Thank you so much for your indulgence on this story. It's gone on much longer than I thought it would—I thought his would be 6 or 7 chapters, tops! Just goes to show what the boys can do when they put their minds to it.
This is the penultimate chapter (I think!). After this, resolution. But how? Hm… will have to see. In either case, please read on (this is a long one!) and let me know what you think, I really REALLY would appreciate it!
Cheers
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Ignoring the now almost sickening pounding in his head and the cutting pain in his shoulder, d'Artagnan leapt onto his horse and raced for the small stream where he knew the Dauphin's carers and entourage went on their daily constitutional. Though the infant would have some protection by the men always sent to guard the royal family, on minor outings like this it was a much smaller group. He didn't know how many of Baudin's men would be lying in wait for the party, but he was certain he wasn't going to let them take the Dauphin without a fight.
Riding hard, his mind automatically clarified the situation. Sitting still, waiting for an event, all he could do was turn things over, make plans, and then see the holes in them. Acting, doing—it all seemed to come together of its own accord. Less time. Fewer choices. He realized now that this was why he had been hurrying to get back: unconsciously, he knew this was how his mind worked, and the waiting, the planning, had been killing him. Now, with the wind whipping his hair back from his face, drying the sweat forming on his brow, discomfort and adrenaline keeping him alert despite a lack of sleep, he was able to break everything down.
The Queen was safe. When he and Baudin had arrived back at the palace, the King had them wait almost an hour before he saw them. And then, when he did grant them an audience, she was there, and Baudin had slowly, purposefully, drawn out the tale of their journey for as long as possible. Knowing it was past the time to commence the daily outing Baudin was counting on as part of his plan, d'Artagnan couldn't help but be relieved at Her Majesty's presence. That was one less thing to worry about now. He registered the fact and put it aside.
Captain Tréville was at the palace. If Baudin made a move, at least there was someone there who could help protect the royal couple. That fear was also diminished.
It was only the kind-heartedness of the Queen that had saved d'Artagnan this morning, something that he also briefly reflected may have indicated she had forgiven him for the whole Spanish galley slave kidnapping fiasco. Perhaps, after this, the King would forgive him as well? He shook the thought away. If he didn't save their son, then any forgiveness would be replaced by much more than distaste. D'Artagnan had taken a big chance when he requested to be excused from dining with Louis. God, he wished he could have said something out loud, right then and there, where there were people like Tréville who could back him up. But he knew in his heart he was right in his thinking: the King would laugh, Baudin would protest, and then, at the insistence of the King himself, no one would be heading to the stream to save the Dauphin. This was the only way.
He wondered how many people Baudin had sent to fulfill this task, how many he would have to fight on his own, and how useful anyone who had gone out with the Dauphin and the women would be. True, there were usually one or two Red Guards in attendance, he thought now, but it was more often than not the less weathered of the men, and from his experience duelling—or, rather, disagreeing, since duelling was forbidden—with them, he knew that their techniques could be awkward, and sometimes ineffective.
His first priority, of course, was the Dauphin. Regardless of the danger to others, or any feelings he might have for those others, he had to secure the heir to the throne first. If he was lucky, the group would still be near the small covered carriage they took to reach the stream. That would mean d'Artagnan could potentially get the baby and the women back into it, and he and the Guards could defend it as the driver prepared to race back toward the palace. But he didn't feel as though he'd been lucky up to now, and he didn't expect to be lucky again. So he'd have to make decisions as the situation unfolded, and he trusted his instincts in a fight.
Well, he used to. The faces of the Inseparables flashed into his mind as he drew nearer to the stream and slowed his horse to a brisk trot so as not to startle anyone into rash actions. He'd had a gut feeling about how to bring Baudin to justice, but he had expected to be able to get the men he had come to call brothers on side to make the plan work. But it had all fallen apart, and now here he was, one man, still wishing he had friends beside him, and racing headlong into God knew what, with the same purpose in mind: foil Baudin's plans. Only this time, if he failed, it would be more than he who would suffer.
