Chapter 3

When the double doors to the audience hall were closed by the sentinels, when the former lieutenant of the Musketeers was vanished by this from any view and angry confusion, Rochefort looked at his master. He struggled to keep a neutral mien, far from any criticism. Richelieu must nevertheless have recognised his displeasure at the questionable fate of a friend. He asked to be allowed to withdraw and signalled to Rochefort to accompany him.

The stable master gave Tréville, who continued to stand as if petrified, a meaningful look as he passed. It was not too late to tell the truth. To let the king win a lost bet after all. Or at least to find a better excuse, which Rochefort would have joined immediately, without revealing d'Artagnan's true identity to Louis XIII and thus depriving her likewise of her rank - and her freedom.

What the captain decided in the end, whether he took the blame and a punishment upon himself or kept silent in grim anger and instead schemed to murder the cardinal, Rochefort did not find out. He was already following Richelieu out of the Louvre, giving him escort along the Rue St. Honoré to his palace and accompanying him to the study, over which the intimidatingly large desk of dark palisander stood guard in the absence of its owner.

Richelieu took a seat and picked up a quill as if barely more time had passed between the audience and now than for a brief pause for reflection. A document lay ready on the table, only lacking a seal and signature, which the cardinal now added.

Rochefort watched this waitingly and guessed that the paper was a conscription order. So the whole affair had been planned, the documents were already prepared and he was displeased not to have been in the know.

Richelieu let the ink and wax dry, folded the letter and handed it to Rochefort. »See to it that our newest guardsman does not leave the town head over heels, but appears here tomorrow morning.«

Obedient as usual, Rochefort acknowledged the order, stashed the papers in the inside pocket of his coat - and hesitated to dispose of the command immediately. In all his years of service to the cardinal, he had experienced many a dubious political manoeuvre, survived some unpleasant intrigues or even carried them out himself. There had always been a higher purpose behind it, some seemingly arbitrary attacks had in the end made sense in a larger context.

But now he failed to see the reason for d'Artagnan's reassignment. There had to be a better one than that of having dealt a heavy blow to an adversary without getting any real gain out of it. D'Artagnan might have been forced into the cardinal's service, but her loyalty was to Tréville and His Majesty still.

His hesitation, his doubts did not escape Richelieu, neither made Rochefort a secret of it. In the audience hall, before friend and foe, he has remained silent. But now, when they were in private in the study, he asked frankly, without begging for permission, »Why?«

»You question my instructions?«

»Never, Monseigneur. I am trying to understand recent events.« Even to his own ears, too much impuissance sounded in the words, too much dissatisfaction. »It is not my place, this curiosity, and yet it is in the nature of my profession and my character.«

A faint smile played on the cardinal's lips, who valued Rochefort enough to pardon him such talk. »It is in your character and your profession to already know the answers and yet to continue to investigate.«

»So as not to draw the wrong conclusions.«

Richelieu allowed Rochefort to continue, he wanted to hear these conclusions. »Go ahead.«

»The most obvious explanation would be that a bitter adversary has been severely weakened today. But bearing in mind that you could have withdrawn the lieutenant of the musketeers by other means at any time, the question occurs to me; why now?«

»You know that answer too.«

Rochefort nodded. »Because now was the occasion on which His Majesty had to agree to this step, where otherwise he would have vehemently refused.«

»Base motives, a good opportunity.« The cardinal sighed. »Indeed, there is no great idea behind it. True, the matter might come in handy for us in the future. Perhaps a second Milady in our service, a female agent. But that is a long way to go, likely never to happen.«

Rochefort listened to this confession in wonder, almost stunned. He has hoped to be wrong, to find a meaning behind supposed malice, behind vain power games. Something that would have better suited as an explanation, something that he could tell d'Artagnan to save their friendship.

But there was nothing.

»Just to harm Tréville, to weaken the Musketeers, and by extension the King,« he said tonelessly.

A fine smile adorned Richelieu's countenance. It was not directed at his own triumph, but at the revealed thoughts of his stable master. Rochefort was an ever-loyal reflection in comparison to Tréville. What he thought and understood, so did the captain of the Musketeers - and obviously it was not to Rochefort's taste to see d'Artagnan coming under fire. Indeed, he did not like it at all so that he dared to openly contradict, that he, regardless of the risk, rebelled against the cardinal and put everything on the line.

