Dear all, I am back and concentrating on 'Repercussions'. We are on the final push and the intention, all things permitting, is to update twice a week: Monday or Tuesday and Friday. I'm hoping that those of you who are continuing the story have had a chance to re-read it. I had to and, I confess, at times I was thinking, 'Goodness, I don't remember that!'

I hope that you and loved ones are staying safe, getting jabs and looking forward to a time of near normality.

So, the inevitable meeting between the French and the replacement Spanish Ambassador has at last arrived. Can the Treaty be salvaged or will deep-seated suspicions be too damaging?

CHAPTER 37

Somewhere beyond the palace walls, a sonorous church bell struck the hour of ten and in the corridor outside the door to the vast Louvre library, Porthos fidgeted impatiently. The King had called the first meeting with the Ambassador for half past nine and the Captain had insisted upon being early so he and his Inseparables had already been waiting nearly an hour.

"Stand still," Aramis advised lightly. "All this agitation will not bring the King and his guests any sooner."

"Then try tellin' the Captain that," Porthos grumbled and nodded to where Tréville paced the floor restlessly.

Huffing a sigh of exasperation, the Musketeer officer stopped in front of a life-sized, marble statue and briefly studied the naked, muscular male before reading the name etched into the plinth below.

"Coeus," he said aloud to no-one in particular.

"In ancient Greek mythology, Coeus was the Titan god of intelligence and considered heroic, as with many nude representations of mortals and immortals alike," Athos added softly from his position beside the work of art. As always when he waited, he was so still that he seemed to have adopted his own pose as a statue.

Tréville's eyes shifted from the cold marble to living flesh and back again. Perhaps he saw a likeness between the two in the curling hair and beard, but refrained from making any further comment; somehow, the statue actually managed to look the more dishevelled, even when divested of its clothing.

"His Majesty must have thought it appropriate to have a figure of learning outside the library," Athos continued. To anyone who didn't know him, he sounded bored.

Porthos stepped forward, the better to see his friend. "Is there anythin' you don't know?"

Athos shrugged. "There are many things on all manner of subjects that I could yet learn and, no doubt, even more that I have no desire to absorb."

As Porthos opened his mouth to speak again, Aramis quickly intervened for he sensed that with the big man's growing edginess, there was a heightened risk of him becoming argumentative. "I would like to think that we are heroic, but I really hope that the statue does not give rise to the King changing our uniforms in favour of nudity."

His comment had the desired effect and strange images came to mind, breaking the mounting tension in the corridor and drawing a chuckle from Porthos. "Athos'd 'ave nowhere for 'is main gauche."

Aramis slapped him on the arm. "And neither would we. More to the point, you'd have to play an honest game of cards at last; there'd be nowhere to hide an ace."

Tréville allowed himself a wry smile as he sought to rein in the banter. "I, for one, would miss the leathers. I fear the climate in Paris is not as conducive as that of Greece."

This brought a snort of amusement from Porthos. "So, Athos, do you know why Greek statues are so often naked? This isn't the only one in the palace and it's often made me wonder." He eyed the lower part of the figure sceptically. "It's not because 'e's boastin'."

Athos rolled his eyes; he had been anticipating some sort of lewdness when their attention was focused upon the statue.

"As I said, the ancient Greeks regarded nakedness as a heroic state," he explained. "Before that, it was seen as a sign of weakness, of losing a battle. That's why earlier carved panels depicted defeated armies without their clothing, but the Greeks turned that about. To them, it was not an image of humiliation but of moral virtue."

Porthos laughed even louder this time and clapped Aramis on the shoulder. "That's you out then!"

Aramis was about to adopt his 'hurt look' when voices could be heard approaching.

"Gentleman!" Tréville said quietly, the one word bringing them to order. They snapped to attention as the King and his party turned into the corridor.

"Tréville!" Louis effused as soon as he saw the Musketeers. "My dear man, did you think we had changed our minds and were not going to hold our meeting after all?"

