Chapter 13 on Friday 13th! Apologies for the delay but I have been working on this, chipping away at it, for over a week now. Madness here but exciting as the build continues and I have a recognisable shell of a room emerging. I have tried to proof read and edit this chapter but please forgive any errors. I am sandwiched in the dining room, patio door closed on a warm day as about five feet away, I have builders banging bricks, chattering, laughing and singing along with the music they have playing. They haven't got it on loud so I have no cause for complaint. Out the other side I have the car alarm of the house opposite that has been going off for over two hours now. I am WILLING his car battery to go flat! There it goes again! Not a conducive atmosphere for creativity! :)
Thank you to all who read and commented on the previous chapter.
CHAPTER 13
The middle bailey opened out with some buildings hugging the inside of the extensive curtain wall and its towers, but the Musketeers' attention was drawn to a church and the strange construction that was so close that, from their angle of entry into the bailey, it gave the impression that this tall structure was attached.
"What's that at the back of the church?" Aramis asked, not having seen the like.
Fitzwilliam turned his head slightly to identify what had caught the Frenchman's attention.
"It's the Roman pharos," he explained.
"The what?" Porthos still did not know what he was talking about.
"Sorry. It's a lighthouse or beacon. I see it every day and forget it is there," Fitzwilliam said. "I think it was also used as a bell tower for the church which is later in date. I've looked at some of the church documents and it seems to go back at least six hundred years."
"That's old," Porthos muttered.
"The whole area was probably used as a fortification even before the Romans arrived," Fitzwilliam went on.
"It has a formidable vantage point," Athos conceded.
"Most definitely. It has many defences," and he indicated the archway they were approaching. "We're just about to go through the Palace Gate, one of two access points to the inner bailey." He looked at Athos. "Anyone thinking of attacking from outside would find it virtually impossible to gain entry."
"But if the danger is already inside …" Athos let his voice trail off ominously.
Fitzwilliam gave a wry grin. "As soon as you have settled in, I will give you a tour of the place and show to you its defences, so I trust that I will be able to put your mind at ease.
Athos dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I shall look forward to it."
And he meant it, for he had read of the medieval stronghold that was built at the behest of Henry II and, as he was interested in all things military, he was genuinely fascinated by the vast place.
As they emerged through the gateway into the inner bailey, the Musketeers took in the impressive Great Tower. They dismounted, handed the reins over to a line of men who were waiting for them and stood, three abreast, as they looked up, equally awed by the imposing edifice.
"Never spent the night in a real castle before," Porthos breathed softly.
"I doubt any of us has," Athos answered, reverence in his tone.
"It's huge," Aramis added, his head tilted backwards as he took in the spectacle, a hand clamping his hat on his head.'
"It's easily a hundred feet high," Fitzwilliam declared, delighted that the Great Tower was making such an impression on the three French soldiers. He used the word 'pieds' and they wondered if the measurement was roughly the same in English as it was in French. None of them needed to question the term, though; they could see for themselves that a hundred of whatever it was made it very large. "You cannot fail to have noticed the two colours of stone that have been used."
The white and grey horizontal stripes were as distinctive as they were unusual.
"The grey, I am told, is a ragstone quarried in this county but the white is a limestone from your homeland. In fact, it comes from Caen in Normandy. The idea was that it looked impressive when it shines in the sunlight."
"An' does it?" Porthos asked.
"What?" Fitzwilliam was puzzled, giving the big Musketeer his full attention for the first time.
"Shine in the sunlight?"
"I don't suppose I've really thought about it but now you mention it, yes. Yes, it does."
Another link with Normandy although, as Athos reflected, it was purely coincidental and had absolutely nothing to do with the reliquary and its contents. It was just uncanny how often the place and its history were being mentioned.
Fitzwilliam led them to the base of a flight of wide stone steps but as he followed, Athos noticed the large door set into the base of the tower.
"Where does that lead?" he asked, his mind already focused on security.
Fitzwilliam did not even break his step. "To the bread oven and storerooms for food and ammunition."
Once up those stairs, a small chapel lay immediately in front of them, but they were led to the left up another flight of stairs and passed through two smaller rooms before emerging into a large open area.
The high walls were whitewashed and a few men, all well-dressed, occupied some of the long tables that lined the space. Large, high windows were set into deep recesses in the walls on all four sides and let the light stream in to the room. At a quick glance, Athos gauged the walls were at least three toises* in thickness, the rough-hewn stone sloping upwards from the outer edge to the glass.
"This is the Lower Hall," Fitzwilliam went on, "and through there is the Lower Chamber. Smaller rooms line all four walls and there are two spiral staircases for access to the other floors in the north and south towers." He pointed out the various areas as he spoke. "Come, I will take you to your rooms and you can rest before the exchange ceremony and dinner." He started to move down the hall to the right-hand corner.
