Greetings! Here it is at long last, the next chapter. Hope you've had the opportunity to reread the story if need be. I certainly needed to before I got back to writing it. Only been about 20 months! Uploads, I hope, will be a couple of times a week.
Apologies if any errors have crept through.
CHAPTER 25
As Tréville waited with Richelieu in the Library for the King to join them, the Captain surreptitiously studied the First Minister.
There was no conversation between the two men; if anything, the Cardinal appeared distracted, his eyes fixed on the patterned flooring as he slowly paced, hands clasped behind his back and beneath his black robe, causing it to fall oddly behind him. Tréville was not desperate to initiate any discussion as his mind went over recent events and he wondered if he had done the other man a gross disservice in immediately drawing the conclusion that the bloody lettering beneath the Ambassador's body could only indicate the Cardinal.
The officer had been disturbed by his original suspicions that Richelieu had ordered the death of the Spaniard, thereby endangering the success of the Franco-Spanish treaty, and he had long wondered how he could prove it and, more importantly, how he was to broach the subject with the monarch when Louis was so dependent upon the Minister. In fact, he had lost many hours of sleep worrying about the matter; that and the welfare of his three men.
He still could not shake the idea, though, that Richelieu was somehow behind the attack on the Musketeers who had carried the real Treaty and he could not fathom why. What did the Cardinal hope to achieve, other than the overthrow of the peace settlement? Why would he publicly promote it and secretly do what he could to destroy it? What did he know that he was not sharing, either with Louis or the Captain? If only Tréville could find the mystery woman and prove that she was working for the Cardinal but, right now, he could not think of any idea as to how that was to be accomplished.
All he knew was that he had to be circumspect in what he said and the protection of Loret suddenly became even more important.
A door opened and the King bustled in, a vision of pale coloured silk richly embroidered with gold thread.
The two men awaiting him bowed low as he settled himself in a chair set before one of the vast windows between the bookcases and afforded him a perfect view over the immaculately maintained gardens.
"This is a most unfortunate circumstance, gentlemen," Louis began, his face radiating his displeasure. "I cannot delay any longer the writing of a letter to my brother-in-law informing him as to the lack of progress in finding those responsible for the murder of his Ambassador; something I find so disconcerting and embarrassing. It is several days since his death and decisions are needed as to the man's body. I mean, what are we to do with it … him? Méndez was an important man and we must be seen to be treating him with the utmost respect. Philip's going to be cross enough as it is; I do not want to be giving him more reason to be unhappy with France."
With me. Louis did not need to be more specific.
Tréville wondered at the King's choice of words. 'Cross' and 'unhappy'. Both were tantamount to an understatement in international affairs.
"I mean," and here Louis waved a hand airily, his face contorting in revulsion, "where is he at the moment? What has been done with him?"
Tréville and Richelieu exchanged glances and it was the Cardinal who stepped closer with the answer.
"The Ambassador has been kept wrapped in a cold room beneath the Palace. It has been important to have access to the body in the event of wanting to examine him again in the course of our investigations."
Our? Tréville speculated as to the extent of the Cardinal's part in the 'investigations'. So far, it had been largely left to him and his Musketeers but the patience of both King and Cardinal was rapidly wearing thin. What was he supposed to do when his every attempt was thwarted with all potential witnesses found dead, murdered? There was someone managing to stay one step ahead of his every move, but he was reluctant at this stage to admit that the one possible lead was in the person of a woman who succeeded in evading him. Did he dare challenge Richelieu about her?
It all came down to trust and he had to admit that he still did not trust the Cardinal. An even darker concern for the Captain was the prospect that Richelieu was undertaking his own investigations and holding back information.
There it was again – trust, or the lack of it.
"He cannot stay in the cellars," Louis remonstrated. "It will be weeks before contact with Philip is made and a reply received. Supposing they want the Ambassador back? Surely they would want him home again? Or would they expect us to bury him on French soil? If so, where would be appropriate that will not give Spain additional offence?"
Tréville felt helpless. He did not like the constant political manoeuvring and diplomacy that was necessary to maintain a semblance of peace between nations.
"I doubt that they would want Ambassador Méndez to remain here, given that he died on French soil and we have, as yet, to discover the identity of those responsible. We can protest our innocence, but we do not know how the news will be received," Tréville ventured.
"Should we lay him to rest in Notre Dame?" Louis asked in desperation, turning to Richelieu for advice.
