My apologies for the erratic postings are sincere but, I fear, inadequate. Life is more than a little hectic at present. But enough of that.
So, the blond haired man has turned up at Dover Castle and is no longer in hiding. What is he up to?
CHAPTER 14
From the gasp that broke from Porthos, he had also recognised the man who accompanied the Earl of Suffolk, but Athos dared not display any reaction with Tanquerel and Fitzwilliam standing so close.
The room had erupted into a round of polite applause as the nobleman entered but he merely smiled and gave a coy wave to suppress the spontaneous greeting.
"I thank you, one and all, for your warm welcome."
In his mid-forties, the Earl's voice was strong and rich. Thick, chestnut hair with its first hint of grey was swept back from a high forehead and fell in waves about his ears and to the nape. A neatly trimmed moustache and goatee beard framed a mouth that, for the time being, was set in a genuine smile. He was immaculately dressed in a plain but finely tailored claret-coloured doublet and breeches, the collar at his neck trimmed with a lace that was no doubt expensive but was not ostentatious. Unlike many of the French courtiers, his hands were not adorned with rings and the only visible piece of jewellery was the gold cross that hung around his neck but even that was discreet.
"It is not often that I have the opportunity to visit you in my capacity as Constable of the Castle, other duties keeping me elsewhere, but I am delighted to be here on the occasion of handing over a recently discovered reliquary. As a loyal servant of His most gracious majesty, King Charles, and as the representative of Her Majesty, Henrietta Maria, I welcome her fellow countrymen to our shores for this handover."
He was speaking in a carefully enunciated English, but Fitzwilliam maintained a low, fluent interpretation for the three Musketeers.
At the Earl's greeting, Tanquerel stepped forward and bowed as Louis' men dipped their heads in a uniform acknowledgement.
"Thank you, my Lord Suffolk," Tanquerel responded formally. "I bring you greetings from His Majesty, Louis of France. The King is most eager to welcome home the remains of Hubert de Ricart. Plans are afoot to re-inter his bones in a specially commissioned tomb on the family estate in Normandy."
Athos raised an eyebrow and cast a sideways glance at Porthos and Aramis who both registered a brief surprise. This was news to them. As far as they were aware, the reliquary was joining Louis' collection as it was. Perhaps the French King did not relish the thought of it holding a man's remains and desired only the reliquary itself. Or perhaps such an arrangement had been agreed all along with the de Ricart family. The other thought to cross Athos' mind was that it was yet another convenient lie perpetrated by the emissary to detract from the notion that it was going to the King's growing collection of religious artefacts.
"As is only fitting for such a revered man," Suffolk said softly.
So revered by the majority of the English, Athos thought a little churlishly, that he was not allowed to rest in peace, so we are only taking home part of him, and not a very large part at that!
It was as if Suffolk read his mind. "On behalf of Her Majesty, I wish to extend our heartfelt apologies for the disrespect shown to Saint Hubert at the desecration of his tomb in the last century, so we are delighted that he is going home to the place of his birth in France. Sir Roger, if you please?"
The blond-haired man at his side nodded and disappeared back the way they had come. When he reappeared, he was carrying an ornate box which he ceremonially placed on a table set there for the purpose.
"Sir Roger who?" Athos asked quietly, hoping to learn the identity of the man who had followed them from Paris and who had also been on board the Orleans.
"Sir Roger Chesman," Fitzwilliam whispered back. "I've not had much to do with him myself, but there is enough talk that I have heard about him, even here in Dover. He's making a name for himself at court."
"In a good way?" Athos thought he might know the answer and he was not to be disappointed.
Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes in a gesture oddly reminiscent of the Musketeer. "He is eager to advance and is trying to inveigle himself into different groups of the more prominent courtiers to such an extent that he is in danger of making himself unpopular in some quarters. I know nothing of his background or how he obtained his knighthood, or when. He behaves as if it were a new acquisition."
"What is quickly bestowed by those who have the power can just as easily be removed," Athos said.
"As long as those with the power are aware of what is happening around them," Fitzwilliam added darkly.
The exchange ceremony was moving into the next stage, where a somewhat rotund cleric, fully robed, stepped forward to bless the reliquary and to lead those gathered in prayer, so Athos fell into a respectful silence, although he was intrigued by the Lieutenant's last statement. He hoped that he would have the opportunity to delve further as the evening unfolded.
The prayers droned on as the cleric warmed to being the centre of attention. His delivery was loud and monotonous, an unsavoury combination that soon had Porthos shuffling in frustration; he did not understand what was being said but he could guess. Athos caught his attention and gave him a warning glare, at which point Porthos abruptly went still. Aramis, with eyes tightly shut, was endeavouring to concentrate but his lips moved silently in his own supplication.
When the prayers stopped, there was an over-zealous 'Amen' from many that loudly signalled their collective relief that the man had finished.
"Sorry, he does like the sound of his own voice," Fitzwilliam muttered.
"There is no need to apologise," Athos said, unable to suppress a slight smile. "Unfortunately, we also have a churchman like that but ours is a Cardinal and the country's first minister!"
Fitzwilliam snorted in amusement. "Your Cardinal Richelieu is a subject of much discussion here."
"And I strongly suspect that what is said is far from complimentary." Athos was thinking of some of the conversations about the man that he had had with his brothers and Captain.
Fitzwilliam stared straight ahead but the corners of his mouth twitched. "Now you do not really want me to elaborate, do you?"
Athos gave a barely perceptible shake of the head and focused upon what was happening. Tanquerel had been called forward and Suffolk moved to pick up the reliquary, embarking upon another speech as he handed it to the French Emissary.
