Ch8 pt2 (about the criminal)
Athos introduced himself again to his men, but hesitated to return to the exit, where the Chatelet's guards were waiting for them.
"Porthos, go ahead, Aramis and I will join you as soon as possible ..." - he said cautiously. His companion nodded with a half smile, already knowing what he should have done.
The two moved away only a few steps when Athos met Aramis' gaze and said in a low voice:
"This is your moment. You wanted your revenge and here you will get it: follow me ".
The musketeer retraced his steps, but left the upper cells, where Richelieu had just been imprisoned, went down the long staircase that led to an underground cell.
No more than a day before, the terrible iron masked criminal had been locked up there.
"Sir? Monsieur? "- he asked through the grate of the door.
The man was chained to the wall and raised his head to see it better. He tried to move and get closer, but the chains stopped him at the first step. Seized with a sense of hysteria and despair, he squirmed and began to cry again.
The musketeer opened the door to look at it better, but remained at a safe distance.
"Sir?" - Athos asked again.
"Majesty! Call me Majesty, it's me! King Louis XIII of the Bourbon dynasty! King of France! "- said the prisoner in tears.
The man's behavior caught his curiosity.
"Do you know the reason why you were arrested?" - he asked, avoiding to remind him who was the soldier who had put him in chains.
"My God, no ... I don't know ... A minute before I was at Richelieu Palace and immediately after..." - stammered the alleged criminal.
Athos tilted his head to look at him better.
"If you say you are who you are, how many inhabitants live in Paris?" - he asked suspiciously.
"What questions do you ask me! These are things to ask Richelieu! "- exclaimed the man in reply, trying in vain to remove his mask.
"Then who is your mother? Who was your father, monsieur? "- asked Athos again.
"What? You don't believe me? "- replied the masked man, trying to compose himself.
That act of vague dignity lasted only for a few minutes, the time in which the man's eyes managed to adapt to the light of the torch and orientate on the face of Athos.
"It is You! You are the Devil who locked me in here! I swear to God and all the saints that I will have your head once I get out of here! I swear! "- he tried to pounce on him, regardless of the chains.
It was enough for Athos to step back and let the figure of the criminal, or presumed one, contract in the pain of his arms tightened between the long irons.
The prisoner groaned and knelt.
In that position he continued to cry rudely.
"Do you recognize me, monsieur?" - asked the musketeer approaching again and bending the torch near his face.
"You are the Captain of the royal guard, Count de la Fère, called Athos. I named you myself no more than a year ago! Disgusting traitor! "- The musketeer tried to distinguish the features behind the mask without success.
However, he noticed that it was not very robust, lacking in strength and agility, characteristics with which it had often been previously described.
Athos narrowed his eyes. He did not recognize his voice, deformed by the mask, but the tone and words were almost unmistakable.
"Do you remember how you got into that pond? Do you remember seeing or hearing someone lock you up in this tool? "- he asked.
"I ... We celebrated for days and in fact I felt a little tired. I fell asleep. You and your guards had been turned away from Richelieu to give me some peaceful rest. Upon my awakening I saw your ugly face and that of your lousy allies! Dogs! Wild beasts! Your head will hang on a pole and your body will be torn apart! Nobody can bury you! "- threatened that man for the umpteenth time.
"Do you see these, your grace?" - Athos raised the keys of his cell, clinking in the light of the torch.
"Let me swear for once. I swear to you that at your next threat of death, at your next insult towards me or one of my men, I will close the door of your damned cell with these keys. I will no longer hand them over to the other guards, but will throw them directly into the Seine. France will have no trouble finding another King on your equal, if not better "- Athos, devoid of patience, exhaled through his nose, holding back other words.
"Saint Joseph that you are, you weak impotent! What are you going to do to me if you can't even get your ladies? "- said the prisoner, not at all frightened by his threats.
Athos blushed. Without saying another word he got to his feet and locked the door, leaving that mad criminal in complete darkness.
The masked man complained for some time and continued to clap his fists on the door.
"Something wrong?" - asked Aramis, meeting him on the stairs. Athos swallowed without speaking, still red in the face and his heart pounding, bruised with anger.
She was staring at him, questioning.
"Is he Spanish? English? Italian? "- she asked again with suspicion.
Athos didn't listen. He looked at her for a moment, without answering. Part of him wanted to ask her to just take him then and now, right on the door of that cell, rage and passion, no ghosts allowed, no question asked, just for the sake of proving that criminal wrong.
Noises still came from the door behind him.
"Wait! Athos! Come Back! "- the prisoner's voice moaned from the door of his cell. He stopped the ascent and pointed the corner of his eye towards the closed grate, still shaken.