The Cardinal shook his head. "It is normally reserved for sons and daughters of France, Sire. Besides, it would be a considerable upheaval to lay him in a suitable tomb if he were then to be removed to Spain, and that is without the expense."
Trust Richelieu to bring it down to the subject of money, Tréville thought.
"Might I suggest Holy Innocents Cemetery, Your Majesty?" the Cardinal said.
Louis looked horrified. "Bury a Spanish Ambassador with the city's poor?"
The impoverished residents of Paris were buried without cost in a mass grave that was dug in the cemetery to hold twelve to fifteen hundred corpses before being covered in and the next grave started. The stench, at times, was unbearable.
Richelieu sighed. "I was not intending that the Ambassador should be placed in a pauper's grave, Sire. May I remind you that many of our eminent citizens are buried there. It is possible to have a mausoleum erected for Méndez. It would still be at a considerable expense but our respect for his position and sorrow at his untimely demise would be clearly expressed and if, by chance, the King of Spain opts to leave the Ambassador here, he might be prevailed upon to make a contribution to the cost of the mausoleum, if not recompense us in full."
He was referring to the places inside the cemetery walls. Cloisters of some eighty arches had been constructed and within them lay the tombs of the wealthy and distinguished citizens of Paris. It would provide a temporary solution, but Louis was not convinced, and his frown spoke volumes.
"I do not think that my brother in Spain would be happy with that arrangement," the King moaned. "There must be some other way but first, what can be done to the body to prevent …. well, to stop … You know what I mean … what it is that happens to dead bodies. They will no doubt wish to receive a complete body if they decide to take him back to Spain."
Putrefaction was obviously not a comfortable topic for the monarch's lips, and he gazed helplessly at the two older men.
Richelieu looked thoughtful. "There are different methods of embalming, Sire. We could, perhaps, store the Ambassador's body in a barrel of wine or vinegar or spirits such as brandy."
Even Tréville stared in amazement at that suggestion. It was as well that Louis was already seated as he looked on the verge of collapse at such a notion.
"Brandy!" and his voice had risen an octave. " We cannot return the Spanish Ambassador pickled in a cask! There must be another way."
Richelieu shrugged as if he did not see any problem. "We could have the body washed, eviscerated …"
"Spare me the details, Cardinal!" Louis almost screeched.
Richelieu merely gave a half bow in acquiescence. If Tréville did not know any better, he would have thought that the man was deliberately provoking the King.
Embalming was not a new practice, but methods varied. The Captain suspected that the Cardinal was about to allude to a technique used since the previous century, even within the English court. Once eviscerated , the inner cavities were washed out and stuffed with aromatic herbs and spices. The body was then wrapped in waxed cerecloth, the seams sealed in beeswax.
Tréville concentrated again on the Cardinal, who had softened his description to the King as he continued.
"And then the body would be sheathed in lead and laid in a wooden coffin with more dry, sweet herbs."
Louis sighed in relief. "That sounds far more acceptable. We have chapels within the Palace. Select one that is cool and set the coffin there draped in the Spanish colours and surrounded with flowers. Light the chapel with plenty of candles, set up a vigil so that the Ambassador is never left alone and appoint priests to say Masses for the man's soul. It is the least we can do."
"I will see it done, Your Majesty," Richelieu dipped his head. "Further decisions as to the Ambassador's last resting place can then wait until we have heard from Spain."
Louis turned to Tréville. "Have you learned any more from the men you are holding?"
"No, Sire. I have questioned all of those who survived, and they were merely men who sold their sword. They had no idea as to what they were doing or why. They were simply given an instruction and followed it. They did not care as long as they received their money. We are no closer to finding who was behind their employment."
"What about the leader, Loret?" Richelieu asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Nothing in addition to what he has revealed to me so far," Tréville admitted.
"He must be holding something back."
"Why would you think that, Armand?" the King wondered.
"It stands to reason, Sire. He had to be receiving his instructions and payment from someone and therefore seen them," Richelieu added.
Tréville's brow furrowed for he knew he had to be very careful as to how much he revealed at this juncture.
"An intermediary," he reluctantly admitted, "but someone who has been meticulous in protecting their identity and that of the person ultimately responsible for ordering the attack on my men."
He maintained eye contact with the Cardinal, trying to detect the slightest reaction but there was nothing. Richelieu was a consummate master in schooling his features, of revealing nothing unless he so desired – something that he and Athos had in common.
