Apologies once again for being late; somehow I seem to be very busy of late. I'm managing to fill the hours with something! I have proofread but I dare say the odd error may have crept through. Please excuse any you spot.

So, how is Louis taking the news of the Spanish plot?

CHAPTER 52

I

"I will not sit at the same dinner table as that man this evening," Louis remonstrated. "He is a traitor to the treaty, has been behind the murder of loyal soldiers and citizens of Paris and has betrayed his king and me! I refuse to countenance him being in the same room! Why has he not been arrested yet?"

Tréville sighed and sought to control his frustration. This was the second time he had been to the palace in as many hours and he and Richelieu had repeatedly gone over the issues with the King. On the first visit, he had told the Cardinal what Athos had said and, together, they had apprised Louis of all that they knew.

Ferdinand had accompanied the Captain back to the garrison and they had waited in Tréville's office for Espinar to be brought to him. It only took a brief exchange for the officer to be reassured that the prisoner was still in command of his wits and he read out the statement he had written the night before on the man's behalf.

"Is there anything that you would wish added?" he asked, his face stern.

"No, it is all there as I remember it," Espinar responded sullenly.

"It is incumbent upon me to explain that the Cardinal Infante is here to witness you signing this as your account of events. He represents both Spain and France as brother to both Phillip and our own Queen. He wishes, as do we, that the men behind the plot to sabotage the treaty between our two countries will be brought to justice for their treacherous act. Your confession will help us to achieve that."

"I have been involved in the treason too, so it won't go well with me, confession or not," Espinar moaned, rocking backwards and forwards on his chair.

Ferdinand spoke up for the first time. "You have played your part and that cannot be forgotten. I also know that you have been but a pawn in their game, even if you have been paid well for your efforts. The Captain here has told me of what happened to you and how you came to leave the service of your King. You have been grossly mistreated, and I understand how your bitterness has arisen. Your assistance in helping us charge the Ambassador will be recognised."

"But it won't spare me from the hangman's rope, will it?" Espinar's fears of the death sentence rose to the fore, his voice cracking.

Ferdinand sighed. "I swear that I will speak on your behalf before my brother-in-law, but I cannot and will not make you any empty promises. However, in doing right at this point by giving us your evidence, it might do much to bring you peace."

Espinar fell silent, his head bowed.

"Have you been treated well since you were brought to the garrison?" Tréville asked. "Have you been fed and given water? Physically hurt in any way?"

All three men knew the reason behind his questions. He wanted Ferdinand to know that the admission had not been forced from the prisoner.

Espinar gave a wry smile. "I have eaten better since being imprisoned here than I have in the past few weeks, and that is no lie. You and your man, that big Musketeer, did not lay a finger on me - after he had arrested me, that is. I collected a few bruises from him then, but I was fighting to get away."

As with the previous afternoon, when Espinar finally decided to confess, Tréville was struck by how articulate and well-mannered the man was. It should, he realised, not be that big a surprise; Espinar had been a fellow officer, after all.

Suddenly, Espinar's smile widened and, ignoring the scar that disfigured one side of his face, it was clear that he had once been a very handsome man. "You might tell him that he does not need to spin such a fanciful yarn. At the time, his exaggerations convinced me, and he caught me at a vulnerable moment but, on reflection, I should have seen through his ruse."

Tréville huffed. "Whilst I would love to admit that most of what Porthos said was a significant bending of the truth, I am afraid we have no idea as to the full extent of Cardinal Richelieu's techniques when it comes to interrogations led by his finest and best. All I can say is that they get results, more often than not, and we genuinely wanted you to be spared that."

His sombre words wiped the smile from Espinar's face as he was left once more to consider the fate he had escaped.

"Then I'd better sign," he said brusquely.

He took the inked quill that Tréville passed to him and scratched his name at the end of his confession. The Musketeer officer also signed it and then passed the document and quill to Ferdinand.

As the Cardinal Infante signed with a flourish, Tréville called out to the two men who waited in the balcony beyond the door. Instructing them to return Espinar to the holding cell, he rolled up the signed confession, slipped it inside his doublet and led Ferdinand down to the yard where their horses stood waiting for them.