»This duel had a cause, which need not be fathomed further.« Richelieu leaned back in his chair, the equivalent of a shrug. »You must give the matter time.«

Rochefort blinked as he understood the message between the lines. Tréville's actual reaction was still pending. What would the captain be willing to do to get his lieutenant back? The whole affair was not just due to a perfidious whim, there was in fact a bigger idea behind it. The stable master might not yet fully understand it, perhaps it presupposed another good opportunity, but all this was not done solely to cause the greatest possible harm.

The thought halfway reconciled Rochefort to the matter for the time being and he remembered his orders; to ensure that d'Artagnan did not commit desertion. The cardinal has given away a trump card, his knowledge of d'Artagnan's identity, which could no longer be used against the Musketeers without harming the Red Guard in the same breath. In exchange, he has taken two new cards into his hand; an outstanding trade with Tréville for his lieutenant, who by then would be a capable soldier in Richelieu's own ranks. Possibly even an agent if things went that way.

»I will do what is necessary, Monseigneur.«

»You have full rein.«

With this permission, Rochefort was dismissed and he used it to act not only as the cardinal's creature but also as a friend. D'Artagnan was about to face rough days as an enemy among enemies, despised by new and old comrades alike for the change of regiment, the alleged betrayal. He could not intervene, but he could mitigate it, and so he went to find the lieutenant of the Red Guard, Jussac.

It was not far to the guardroom. Rochefort had barely turned a few corners when he met Messieurs Bernajoux, Biscarat and Jussac on a gallery. The three men were standing by one of the pillars and seemed to be having a friendly conversation before going on duty.

Rochefort watched the trio. Bernajoux was the most taciturn of them, who only interspersed single words to the conversation. He outdid his friends by almost a head and enjoyed the reputation of being a true wrangler. Whenever one had heard of a duel against musketeers, Bernajoux had certainly been there. The scuffles had left visible marks, which told more than any words. Biscarat often made fun of him, saying that if he was only half as dexterous in speech as he was with his blade, no dame could resist him. But with that scarred face, alas!, he would only be half a Lancelot, not yet disfigured enough to be fascinating to women.

Speaking of Biscarat! Like d'Artagnan, he, too, originated from Gascony. His Spanish mother had inherited not only particularly dark and beautiful eyes to him, but also a strict Catholicism in the land of the Cathars and fin'amor. His knowledge of the Spanish language and customs often earned him important missions when Rochefort was absent. However, Biscarat was fully satisfied to be a guardsmen and only occasionally a spy, diplomat or simply an interpreter.

Jussac was very pleased with this attitude, as it meant that he did not lose one of his best men to Rochefort. The lieutenant proudly wore the uniform of the Guard. It had become a second skin for him over the years, which he could not remove. He would not have wanted it either, the cardinal's Guard was always on duty and vigilant.

The commanders of other regiments often tried to poach Jussac, luring him with promotions and numerous privileges. He always refused, his loyalty was to Richelieu, and the cardinal rewarded him with respect for his merits and an increase in pay. Jussac bore a lot of responsibility and frequently had a scowl on his face, especially when he saw His Eminence's stable master approaching. Like at that very moment.

»Jussac!« Rochefort ignored the barely restrained sighing of the lieutenant. It meant no disrespect to him, but was due to the experience that the stable master's appearance usually meant trouble for the guardsmen.

»Rochefort!« Jussac called back in an enthusiastic tone, as if he had stood at attention at every »Jump to it!« This could have been interpreted as pomposity, but Jussac was purely and simply not under Rochefort's command; every now and then he had to remind the stable master of this.

Rochefort passed the group and briefly waved at Jussac to accompany him. Questioning looks were exchanged behind his back. Bernajoux and Biscarat seemed to suspect that Rochefort seriously meant business if he did not respond to the usual teasing between Jussac and himself.

