Chapter Five
A few days later after leaving messages with contacts in several establishments, word came and a meeting with Simeon could be arranged. Athos and Aramis had decided to meet him alone and the meeting place was relayed back to him, courtesy of the young lad who had brought them the original consent and had waited outside the Garrison walls for the reply, not tempted to enter.
Aramis and Athos met Simeon not in a quiet tavern, but on the tree-lined promenade along the Seine. West of the Tuileries gardens on the Cours la Reine, it was a public park created by Louis's mother, Marie de Medici; nostalgic, they said, for the gardens of her native Florence. It was a popular meeting place for the residents of Paris and so they met, sans uniform, amongst many others amid tree-lined walkways.
Catching sight of the lone man moving easily through the throngs, Athos looked at Aramis and they both straightened and stepped out from beneath the heavily branched tree where they had been waiting, scanning the people and hopeful of his appearance.
Simeon had aged in the years since they had last seen him, at the Siege's end. His hair was now almost white and his face was lined and weathered. His blue eyes though, were sharp still and he bore himself with a measured awareness of his surroundings.
There was nothing untoward in meeting Simeon, who they knew briefly from La Rochelle by reputation. They were otherwise unaware of his background; he was a vigilante of sorts, who had settled in Paris after the Third Rebellion had been quashed. At the time of the Siege, he had come to the attention of the Royalist soldiers as a reconnaissance runner into the city, and an effective spy until Richelieu had ordered the gates to be closed and barred.
Out of uniform and not wishing to draw attention to themselves, they had arranged to meet at a certain place along the walkway and Athos and Aramis now stood with their backs to the river, in seemingly quiet conversation, where they were joined by the third man.
"Thank you for coming," Athos said quietly, as they turned to walk slowly along the walkway; Aramis turning to survey the people behind and to the side, a smile on his face as if in pleasant conversation and enjoying the scenery.
Simeon met Athos's eyes for a moment before dipping his head briefly in acknowledgement. No-one paid them any attention and, unlike a tavern where people sat in close proximity and walls had ears, they were free to discuss matters without constantly looking over their shoulders.
"What is it you want?" he said, looking from one to the other. "I take it this meeting is not to enquire about my health and I see you are not in uniform."
"We thought it wise, under the circumstances," Athos replied. "Though you are correct, this is official business."
"Very well," Simeon said, drawing them over to a gravelled area surrounded by tall grasses, which did not attract as much attention as the rose shrubs further along the walkway.
"Though we do hope you are well," Aramis said, with a small bow and a bright smile.
"As you see," Simeon replied, shortly.
It seemed that Simeon was not in the mood for easy conversation and so they got straight to the point, though both monitored his demeanour, not sure of his allegiances after so many years;
"We have had reports of disturbances," Aramis began, before explaining a little more. "At the moment, it is small but has the capacity to grow. The attacks are all confined to Catholic premises, so you can imagine this causing some concern in certain quarters."
"With the King or the Cardinal?" Simeon asked, his head down as they talked, not wishing to make eye contact with a group of people currently passing by.
"They are one and the same," Athos murmured. "Though the Cardinal seems reluctant to go too deeply into it."
"He has his reputation to uphold," Simeon said, darkly. "It may colour his judgement."
"Have you heard of any disgruntlement amongst the Huguenots?" Aramis asked quietly, his eyes flicking around the people walking singly and in groups along the walkway.
"Other than the obvious one?" Simeon said, gruffly.
"La Rochelle is a weeping sore in France's side," Aramis agreed. "But we cannot deny the history. Thirty years of war cannot be swept away quickly."
"There will always be an undercurrent," Simeon agreed, a little lighter now. "But I have heard nothing," he added.
"Nothing of Raspier?" Athos said suddenly, watching for his reaction.
Simeon raised his head sharply and locked eyes with Athos.
"Not since before the gates were sealed," he finally said, before he moved them off once more, not wishing to remain in the same place for too long.
Athos and Aramis shared a look behind his back, before falling back into step with him. Moving around groups of people now, they weaved their way back toward the river on their left.
"Some of the recent incidents bear his hallmarks; threats, beatings, calls to abandon Catholic idolatry," Aramis said, his fingers straying unconsciously to the cross his wore under his shirt.
"Similar language," Simeon agreed, noting Aramis's action.
"It would seem so," Athos replied, dropping his hand and taking off his hat, running a hand through his hair.
"It may not be him," Simeon said then, coming to a halt at the wall that lined the walkway. The Seine ran its length to their left, a busy waterway at this time of day, filled with a range of vessels.
Athos and Aramis stepped aside as a man in a grey cape hurried by, but paid no attention to them.
"That is true," Athos said. "But if not him, then who? Someone who knows his grievances and his methods? He is a dangerous man, as you know, responsible for countless brutal deaths. His hatred runs deep. We cannot afford for this to escalate."
"Do you still have the means to investigate these incidents?" Aramis asked then, getting to the point.
Simeon watched a long, low cargo vessel glide slowly past below them, an old bent man at the tiller. Athos and Aramis watched his face as he stood in thought, the creases around his mouth indicating that he held his jaw tightly.
Finally, he looked up and side-glanced them;
"I still have contacts, yes."
"It is in all our interests to deal with this," Athos reasoned. "If Gaspar Raspier is back, we need to find him."
Simeon pursed his lips, his hands on the wall.
As the cargo vessel slid from view, he turned, his back now against the wall, the Seine behind him.
