Cardinal Richelieu and Cardinal Mazarin, with many particular passages of the reign of Lewis the Great," the author and protagonist of these memoirs is called Charles-César de Rochefort. The genealogy for Rochefort here is original and developed for the purposes of this story.

4. An Education

July 19, 1612

"Beloved Father and Mother,

I hope you are well and content. I send you my warmest greetings. I am settled now in my new position thanks to the wise counsel and guidance of M. de Treville and the friendly support of M. de Rochefort, our cousin through M. Rohan, the prince de Guéméné, his uncle and ours, as you well know…"(1)

He stops, considering what to write next.

At first, he wrote every day although he kept most of those early letters, opting to send just one letter every week. How often do gentlemen write to their parents and their brother? He has settled for a monthly letter now. Still, he wants to tell them about so many wondrous things!

The young King's (2) elaborate routines, his childlike tantrums that send the entire court into chaos, and how vast the royal stables are. He wants to tell Thomas about flowers that swallow insects and caged birds with feathers the colors of the rainbow. About the giraffe and the elephant in the royal menagerie. About snake enchanters with cobras that can dance to the music of flutes. Are these childish things to write about? Charles does not seem to care much about such wonders, let alone write letters to his parents. Or does he? Olivier dares not ask. Charles says appearances are everything at court and Olivier knows he still appears provincial. He certainly feels that way compared to Charles who was raised at court, his father a gentleman of the Great King Henry.

Perhaps he should write about the fencing sessions with M. de Treville. Yes, that seems to be more appropriate for a gentleman to write about, he decides. In the past three months these lessons have become the most anticipated part of his day. Sometimes he practices with the Hauteclere although it is too fine a sword to use for practice. M. de Treville offers no praises but Olivier can see it in his eyes that he considers his godson a worthy opponent. "Just do not let your heart rule your head, my friend," the Musketeer observes often, "if you achieve that, then you may one day make the best swordsman in France." Olivier is certain his godfather exaggerates. Nevertheless, he aspires to that title. M. de Treville is still not made Captain and although he never speaks of it, Olivier knows it troubles him. But the Queen Mother has other plans. (3) That is what Charles thinks. And Charles understands the subtleties of court politics better than anyone, even M. de Treville. "She is enamored of that Italian Concini," Charles declares with disdain, "of him and his wife." (4) Olivier still finds his friend's manner perplexing. How he manages to be direct and evasive at the same time. It is a language that Olivier has yet to master.

A scratching sound on his door intimates the friendly presence. "Enter," Olivier says, folding the unfinished letter into a wooden box with the family crest carved on its lid. A gift sent by his mother.

Charles fills a glass with red wine and throws himself on a chair. Olivier has learned that wine is always needed in a young gentleman's apartments if he wants to be popular at court. He still cannot stomach it but he pretends he enjoys it as much as his peers.

"The brat threw another tantrum," Charles sighs loudly as he swallows the entire contents of his glass. "I was tempted to slap him. Someone should."

"What was his ailment this time," Olivier asks with a smile. The King suffers from all sorts of ailments, most of them imagined.

"He is to be married."

"So, they finally decided on a bride?"

"Yes, indeed. Spanish. His age…"(5)

Olivier wonders what this would be like. The King is just eleven years old, a year younger than Thomas. He tries to remember what it was like to be eleven… Dido was a puppy then.

"They are sending me to Spain," Charles' voice is serious now.

"Charles…why? When?" Olivier hopes he does not sound as upset as he feels. Charles has been his only friend in this place besides M. de Treville.

"Oh, not right away. But they are. My grandmother is Spanish…" This is the first time Charles has spoken about his family, although Olivier is aware of that particular detail. "They want me to be the Infanta's tutor. Teach her how to be…French!" He pours himself a second glass of wine. "Just my luck. Exchange one royal brat for another. And a Spanish one for that matter. Well, cousin, I say, let us avail ourselves of the little time we have together before this damned court turns into a Spanish nursery! What say you? Shall we go?" Charles stands as if ready to depart.

"Where to?"

"Paris, cousin! Out there! Where else? I plan to teach you everything you need to know, before I turn into a royal governess!"