"I have assigned you two rooms near the stairs in the north tower; the inner one, which is slightly smaller, is only accessible through the outer one."
Athos nodded at the arrangement and turned to Tanquerel. "It would be better if you take the inner one for tonight."
The emissary pulled a face and Athos' heart sank; he was not in the mood to be challenged. He was not yet recovered from his ordeal of the crossing and wanted nothing more than the pleasantries and his guided tour of the castle's defences to be concluded so that he might indeed rest a little and regain both strength and equilibrium before the evening's formalities.
"Perhaps I would prefer the outer room," Tanquerel was saying.
"It would help us to protect you and the reliquary far better if we took the outer room," Aramis added hastily as he saw Athos bristle at the veiled opposition. His face still bore a sickly hue, and despite his enforced slumber, he looked exhausted although he strove to conceal it.
"But you could take the reliquary in with you. That is what needs your protection. I have already explained that I am more than capable of taking care of myself," Tanquerel insisted. "Besides," and here he smiled at Fitzwilliam," I doubt you would want to give the Lieutenant the impression that you don't trust his security here at the castle."
"I could also put a couple of guards by the entrance to your rooms," Fitzwilliam offered, intrigued by the frisson of tension that he sensed between the Musketeer lieutenant and the emissary.
"That will not be necessary," Tanquerel said hastily, now turning the fixed smile upon Athos, although there was no warmth to it. "I am sure that I am safe in the hands of the King's Musketeers."
He marched into the room that he was claiming, surveying it and the beds that had already been put in there. The English offficer had clearly assumed - naturally - that the visiting escort would take the outer room to guard both the emissary and the reliquary. "This will do fine, thank you. I am sure the excess beds can be removed."
"But of course," Fitzwilliam said. "I will see to it immediately and then I will take you round the castle defences," he added, nodding towards Athos.
It was some twenty minutes later when the two lieutenants and Aramis climbed the spiral staircase to the floor above, having quickly examined the remaining rooms surrounding the lower hall and chamber. Porthos remained with Tanquerel and supervised the men who had been summoned to move the beds into the smaller, more cramped room to accommodate the three French soldiers.
"This floor houses the King's suite," Fizwilliam announced as they emerged from the spiral staircase onto the next floor. "The overall layout is the same as the one below with the largest two rooms being the royal hall and chamber."
"How often do you get royal visits?" Aramis asked as he gazed around at the opulent furnishings and decoration which were in stark contrast to the floor below.
"Actually," Fitzwilliam answered, "the last royal to stay here was your own Princess Henrietta Maria when she arrived in England to marry our King but there have been others: Anne of Cleves stayed briefly when she came to marry Henry VIII and Queen Elizabeth came in 1573. The castle was kept in very good repair for the next twenty years during our war with Spain."
"It seems we all have to be on our guard in our relations with Spain," Athos said softly, thinking of the constant worries France faced despite having a Spanish queen.
"That is an understatement," the Englishman laughed. The sound was unexpected, genuine and rang in the empty room and the two French soldiers warmed to him even more.
They were interrupted by a serving man who, with head bowed, mumbled an apology and scurried across the room towards the stairs, an empty tray in his hand.
"The Earl of Suffolk has his rooms on this floor and is, at this moment, receiving a visitor who arrived whilst you were settling. You will meet both of them at the exchange later."
Fitwilliam continued giving them the tour of the rooms that were not specifically part of the Earl's limited accommodation and greeted some of the few men gathered there who waited to have an audience with the nobleman. He was chatting amiably with Aramis until both of them realised that Athos had paused in a corner of the King's Hall and was carefully studying two large wooden boards that were highly decorated with gilt edging and lettering.
"What has caught your interest?" Aramis asked lightly as he rejoined his friend. When there was no immediate answer, Aramis cast him a sideways glance. "Athos?"
"Look at the penultimate name on both boards," Athos ordered, his voice strained.
Aramis did as bidden. Above the name of Theophilus Howard, Earl of Suffolk, on both boards was another familiar one: George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham.
"You will, no doubt, have heard of Buckingham at the French court?" Fitzwilliam asked.
Athos turned his back on the boards, his face expressionless and his tone flat. "We had occasion to meet him on Ré."**
"More than once," Aramis added.
"Really?" Fitzwilliam was fascinated. "You actually met him? I only ever saw him from a distance and then, of course, he was assassinated. You must tell me of your encounters "
It was hard to tell whether he was in awe of the Duke or merely making an innocent comment but Athos really did not want to elaborate upon his experiences with the aristocrat who courted controversy wherever he went.
"Perhaps," he murmured, hoping that would satisfy Fitzwilliam for now.