The lieutenant told the two friends to wait for him and then followed the master spy to a servants' entrance. There he asked, »What is so urgent? The changing of the guard is waiting.«

Rochefort beat vaguely around the bush. »I have an important request for you.«

»A... request?« That sounded personal. Jussac looked at his vis-à-vis with new attention. Rochefort seemed calm, but the lieutenant knew him for too many years not to be sceptical. »Not an order? Really?«

»Yes. I have a favour to ask you.«

»What, me?« Jussac made no secret of his astonishment and improved himself; it had to be very important to Rochefort when he asked him a favour. »For you?«

»For me.«

Silence fell after this. For long moments, the men stared at each other observantly. When Jussac finally realised that no further explanation would follow, he threw his hands up and exclaimed, »Yes, heavens! So if it lies within my powers, I will do you a favour! Without knowing beforehand what it is about. Now tell me!«

»Starting from tomorrow, the Red Guard will have a new man in its ranks.«

Such announcements were usually not delivered by Rochefort. There had to be more to it than that. »Someone you know?«

»It is... a friend.« Rochefort outweighed the clear hesitation in his words by quickly adding, »I ask you to keep an eye on him.«

Jussac nodded slowly. »As a commanding officer? I can do that.«

He had a watchful eye on each of his men anyway, like the mother hen on her chicks. In these matters, he was in no way inferior to a Captain de Tréville, and one more guardsman would be of no consequence. But Jussac suspected that he would soon be in trouble because Rochefort suddenly turned an otherwise self-evident task in a personal favour.

»Thank you. I am in your debt.«

»Yes, damn it! You are in my debt and not for the first time! But far too often I forgot to make you pay. One of these days, Rochefort!«

»I will keep that in mind. Maybe.«

Before Jussac could react, Rochefort turned and walked away. He left behind a lieutenant who was equally baffled as he was annoyed. Jussac was too slow to think of a suitable response to this insolence, the stable master was already long out of reach and so Bernajoux and Biscarat got the whole whim of their superior when he rejoined them, muttering curses and imprecations.

»Rochefort?« asked Bernajoux in his usual short manner and Jussac growled between his teeth, »Certainly, Rochefort.«

»What did he want this time?« Biscarat found more words, even if that made him the target of Jussac's wrath.

»You've to ask that?!«

»Trouble?« Bernajoux stood by his friend immediately to share Jussac's anger fairly among them. His crooked nose twitched in amusement.

»Making trouble!« Jussac paused and took a deep breath. Although Rochefort had called him away from the others, he had not confided a secret to him in the end. He was allowed to tell them. »Rochefort wishes me to keep a watchful eye on a new recruit in our ranks.«

»Whom?«

»He didn't say.«

Bernajoux snorted. »Helpful.«

»Extraordinary! We'll find out tomorrow who is foisted on us.« Jussac caught himself clenching one hand in a fist. He eased his fingers without feeling much better.

Meanwhile, Biscarat rubbed his chin thoughtfully. »That doesn't sound good. Nepotism? Someone who isn't cut out to be a guardsman and should learn under your wing? Someone who doesn't belong here?« The spy in Biscarat suddenly seemed to continue this thought with a little too much enthusiasm. »Or he has a skeleton in his closet, he is someone under surveillance. Whose loyalty is not guaranteed. Possibly Rochefort is preparing a trap for him and-«

Jussac had to put a stop at this point before the Gascon got bogged down in heated speculation. »Heavens, I don't know! As always, we're only vicarious agents, with no right to get any explanations!«

Biscarat cleared his throat. »Did Rochefort mention nothing else?«

»He called him reservedly 'a friend'.«

»Then he's definitely not one!« said Biscarat gleefully and with his own logic.

Bernajoux, on the other hand, took a more pragmatic approach and said, »We'll help you.«

Jussac achieved half a smile. Talking to his friends had dampened his anger. He could rely on their support. There has never been any talk of this task really was falling to the lieutenant alone. »Rochefort will have six eyes at his service. He should be satisfied with that. Let's leave it by that for now. To duty, shirkers!«

Bernajoux and Biscarat knew when the friend became the superior. They saluted obediently and then parted ways for today's guard duty and patrols or, in Jussac's case, for a consultation with the captain.

The lieutenant doubted that Luchaire had learned more from Rochefort and indeed, an hour later, Jussac could be quite sure of it; The captain, too, had been given this new addition without prior discussion, and he was not exactly happy about it. Still no name, no background. Either Luchaire did not know or forgot to share his knowledge. Instead, he immediately passed the responsibility on to Jussac.

The lieutenant concealed the fact that Rochefort had already given him this honourable task...