He shook his head as though to remove the thoughts that were disheartening him, and he listened. He could hear the sound of flowing water, a few birds, a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves of the trees. He moved on a bit more, stopping his horse when the sound of light laughter and a woman's voice reached his ears. They couldn't have been there too long, he calculated quickly. Perhaps he still had time.
D'Artagnan spurred his horse gently, moving closer ever-so-quietly toward the voices he was hearing. He looked around him, up and into the trees, wondering how many men were hiding in them, and how much time he had before everything came crashing down around him. As he rounded a bend in the path he saw an opening ahead of him, where the royal carriage had stopped and the Dauphin and his carers and guardians were out and about. Immediately, he saw the infant in the arms of Lady Marguerite. He rode in until he was only a few feet from her, constantly surveying the area around them, trying to see if Constance was with them and not seeing her—another fear that he could shed, making it easier to do what he had to do without feeling torn.
D'Artagnan continued to scan the trees, the water, the path behind him, the path beyond. No one was emerging... yet. They would want the Dauphin outside the carriage, he understood; the group was more vulnerable on foot, less likely to be able to flee. He counted four people besides Marguerite and the Dauphin: another woman, most likely a wet nurse; the driver of the carriage, and two Red Guards—newer recruits, if d'Artagnan was correct. He couldn't remember seeing their youthful faces at court before.
He got off his horse and moved steadily but quickly to Marguerite's side. "Get back in the carriage," he said in a low voice.
"What?" Marguerite asked with a puzzled smile. She rocked the baby lightly in her arms.
"There's a threat to the Dauphin," d'Artagnan said, his expression calm and unrevealing. "Get in the carriage, and head back to the palace. Now."
Marguerite looked as if she was about to say something, but the look on d'Artagnan's face stilled her voice. Her smile disappeared and she walked immediately away to obey. D'Artagnan nodded as the driver moved in to ask her what was required, and one of the two Guards approached.
"You have come from the King?" the Guard asked.
D'Artagnan nodded. "There are people hidden nearby who are going to try and kidnap the Dauphin. We need to get them back to the palace."
For a second nothing happened. Then, looking around, the Guard drew his sword, prompting d'Artagnan to do the same. Had the man spotted the hidden attackers?
In the blink of an eye there were men flowing from the trees, running from heaven knew where out into the open. D'Artagnan glanced over to the carriage, saw Marguerite frozen in her tracks in fear, the driver's hand still on her arm about to guide her in. "Get out!" d'Artagnan screamed. "Get out, now!"
The shouted order seemed to break her trance, and as she took a step into the carriage, d'Artagnan saw the driver pull out his pistol, check briefly that it was prepared, and fire. One of the approaching men fell. Relieved that the driver at least had hold of his senses, the musketeer turned his attention to the remaining men. There were five of them, now that the driver had stopped one. Three of them headed toward the carriage, and two toward him and the young Guard. But before d'Artagnan had a chance to make a run toward the ones threatening the Dauphin, he found himself at the business end of the sword of the Guard.
"I'm not part of the ambush!" d'Artagnan protested. "We've got to protect the Dauphin!" But when the Guard put himself on the offensive, the reality registered in the Gascon's mind: the Guard was one of Baudin's men.
"No!" d'Artagnan yelled. Realizing that the odds were now firmly stacked against him, and not knowing if the other Guard was also in on the plot, d'Artagnan locked eyes with the Guard in front of him and raised his sword to fight. Thrust, parry, thrust, parry. The young traitor was skilled and strong. D'Artagnan used all his training to fend the man off, fear for the Dauphin and desperation overriding the increasing pain in his shoulder that was starting to travel down his arm, making his fingers feel numb and uncoordinated. He gripped his sword as tightly as he could to compensate.
