Greetings and apologies for being late uploading this chapter - it's technically early Saturday morning! Several computer hiccups today whenever I wandered off to do something else and I thought for a while that I had lost a chunk of the computer but I salvaged it (more by luck than judgement!)
The next chapter will be up Tuesday this coming week.
CHAPTER 41
I
Porthos was in a corridor leaning casually against a wall, peering nonchalantly around its edge to take yet another look at the double doors that had remained firmly closed for much of the time he had been in position. He had lost track of the time that he had been standing there; all he knew was that he was hungry and his feet were beginning to hurt from being in one place for so long.
He had attempted to alleviate the boredom by watching the behaviour of the Spanish guards de Calatrava had insisted on being outside his apartment, another indication that the Ambassador was not fully trusting of his French hosts. Porthos huffed gently with strange pleasure.
What would the Ambassador have to say regarding the half-hearted protection he was getting from his own people if he did but know? The pair of guards looked less than amused by their duty in the alien palace and, from the tone of their hushed voices, they were complaining bitterly to each other. That had been their behaviour for much of the time that Porthos had been in his concealed position down the corridor a little way; that and their casual stance indicated that they were not taking their responsibility very seriously.
A soft tread behind him made him grin.
"No good you tryin' to sneak up on me, Athos," he declared softly, his eyes fixed on the guards and the closed doors.
"I was not trying to sneak up on you, as you put it. I know better than to take you by surprise." Athos had moved close to his friend's shoulder and whispered into his right ear. "How did you know it was me?"
"You reckon I don't know your footsteps after all this time?"
Athos did not respond but focused upon where the big Musketeer was looking. He frowned. "They are not the best of guards, are they?"
"No. Mind you, they've not exactly been put to the test all the time I've been 'ere."
"I take it nothing much has been happening?"
"Nothin'. A couple of palace servants came to deliver food but there've been no visitors an' no messengers. The Ambassador an' the Ferret went inside after the meetin' in the library an' they 'aven't come out since."
"And that is the only entrance?"
Porthos pulled a face at the question. "Of course it is, apart from another set of double doors further down but they're locked. I checked. I also found out from servants that they're blocked by heavy furniture on the inside. No doubt it's been done to 'elp with security. Those doors we see down there are the only way in and give access to a whole suite of rooms."
"As we are on the third floor, we just have to hope that the Ambassador is not given to climbing out of windows."
Porthos slowly turned his head so that he could see Athos clearly. "I'm 'opin' that's not a serious suggestion!"
Athos arched an eyebrow but there was no mistaking his amusement.
Porthos sighed. "There are times when you're worse than Aramis in your own way, you know that? Speakin' of which, what's 'e doin' now?"
"Oh, I would say he is in the Infirmary desperately trying to sober up a rather drunk Spaniard. He is under orders from our furious Captain to get Brondate here as soon as possible and before the Ambassador misses him."
"What the 'ell 'appened?" Porthos hissed.
Athos rapidly told him all that he knew.
"Idiot!"
Athos' lips twitched. "Aramis or Brondate?"
"Both!"
There was a moment of seriousness from Athos. "Aramis did have time to tell me that the alcohol had loosened Brondate's tongue. I would dearly love to know what he had to say for himself."
Suddenly he stiffened as the doors at the end of the corridor opened and the change in the two guards was abrupt as they snapped to attention.
The two Musketeers flattened themselves back against the side wall as the Ambassador and his interpreter swept past the entrance to the corridor where Tréville's men had placed themselves and headed towards the grand staircase that would take them down to the banqueting hall.
Athos glanced towards the Ambassador's apartment and saw the guards standing with their backs to the direction that de Calatrava had taken as they laughed and joked together. Something about their tone and their demeanour suggested to him that they had no respect for the Ambassador. Seizing the moment, Athos tapped Porthos' chest with the back of his hand in a signal to follow him.
The two Spaniards stopped as soon as they reached the floor below and were engaged in an intense conversation, so the soldiers had to wait out of sight on a bend in the stairs.
