"Now I believe I can hear the philosophers protesting that it can only be misery to live in folly, illusion, deception and ignorance, but it isn't -it's human."

Desiderius Erasmus


CHAPTER LII

Treville's blood boiled as he recalled the smug expression on Rochefort's face. I don't doubt that Athos took the first opportunity he had to slip away from that little bastard. He knew Athos well enough to be certain that his lieutenant would report to him immediately upon his return. In the meantime, he and d'Artagnan went over the map of Fontainebleau, marking the few areas they had yet to search.

They were so engrossed in their work that Treville failed to realize how much time had passed. When Aramis and Porthos strode into the room, he frowned. "Athos isn't with you?"

"No. We haven't seen him since we split up this morning," responded Aramis, blowing on his hands to warm them.

"Something is wrong." D'Artagnan's dark eyes were troubled.

Porthos swore under his breath. "Captain, there's no trace of Denise anywhere. It's like she's vanished off the face of the earth. But someone's got her…and now maybe they've got Athos too."

"Or their disappearances could be unrelated." Treville threw down his pen. "The Comte de Rochefort was quite smug when he reported in earlier. He claimed that he had no idea where Athos had gone—said he'd wandered off in the gardens."

"Yeah, and I'm a fairy princess." Porthos' hands flexed at his sides. "Captain, I suggest we use the evenin' to scour the palace once again. There's gotta be little nooks and crannies we missed the first time."

Treville sighed, and scrubbed his face with his hands. "I see no other alternative. We cannot afford to rest. There is too much at stake."

xxxx

Denise strained to hear the voice of her captor. He seemed to be very far away at the moment. Her hands were tingling, and her head felt lighter than air.

"You gave me something. In the water." Her tongue felt thick, and she was having trouble forming her words. She shook her head, trying to clear it.

"Such a suspicious mind." His tone was mocking. "But yes, I did. It was an elixir that will help you relax. How do you feel?"

"I feel-not normal. Like my whole body is light, and nothing hurts anymore."

"Good." His voice was soothing now. "I'm going to give you a few more minutes to rest, and then we're going to play a little game. Nothing too taxing. Just close your eyes for a few moments."

Denise felt her eyelids closing of their own accord. I feel so relaxed. Maybe he isn't as cruel as I thought. Maybe he is planning to let me go.

After some time had passed, she heard him speak.

"Now I want you to prepare to open your eyes. When you do so, you will feel fully rested, and ready to take on whatever task I give you. You will know in your heart that I only want the best for you, and the best for France. So when I ask you to go to the King's chambers, you will know that you are on the most important errand of your life. Everything else you will have experienced in life will have been for the express purpose of preparing you for this moment in time. Do you understand?"

"I do." Her voice was strong and confident.

"And do you trust me?"

"Implicitly."

"Good. Now open your eyes." Her grey eyes slowly opened, and she smiled up at him.

Giles felt his heart begin to pound in excitement. This time he'd gotten it right. He hadn't been careful enough with d'Artagnan—hadn't considered the dose he had given to the young man, or the condition that he had been in. Of course, at that time, he'd been acting as his brother's minion. This time, he was much more personally invested in the outcome.

xxxx

Rochefort paced outside the door that led to the cell where Athos was being held. A single torch flickered in the darkness of the hallway as he impatiently waited for his right-hand man to appear. When the metal door scraped open, all was silent. His lieutenant, a burly man named Auguste, stepped into the corridor, a buxom kitchen maid on his arm. He pinched her bottom, then handed her a silver coin. She squealed, then whispered in his ear, and disappeared up the crumbling stone staircase.

Rochefort raised an eyebrow. "I gather he believed her blood-curling scream was that of his beloved Charlotte?"

The man grinned. "I expect so. After all, one screamin' wench sounds the same as the next, eh? Just before I opened the door, I heard 'im call out for 'er, and 'e sounded pretty damn desperate."

"Good." The comte's blue eyes hardened. "And how did he respond to the iron?"

