Chapter 4
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
I should have understood.
There must have been a moment in this whole story, where I should have realized that Aramis was no longer a lady-in-waiting in the service of some noble, she was no longer anything I knew about her in Noisy, but she was a real musketeer of the royal guard and, as such, had to fulfill his duties and respond to someone's orders.
Perhaps the conversations with his companions should have been a message of love, or affection, towards him. A sign to be taken into consideration.
Muskets, crossbows and rapiers, gunpowder and cartridges were the order of the day, they were part of his normal life, while I represented what can be described as exceptional. Maybe I should have realized for myself that I was the exception, and not the rule.
I should have understood that, by now his revenge, there was not all this reason to cause scandals, to take risks... However, as once there was a before and an after, as there was a girl left up there at Noisy is a valiant fighter from Paris, so there was a day and a night in his life. Normal musketeer, but exceptional musician.
Not only for me, but also all other things need silence, they need time: a time of rest and a time of wakefulness.
But what about those whose wakefulness is occupied by something and rest by something else?
Nothing, usually they have made a final choice, have endured for a while and have decided on one of the two paths, otherwise they are no longer here to tell.
For a time, Aramis and I played almost every night and the long standard rapier often stayed at home. In its place were usually the dagger and the sword. No firearms and long rapiers, to avoid attracting attention or demonstrating the threat of military vigil.
This also allowed her to clasp me calmly behind her back, over my shoulder and go unnoticed in the streets of the city, especially with that ugly English hat or without her current uniform.
An undercover mission, as he called it. But I found it only an excuse to have fun, even if inside me I suspected something else.
First of all, a woman in public, with a viola between her legs, might have seemed at the time ... Unconventional.
But my mistress had already overcome those obstacles for many years, so, in a way, everything seemed to go smoothly. The exceptional was slowly becoming normal.
All this, up to the stop of the purse cutter.
I must admit that, while guns are not of my interest, the whole process of catching offenders and bringing them to justice gives everyone a certain satisfaction. It is useless to dwell too much on this petty personality, but once he was put on the ropes, with the dagger in his throat, I found the speech he made to Aramis interesting.
"I had no money to eat and I thought about stealing. Today you are the guard, and I the thief. You caught me and that's it. But I ask you one question, only one, my dear Knight: if you were in my shoes, what would you do, Mr Knight?".
And of course, Aramis threw him to the ground impassive, delivered him to the barracks and to justice, without really explaining anything to him or me, or to anyone else.
However I know: in his heart he knew that the question of that poor man with the long knives, but the empty belly, represented in a certain sense the condition of all: the fact that anyone can become someone in a short time, in the same way that someone anyone can become important with just a simple lace-up.
Just like me, when I too was once a humble piece of wood, good only in the flames of the fireplace; yet still capable of producing the best music ever.
In Palais Royale, the barracks of the royal militia were preparing for the changing of the guard, when Aramis took myself back on her shoulders, heading home. The night vigil was coming to an end, but a message stopped our return and our well-deserved rest. Aramis was called in the presence of the Captain of the guards, even before being able to leave the doors.
Captain De Treville was not really a new face or name to me, my mistress used to talk about him with affection and reverence, however this was one of the few times I too was present in one of these long talks between an attentive and attentive captain. one of his most trusted soldiers.
For this time, the Captain stretched out his brow, usually frowning with concern that he might have done another mischief or run into their defense with another matter. He
relaxed his shoulders on the back of his chair and let out a reassuring sigh as Aramis closed the door.
"One less bag cutter on the city streets" - the man said with relief.
"Unfortunately I do not know how long his sentence will last, I must remind you that he could soon return to freedom and commit other crimes..." - she retorted, with some afterthought.
"You did a good job anyway, Aramis. I'm proud of you! Were you alone?"
"This time yes, but it was not difficult"- she replied, her words began to arouse suspicious curiosity.
"Knowing you, I have no doubt!"- the man exclaimed, his confident and good-natured gaze eased her thoughts, but as if he were unable to let his guard down for a single second, another thought crossed the breaths of the young woman .