Life moves faster after that evening. Somehow, Olivier is busier and less focused. "What is the matter with you, young man?" observes M. Treville during their daily practice the next day, "where is your mind?" Daily fencing sessions turn into weekly ones. He is not sure he needs them really. He now trains his arm with old rusty blades in taverns and back alleys. And one summer night after a card game, he and Charles fight off six men with nothing but blunt table knives. Charles gets a flesh wound on his shoulder, and Olivier gets a deep scar on his upper lip. "Oh, my friend," Charles exclaims in a fit of drunken laughter, "pray your wound never heals. Pray it leaves a scar. Women will love you all the more…" Intoxication passes quickly but the scar remains. M. de Treville notices it but says nothing. Still, Olivier can see that his godfather is disappointed. He suddenly recalls the unfinished letter in his mother's box. He promises to send it the very next morning…

…Charles is desponded. He throws himself on Olivier's bed, his hands covering his face. "I am to leave in two days," he bemoans. "This is it, cousin. The end of my life… I turn from gentleman of the French court to Spanish nanny…"

"Then we must celebrate as only Frenchmen can," says Olivier quietly.

Neither of them has any real plans. Cards and drinking at the usual places. Kissing a wench or two perhaps. It is a warm summer night and the Seine adds to the humidity and stench. "Perhaps Madrid is less stuffy…" Olivier attempts to raise his cousin's spirits, in vain.

"Messieurs! Honorable Gentlemen! Do you dare tempt your fortune?" cries a voice behind them; a long haired, dark skinned man, with coal black eyes of unusual brightness and a large smile. He wears earrings and a gold chain around his neck. He looks like every drawing of a pirate Olivier has ever seen. Something about the glimmer in the man's eyes makes Olivier's skin crawl. "Let us move on Charles," he suggests.

"Tempt our fortune? How?" Charles sounds intrigued.

The man leads them to a house. It looks respectable enough. Windows are open and Olivier can hear music and people talking and laughing.

"Whose house is this?" Olivier is bemused. How can one be invited to someone's home in this manner?

"Madame Solange," says the man.

"Madame, who…?" Olivier ventures but Charles hushes him.

"Cousin," he whispers, "I fear I failed miserably in your education. Madame Solange's house is notorious. The best and most tantalizing entertainment in Paris, my friend…"

Olivier still does not fully comprehend although he suspects. The house is lavishly furnished and crowded. It is full of men the age of M. de Treville and his father. Some even older. The two of them are the youngest in this crowd. A young woman in a revealing outfit sings at the harpsichord. She has a beautiful deep voice, surprisingly cultivated for someone in a place like this. Others walk around serving wine, laughing, touching…

"Honorable Guests!" the dark eyed man's voice silences the crowded room. "I give you the Notorious Madame Solange!" The woman who walks in amidst the applause is unlike any woman Olivier has ever seen. He can determine neither her age nor her features. Her face is painted like a mask. She wears a red gown that reminds him of costumes for the opera, opulent, colorful, and theatrical. She holds a large black fan in her bejeweled hand.

"Tonight, dear friends, we have a special treat for you! Fresh, untouched, pure maidens. Their maidenheads for the taking!"

A screen opens behind her to reveal four young women, dressed in white tunics, like nymphs one sees in paintings. Only the fabrics of their costumes are transparent and leave very little to the imagination. One girl steps forward. She looks like a child. She stands with a smile on her face. Her eyes tell another story. She is terrified.

"This lovely creature is Suzette! (6) I take your bids gentlemen! Nothing less than five sous for this rare wild flower!"

"Five sous for this scrawny thing?" yells a drunken voice, followed by others booing and laughing. "She needs to be fed too!"

Olivier sees nothing but the girl's face. The smile frozen on her lips. Her eyes begging for something. To be bought? To be freed? He looks around but Charles is nowhere to be found. He is probably in some other room drinking. The air becomes thicker suddenly. Too many bodies. Too many perfumes. Olivier cannot breathe. He feels as if he is about to heave… Pushing desperately through the excited crowd of bidding men he finds the exit. He collapses at the foot of a staircase, panting. His head is spinning and his eyes grow dim…

"Are you feeling unwell, Monsieur?"

A girl's voice. She is standing at the top of the stairs. He can see her through the haze of the candlelight and the mist that clouds his mind. He hears her voice as if in a dream. "Yes," he stammers although he is not sure any words come out of his mouth. She descends one more step, and into the light of the candles. Olivier is no longer certain he is not dreaming. He is not certain of anything but his heart that is about to break through his chest, and an eerie feeling of familiarity. Has he been in this place before? Has he met this girl before? He is certain he has, although it is impossible. There is something else about her that takes his breath away…

Charles must have carried him back because he remembers nothing else about that night. He wakes up two days later, with M. de Treville's physician at his side. "You have been taken ill, Monsieur. A fever. But you should have a speedy recovery now."