Two of the newly-arrived men came up alongside the Guard to join in the fray. D'Artagnan roared and pulled out his main gauche to try and keep them at bay. He threw his eyes around, trying to find a place where he could avoid being surrounded. Meantime his sword found its mark on one of the men's shoulder, having been deflected from his chest. The man howled and backed off, just momentarily, and as the Guard's sword grazed his neck, d'Artagnan spun unexpectedly and drove his main gauche into the other man's stomach. Time seemed to freeze for a second, and as the attacker crumbled, d'Artagnan removed his knife and looked up to see the barrel of the Guard's pistol aimed at his head. He ducked, then reached up with his left hand which was still holding the main gauche and pulled the pistol toward him, losing the knife and unbalancing the Guard, who released the weapon and tumbled the ground, and d'Artagnan staggered backwards, struggling to maintain his footing.
As the man he'd stabbed in the shoulder lurched forward again, d'Artagnan turned the procured pistol on him and fired, sending him flying. Dropping the gun, he retrieved his knife and looked back at the Guard, who was regaining his footing, but hadn't made it up yet. With little time to think, d'Artagnan pushed his sword into the man's gut. Without waiting to see the effect, he withdrew the weapon and then ran toward the carriage, where he could see the other attackers doing their best to get inside, and the singular driver trying to keep them away.
As d'Artagnan had suspected, the second Guard was in on the plot, and it was taking very little to overpower the driver, who had only his pistol, and, having fired once, had no time to reload in the onslaught. "Coward!" cried d'Artagnan, and the closest of the attackers to him turned and advanced. Steel sang against steel, the two men pulling closer as d'Artagnan tried to disarm the large brute blocking him from Marguerite and the Dauphin. Once again his main gauche proved invaluable, and when his opponent forced his sword arm back and away, making him grimace in pain and leaving him vulnerable, he brought the dagger in and plunged it into the man's neck, turning his face away as blood bubbled out and, trembling and gurgling, the man collapsed.
Realizing no one was running at him now, d'Artagnan looked around to regroup. A few yards away, he saw the driver on the ground, grievously wounded, and the second Guard sitting in front of the carriage, readying to speed away. One of the men from the trees was visible inside the carriage with the Dauphin and the women, and the last man turned toward d'Artagnan. The musketeer realized he was starting to slow down, the strain of carrying the fight for the most part on his own taking its toll, his grip on his sword not as strong as it was in the beginning of the fight. Still, he could not accept that he was about to lose the Dauphin, and the thought of watching him ride out of sight spurred him on. He began to rush headlong into the last man standing between him and those he needed to protect, but his adversary took advantage of his second's distraction and rushed forward himself, slicing d'Artagnan along the ribs and piercing his left side.
D'Artagnan gasped in pain and dropped his main gauche, drawing his hand up to the wound. Forcing out stilted breaths through his teeth, he knew he couldn't afford to give it more time and attention, and, angry at himself for being taken by surprise, he looked the man in the eye, disarmed him then with anger and little effort, for his adversary had been certain the Gascon was now disadvantaged and had lowered his own defences, and ran him through.
Breathing hard, he lowered his head for a second or two and tried to push away the pain of his new wounds and his shoulder. When he looked up, he cursed his momentary weakness as he saw the carriage moving away. Pulling out his pistol, he took aim at the Guard driving the coach and fired. He missed, his arm wavering from the strain on his shoulder, and, knowing he had no other option, he ran for his horse, intending to follow.
Reaching the men he'd downed first, he retrieved two unfired pistols, knowing it would take more than good riding to catch up and hoping he could manage true aim at least once. Standing up pulled on the new injuries, and his vision swam as he gripped the horn of his horse's saddle and mounted. This had to end soon, he knew; he wasn't going to last much longer.
The sound of galloping horses reached his ears, and from seemingly out of nowhere, d'Artagnan saw Athos, Porthos, and Aramis appear. He knew he should feel heartsick, but right now all he could feel was relief, and as his own horse started to run after the carriage, the trio's mounts came up alongside to join him. "The Dauphin is in the carriage," he panted to Aramis, who was closest. "The Guard driving—he's in on a plot to kidnap—to kidnap—"
It was taking all d'Artagnan had to stay on horseback, and he couldn't get the words out. But apparently no more were needed.