" 'E was a bit hardier than the usual, but before I was done, I got a response from 'im all right. And when I told 'im we had 'is wife….well, 'e just went all stiff..like 'e was in shock."

"Even better. We'll let him spend the night turning that thought over in his mind, then go back for another session in the morning. Well done, Auguste. As a reward, I'll let you have the evening at liberty to spend as you choose."

The man's eyes slid to the staircase, and Rochefort guessed the path of his thoughts. "Just make sure she doesn't tire you out too much. I don't want you unfit for duty in the morning."

"Oh, I'll be ready, milord. The next part is the part I enjoy the most."

xxxx

The King sat in front of the fire in his bedchamber, staring at the flames. He drained the last of his wine, then slammed the gem-encrusted cup onto the small table next to him. He was in a foul temper, bored and thoroughly out of sorts. He had expected Milady de Winter to entertain him that evening, but she had retired to her own chamber for the night, begging off due to a headache.

He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples in order to soothe away the dull ache that had started there. He had considered summoning Anne, but wasn't in the mood to listen to her prattle on and on about the Dauphin. The boy had been a salvation for the kingdom, but he expected his queen to focus her attention on him when he deigned to call her to his bed.

Why did Treville insist upon bringing me here to Fontainebleau? I haven't had a decent meal since I've been here. Milady is pregnant, and is already become tiresome. I'm miles away from any entertainment, and shall likely die of boredom before I get back to Paris.

At that moment, he heard a panel on the far wall slid open, and sighed in annoyance.

"I have no need of your company tonight, Anne. You are free to return to your own chamber." His voice was sharp, leaving no room for doubt as what his wishes were.

"Your Majesty?" Sweet and clear, the speaker's words floated across the room to him. "I humbly request a word with you. I am afraid I have done you an injustice by withholding something from you that was rightfully yours, and I must beg your forgiveness."

He recognized the voice immediately, and his interest was piqued. However, he put on an expression of displeasure, and turned to the carafe of wine, pouring himself another goblet. "Ah, the Black Widow of Moret-sur-Loing makes a reappearance. You are bold to request an audience with me after disappointing me so grievously at our last meeting."

The rustle of silk was heard from behind him, and Denise circled in front of him to kneel at his feet. Her shining black hair was unbound, and flowed over her shoulders. She wore a low cut white gown, drawing attention to her full, high breasts. Her grey eyes lifted to his, and her voice trembled. "You must understand, Your Majesty…I am just a simple seamstress from a little village in the countryside. I was overwhelmed by your invitation to dine, and did not feel myself worthy of your attention. I spun you a tale that night."

"Spun me a tale?" he repeated, his tone hardening. "You lied to me?"

"There is no Black Widow," she whispered, looking down at the floor as tears filled her eyes. "I made up that story on the spur of the moment, because I was afraid—afraid that if you took me to your bed, that I would fall in love with you. And I could not bear to have my heart broken….for I could never hope to be made one of your mistresses. I am not worthy of such an honor. But I should never have denied you my body."

"Denise, look at me." He put took her chin in his hand, and tilted her head up to meet his gaze. His brown eyes were full of sympathy. "I understand your fears, and I hold no ill will towards you. Perhaps it was imprudent of me to have not signaled my interest first in a more—subtle way. But you are wrong to think that you do are not the sort of woman that I would consider forming a permanent liaison with." He trailed his fingers along her cheek, and she sought the warmth of his touch, giving a little sigh of pleasure.

"I know I have nothing much to offer you, Your Majesty. I am not skilled in the art of seducing a man. In fact, I have known only one man—my late husband. I fear I cannot offer much in the way of novelty, and could possibly prove to be a disappointment."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" he murmured, sliding her chemise off of her left shoulder.

She blushed, and the pink flush in her cheeks served only to enhance the expanse of white, creamy breast that lay invitingly in front of him.

"Undress for me," he muttered, his voice growing hoarse. "But slowly…. only a few inches at a time. I want to savor every moment."


I am afraid things are not looking any better for poor Denise...or for Athos.