This was Louis' attempt at humour and the closest he would come to an apology for the King could never be accused of keeping others waiting.

Tréville avoided answering and, with his men, bowed low. "Good morning, Sire. I trust you are well rested after the celebrations of the last evening."

The welcome banquet for the Ambassador and the Queen's brother had not broken up until after midnight. The Musketeers, with additional soldiers, had been in attendance and, when added to the time spent arranging security for the Spanish visitors, it meant that it had been a long day for Tréville and his men. The demands upon the regiment over the coming days would be heavy, especially if the proposed hunting trip to Versailles were to happen as the King desired. It had not helped that valuable time had already been wasted by the enforced waiting in the corridor but perhaps the meeting could now start and move effectively through the necessary points of discussion for there would undoubtedly be additional requirements of the Musketeers.

The doors were opened by royal staff and the large group filed into the library. Unlike most other occasions, a massive table had been set in the middle of the room with two chairs each side on Richelieu's instructions. The King elected to sit furthest from the door with France's First Minister by his side. To their right was the Spanish Ambassador and Gallegos so that he was available to act as interpreter. Opposite them was Ferdinand, who sat alone. Tréville pulled out a chair on the last side. He might have been unhappy that he was forced to sit with his back to the main entrance, but he indicated to Aramis and Porthos to take up their positions near the doors.

"Athos," he ordered, gesturing to the empty seat beside him.

The young Musketeer took his place at the table and laid a leather document case on its surface as the Ambassador scowled at the soldiers and muttered something to Gallegos, obviously unhappy about something.

"What does he say?" Richelieu asked.

"He wants to know why there are soldiers in the room and at the table for this meeting, especially when they are bearing arms. He wonders if some of his own guard would be similarly tolerated," Ferdinand cut in quickly before Gallegos could react. It was a timely reminder to the Spanish contingent that the Cardinal Infante was fluent in both languages and would know immediately if something were not translated accurately for listeners on either side.

Louis looked at Richelieu to explain.

"The King's Musketeers are responsible for His Majesty' safety at all times, hence their being armed. Not that there is any suggestion of any danger within these walls at this given moment," he hastily added, not wishing to cause offence. "It is but an accepted habit.

"As to their presence," he went on, "Captain Tréville's men here met with Ambassador Mendez before he was slain and were tasked with bringing the real signed Treaty back to Paris. They were also attacked and injured," and he gave a brief account of what had happened to the Musketeers, culminating in de Calatrava firing off a rapid stream of Spanish.

Gallegos immediately translated. "The Ambassador is pleased to see that your men are all recovered, Captain. He only wishes that the same could be said for his predecessor and wonders at those responsible for such a treacherous and dastardly act within the bounds of your country."

There! Someone had raised the subject. It was going to happen at some point and there was no avoiding the issue.

Louis was the first to respond, his face troubled.

"Believe me, Ambassador, that we are mortified that such a thing should occur in France and to think that the perpetrators went out of their way to implicate the French is unconscionable."

"I read the report you sent to King Philip and your claims that evidence was planted to make it look as if the treacherous deed was the act of Frenchmen unhappy with the Treaty." Gallegos looked uncomfortable as he translated the Ambassador's outburst for the listeners. He carefully maintained a consistent tone for de Calatrava's ire had been painfully evident to all and he clearly did not accept the French version of the events surrounding the death of Mendez.

The little man was also acutely aware of Ferdinand's unrelenting stare; there would be no opportunity to lessen the impact of the Ambassador's views.

"If I may, Sire?" and Tréville looked to the King for permission to continue the explanation. Louis nodded.

The Captain kept his voice level. "I investigated the scene of the slaughter, Your Excellency, and was responsible for the writing of that section of the report. It is exactly what I saw; French coins scattered on the ground and, amidst the Spanish escort, a corpse who was supposed to be one of the attackers. He was dressed in ill-fitting French clothes and was of darker colouring than the average Frenchman."

There was the customary delay as Gallegos translated the soldier's words and waited for a response.