"The Wolf had several lairs, spread around the region," he said. "He moved constantly. I will make some enquiries and meet you in ... three days?"
"Where?" Aramis asked, as they moved apart.
"The Albatross, on the riverside quay, next to the west gate," Simeon replied, bluntly.
"We know it," Athos confirmed, and with a tilt of their heads, they parted on that agreement.
"That went well," Aramis said, as he stood, hands on hips watching Simeon melt away through the trees.
"He knows more than he was letting on. He must have seen the posters with The Wolf's depiction and yet he did not acknowledge them."
They turned into the avenue that led them back to the Louvre.
"Let's hope he has something for us." Athos said.
oOo
Life returned somewhat to normal until the allotted three days later, when Athos pushed his way into The Albatross, with Aramis close behind. It was a lively establishment, frequented by dock workers and seafarers and different again from their initial meeting in the gardens with the man they now sort out in the shadows.
Athos looked around the room while Aramis sauntered over to the bar, his eyes scanning the room as he went, though none would know it. He turned to watch as Athos located Simeon and made his way to him. They exchanged brief greetings before Athos settled and waited for Aramis to return, bearing a bottle of wine and three cups.
"Do you have anything for us?" Athos asked quietly, as he poured wine into three cups.
"No-one will speak," Simeon said. "The name Raspier seems to be enough to keep their mouths shut. He led many astray," he added, bitterly. "I saw how he worked. Men, who before were passive, were turned into followers who did his bidding. He was a driven man and took many of the disenfranchised with him to their doom."
Athos and Aramis exchanged a covert quiet look between them. This was not what they wanted to hear. Athos raised his hand to call the barmaid over for more wine.
"He seems to have an effect on you," Athos said, as he raised his cup to his lips.
Simeon looked away, his pale blue eyes straying to the dusty window and beyond to the harbour where gulls wheeled around in the sky, screeching for food above the sails of vessels preparing to leave.
"I saw too much," he finally said. "No matter a person's religion, they should not be pushed into hate like that."
"Where do we go from here?" Aramis sighed, leaning back in his chair as the girl appeared with another bottle of wine, wiping a rag over the table top before dropping it down and accepting the coin Athos handed her, which promptly disappeared into her grubby cleavage.
"He made his base in the forests," Simeon replied, watching her stroll back to the bar. "You remember the Grotte du Mas-d'Azil?" he added, turning his eyes intently onto them.
They both nodded.
It was a complex cave system that had been a Protestant stronghold in the centre of the Pyrenees, for many years, before Richelieu had more recently blown up one of the chambers, putting an end to its use.
"Do you think …?" Aramis said, tentatively.
Athos shook his head;
"It is too far from Paris," he replied. "If he has a pack, he will want to converge on his prize. At present, he seeks to weaken the people before he strikes."
Aramis sighed, taking a mouthful of wine;
"Why now?" he murmured. "When we have had peace."
"Where there is vengeance to be had, there are men who will seek it," Athos said.
"I believe that one of his favourite lairs was in the higher woodlands of the Forest of Compienge," Simeon shrugged. "After he disappeared, he may have returned there. It is a long shot. If he has, he has kept well out of sight."
"Perhaps he was as broken as the residents of La Rochelle," Aramis ventured.
"How?" Simeon demanded, sharply, his body suddenly tense. "He was not there!"
"You are sure?" Athos queried. He had sat back, his elbows on the arms of his chair, both hands holding his cup in his lap. Simeon glared at him, but Athos's response was a cool, raised eyebrow.
"It is my belief he got out, before the gates were sealed," Simeon replied, meeting Athos's questioning gaze. Aramis thought something passed between them, but said nothing.
"So you believe he is alive?" Athos continued, calmly.
"He has nine lives," Simeon growled. "They say he survived his own execution."
"How?" Aramis queried, pouring more wine into Simeon's cup to ease him along.
Simeon shrugged and tossed half the wine down his throat.
"Perhaps it is fantasy," he sighed, dropping the cup to the table, his hand over the brim.
"He is a man of myth and speculation," Athos agreed, noting his wish not to drink any more.
Athos finished his own wine and placed his cup firmly on the table, having made a decision.
"We go to the Forest of Compiegne," he said, before turning to Simeon. "We will meet again on our return. In the meantime, find out what you can."
He slipped a purse of coins over the table and after a moment, Simeon reached out and took it.
"We will send word," Athos said, as they took their leave.
Outside, they paused on the threshold, waiting for the door to close behind them.
"I thought he would have more," Aramis said, as they stepped into the street and walked back toward the Garrison. "He was rattled."
"He is a complicated man, let us hope he is still loyal to the Crown," Athos mused. "Though I cannot see his discomfort as evidence that he is not," he added.
"You have reason to trust him, Athos," Aramis replied, his hand dropping onto Athos's shoulder as they walked. "But times have changed. Even Richelieu is uneasy about this."
"Let us see what we find in the Forest," Athos sighed, as he strode on, with Aramis quickening his step to keep up.
Time was pressing but they had no other leads - if this was a lead and not a wild goose chase.
To be continued.
A/N: The Grotte du Mas d'Azil is a large, 500 metre long tunnel dug by the Arize River through a wall of the Massif Plantaurelin, part of the Ariege Pyrenees. There are secondary caves leading off from the tunnel with evidence of a prehistoric culture. Many beautiful artefacts have been discovered in the caves. Protestants did indeed use it as a stronghold for many years, until Richelieu blew one of the chambers, putting an end to their activities. You can see photos of the Grotte online. It's very interesting.