"We're on it!" Aramis shouted back, and he urged his horse to run faster, Athos and Porthos joining him. Soon the Inseparables were out of sight, and when d'Artagnan heard a shout of warning and then a gunshot, he knew that it was all over. As his own horse came around the bend in the path, he saw the carriage stopped, the Guard on the ground, dead or close to it, with Athos shielding Marguerite and the other woman, who were distressed, from the sight; Porthos firmly handling the attacker who had been inside the carriage; and Aramis cradling the Dauphin in his arms.
The group looked up when they heard d'Artagnan's horse, the musketeers ready to defend the Dauphin, but relaxing when they saw only the Gascon. "He's safe," Aramis told d'Artagnan.
D'Artagnan nodded, and then, with one more urgent thing to do, he turned his horse around and headed back to the palace, leaving the men he had once called his brothers to look after the Dauphin.
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"Your Majesty," d'Artagnan greeted. Bursting back into the palace, he was mercifully not rebuffed when he asked to be granted an immediate audience with the King. It had taken d'Artagnan some time to get back, having ridden farther than he'd expected, and finding the need to do so more slowly due to his injuries, but he had moved as fast as he could, hoping beyond hope that Tréville was still there. He was pleased to discover that the Captain was with the King in the same room in which d'Artagnan and Baudin had originally met with the monarch on their return. Rochefort and Baudin were also there, but the Queen was absent.
The King gasped when he saw the bloodied, dirty, and bedraggled musketeer before him. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked.
D'Artagnan tried to bow but found he could only do so part way before his sword wound made him stop. He bit his lip and dipped his head instead out of respect. "Your Majesty, I must speak to you right now."
Louis looked at the others and then back to the musketeer. "Interesting that you didn't see fit to do so before. And now you show up looking like you've just been in a scuffle—"
"Sire, there's been an attempt to kidnap the Dauphin."
Any further humiliating words on the King's lips died at d'Artagnan's words. He stood up from his throne, clearly frightened. "Where is he?" he asked, his face white and drawn.
"He's fine, Your Majesty. Athos, Aramis, and Porthos will be bringing him back here soon, I'm sure. They will ensure no harm comes to him."
"What happened? How do you know about this?" the King demanded.
"I know, Your Majesty, because Antoine Baudin told me about it on our way back here." With a glance at Baudin, who was looking back at him, expressionless, d'Artagnan added, "It was his plan to take the Dauphin when he was taken for his daily outing, in order to force your hand in regards to the Protestants and their rights in France."
Tréville stood up straighter, Rochefort raised an eyebrow, and Baudin was immediately outraged. "That is ridiculous, Sire!" he exclaimed, as Louis looked from d'Artagnan to his childhood friend, shocked. "I have never heard such nonsense!"
"You don't have to believe me," d'Artagnan continued. "You can see it for yourself." He drew out a parchment from underneath his cloak. "He kept track of all his plans. This was in his saddlebag." Louis's eyes widened as Tréville took the offered document. "The Dauphin's life was going to be spared in exchange for concessions granting rights and freedoms to the Protestants that extend well beyond the Edict of Nantes. And they would make sure you were aware how easy it was for them to take him again, if you ever reneged on your promises."
Tréville spoke up. "There's a map here showing the route the Dauphin's party takes every day," he said. Furrowing his brow, he added, "There are also instructions on building up a weapons cache in Anet, and other activities that seem to point to the truth of d'Artagnan's words, Your Majesty."
The King frowned at his friend. "Antoine?"
Baudin glared at d'Artagnan. "It's not true, Louis. I could never betray you as he says. Perhaps he is covering his own misdeeds."
The King clearly wanted to believe Baudin. "D'Artagnan, can you prove this?" he demanded.