She heard his words.
"French?" - Aramis searched, listening to that desperate cry.
"He can't be French!" - she continued in the silence of his companion.
"Listen to me! Please! "- the voice behind the grate again complained.
Athos turned and opened the louver.
"Talk" - he said, keeping the torch away, thus leaving it in the dark.
"During my sleep, I opened my eyes, I thought I was dreaming, that I had eaten or drunk too much. In front of me I saw... "- in the darkness of his prisons, the mysterious man touched for the umpteenth time the metal mask that hid his face, in an attempt to remember how it ended up inside that tool.
"A monster" - he continued in a tired, dreamy voice.
"What?" - asked Athos and Aramis in unison, showing amazement.
"He had human features, but one of the eyes, the cheeks ... He was seriously disfigured. A woman was with him. They talked together. Were they British? "- the man knelt desperately and took his head in his white hands, and his purple nails, covered with scratches.
"I will give the key to the guard, monsieur" - said Athos closing the grate.
"Tell me then, is this your man? The instigator of the robbery? "- he asked Aramis.
She shook her head, in sadness.
"From what you've noticed, does it seem like a man who can stand up to a bunch of mercenary criminals? Someone able to command ruthlessly? "- she asked, showing perplexity.
Athos also shook his head, advancing towards the exit of the royal prisons.
In the vigil rooms that occupied the walls of the Chatelet, a group of guards laughed, ate and drank in the company of Porthos and D'Artagnan. The friendly company played cards and hummed as if it had been in a tavern.
At the surprised sight of Athos and Aramis, Porthos spat out the cork of the wine he held between his teeth and D'Artagnan lowered the deck on the table, while a soldier his opponent peered quickly, randomly exchanging one of his figures.
"Porthos!" - exclaimed the Captain, bringing him to attention.
"Good job, let's go!" - he said only to the musketeer.
D'Artagnan looked at the three musketeers with the same ambition with which, years before, he had challenged them to a duel, unaware of what it meant to him, regardless of how skilled they were or their experience against him.
He feared Athos' judgment, but he detested the situation he was in at the time: in the limbo of a personal Purgatory, too proud to return to Gascony, too human to belong to the ranks of the King's soldiers.
He hesitated, meeting the eyes of Aramis on him, remembering their last words: Athos could not have done better. They too were human beings, with a heart and a past, the feeble life of those who once swore allegiance to the sovereign, ready to give their lives when requested.
"Wait!" - he said, leaving the table.
"D'Artagnan was passing casually around here ... He was looking for Constance" - Porthos explained quickly, composing himself.
"Constance is not at Court?" - Aramis asked suspiciously. He shook his head, confirming it.
Meanwhile, a guard handed over the mandate with the signature of the Chatelet, a document that stated the command to Athos had been executed and the prisoner was locked. He opened and read it, observing names and principals, his face turned white.
He passed the letter to the other two and without adding anything else, they immediately galloped to the Louvre.
The three rushed to the King's presence without being announced. With sad amazement, they noticed how that mandate for the arrest of Richelieu was telling the truth: after obtaining immunity from the Cardinal, the King's new favorite, Countess de Winter, sat by his side as if she had been a queen.
"Given your new alliances with this person, I find myself forced to reject the position of Captain of the royal guards, Your Majesty!" - Athos looked at the scene with the vague disbelief of those who see one of his nightmares come true.
"Mh ... Captain ..." - the sovereign raised his eyebrows and slowly turned his gaze towards Milady, nodding in fake amazement.
She nodded back and gave a quick glance at the man, right in front of her, getting up after the deep bow of greeting.
The King looked at Athos with an expression devoid of any feeling of regret.
In fact, His Majesty had not always considered with too much regard his combat skills or his prompt response: despite his position, he often found himself asking for the help of D'Artagnan and his direct friendship with the sovereign to have more voice.
However, it was he who had appointed him Captain of the royal guards for some reason, he knew his family personally and several times had remembered him at the Court. Although not always for the best causes, he had always called him by his battle name and when he spoke with him he knew for sure who he was conversing with.
On that occasion, however, he had in no way shown even to remember these simple facts.
"Oh ... I understand ..." - confirmed the King without any concern or remorse - "However I personally guarantee for the Countess de Winter and, if you are trying to put me in front of a decision, I will definitely choose her. You can go now"- he said, without even saying the name of his family and turning his gaze back to the woman, with another nod.
Milady smiled and sat even better on her padded chair.
Already at that moment the three found it rather strange, given the insistence of King Louis to always have his guards at his side, even in less necessary moments, only in an attempt to demonstrate how he, above all, had still a military corps ready to serve and defend it at any time.