Back at the palace, they immediately went to Richelieu where Ferdinand gave a brief account of his meeting with the prisoner and Tréville brandished Espinar's confession.

Once more, France's First Minister and Captain of the King's Guard sought an audience with Louis who was still reeling from what they had told him earlier. Then, as now, he had wanted de Calatrava immediately arrested and, if he had had his way, clapped in irons and dragged off to the deepest, darkest cell imaginable.

Tréville and Richelieu exchanged glances, the soldier wordlessly appealing to the churchman to express a solution.

"He has sent word three times now that he wishes to speak with me regarding the events of yesterday," Louis said, his voice rising in volume and tone as he paced anxiously. "What am I to do? I do not want to see him. What would I say to him? Suppose he is demanding a rearrangement of the ceremony or, worse still, blames me for the bombing. He might be wanting to see me to insist that the treaty will not go ahead. What am I to say to him then?" Louis paused for breath and Richelieu took the opportunity to speak.

"Sire, you must remain calm, I beg you."

"Calm! How can I be expected to remain calm? Assassins were out in force to threaten my life yesterday and, according to you, the arch-villain responsible is here, under my roof as my guest, and you and Tréville refuse to do anything about him. I could have been murdered in my bed last night so he might try tonight!" Louis was bordering on the verge of hysterical tears.

"You must not worry yourself, Your Majesty," Tréville intervened. "Your Musketeers were outside your door all evening and night, and I increased the duty guards. Where you go, my men follow. You are in no danger here within your palace."

Louis stopped abruptly and rounded on the Captain. "But how do you know that, Captain Tréville? How can you be absolutely sure?" Louis was working himself up into a state and there would be no placating him for hours if they were not careful.

"Because the Captain and his men will continue to do what they have trained for and what they always do … and that is to protect your royal person," Richelieu said calmly as Tréville shook his head in agreement.

The Cardinal then repeated everything that they had already told the King during their earlier meeting him; that he was never the intended target, that it was very likely to be Ferdinand and that Anne's brother had come out of the incident without serious harm thanks to the swift thinking of one of Tréville's men. There was much for which they needed to give thanks. They had known of the plot and were as well prepared as possible, attempts to sabotage the Treaty had failed miserably and they would produce their findings for the Spanish King.

"Tréville and I need the remainder of the day to put together our case against de Calatrava and those who have supported his endeavours," Richelieu continued, his attitude pragmatic as he took control of the discussion. "I need hardly remind you, Sire, that we have two valuable witnesses injured yesterday who would benefit from another day's rest."

He was tactfully reminding Louis about Athos and Brondate recovering in the Musketeers' infirmary. There was also a serious concern that Louis would be unable to pretend that things were as normal as they could be at the day's banquet. The Spanish Ambassador suspicions would be roused, and in an unguarded moment, Louis could possibly blurt out their strong suspicions. In light of the explosion, the casualties and the subsequent shock experienced by others who were present – not least the royal couple - it was deemed inappropriate to continue with the previous day's festivities. Perhaps that night's banquet should also be cancelled.

"If Your Majesty is reluctant to spend time with the Ambassador this evening, then I suggest you retire to your apartments and I shall inform the Ambassador that you are indisposed, that your nerves continue to be shaken by the events of yesterday."

"It will not be a lie, will it, Armand?" the king asked, his eyes wide with worry. "I mean, I am still grossly upset by what happened." His face suddenly brightened as he began to believe his excuse and elaborate upon it. "I am also grieving for the loss of brave soldiers as they performed their duties and for the deaths of innocent bystanders. They were citizens of Paris, my subjects. They should expect to be able to see their King and Queen without risking life and limb."

A thought, totally unbidden, struck Tréville. You and Porthos should get together to fabricate your stories; you would make a fine pair and I would love to hear what your combined imaginations and propensity for exaggeration could create.

But Louis had not finished.

"I shall don black clothing as a mark of respect for the lost and injured. That is another very valid reason why I should not entertain the Ambassador this evening. What sort of message would that send to my people if they are bowed down with sorrow and their King continues with his festivities? They will think me unfeeling and that would never do, would it, my dear Cardinal?"