"I don't understand: for what reason now would you like to congratulate me personally and in private?" - she asked with vague doubt.
The Captain smiled at that alert gesture.
"You shouldn't take any further risks, after Joules ..."
"So, it was you who sent Porthos and Athos to my aid?"
"Of course, they are excellent musketeers, like you, and you three are inseparable..." - the Captain justified himself.
"As you know, I have the highest respect for you. You have been recommended with the best wishes, you have always justified your name and honor like everyone else and lately you have never disappointed my expectations... In these nine long years you have shown courage, honor and pride, you have shown value and my respect and affection for you is only the fruit of your skills and your courage. I feel the same love for you that I could feel for my own children and, as a son or daughter, all I want for you is eternal happiness and prosperity"- he continued.
Aramis shrugged, remembered the trip to Joules as a distant memory.
"I was wondering, then, who has returned with you from that trip?" - asked the Captain.
"Both Athos and Porthos".
The Captain blushed at his words.
"Maybe I should be clearer... Once back from Joules, who accompanied you to your home? Who asked about your father?"
"Both. You have been very clear. Both"- replied the young woman.
"Both?! Renée? Are you sure?"
"Aramis, Captain, that name no longer belongs to me. I'm just Aramis, the musketeer "- she said.
"Nobody, then?"- he asked.
Aramis hesitated.
"Manson and the Iron Mask have left this earth, they burn in the flames of Hell. Your revenge has now been accomplished. Maybe the time has come to think of someone?"
"Someone? I already think of God and the King, Captain, I don't have to think of anyone else at the moment".
De Treville sighed. Perhaps he would have liked to elaborate more on the subject, but Aramis and I were already out of his offices and running back to the barracks. And this, perhaps, was the reason why to ask Bonacieux for favors, through D'Artagnan, before other men, who already knew everything.
I know that it may seem strange to you, me myself: brushed and pushed by the violent fingers of a recently woman. Yet at this moment I could have been at court, on the lap of a queen or between the legs of a king. Played by one of the most famous princes of this and the new world.
Instead I passed through the barracks quickly and in silence and returned again to the streets of Paris. What am I saying! Among the squalid villages, among the common people.
Oh! How I wish I was at Court! How I would have liked to still live that noble and rich life of so many years before.
Well for one night, one night only, my dream came true.
It all began in one of these other secret missions, when we received a mysterious royal invitation to a strange place. Again Captain de Treville: was his confidence becoming more insistent?
Versailles? From Aramis's face I understood that the name was not new to her, but it was not an official residence of the sovereign and she certainly did not expect that the King would have wanted to meet her and Treville in a simple hunting lodge, on that cold and dark November night.
I didn't know much about true Court life then: about Richelieu, the Queen Mother and the Just King, not much more than what I had been able to overhear in the years before Noisy, because of François, or what Aramis had anticipated. in those previous adventures.
Voices told of how, precisely in those cold autumn days, he had left Paris to remain alone to reflect and decide the future of his kingdom: without the Queen Mother and without the Cardinal. And now he demanded servants, interviews and assistance!
Only the day before, Louis XIII had literally escaped from the Louvre Palace to Versailles, to avoid another discussion with Marie de'Medici, Richelieu and their constant subterfuges. His health, as well as his patience, had really come to an end! Everyone thought that the hours that separated Cardinal Richelieu from his final exile were now counted.
Aramis listened to those words, watched the scene in complete amazement. At first he didn't understand, he turned to Captain de Treville, his stoic face. The letter De Treville had received was about her.
The French King lay ill in bed, weak, pale, dark circles and sad eyes, red with tears and crying.
"I called you urgently because of my mother, Marie. As you know she was exiled just today: under pressure, she revealed everything"- the sovereign said to the two soldiers.
"Exiled? She was the one who should have taken the place of regent, Richelieu should have been exiled!"- Aramis retorted without waiting to be asked.