Rémy hands him a note from Charles:

"Beloved Cousin,

I am off to become a Spanish Governess!

Be strong and well!

Charles-César

PS: Try to be less provincial, old man!"

In the quiet solitude of his room, as he lies in his bed, Olivier remembers the unfinished letter to his parents. He closes his eyes. He can see nothing but the shape of a girl. A girl standing at the top of a half-lit staircase. A girl with green eyes.

NOTES:

"our cousin through the prince de Guéméné, M. Rohan, his uncle and ours": The genealogy for Athos in this story is fictional as is that of Rochefort. However, Athos' family history is consistent with information provided at different Dumas books ("The Three Musketeers", "Twenty Years After", and "Louise La Valliere".) I decided to connect him to the Montmorency line through his father and the Rohan through his mother given actual genealogical information for both families. The Rohan line of course connects him to Madame de Chevreuse who appears later in this story and is a significant character in Dumas' novels.

"young King": Louis XIII who is eleven years old at this point of the story.

"But the Queen Mother has other plans": de Treville's story here is based on the BBC series, not on his historical counterpart.

"the Italian Concini and his wife": Concino Concini, 1er Marquis d' Ancre (1575-April 24, 1617) was an Italian politician, minister of Louis XIII, and favorite of Marie de Medici. He married Leonora Dori Galigaï (1571- July, 8, 1617) a lady in waiting to Marie de Medici, and her favorite at court. The influence of both on the Queen Mother was seen as dangerous. Eventually, in a coup against the Queen Mother orchestrated by Louis XIII and his favorite Charles d' Albert, Duke of Luynes, Concini was assassinated on the bridge of the Louvre and his wife was executed for witchcraft.

"bride, Spanish, his age": Anne of Austria. She was born in 1601. She was betrothed to Louis at the age of eleven (1612) and married him by proxy in 1615.

Suzette: character from the BBC series, season 1, ep. 2. "Sleight of Hand."

5. Change of Fortune

Paris, October 5, 1617

It has been two years now since Charles returned from Spain. He returned a different man. He has lost the playful glimmer in his eye, his nonchalance, the ease of his manner. His voice is deliberate now; his words calculated and few. The corners of his lips are always curved in disdain. Now Charles basks in the company of d' Albert, the king's falconer and the new royal favorite. (1)

Charles returned with the new Spanish Queen. She is not exactly what the court expected, nor the King. Lively, intelligent, affectionate, and pretty. The King abhors being outshined. The new Queen soon realized the implications of her natural gifts. The King prefers hunting to her presence and her bedchamber. D'Albert attempted to persuade Louis to approach his young Queen and the Queen to make herself less distant. In return, she agreed to replace her Spanish ladies with French ones, led by d' Albert's own new wife, Marie de Rohan, Charles' first cousin, whose beauty is as undeniable as is her love of intrigue and her recklessness. Queen Anne and Marie are now the best of friends. (2)

Olivier rarely sees Charles now. Perhaps it is for the best. He remembers the giddy last few months before Charles left for Spain with uneasiness and a sense of shame. Perhaps it is even justified, he thinks, that Charles keeps his distance, after what has transpired. He is surprised he remains a gentleman of the King's court after all that. He knows it is only his talent with the sword and the King's perverse tendency to annoy his mother that keeps him here.

For almost two years now, nobles have been revolting against the Queen Mother and Concini, under the banner of the Prince of Condé. (3) Olivier's father was among them. As was M. de Treville. Although the Prince walked out of the rebellions relatively unscathed, neither Olivier's father nor his godfather shared the same fortune. M. de Treville was imprisoned first and remains exiled from Paris. Olivier's father was stripped of the title of Marquis and the lands his title conferred. It was unfathomable. His was an ancient line. But he was told it was a better option than losing his head alongside that of his younger son, Thomas, who accompanied him in his rebellious ventures. Olivier's father was made an example of what it means to defy one's King, although in this case, it was really the Queen Mother and her allies. It was all a show of power against insubordinate nobles. A brilliant political move Olivier was told, machinated by a new man in the circle of the Queen Mother, a certain Armand du Plessis. (4)

True to his creed to support royalty rather than one's unjust monarch, Olivier's father found himself simply the Comte de la Fére, owner of the small estate around Pinon that was to be Olivier's while his father was still alive. The family had to adjust to a simpler life. Olivier's mother writes often about how it pleases her to run her own household instead of relying on an army of servants and maids. Olivier finds it odd. His mother comes from an ancient family and was once a lady in waiting to the Queen Mother. (5) But he understands her subtlety. For himself, Olivier does not care much about servants. They make him uncomfortable. Although gentlemen of the court should maintain their own valets, he sent Rémy back to La Fére. His father needs him more, and Olivier's income is no longer what it used to be.