Richelieu dipped his head in acknowledgement. "You are, as always, Sire, sensitive to the thoughts and feelings of your subjects. You have made an admirable decision and so, with your permission, I shall go at once and acquaint the Ambassador with the arrangements. I shall then send word to the kitchens; we do not want them to waste food unnecessarily. Perhaps a simple fare would suffice this evening?"

Tréville wanted to point out that the notification would probably be far too late, and that the kitchen staff had, most likely, been preparing the banquet since dawn. Certain elements would have been completed the day before, but perhaps they could be incorporated into the 'simple fare' or at least not spoil before another twenty-four hours had elapsed.

He and Richelieu took their leave of the King.

"Wait for me in my office," the Cardinal said as they hurried along the corridor. "I shall see the Ambassador and tell him about the change of arrangements regarding this evening. Then I will join you and we will put our case together. Given the King's impatience for a quick resolution to this, we ought to be confronting de Calatrava tomorrow morning."

II

It was de Calatrava's turn to be furious and, unbeknown to him, he mimicked Louis' behaviour as he paced the large reception room of the apartment that had been assigned to him. Cardinal Richelieu had just departed, having informed the Ambassador that his evening meal would be served to him in his rooms and that there was no possibility of the French king receiving him before the morning at the earliest.

"Louis is refusing to speak to me. Instead, he instructs his minister to make excuses on his behalf. Why? Why will he not give me an audience?" he demanded of Gallegos who had returned to the palace with Tréville on the Captain's first visit.

"The King is still out of sorts after yesterday?" Gallegos offered as he rubbed his temple to ease a strange headache that refused to go away. When he awoke that morning, he had felt heavy, unco-ordinated and lethargic and the odd symptoms were taking their time to disperse. When he had told that wretched Musketeer who had been tending him, the man had merely raised an eyebrow and insisted that it would pass, blaming it on Gallegos confinement within the side room.

It was not his fault that he had been moved there. Whilst he had appreciated the privacy that separated him from the common soldier and Paris peasants, at least he was not isolated; when he wanted something, people reacted. Once in the side room, he felt that he was ignored. He had tried calling for assistance until he was almost hoarse, but they did not seem to hear him. And then he had slept. It had been a long, deep sleep and, as such, was unusual for him but the Musketeer had insisted that the fresh air on the return to the palace would revive him.

It had not worked; the headache still pained him and matters were not being helped by the Ambassador's loud voice.

"He suspects something," de Calatrava continued. "I know it. Yesterday's debacle was down to you, Gallegos. Your man failed and I do not countenance failure."

"But you are still in a position to accuse the French of an assassination plot against yourself and the Cardinal Infante," Gallegos whined, eager in his desire to appease the Ambassador. "The fact that the attempt happened at all is enough to persuade our King that the French are devious and untrustworthy. They realise this and are uneasy, which is why they are avoiding meeting with you because they do not know how to proceed. The Captain of the Musketeers is probably running around like a headless chicken as we speak, investigating the incident and not knowing where to begin."

The Ambassador ceased pacing and smile, his features softening. "do you really think so?"

"Without a doubt. Espinar is our man through and through. His men were carefully picked by him and they know nothing of the reasons behind their orders; he assured me of that. They have been paid handsomely and, by now, most will have dispersed through France, some returning to Spain perhaps. Where could this Tréville even begin to look for them?"

"But what of Espinar?" de Calatrava demanded. "Is he still in Paris in case we have further need of him?"

"The last time I saw him, I ordered him to remain. I have already sent word to his lodgings this morning but have yet to hear from him."

The Ambassador nodded. "Good. If need be, he can be sacrificed to Tréville; some piece of incriminating evidence can be created to make him the scapegoat."

Gallegos' eye widened in panic. "But he could involve me; he knows me!"

"You gave him a false name, didn't you? Well, we'll just have to make sure that, should the need arise, you have nothing more to do with him and he does not see you to identify you. There should be no problem."

There was something in de Calatrava's smile that was far from reassuring for Gallegos who experienced a dreadful sense of foreboding, one that had him making an instant decision.

If the Ambassador suddenly harboured any ideas about making the interpreter a second scapegoat, then Gallegos would have no hesitation in bringing down the man.

After all, there was a limit to loyalty.

A/N

Delighted to discover that 'to run around like a headless chicken' hails from 14th century England!