The Ambassador was finely dressed. Again, he was clad in black, but the garments were of a rich material and finely embroidered, the only relief to his severe appearance provided by a crisp, white lace collar and the jewels worn at his throat and on his fingers. Gallegos, on the other hand, wore a full, length cloak and carried a plumed hat.
"Looks like the Ferret is thinkin' of goin' out," Porthos stated. "Who'll be interpreter to the Ambassador then?"
As they watched, the two Spaniards parted company and headed in different directions.
"No doubt the Ferdinand or the Queen will come to his rescue." Athos grew thoughtful. "You've done enough today, my friend. Follow the Ambassador into the banquet and see if you can find Tréville. Tell him that I have gone after the Fe…. After Gallegos," he corrected himself.
Porthos nodded. "You just take care of yourself."
"Of course I will," and Athos clapped him on the shoulder, but his reassurance fell short of the desired effect.
"An' 'ow many times 'ave I 'eard that one?" Porthos grumbled.
"Rest easy. Gallegos has probably developed a penchant for a nocturnal walk in the palace gardens," and Athos strode off before his friend could think of a suitable rejoinder.
"We wouldn't be that lucky," Porthos said bitterly to his brother's retreating back. "Especially if that walk's suddenly so much more important than doin' the job he's supposedly 'ere for, an' that's bein' the interpreter for the Ambassador."
II
"Where's Gallegos?" Tréville asked as he and Richelieu took their places at the banqueting table.
"According to the Cardinal Infante, the Ambassador told him that his interpreter is feeling unwell, having developed a violent headache and has taken to his bed," the Cardinal explained, his eyes narrowing as he glanced in the direction of the Ambassador who was taking his revised place between the Queen and her brother. A rapid readjustment to the seating plan ensured that he had two voices to help him converse with the French King.
"Cardinal, if you please," Louis said, smiling broadly.
Richelieu immediately stood, all movement in the room ceased and heads bowed as he gave thanks for the food to be set before them.
"Perhaps you would advise your man that pulling such grotesque faces is likely to upset the more delicate amongst the courtiers," Richelieu complained to Tréville as he resumed his seat.
The officer looked mystified until the Cardinal gestured to where Porthos was standing, desperately attempting to attract his Captain's attention.
Wondering what might be amiss, Tréville stood, looked to Louis and dipped his head.
"My apologies, Your Majesty, but it appears that I must deal with something. I shall be as quick as I can."
"Make sure you are swift, Captain, or you run the risk of missing this wonderful fare," Louis instructed, his mood jovial. There was much at stake with this treaty and he was consequently determined to be positive in his approach to all things.
Leaving the table, Tréville strode the length of the banqueting hall to where Porthos stood inside the doors. The tall Musketeer inclined his head in an invitation to follow him and the Captain followed him out without question.
"What is it?" Tréville asked, keeping his voice low.
"Athos wanted you to know that 'e's taken off after Gallegos."
The Captain initially looked dumbfounded at what he had just been told but then shook his head in exasperation.
"So, de Calatrava has lied to us and if he's capable of lying to us once, how many more times can he do it and why?" and he quickly explained to Porthos the reason he had heard for the interpreter's absence from the banquet.
Porthos looked worried. "An' if Gallegos 'as gone wanderin', it's probably for no good reason. 'E's been in with the Ambassador since the meetin' ended; that's given 'em plenty of time to do some plottin' an' 'e could well've gone out now to meet someone to put whatever it is into motion."
"That seems likely," Tréville agreed, his concern evident.
"An' Athos 'as gone after 'im on 'is own." Porthos could not hide his mounting anxiety.
"He is well-skilled in following people," Tréville said, trying to convince himself as much as the Musketeer standing with him.
"'E is, as long as nothin' goes wrong, or Gallegos meets a whole bunch of people so Athos is outnumbered. You know how 'e can attract trouble without meanin' to."
Tréville gave a wry smile. "I believe you and Aramis are just as capable of doing that." He sighed. "Any chance you can catch up with him?"