His mother speaks of their neighbors, the de Renards. She calls them "new people." It is not so much derision, as it is coming to terms with the new world in which she now finds herself. She also speaks of the de Garouvilles. Olivier knows them well. The Baron has been a close friend of his father's and one of his vassals in the Pinon district. "I am grateful," his mother writes, "for the company and support of dearest Catherine, without whose practical mind and skillful interventions I would have been lost." Catherine is M. de Garouville's daughter. She is a soft spoken, pale girl. She used to play the harp and sing. Catherine occupies much of his mother's letters and her thoughts it seems. His mother does not write it explicitly but Olivier understands well that Catherine is meant to become his wife. It makes sense. He is almost twenty now. His tenure at court is increasingly tentative, his father is getting older, and La Fére has become the only source of income for the family.

With M. de Treville exiled from Paris, and Charles too important to condescend his company, Olivier leads a solitary life. He still hunts with the King and is his fencing tutor, although no amount of tutoring will help this young monarch wield the sword to ever protect himself. He spends time outside court, at taverns and brothels, among Musketeers and soldiers, with whom he feels much more affinity than the perfumed gentlemen of the court.

He has not stopped looking for her. The girl with the green eyes. He dreams of her often, her form now almost transparent, hazy, undefined. Perhaps she never existed…

NOTES:

D'Albert: Charles d' Albert; later: Duc de Luynes (Aug. 5, 1578-Dec. 15, 1621) was a courtier and favorite of Louis XIII. He died of a fever at the height of his influence and this led to the rise of Armand Jean du Plessis who became Cardinal Richelieu and First Minister of France.

Marie de Rohan: (Dec. 1600- Aug. 12, 1679.) Mademoiselle de Montbazon, daughter of Hercule de Rohan, Duc de Montbazon. She married Charles d' Albert, Duc de Luynes who died in 1621. Also known as Madame de Chevreuse from her second marriage to Claude de Lorraine, Duc de Chevreuse. She was a courtier and political activist at the center of many intrigues in the French court. She was a favorite of Anne of Austria. Her influence on the young Queen was often seen as dangerous especially by Anne's political rivals, especially Richelieu. Marie was a political rival of Richelieu, who exiled her from court. Although she is a very significant character in Dumas' "The Three Musketeers," she never really appears directly in the first novel of the saga. In the "Three Musketeers" she is Aramis' mistress. Under the aliases "Marie Michon" or "the Queen's seamstress," she intervenes "off stage" at crucial points of the story to help the Musketeers against the Cardinal and Milady de Winter. She is however an actual character in the later novels. In "Twenty Years After" we learn that while fleeing her exile accompanied by Kitty, Milady's servant, whom she had employed, she spent one night with Athos thinking he was a lonely country curate. The result of that night was Raoul Bragelonne, Athos' son. She becomes a close ally of Athos (and Aramis) during the Fronde against Cardinal Mazarin and Anne (now Regent,) and later is at the center of the intrigue involving King Louis XIV's twin brother in "Man in the Iron Mask."

Prince of Condé: Henri de Bourbon (Sept. 1, 1588- Dec. 26, 1646)

Armand du Plessis: Armand Jean du Plessis (Sept. 9 1585- Dec. 4, 1642). Since 1622 he was known as Cardinal Richelieu.

"his mother was once a lady in waiting of the Queen Mother": In "The Three Musketeers" and "Twenty Years After" Dumas implies that Athos' mother was a lady in waiting to Queen Marie de Medici.

6. Exile

Paris, May 12, 1618

Nobody expected such decisive action from Louis nor such planning. Turns out it was all d' Albert's idea. Concini murdered in the street. His wife executed for witchcraft. The Queen Mother deposed and exiled. Louis finally the absolute monarch. Louis and d' Albert, now the Duc de Luynes; Anne and Marie de Rohan, his wife. The perfect harmony.