"The other musketeers will give evidence, Sire. They also observed Monsieur Baudin's desire to change things by force." D'Artagnan sucked in a breath as the pain in his side spiked. "I witnessed almost everything myself by pretending to go along with him. He had threatened to kill the other musketeers if I didn't cooperate. I stopped or mitigated as much as I could. But the full plans are on that parchment."
If he hadn't been feeling so poorly, d'Artagnan might have felt more sympathy toward the King, whose eyes, now wide and angry, also held immense sadness at the betrayal of someone he trusted and loved. But he was distracted by his own problems, and so he just watched, impassive, as Louis steeled himself and made his decision.
"Take him away," the King said to Rochefort, a definite tremble in his voice. "Get him as far away from me as possible. Lock him in the Bastille, and when we know the truth for certain, I shall decide what is to become of him."
"As you wish, Your Majesty," Rochefort replied. He gestured for two of the guards who always stood nearby to remove Baudin, who protested loudly, cursing d'Artagnan and hurling accusations at him. Then he followed them out, leaving d'Artagnan and Tréville alone with the King.
Louis turned back to d'Artagnan and demanded to know the whole story of their journey, once the musketeers learned of Baudin's treachery. D'Artagnan explained how Baudin had approached him many times about how he felt about what happened when he and the King were kidnapped by LeMaître, and then how he courted the Gascon's favor all through their time in Vassy, until he forced the young musketeer to choose to help, or watch his brothers be killed. D'Artagnan detailed how he had wanted to have the help of Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, but that he found himself with no opportunity to tell them what was happening, then told the King that anything they had done that might seem untoward would have been an attempt on their part to make d'Artagnan see sense, and that they had not actually done anything that could be considered treason, even though d'Artagnan, himself, would understand if the King found the Gascon to blame.
As the young man spoke, the King's expression changed from angry and self-righteous, to dismayed, and even a little ashamed. When d'Artagnan finished his story, the monarch nodded and said, "You said when we were captured by those thugs, d'Artagnan, that I was a good man who deserved your respect. I feel I have not lived up to that assessment. I offered you a reprimand after you did all you could to keep me safe, and then in the wake of that, you put yourself in danger again to protect me, and my son, even at the peril of losing all you hold dear to you. Your musketeer friends must applaud this act of bravery on their behalf."
D'Artagnan shook his head slowly. "I don't think they do, Sire. The things I have done have made me unworthy of their brotherhood." When the King could think of nothing to say in return, d'Artagnan added, "For what it's worth, I'm sorry to have put you in a position of having to decide what to do with someone you considered a close friend."
The King frowned. "I am torn between being a sovereign, and being a friend. It is not easy to be two opposing things. You wanted to remain a soldier when I asked you to be an executioner," he said. "Now I understand why you said no." D'Artagnan lowered his head, acknowledging the King's unspoken apology. "I wish I could refuse the double mantle as well." D'Artagnan remained quiet. "You did an honorable thing, d'Artagnan. You gave up everything you held dear for the safety of the House of Bourbon. It will not be forgotten."
D'Artagnan closed his eyes. The cost was high, unbearable, but finally, finally his King understood he was faithful. "Thank you, Sire."
He tried to bow, and found himself swooning. It was Tréville who caught him by the elbow before he hit the floor. "I'm sorry—sorry," d'Artagnan muttered. "I just need to get back to the garrison."
"Nonsense," the King said. "You shall be attended to here." He snapped his fingers and a page rushed from the doorway. "Summon the physician and have d'Artagnan looked after. Make sure he gets the best possible care. Give him whatever he needs."
The page nodded and scurried off. "You will always have a friend here, d'Artagnan," the King said. "My gratitude and that of the Queen will ensure you are always welcome at court."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," d'Artagnan replied.
The King ordered that d'Artagnan be taken to a private salon, and that Tréville stay behind so they could discuss what needed to be done about Vassy, Anet, and other villages corrupted by Baudin. At that moment, another page entered, announcing the arrival of the musketeers and the Dauphin. D'Artagnan sighed in equal parts relief and sadness, and let himself be led away.
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Would really appreciate feedback! Cheers!