Now it was Tanquerel's turn to speak and Athos had to concede that the man spoke well and succinctly in English and French, thanking the Earl for all that had been done to make it possible for de Ricart's remains to be taken home to France and that Louis himself extended his gratitude.
With the official proceedings concluded, servants moved between the guests with trays of drinks and Tanquerel, still holding the reliquary and standing beside Suffolk, beckoned Athos to join them.
Excusing himself to Fitzwilliam, he walked over to the pair and dipped his head to Suffolk as Tanquerel introduced him.
"I have heard that His Majesty King Louis' élite regiment of Musketeers are highly regarded," Suffolk began. "Is your reputation to be believed?"
Athos frowned as he struggled to understand; his knowledge of English was too limited so that the odd words he recognised were too isolated for the comment to make sense. The speed of the Earl's delivery and his accent did not help matters either, but the nobleman immediately recognised the problem. He began again in a passable French, apologising and repeating his question.
Athos appreciated the gesture. "I would hope so, Lord Suffolk, if it is all good."
The Earl laughed aloud, causing those standing nearby to turn and wonder at the exchange that had prompted such amusement. "I would not expect you to admit otherwise. Rest, assured, Lieutenant, that only the positive has reached my ears."
"My Captain will be glad to hear it."
"I would hope to meet him one day if events were ever to permit it. He must be an interesting and authoritative man to have shaped such a regiment," Suffolk continued.
"He is fair and listens to his men," Athos explained. "We easily follow him out of loyalty and respect."
Suffolk narrowed his eyes as he shrewdly studied the Musketeer who stood in his leather uniform, back ramrod-straight; his long, blue cape draped over one shoulder and green eyes wide and honest. "And not a little love, I'd venture. It is an exceptional man who can command such loyalty and admiration from the men who serve him."
Before Athos could respond, Tanquerel cleared his throat. "The Earl's guards will continue to look after the reliquary until dinner is finished when it will be handed to your safe keeping."
Athos looked from the emissary to Suffolk. "Are you sure? We do not mind taking up our duty as of now."
Suffolk waved a dismissive hand. "Tonight, you and your colleagues are as much our guests as Emissary Tanquerel here. Besides, I am sure Fitzwilliam will want to discuss all matters military with you this evening as you come from such an auspicious regiment."
Athos dipped his head again. "My brothers and I are humbled and grateful at being included, Lord Suffolk."
He had no trouble in masking his distinct satisfaction when he noticed Tanquerel's surly expression at the extended invitation. Had the man assumed the three soldiers would be eating alongside the lower ranks of the English or within the confines of the small room he had insisted upon them taking? There was no time to dwell upon the matter as the Earl signalled Fitzwilliam to approach.
Suffolk laid a hand on the lieutenant's shoulder. "Robert, take Lieutenant Athos here and reassure him that your men will protect the reliquary during dinner."
"Certainly," and Fitzwilliam, having picked up the precious box, indicated that Athos should follow him. It did not take long for the Musketeer to be convinced that the reliquary was perfectly safe in a side room that was even smaller than the one where he was expected to sleep. It was wrapped up and placed inside a strong, oak chest which was locked and the key with its length of attached ribbon handed to Fitzwilliam. He slipped the ribbon around his neck and tucked the key out of sight within his doublet. Two heavily armed men sat on chairs on either side of the chest whilst two more took their places on either side of the only door that opened directly into the lower hall where they were to dine.
Returning to the chamber where people stood talking in small groups, Fitzwilliam took two goblets of wine from a servant and handed one to Athos, who was looking around the room to locate his brothers. He saw them down the end of the chamber and trying to look attentive as the cleric who had led the blessing talked animatedly to them. Aramis periodically noddedwith feigned enthusiasm whilst even from a distance, Athos could tell that Porthos' eyes were glassing over. He saw the big Musketeer's hand snake out to grab another goblet of wine from a servant and down it in one.
"Should I rescue them?" he asked, inclining his head in their direction.
"Perhaps," Fitzwilliam chuckled. "The Dean means well but he does love a captive audience."
"The Dean? Is that his role in the church?" Athos had not heard his title mentioned before.
"Isaac Bargrave, Vicar of Chartham and Dean of Canterbury Cathedral. He's a firm royalist and probably delighted to officiate at this little gathering on behalf of the King." Fitzwilliam suddenly grew serious. "The Earl had wanted the Archbishop of Canterbury to be here, but he refused." When Athos' raised a questioning eyebrow, the Englishman hurried on. "He is, I'm afraid, very narrow-minded and harsh towards Catholics so, as there is currently no Bishop of Dover, today's blessing and prayers fell to the Dean as a senior cleric at the cathedral."
"Whoever conducted it, the gesture was touching and much appreciated. I had not anticipated anything like it," Athos said earnestly, his eyes still taking in the room and its occupants.
Suddenly, he moved from being beside Fitzwilliam to standing before him, his back to the hall.
"Halfway down the room on your right, there is a tall young man standing on his own," Athos said.
Fitzwilliam sipped from his goblet as he surreptitiously looked over the Musketeer's left shoulder. "Dark hair and dark blue doublet?"
Athos nodded. "He seems very interested in us. I noticed him during the exchange of the reliquary; he was watching us then."
"He arrived here this morning and came to see me before your ship docked. He is most anxious to talk with you."
"Me? Why me? Am I supposed to know him?"
Fitzwilliam shook his head. "Not you specifically, but as the one responsible for the protection of the reliquary on its return journey."
Athos was puzzled. "But why not Tanquerel? He is the emissary responsible for the exchange."
"He did not say, and I did not press him, but he did insist that I arrange a meeting with the senior officer of the protection detail and that's you."
"But why? What can he have to say to me? Who is he?"
"His name is Thomas Willoughby and he is an intelligencer for King Charles."