Chapter 10

Athos entered the king's private meeting chambers and bowed. The room was warm, the gold drapes were pulled open and the sun's rays entered and highlighted the rug and the travertine floors. The polished, solid wood furniture glistened. Bowls of fruit, a port of wine and several glasses sat atop the buffet to the right and between two tall windows that overlooked the courtyard. A painting of a dappled gray stallion running in a storm hung above the buffet, and two lanterns hung from brass hooks on either side. The fireplace at the far end of the room continued to burn as spring's air still provided a chill, despite the sun's arrival.

Louis sat at a smaller table with six chairs, one at each end, and two on either side. The dark mahogany was draped with a crocheted runner, and a tall brass candelabra stood in the center. Five candles remained unlit within each of its holders.

"Come," Louis said. He turned toward the house servant and ordered, with a wave of his hand, toward the wine and the fruit.

Athos bowed, walked to the table, and remained standing.

"Take a seat, Captain," Louis said and then slipped his fingers around the stem of the wineglass. "Cheers." He raised his glass as Athos finally took a seat and was handed one himself. Louis looked at the two reports before him and then looked at Athos, who sat tall in the seat across from him. "General Thorell speaks highly of you," he said, and then, with a smile, he leaned back and shifted into a comfortable position. "I'm not surprised… considering what you and my Musketeers accomplished."

Athos swallowed and said, "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Louis picked up Athos' report and looked at it. "You're very concise… your report lacks a more…" he shrugged, "robust narrative." He tossed it back to the table and then grabbed Thorell's. "While General Thorell has more experience, he also understands that I enjoy reading, and I believe he may have embellished it a bit." He smiled, took a sip of wine, and then placed the report on the table. "He stated Raboin suffered a mortal wound during battle… Is that true?"

Athos looked at King Louis and cleared his throat. "From what I understand, Sire," he said and ran his finger along the curve of the glass. "General Raboin was fired upon and hit during the last battle with Spain. I do not know the details as I was —"

"Injured?" Louis raised his eyebrows. "Both reports fail to document the extent of your injuries, and then mention them only in passing. I can safely assume that your condition would have been grave. Otherwise, Captain, I would have expected you to be more detailed in your description of Raboin's death, the capture of several Spanish, who had infiltrated Raboin's military — many, I understand — are still at large, and the final battle with the Spanish as they attempted to cross onto French territory. Am I correct?"

Athos swallowed again and nodded once. "Yes, Your Majesty."

King Louis took another drink of his wine and then rested his elbow on the armrest of his chair. He twisted his glass, looked through the crystal and admired the glow of the sun. "What did happen?" He looked again at Athos. "Thorell will never tell me and I do not have the energy to threaten him… he's much too good a general for that. But you," he quirked a smile, "are too honest and honorable to fabricate a lie to your king."

Athos knew the tactic. He had seen the king use this tactic before. The desire to gain information while stroking the ego of the person requested. He looked at his glass of wine. Athos didn't believe that truth was relative, truth was fact, and lacked feelings and opinions. "General Raboin was fired upon by a musketeer; the ball struck his shoulder." He looked up and watched Louis' facial reactions and was surprised when he remained impassive. "Raboin's captain, Randieu and several of his men, were Spanish spies working to protect Raboin while the Musketeers and several of Raboin's captains defended France from the enemy—"

"How did you know?" Louis asked. "How did you confirm Raboin had aligned himself with Spain?"

"Maps, Sire," Athos said. "I discovered several maps in General Raboin's office that were proof of his involvement with the Spanish's attempt to cross into French lands and march to Paris. The substantial size of his military, their positioning, the lack of messages to and from Paris, from myself and Minister Treville, and finally the location of the supplies that his lieutenant was stealing."

"And you didn't kill him then because?"

Athos flashed concerned eyes toward Louis and said, "I was uncertain how severe and how many individuals were involved in his scheme. Had I killed him then, we may not have realized the depth of his treachery."

King Louis, with his elbow on the armrest, touched his lips with his finger and looked toward the window. "And the musket ball to his shoulder?"