The sovereign shrugged his shoulders simply and finally turned his cheek to Athos, looking towards Porthos and, in a strangely direct and confidential way, he continued:
"And you? Do you want to take the position that your partner has just left?" - the ruler pushed his legs almost awkwardly, while Milady, who sat by his side, seemed vaguely to take him back.
"The same goes for me too: I remain loyal to my partner and exactly like him I refuse to present myself in the presence of this woman, Majesty!" - answered the musketeer, when asked, with a short bow and a nod of affirmation towards his friend.
The King frowned, not showing a real wonder at that answer, but towards the courteous and direct ways of the two men just interviewed. He exchanged a new look at Milady, who seemed not to reciprocate him, focused on the slender figure beside Porthos.
Flattered by his own power, but vaguely irritated by that second refusal, the sovereign turned to the third guard.
"So, you?" - the gaze of the King focused on that of Aramis, who recognized in him an air different from that which usually had Louis ... Someone completely familiar, yet so similar to the king that he was not recognized neither from Porthos, nor from Athos.
Aramis took off her hat, bending down, clasping her headdress to her chest, approached with slow grace, took the man's hand and kissed it, bringing to his feet with a particular reverence. Before that moment his companions had always been sure that he would never show so much respect for the King or the Cardinal, for sure he would never do it in front of them.
"I gladly accept this assignment ... Who could ever refuse such an offer?"- she said, raising his head and looking at him with shining, trembling eyes.
With difficulty he managed to hold back his tears, he smiled. Yet his face did not convey real joy, but a delicate nostalgia.
Finding that sight pathetic, Porthos snarled:
"I thought we were loyal friends!" - but Aramis didn't turn to him and didn't reply to those comments.
Athos was surprised to hear her words, the sudden change in her actions, noting the looks and behavior of his companion.
Already the King's ways were completely incongruent: reject the signs of two of the men who had been at his side for some time, arrest the Cardinal, exile the Queen without too much concern that now his adviser was no longer Richelieu, but Milady.
Reneé had been appointed royal guard under the identity of Aramis for a few weeks and yet she had never treated the King in that way, proving almost always contrary to the court habits, denying the invitations of the sovereign or accepting them only because forced, instead she was now bowing to him gracefully and was excited to shake his hand.
"I wonder why... You understand it by yourself, Aramis, that at this moment prostrating yourselves to His Majesty and his new alliances means betraying our friendship, an alliance that binds us for almost a decade ..." - explained Athos trying to put himself between the two, but staying at a safe distance from the Sovereign and Milady.
Renée's eyes met hers briefly, moved and in tears, she shook her head, as if to deny the words he had just said and returned with that melancholy and dreamy look towards the King.
Meanwhile Porthos turned his back on them and headed with long steps to the exit, shouting aloud:
"As you wish, Majesty! Remember that you are making a very serious mistake! And you ... Aramis! I refuse to be commanded by a lackey of your baseness! The position you have just accepted does not honor you! Nor does it honor my person to be commanded by someone like you! I resign from this guardhouse! Athos! You come with me! "- ordered the man.
He turned to Porthos and nodded firmly.
The two musketeers moved away from that room and soon from the royal barracks.
Aramis turned for a moment towards the two companions, almost wanting to bid them farewell. She immediately returned to her heels, awaiting orders.
"Can I have a word with you, Majesty?" - said Milady softly.
"Certainly, my dear!" - smiled the King, abandoning the moved gaze of Aramis and dedicating the most complete attention to him.
"This dear knight in front of you, is not the person he says he is ... She is a woman! She also pretended to be a priest for a certain period of time. If I were you I would immediately provide a due punishment, instead of promoting her as captain of the guards: you see, she is actually Baroness Renée d'Herblay... "- Milady whispered, trying to prove herself impassive and never losing sight of Aramis, in the terror that this, once revealed its identity to the King, ran away reaching with the other two.
The King looked at the young woman a second time and she for the second time she took off her hat and bowed sincerely at his feet.
Shortly thereafter, the sovereign nodded to his new adviser, showing consensus and gratitude.
"Milady! You are truly the angel who always protects me and only does my own good! Selfless caring for my friends! You found her and brought her to me! And, knowing her past, you had Richelieu arrested so that he could not act against her through the Holy Church! My mother would be so proud of you, you show how a real woman in politics would act! You help fellow women! I don't know what I would do without you! Thank you, thank you, thank you very much!"- the King, ecstatic, embraced the Countess with affection, he kissed once more and ran away dancing, in the direction of Aramis, without giving her the opportunity to reply.