"And your assumption was that the man therefore had to be Spanish!" The Ferret passed on the Ambassador's comment. "Do your French citizens from the south not have similar colouring? Are you so desperate to lay treachery at Spain's door?"

As Gallegos fired the aggressive questions, Louis gasped and blanched at the prospect of the Treaty's rescue floundering before discussions had begun, whilst the Ambassador launched another stream of Spanish, glaring all the while at something beyond Tréville. Both he and Athos turned to identify the subject of de Calatrava's hostility.

Aramis.

The marksman frowned as he listened and then, just as quickly, his features softened into a slight smile. He laid a hand against his heart in his familiar gesture of humility, bowed his head deferentially and, unbidden, addressed the Ambassador. The expression on the Spaniard's face was a sight to behold. Whether that was because a mere soldier had had the audacity to speak to him or because he was answered fluently and faultlessly in his native tongue was unclear.

Richelieu was not amused.

"Keep your man in check, Tréville. How dare he speak to the Ambassador like that. What was he saying? He could jeopardise the whole meeting."

The Ferret passed on the Cardinal's displeasure to his master who sat, head inclined as he listened, but eyes still fixed on the man who had broken all accepted protocol.

Before Tréville could react, Ferdinand spoke out. "There is no need for concern. The Musketeer was respectfully pointing out a flaw in the Ambassador's reasoning, that he is not an example of the colouring of those Frenchmen from the south and that his dark features are because of his own Spanish blood, courtesy of his mother." He looked at Aramis and smiled. The marksman's head dipped in acknowledgement.

There was a moment of held breaths, the tension palpable around the table. The Ambassador was still highly suspicious of there being some French duplicity in the death of his predecessor.

"Richelieu, do something," Louis hissed urgently even as he tried to mask his own fear that the long-negotiated Treaty might fail.

"We firmly believe that there are at least two factions determined to prevent the signing of the Treaty between our nations," the First Minister explained.

"Dos?" There was no misunderstanding the Ambassador's question once he had heard Gallegos.

"We have not ruled out a possible involvement of the English or Dutch," the Cardinal continued.

"Or French," Tréville added pointedly, his eyes fixed upon Richelieu and ignoring the ferocious scowl he received as a result. He refused to let his own suspicions rest.

"French?" The Ferret spoke without prompting.

The Ambassador needed no translation of that and, puzzled, he looked from Gallegos to Tréville and back again.

The Musketeer officer shrugged. "It is not inconceivable, Your Excellency, that there are those within your borders and others here who are not in favour of the Treaty and are seeking any means to prevent it from being ratified. The English and Dutch may have their reasons for not wanting to see this accord between us, but I fear that opposition is homegrown."

All the while he was speaking, Gallegos whispered to the Ambassador.

"Think of it and of the mood around the table at this moment. These groups are in danger of succeeding. They have us doubting each other's intent, apportioning blame where there is none to be had and allowing our suspicions to fester. This is what they want. Would you have us all play into their hands?"

"The Captain speaks sense and I urge you to think on it. I did not want to see Ambassador Mendez dead," Louis said defensively. "He, the Cardinal and I spent far too many hours in negotiation. Why would I do that if I did not want the Treaty to be realised?"

Nobody dared mention the possibility that he had engaged in such negotiations merely for appearance sake. As the monarch, he expected his word on anything to be accepted without question.

De Calatrava looked thoughtful and Tréville seized the advantage. He was about to tread on dangerous ground with his probing for he was thinking of the initials that a dying man had managed to write in his own blood – initials that could have represented two of the seven men at the table. R-I-C.

The Captain studied the Spanish Ambassador intently.

"Ambassador Mendez and his entourage were slaughtered by those who were pretending to be French. As has already been said, we have not ruled out the English or Dutch but if it were an act of some of your fellow countrymen, have you any suggestions as to the possible identity of those behind such a move?"

He was not anticipating a sudden confession, but he was interested in seeing the response to his question.