Porthod shook his head. "They'll be long out of sight by now, but I think I'll do a bit of wanderin' anyhow. You never know, I might come across 'im."
There was no need to elucidate. Porthos would hunt for his brother to ensure that he was, in the first instance, successful in his task, but Porthos would want to be on hand to offer any necessary assistance and be the first to find him if, heaven forbid, he should be incapacitated in some way.
But Paris was a big city and there was no way of knowing where Gallegos would go if, indeed, he had arranged to meet someone. The only hope was that, as a stranger to Paris and on foot, he would not have gone far from the palace for an assignation. The area surrounding the Louvre would, no doubt be Porthos' starting point.
Tréville nodded his approval. "Just make sure that you are back at the garrison by midnight, whether you catch up with Athos or not. I don't want to be sending out a search party for you as you may well miss each other and he returns on his own. We will meet in my office and you can each make your reports. I am eager to hear what Aramis has learned from Brondate. I just hope to goodness that this evening's banquet does not drag on like the one last night!"
Porthos gave a low chuckle. "I heard from Athos what'd 'appened to the Spaniard. 'As the Ambassador asked where he's got to?"
"Unfortunately, yes, but I think I gained us some time by saying that Aramis was taking him to walk the route to Notre Dame so that he could familiarise himself with the area. It was a half-truth at any rate."
III
In the garrison infirmary. Brondate sat on the side of a bed, head in hands, looking and feeling very sorry for himself.
"Drink this," Aramis said, holding out a cup and deliberately keeping his voice low. "It'll help settle your stomach and ease the headache."
Brondate took the cup and eyed the contents warily before downing the draught in one. He groaned and swallowed convulsively several times so that Aramis glanced nervously at the bucket he had placed on the floor beside the Spanish Captain. On arriving at the infirmary, the man had passed out completely and had lain on his back, snoring heavily for at least an hour.
"'E can make enough noise to rival Porthos," Serge had complained when called upon to render assistance by supplying some food and water.
"I daren't leave him to sleep too long," Aramis moaned. "I have to get him to the palace soon or the Captain will skin me alive!"
After an hour, Brondate woke of his own accord and immediately wished he had not opened his eyes. Confused and not knowing where he was, a bowl of chicken stew and a slab of bread were thrust towards him by a grizzled old man who growled something unintelligible at him. Wincing at the noise, he looked to Aramis to explain.
"You must eat," the Musketeer urged him.
The Spaniard had managed one spoonful when his stomach rebelled.
Aramis had then encouraged him to drink some concoction, its strong taste not unpleasant but he still fought the urge to gag.
"Now you must drink plenty of water and try and get some of the food down. It'll help in the long run. We have to get to the palace soon. You are meeting with my Captain and the Ambassador. Remember?" Aramis prompted him.
Brondate's eyes widened and his face, already pale, took on a greyish hue at the reminder.
"What happened?" He ground out between mouthfuls of food that he was forcing himself to eat.
"I was hoping that you could tell me," Aramis grinned encouragingly. "We had the brandy with the Captain and only a couple of ales at the Wren. It was just as if one minute you were fine and the next …" His voice trailed off.
Brondate was embarrassed. "My profuse apologies. What must you think of me? I have slept little during the journey and not eaten since dawn today."
"And it all conspired against you on this occasion." Aramis was sympathetic.
"I hope I did not make a fool of myself," the Spaniard said hopefully.
"Not at all," Aramis reassured him. "You are most amiable when inebriated."
Brondate closed his eyes and groaned. "And I hope I didn't say anything I shouldn't have done."
Aramis was all wide-eyed innocence. "Not at all. No cursing, no lewd jokes, no insults or challenges to unassuming Parisians and no strange family anecdotes either."
The Spaniard heaved a sigh of relief and took a bite of the bread.
Aramis gave a slight smile, thankful that Brondate had no idea what he was thinking.
No, but you did have some very interesting things to say about the man you are protecting, the Ambassador.