Chapter 1

Treville reined in his emotions and tried once again to reason with his monarch. "It's really a very nasty day to have lunch outdoors. I'm sure your Majesty and his distinguished guests would be much more comfortable in the dining hall."

The King of France was standing at one of the palace windows, staring with what appeared to be fascination at the rain as it soaked the formal gardens below. "Do you know what my mother used to say, Treville?"

"No, Sire," he answered, trying very hard not to let an exasperated sigh escape his lips.

Spinning around to face the Captain of his musketeers, he grinned. "She said April showers bring May flowers!"

"Very poetic," Treville acknowledged, trying to keep all traces of sarcasm out of his reply. He silently promised he would reward himself with a huge glass of cognac when he returned to the garrison. He'd earned it keeping his patience this morning.

"And so, to honor my mother and the first day of May, we shall dine, in the garden, amongst the flowers." Clapping his hands in glee, he turned back to the window once more. "It will be perfect."

The palace's head chef, who was also in the chamber, looked at Treville in desperation, begging him with his eyes to make the King see reason. How was he supposed to serve an elegant meal outside, in the garden, in the rain? The musketeer could only shrug with sympathy at the capaciousness of their monarch.

The cook and the Captain turned their gazes upon the Cardinal, wondering if he might help dissuade the King of his idea. However, the prelate, as was his style, was only concerned with extracting himself from the awkward event the King was planning.

"It is a pity," the Cardinal solemnly intoned with a little sniff, "that I shall not be able to attend your garden soirée. But I fear it is best for my health, with this cold, to stay indoors and away from your guests."

The King swiveled from the window to glance over at the First Minister of France, who managed to arrange his face in a sickly, yet pious, expression. "Of course, you are right, Cardinal. You should return to your bed and nurse that cold. Wouldn't want it getting any worse. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You honor me, your Majesty," Richelieu replied with a small bow and another sniffle for good measure. "I shall be sorry to miss what I'm sure will be a most engaging event."

When the King turned his back to look out the window at the showers once more, the Cardinal glanced over at Treville, a triumphant smirk playing about his lips. Treville scowled in return though both men quickly schooled their features when the King turned around once more.

"Your musketeers, Treville, will hold a canopy over the table as we dine," the King declared with total confidence his bizarre orders would be followed to the letter.

Caught totally by surprise, the Captain blurted out, "They'll what?"

A small frown appeared on King Louis' face. "Has something gone wrong with your hearing, Treville?"

Behind the King's back, the Cardinal's face was laced with an ear to ear grin.

"Your men, Treville, will hold the canopy over our heads as we dine amongst the palace's May flowers."

The cognac was going to be well-earned it appeared as Treville forced his voice to remain calm and reasonable yet again. "That is an interesting idea, but wouldn't you rather eat in the pavilion. It's still outdoors but possesses a nice solid roof to keep the rain at bay."

"Treville, you miss the point." Annoyed, the King moved over to stand in front of his Captain. "The objective is to admire the May flowers…brought on…by the April showers," Louis said, emphasizing the phrases.

"I believe one can see the flowers from the pavilion," Treville tried tactfully to counter, but the King's expression showed he wasn't pleased by the Captain's seemingly unwillingness to buy into the premise of his garden party.

Modulating his tone so it was low and slow, Louis talked to the Captain of his musketeers as if he were a small child. "We will eat in the garden, amongst the flowers, with your musketeers holding a canopy over our person."

Treville gave a small, contrite bow to show he had heard the commands of his King, though he still offered a slight modification to the King's grand plan. "Are you sure, your Majesty, it wouldn't be better for the Red Guard to hold up the canopy? If my musketeers are holding the poles, their hands will be otherwise occupied, should the need arise to draw their weapons to protect you."

"It's a garden party, Treville. In the confines of the palace grounds. Who would dare launch an attack?" the King declared as if it were the silliest thing he'd ever heard.

You'd be surprised, Treville thought to himself, but wisely did not utter it aloud. Instead, he offered a nod of his head to show he understood.

"Good. The musketeers will hold up the canopy. The Red Guards will do whatever they normally do," Louis said with a clap of his hands. "There. That's settled." Focusing his sights on his head chef, Pierre, he said, "Come, walk with me. Let's discuss what I wish to be served."

With that, the King and the cook moved away to an alcove where the King could recite his desires, leaving Treville and the Cardinal alone.

"Please be sure nothing unseemly occurs at his Majesty's garden party today, Treville. I'd hate for our royal visitors to leave with a poor impression of France. After all, we are hoping to seal the deal on some lucrative trade agreements."

Once again, a silent thought crossed the Captain's mind in regards to how much wealth would find its way into the Cardinal's personal coffers from these so-called lucrative trade deals.

"How unfortunate you will not be able to attend the King's luncheon, due to your illness. Are you not afraid that you will miss some piece of vital information?" Treville taunted his long-time nemesis.

"Don't be silly Treville. Now that I know of this slight change of plans, I shall be sure that all the treaties are signed before this fateful luncheon. Mustn't leave anything of such importance to chance." With a sardonic sneer and a swish of his red cloak, the Cardinal turned away and headed off to make sure the King couldn't derail his carefully laid plans. Treville was right. France, as well as he, was in a position to make a handsome profit from this deal. He wasn't going to take any chance that his Majesty's ill-advised garden party would affect his own plans.

Treville stood alone in the palace room for a few minutes thinking about what he was sure was going to be an ill-fated event. His musketeers, holding up a canopy, in the rain, amongst the flowers, while the King and his guests dined on whatever the King had dreamt up… what could possibly go wrong?