Except for the return of M. de Treville, now finally, as Captain of the Musketeers, Olivier finds this new order more uncomfortable than the previous disorder. At least then he was invisible. Now for reasons he cannot penetrate he seems to be observed and by those closest to the crown.

"Will you let me play with your sword, Monsieur le Comte?" The duchess de Luynes smiles an inscrutable smile, her large blue eyes glimmering suggestively. She stands far too close to him than is appropriate for a married woman in public and in the presence of her Queen.

"It is an ancient sword, Madame. Difficult to wield, let alone play with." He attempts not to look into her eyes, nor reciprocate her tone of voice. He would rather be thought of dull and dim than lewd.

"Oh, I am sure I can handle such an ancient tool, Monsieur," she insists, her long fingers touching the hilt of the Hauteclere, while the Queen and her ladies burst into soft giggles.

"Forgive my dear friend, Monsieur le Comte," the Queen approaches them, careful however to maintain her distance from the pair. "The duchess is of an adventurous disposition, and my ladies are convinced you are also." Her comment is followed by more giddiness on the part of her ladies.

He should have blushed. But he does not. He only smiles and bows deeply. "Your Majesty, I am but your humble servant."

As expected, the incident made it into the daily court gossip. Charles said nothing at all. He just bowed his head when Olivier passed him by and smiled that arrogant smile full of disdain he now carried with him everywhere.

It was M. de Treville who had something to say.

He had been waiting for Olivier after morning mass, in a covered passage connecting the royal chapel to the palace. "Be careful, Olivier my friend!" he whispered. "Be careful to whom you talk. The walls have ears now. Remember that your family needs all the protection they can get, even now; especially now."

"I understand, Monsieur."

"I do not think you do, my boy. Rochefort, your cousin, is not your friend. He is no one's friend. Do you think he is a friend of de Lyunes or his wife? Rochefort knows where power resides and when to move on…"

"And what does that have to do with me, Monsieur? I have no power. I have nothing Charles can possibly desire."

"Here is where you are wrong. You underestimate yourself again, as you did when you let yourself be lured by him. Oh, I know everything about that. You have been noticed by the Queen. She talks about you often with the duchess, her friend. Do you realize what this means to your cousin? To be deposed by you in the Queen's good graces? He possesses none of your talents nor your grace. If you replace him it will be forever."

"Monsieur, you exaggerate…"

"Do I? I honestly hope so. For your sake. For your family's sake. And one more thing. Armand du Plessis…"

"He is banished to Avignon, Monsieur."

"Yes, and I hope he remains there writing treatises. But I doubt it. Remember how he treated your father? Why your father of all people, have you ever wondered? Now that is a very ambitious man, Olivier. As ambitious as your cousin. And you know what else they have in common? Du Plessis is your cousin's godfather. My sources tell me, they have always been very close."

Olivier has little time to experience the full extent of betrayal intimated by these revelations. A royal guard approaches them with a bow. "Monsieur le Comte de la Fére, the King demands your presence immediately."

It is a brief audience. The entire court is gathered. The Queen, the Duc de Luynes and his wife, Charles, even M. de Treville and his Musketeers lined at the back of the great hall.

"Monsieur," the King lisps slightly but his words are clear. "You have served Us well all these years and We will reciprocate by assigning you to accompany Our new ambassador to England. You are to remain there indefinitely."

"Indefinitely" is not an honor. "Indefinitely" is punishment.

"Did you do this, Charles?" It is the first time he speaks to his cousin in many years. "Did you do this?"

Rochefort shrugs, his eyes avoiding to look at Olivier, "No. I would say, you did."

"Why, Charles?"

"Because I could. Because it felt good."

7. Beloved Cousin

French-Spanish Border, March 5, 1631

Athos dismounts from d' Artagnan's horse. They have been riding together for a while in pursuit of Rochefort who managed to escape his executioners and the Musketeers on Athos' horse.

Rochefort dismounts as well. There is no place to run. He is surrounded by Musketeers. He drops the pistol he stole and raises his hands.

Athos approaches him carefully pistol in hand. He can see that old familiar smile, the one that was always full of disdain. But the eyes are different. No longer playful, no longer arrogant. There is something else now in Charles' eyes. Athos has encountered it often in his new life. The desire to kill.

To the surprise of his comrades he places his pistol back into his belt and walks even closer, almost a breath away from the man he once thought a friend. The blow is swift and catches Rochefort completely unawares. He falls to the ground, gasping for air.

"Why did you do that for?" he moans, holding his bruised face.

"Because I could. Because it felt good."