"Went putrid," Athos said. "From what I have been told, it went into the bone… he tried to have me killed and then subsequently was taken into custody and died thereafter."

With this thumb on his cheek, Louis ran his index finger across his bottom lip several times as he contemplated the spoken words versus the written. He picked up Athos' report and tore it in half. "I like Thorell's version better," he said and stood.

Athos pushed his chair back, stood, and then bowed. "My apologies, Majesty."

"Sit, Athos," Louis said and tossed the report into the fire. "We're alone in a room and my patience is thin. He grabbed a bundle from atop his desk and returned to the table. He chuckled when Athos remained standing.

"Did you know that General Raboin was my half-brother?"

Athos clinched his jaw and nodded. "I did, Sire."

"And you didn't speak about it to anyone?" Louis squinted his eyes and looked at Athos.

"No, Your Majesty. It is not my story to tell."

King Louis nodded, quirked his lips, and said, "My father loved him like a son… when I learned who Raboin was, I had feared he would eventually turn on me… on France. There is a bloodline in my family that is," he shrugged, "greedy."

"He has a family… a wife, son and daughter," Athos said and watched carefully for Louis' reaction. "He was thinking about them… even in his last hours."

Louis nodded and ran his fingers across the table's surface. "King Philip will see to them… As much as we disagree, fight, and dispute over lands — he is a good king to his people." He shifted his weight to his other leg and said, "Remove your cloak, Captain."

Athos shifted to the side of the chair and quickly untied his cloak, and then draped it over his arm. His heart raced. Self-doubt was as strong as pride in some men, and while Athos carried pieces of both, at the moment, doubt rang heavily in his ears. He had tried to honor King Louis' wishes, to do his best under the circumstances, but he wasn't an assassin, he wasn't a cold-blooded killer, and he needed to find poof. The evidence was the justification needed for condemnation… accusations, assumptions, and speculations could not prove guilt. Athos clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.

If he were to be demoted, he would do so honorably.

"When I read in Thorell's report that Raboin had burned your pauldron," Louis said and unwrapped the bundle in his hands. "Apparently he had discovered the remains in the fireplace at the chateau."

Athos swallowed, blinked several times, and looked questioningly at the king.

"I took it upon myself to design a replacement. I'm an accomplished artist," he smiled broadly, "and I have a good eye for design and adornment." He pulled the black leather shoulder guard from the cloth and walked toward Athos. "I'm very pleased with the design, but I'm not overly satisfied with the color." He smiled as he tried to attach it to Athos' shoulder. "I realized when this was completed that it's not the piece itself I should be impressed with…" he managed to buckle the top strap, struggling with the supple leather and the buckle. He left the one at Athos' elbow alone, and stepped back, "But rather the man who dons it."

Athos swallowed again and then gracefully buckled the elbow guard into place. "It's a fine addition to the uniform, Your Majesty."

Louis stood back, looked at his artwork, and smiled please with himself and the man before him. "Well done, Captain," he said and then returned to his seat.

Athos retied his cloak into place, bowed, and said, "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"If there is ever anything I can do for you," Louis said and reached for a date.

Athos winced, took a deep breath, and then asked, "If I may, Sire?"

Louis, leaning back in his seat with his right elbow on the armrest, raised his eyebrows in surprise and then smiled. "So soon?" He chuckled, exposed his normally gregarious smile, and then shrugged. He looked, for a moment, like the king before the treaty was signed, before the war had begun, and before the weight of his position bore down upon him. "Why not? What is it you request?" He took a bite of the date and waited.

"Ninon de Larroque was very helpful to the Musketeers," Athos said, and then paused when King Louis chewed and then smiled.

"She's beautiful too," Louis said with a knowing expression. "I cannot grant her a return to her previous position… but I can absolve her of her," he shrugged, "crimes." He grabbed another date. "It would be good to lay eyes upon her once more." He quirked his lips and said, "I'll have a letter sent to you at the garrison."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Now go," Louis said with a wave of his hand.

Athos bowed and walked to the door.

"And, Captain," Louis said, and Athos stopped and turned toward him, "tell Aramis, nice shooting." He raised an eyebrow while raising his glass of wine.