Those were not the words the King would have liked to hear. However, now that they had reached his ears and his sick breaths, a wind of anger animated his white hands and hollow face.
"Speak! Now! "- he said, clenching his fists.
"Your mother. He was in contact with Spain, he had issued an edict during his regency, but during your illness he had decided to cancel it and eliminate all traces of it. A Spanish spy had already tried to..."- Aramis retorted.
"Edict?! The Queen Mother? Exiled for alleged treason? And did you help her?"- the man's gaze lifted into an expression of amazement, slowed down by fatigue and illness.
"Nobody should have ever known! The treaty was burned before my very eyes! Pizarro, the Spanish spy who discovered everything, was killed by Athos! The Queen Mother herself admitted that it was a mistake and that it should have been kept private!
The King sat down between the cushions, called the Cardinal in his presence and clapped his hands with a sense of cold grace and order. The candlestick trembled as the minister passed as the sovereign proclaimed his words.
"Well, rejoice and rejoice in your coarse covenants my dear, since my beloved mother, by betraying me, has betrayed you too! Baroness Renée D'Herblay! The scandal of having a woman among my most trusted guards!"- he said with a burst of disdain.
Although I was unaware of the way in which Captain de Treville cared for Renee, I sinned with presumption, imagining a time when the girl unleashed and seeking revenge, left the Monsorots, presented herself at the Louvre barracks and recommended herself to him.
What could he have been thinking at that first moment? Perhaps, the short hair, bandages and armor had really fooled the man's eyes. Or whoever was helping her had made sure that Treville could defend her and that he too was part of this deception.
Anyway, in a past of which I was completely unaware, that man had truly welcomed the young woman under his wing and without prejudice had forged his blade.
"Majesty, this woman was betrayed by your mother's words, but she is innocent! No perversion pushed her to make such a gesture, it was just a question of revenge. You cannot accuse her of disguise! "- said the Captain, in an attempt to defend her.
"How?" - asked the Minister with surprise.
"In the words of the Inquisitor Brehal she is a woman dressed as a man out of necessity: her clothes protect her from violence, guarantee her honest nature!"- continued de Treville.
"Have you been helped by anyone?"- asked Minister Richelieu, turning to the musketeer.
"Not at all! I was alone! I went to Joules without anyone's help, not even the Captain was aware of it!"- Aramis hastened to answer with his voice broken by anxious breaths, his heart betrayed by his own pride.
Treville looked at her in silence.
"Do you confirm what the Baroness is saying?"- asked the rest of the guard, ready to take the act and order of the Sovereign and his renewed Minister Regent.
The Captain did not answer. In silence, he exchanged a helpless look at Renée, Aramis, who at any moment, under his consent, had become a musketeer, but who in a fatal moment had returned to being not only a lady, not just an ordinary woman, but a traitorous and criminal spy. What would become of her?
... If you were in my shoes, what would you do, Mr. Knight?
The criminal's voice trembled in my strings like a bad omen, a distant echo, a warning to be listened to carefully and which had instead been neglected by the succession of events.
Before that, her life in the barracks was all she had left, but on that sad November night, everything was swept away in an instant.
The carriage stopped suddenly.
"Run away! I'll find an excuse..."- the Captain whispered, in an attempt to save her from that cruel judgment.
However, Aramis knew that by escaping he would put him in danger. He shook his head in silence and waited patiently for the carriage to leave. He surrendered himself to his destiny in the fullness of his faculties, with a deliberate gesture, to the cardinal guards who watched the Bastille day and night. All this happened under the indifferent vigil of the popular stands and its abhorrent infamous pillory, inanimate and always ready to welcome the next traitor.
There was a brief imprisonment for me too, in which my mistress was able to play something, to attach the hair on the bow, so that it was not lost. But soon the music became the noise and shouts of the crowd. I looked at Aramis for one last time, in silence, bound and imprisoned, before being ripped off his shoulders, her on the pillory ladder and me in the maddened crowd.
I should have known that guys like me always get away with it.
Sold or given away, I would have gotten away with it another time anyway.
But people like her...