"So he was Constable of the Castle and Lord Warden," Aramis read from the tops of the boards. "What does a Lord Warden do?"
Athos glared at him, hoping that he would take the hint and cease any further discussion on Buckingham but Aramis did not notice and had more questions.
"The Earl of Suffolk is also the current one. How are we supposed to address him when we meet? Constable? Warden?"
"'My Lord' will suffice," and Fitzwilliam, as he led them to the staircase and up to the floor above, explained how the Lord Warden of the Cinq Ports was responsible for the ports, collecting taxes, enforcing the law in the area and meting out justice as amongst the more prominent of his duties. It did not escape Athos and Aramis' notice that the Lieutenant, despite his fluent French, pronounced 'Cinq' to rhyme with 'sink' rather than 'sank', as was the French way, but neither of them questioned it, assuming that it was yet another strange aberration of the English.
The top floor was the gallery, affording lookout points that gave a stunning view out to see and the port and town below them. From there, they retraced their steps to the ground floor and out into the fresh air where Fitzwilliam briefly gave them a tour through the King's Gate behind the Tower, through the King's bastion and into the gloom of the medieval tunnels and back around the inner and middle baileys, all the while listing other defensive measures.
"It is a stronghold that has withstood attack and will continue to do so," Fitzwilliam declared with pride. "I hope this gives you some comfort," he added.
"Indeed it does," Athos answered, not wanting to sound negative, "but we are not anticipating a full attack from someone wanting the reliquary. We believe it will be more insidious, that those who would have it in their possession might already be here, within these mighty walls, or waiting for us on our return journey to Paris."
"What is so important about a box containing the few remaining bones of a Catholic saint?" Fitzwilliam was puzzled.
"We have been told there is much monetary value in the casket itself with its gold and inlaid jewels," Athos explained.
The Englishman pulled a face. "There must be something of greater significance behind this. I find it hard to accept that it is mere greed that drives a man to desire such a thing; I did not think it very impressive."
"You have seen it?" Aramis cut in quickly.
"Oh yes. The Earl showed it to me when he arrived."
Athos frowned. "And what did it look like?"
"Totally uninspiring and in need of a good clean. You would be hard pressed to think that it was inlaid with precious jewels. The whole thing is dark, but the outside has a lot of carvings on it and an inscription that runs around it. I can't tell you anymore though as I didn't get to study it closely, you understand."
Athos refrained from glancing at Aramis for he did not want to alert Fitzwilliam to the fact that his interest was piqued. The Englishman had wondered at a deeper significance. Might the carvings and inscription have something to do with it? Events so far suggested that this was anything but a simple escort duty. Was there really anything special about the reliquary beyond the value of the jewels?
Once back in the close confines of the small room he was to share with his brothers, Athos quickly and quietly told them of the blond-haired man on the ship and repeated for Porthos' benefit what he and Aramis had learned from Fitzwilliam.
"This is gettin' stranger by the minute," Porthos grumbled. "D'you think there's more to this reliquary than we've been told?"
"Let us say I am keeping an open mind," Athos said, buttoning up his doublet. "How was Tanquerel?" he asked quietly.
Porthos snorted. "'E made it clear 'e wasn't lookin' for my company. Kept 'imself to 'imself. I left the door ajar so I could hear 'im an' sneaked a look when it all went quiet but 'e was stretched out on 'is bed sleepin'."
"Yes, we disturbed him when we finished the security tour," Aramis admitted.
"Well, he was the one who insisted upon taking that outer room. He will just have to put up with our coming and going; he cannot prevent us from doing our duty."
The others ignored Athos' lack of sympathy for they agreed with him.
Buckling his belt and picking up his hat, Athos moved towards the door. "Let us see if he is ready; it would not do for us to be late for the proceedings."
It was just over five minutes later that the Musketeers and Tanquerel joined the large gathering in the lower chamber, the hall having been set out for serving the celebratory dinner that was to follow.
When Theophilus Howard, second Earl of Suffolk, Constable of Dover Castle and Lord Warden on the Cinq Ports made a grand entry into the chamber, the Musketeers snapped to attention, but Athos barely gave him a second glance.
He was too preoccupied with the Earl's companion who walked and talked amicably with him and stood to his right. The man was wearing a dark green doublet and breeches, similar to the long cloak that he had probably been wearing for travelling and had since discarded. What was unforgettable was the long blond hair that framed his face and was so fair that it almost looked white.
A/N
*Before 1789, France (like many European countries) used weights and measures based on the Romans.
The French used a foot (twelve inches) but preferred longer units. There were many local variations though, which created problems.
A toise = 6 feet. It went through several changes, the next being in 1668.
** As told in 'Retribution.'