It was near dusk by the time Prince Henry's caravan returned to the palace. Young William had told the tale and exaggerated the truth while his mother fanned herself and tried to keep her composure. Bloodshot and puffy eyes spoke volumes of the young mother, who was more concerned for her child than herself. She looked at her husband, whose composure had returned, but his frustration was clear. Not only was he delayed in returning to his duties, but he had not seen his son fall, nor had he been able to assist.

The reds, pinks, and oranges of the evening sky looked more reminiscent of a painting than it did of a French horizon. The evening air was peaceful, clean, and fresh. The sounds of the water in the distance filled the carriage with the harmony of the horses clopping along the stone path, and in unison of the creaks of the carriage. Men could be heard barking orders and then suddenly everything stopped. The carriage rolled, shifted forward and then back, before coming to a halt. The door was opened and the footman graciously took William's hand, and then Amalia's, before Prince Henry stepped from the carriage.

The musketeers dismounted. King Louis and Queen Anne stood waiting on the veranda that led to the main doors. Surrounded by palace guards, they looked concerned as Doctor Vignes rushed from the behind the king and immediately escorted the family inside. Treville looked at Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan as they bowed, and then stood aside as Prince Henry's guards followed after him. Their horses were left to the king's grooms.

"Your Majesty," Prince Henry said, "may we speak?"

Queen Anne immediately stepped beside Princess Amalia and grasped her arm and walked with her to her quarters. Young William held his mother's hand and eagerly followed the doctor and the musketeer Aramis.

King Louis watched them go and then nodded toward Henry. "Of course, I'm just grateful everyone is safe. How is Master William?"

Henry cocked an eyebrow, and with a look of mockery, said, "He is fine. By the time Musketeer Porthos returned him to us, he was ready to go swimming again. I fear, Your Majesty, that should I die and William be placed in command that his lack of forethought and regret will be unknown characteristics of a leader."

King Louis chuckled. "Perhaps, but with his status, he would be able to demonstrate the lack of those characteristic and pass them off as bravery."

Henry smiled and walked in step with the king as they entered the palace. "Perhaps we can depart in a day or two. My wife took the near loss of William terribly. I would hate to see her succumb to her fragility during our travels."

King Louis nodded and motioned toward his chambers. The guards opened the doors, bowed to the king, and then closed them after both men entered. Henry stepped to the unlit fireplace and stared at the black soot that discolored the stone, marble, and the iron firedog. Wood rested, ready for use in a metal crate on the stone hearth. A large painting of a magnificent white horse hung above it. An extensive table was centered in the room, and two long buffets stood against the wall on either side. The one to the right housed several bottles and canisters of wine, and the other had two vases filled with fresh flowers. The table was stained dark, but inlaid with the design of the French flag in a much lighter oak.

King Louis took a seat, rested his right elbow on the table, and stroked his chin. "My military was never robust. Even under Richelieu I wanted the appearance of peace rather than a warring nation. It provides the people a sense of calm."

Henry nodded, but continued to look at the painting.

Louis cleared his throat and tapped his fingers on the table. "What troubles you?"

Henry was quiet for a long moment before he said, "As with all leaders, Sire, my concern is for my people, my military, and my family." Henry turned and took a seat across from the king. "A treaty between us would make us appear stronger and give you more time to build the army you want rather than the army you have."

"France is vulnerable at in the east — Treville has informed me as much." Louis looked out the window as the sky continued to darken. "I will agree to a treaty, and provide military support to the Dutch Republic, as long," he looked critically at Henry, "as we agree to be strategic in our planning and military tactics. My soldiers will not be stranded or abandoned to fight in a war without adequate support. And," Louis said, "I will manage General Raboin as I see fit."

Henry clenched his jaw and nodded. "Your men… the Musketeers, are outstanding. They saved my son's life, Your Majesty. Without thought of their own."

King Louis quirked a slight smile at the corner of his mouth and nodded. "My Musketeers are outstanding in their devotion to myself and to France."

Henry cleared his throat and rested his hands on his thighs. "I would like to repay them."

Louis tapped his fingers on the table.

"It would be a show of gratitude for saving the life of the future Prince of Orange."

"What did you have in mind?"

Henry shrugged and said, "Can you recommend a good swordsmith —"

"Musketeers are very particular about their blades," Louis said.

"Not blades, Your Majesty," Henry said, and quirked another smile. "I have something different in mind."