"Why have you failed to mention this intermediary before?" Richelieu said, an accusatory note in his voice.
The King's attention was renewed.
"Because we have been trying to ascertain who the person is. If we could do that and apprehend the person, we might then be able to determine who is behind this," Tréville continued.
Richelieu's face remained an inscrutable mask. "Has this Loret furnished you with any significant details regarding this intermediary?"
This was the moment when Tréville could no longer conceal what he knew.
"He met with a woman."
"A woman!" Louis interrupted. "This disaster has been initiated by a woman?" He clearly found the idea difficult to contemplate.
"A female spy or agent is not unheard of," Tréville said slowly and deliberately, "and she would have received her orders from someone else."
"And what did this woman look like?" Louis demanded.
Tréville frowned, determined to give the impression that the information he had was too vague. He hoped that he could be as convincing an actor as Richelieu. "Nothing that would set her apart from thousands of others: late-twenties, dark-haired and a veritable beauty."
"That's all?" Richelieu queried as if he did not believe the Captain.
"That is all, and you will agree that it is information that is almost useless. Loret was probably far too impressed by the money he was promised for completion of the task. It sounded a generous sum for the murder of three Musketeers and the seizure of a document. He did not even know what it was he had to find and bring back to Paris."
"He did not know that it was a Treaty, a document of national significance?" Richelieu pressed.
"No idea whatsoever," Tréville confirmed, hoping that the more he declared Loret's ignorance in matters, the more he could safeguard the man.
"I believe the man knows more," Richelieu declared. "You have had your chance, Tréville, and it has come to naught." He turned to the King. "Let me have the man, Sire. He must be brought to the Châtelet and I will discover what he knows."
"There is nothing else," the Captain persisted.
"But you do not know that for certain," Louis said, his tone that of one used to admonish a disobedient child.
"Loret is safe under guard at the garrison. This woman is dangerous, and I believe that she is taking pains to remove anyone who knew of her involvement in this situation and more. From witness reports, Brother Laurence was in the company of a woman answering that general description shortly before he was murdered in the side chapel in Notre Dame. I would not be surprised if that person and the mystery woman are one and the same. The palace servant Alain Nadeau was murdered and the missive I sent intercepted. At the morgue, when we found his corpse, we saw another body of a man who had been poisoned."
"And the relevance of him is what?" Richelieu sounded impatient.
"The Musketeer with me recognised him as someone who had been loitering outside the garrison for a couple of days and, more importantly, the same day that Brother Laurence arrived."
"This woman is a monster," breathed Louis, shocked at what he was hearing. "If what you say is true and she is implicated in the deaths of these men, she must be found and made to answer for her crimes. Perhaps," he looked hopefully at Richelieu, "we could offer some sort of reward for her apprehension?"
At last, the Cardinal seemed evasive. "That is not to be recommended, Sire. This woman, whoever she is, knows that she will be sought for her actions. We do not want her to think we are so desperate as to offer a reward. Indeed, the description we have of her is so vague that the Captain is correct. We would be receiving information on all young, pretty, dark-haired women and that would be time-consuming and detract from more beneficial investigations."
Louis looked crestfallen. "You are right as always, my dear Armand. Sometimes I do not know how I would survive without your shrewd counsel. I am indeed a fortunate man, am I not, Tréville?"
The Captain ignored the Cardinal's smirk at the compliment. It was as if the First Minister was gloating at scoring a point in a competition vying for the King's favour.
"But what of your men, Captain? My brave Musketeers. How does this day find them?" At least the King remembered the heavy toll the mission had taken on the soldiers.
Tréville inclined his head. "I thank you, Sire, for asking after them. All three are making rapid progress. After a short period of light duties, you will soon see them back here at the palace."
"I am glad to hear it. I shall want to speak with them, naturally; thank them for the risks they took in protecting the Treaty and bringing it safely to us."
"But what of Loret, Your Majesty?" Richelieu persisted.
"He must not be transferred to the Châtelet, Sire," Tréville said urgently. "He cannot be protected there."
"You would want to protect the man who nearly killed three of your men?" Richelieu was scathing.
Tréville rounded on the Cardinal, his anger barely suppressed. "I would protect the only man who can identify the mystery woman!"
There, he had said it. Let Richelieu interpret that however he wanted.
The Cardinal stared at him without speaking for several moments.
"Then perhaps," he said slowly, "we can reach a compromise."