SIX

"D'Artagnan and the queen mother!" Porthos said incredulously when the three retired Musketeers gathered in the drawing room to discuss the events that had just transpired. "We were all still in the service when this happened, yet I never saw any indication that something was going on between them. We were together every single day! How could we have not noticed?"

"Perhaps we weren't looking," Aramis suggested from his usual place at the head of the table, the place typically reserved for the head of the household. No one challenged his right to claim the position of authority, for he was the only one among them who had known about Philippe and who was unofficially in charge of the plot to remove Louis from the throne, but he knew that none of them regarded him as their authority figure. "At the time, we were all caught up in our own concerns. Athos was dealing with the loss of his wife and raising his son on his own. You were courting your rich widow, and we all know what happens to your thought process when it comes to women. And I was struggling with the delays in my desire to become a priest. It is hardly any wonder that none of us noticed that D'Artagnan had his own problems."

"How did you know? How did you know that Louis and Philippe were D'Artagnan's sons?"

"I was not certain," Aramis admitted. "At least not at first. It was his reaction to learning that Philippe had been imprisoned in that cursed mask that opened the door to the possibility, for only a parent would experience so much grief at the suffering of his child. Then I started thinking about his persistent loyalty to Louis; the offended looks when one of us would criticize him, the way he held onto the hope that he would eventually become a good king. There were so many clues that I can't believe I didn't put them together sooner."

Athos was seated on a bench against the wall with a condemning expression on his face. "Aramis, you are not this all-knowing entity with an answer to everything. There is no way that you, or any one of us for that matter, could have ever suspected such a thing, so why don't you just admit it?"

Aramis did not take offense to his friend's sharp tongue. "I suppose I am not entirely infallible," he admitted with a pleasant smile. "Even geniuses make an occasional error."

Athos exchanged an exasperated glance with Porthos, then laid his head back against the wall behind him. "So what does this mean for our plans?"

"That remains to be seen, doesn't it?" Aramis asked. Resting his elbows on the table, he folded his hands together, his eyes shining as he considered the impact of this new revelation, and how he could use it to his advantage to achieve their ultimate goal.

"You are aware, of course, that he may try to talk Philippe out of taking Louis' place" Athos told him.

"He won't," Aramis said with confidence.

Athos shook his head, less certain of that fact than Aramis, but he made no additional comments. Sometimes, arguing with Aramis was like arguing with a brick wall; no matter what you did, you could not make it budge.

Silence settled over the room, and after a while Athos rose from the bench and began to pace the floor, going frequently to the window to look out, and then joining Aramis at the table briefly only to get up a few minutes later to pace again.

The tantalizing aroma of frying ham permeated the house, alerting them that breakfast would be ready soon, but still D'Artagnan and Philippe had not returned.

"I know you are concerned for Philippe's safety, but he is D'Artagnan's son," Aramis pointed out as he watched his friend's pacing. "That changes everything. He will not do anything that will put the boy's life in danger. Of that we can be certain."

Athos was forced to agree that Aramis's words were probably true. "I know. I am eager to get started, so we can get that tyrant off the throne," he added, bitterly.

"And we will," Aramis assured him. "We will! My plan can be put into motion now, and D'Artagnan will be here to help us. This is better than I could have hoped for, for he can almost guarantee our ultimate success."

"How?" Porthos asked.

"You heard him. He still loves the queen. If she still has feelings for him, he may be able to help convince her of the urgent necessity of replacing Louis. All this time, I have been uncertain of how she will react to our proposal, but with his help, we can do what needs to be done to assure success. And he knows Louis' characteristics better than anyone. That knowledge will be a tremendous asset in training Philippe to assume the role of his brother!"

"I think you are expressing too much confidence, Aramis," Athos said. "She may still not go along with your plans, because it involves incarcerating her other son. However bad he is as a king, a mother's love is a powerful influence."

"D'Artagnan may not like that idea, either," Porthos pointed out. "Louis is his son also."

Aramis nodded slowly, conceding that this was his only real stumbling block, one he had not fully thought through. "Yes, I will have to consider that possibility. His condition for joining us was that Louis not be harmed, but now that we know what his personal reasons were for making that condition, he may also balk at the notion of imprisoning him. I will talk to him about what is to be done with Louis. Hopefully, I can make him understand that it is for the good of all that we do this. And then he can help me explain it to the queen."

"I don't know, Aramis," Porthos said, worriedly. "Athos brings up a valid point about whether or not D'Artagnan might try to talk him out of it. This will be dangerous for Philippe. Should he be found out, at the very least, Louis will throw him into the Bastille. He may even decide to execute him to eliminate any further attempts at taking the throne. D'Artagnan may not want to put him through the risk."

"I don't think Louis will kill his own brother. The sanctity of royal blood is a powerful influence."

"Royal blood, indeed!" Athos snorted derisively.

Aramis fixed reproachful eyes on his friend. "Do you now think less of Philippe simply because he carries the blood of a Gascon rather than the blood of the Bourbon kings?"

Athos looked away, feeling a twinge of shame that he had made the comment. "No, of course not."

Aramis did not appear convinced. "If Philippe's paternity is a problem for you, we must discuss that now, before we proceed any farther with this. For Philippe's sake, we must all be united in our cause."

"We are united," Athos said. "I should not have spoken so brusquely."

"Then your rather hostile choice of words was simply another way to condemn D'Artagnan?"

Athos chose to ignore the question. "If anyone else were to find out –"

"There is no reason that anyone else should find out if we all keep our silence," Aramis interrupted.

"D'Artagnan and the queen mother kept their silence all these years, yet we found out," Athos reminded him.

"Extraordinary circumstances brought about by me, when I told him of the second twin," Aramis said, dismissing the concern. "There is no reason to think that something like that will happen again, since he now knows the truth. We must not break this code of silence. There is too much at stake."

"And if he ends up in the Bastille, we will rescue him," Porthos concurred.

Aramis made an approving gesture toward Porthos, nodding his head in agreement. "Exactly. We will rescue him, and take him to safety."

As Athos passed the window again during his pacing, he saw D'Artagnan and Phillipe coming up the road, their heads bowed in quiet conversation. He moved back to his bench and sat down to wait, wondering what had been said between the two during their conversation.

D'Artagnan and Philippe entered the house through the kitchen, and saw a woman at the hearth removing the slices of ham from the skillet with a fork, and transferring them to a platter. She looked up and smiled when they entered. "Your friends are in the drawing room," she said. "Tell them that breakfast is ready."

D'Artagnan and Philippe stepped into the corridor and followed it to the drawing room. As they entered, D'Artagnan looked at each of the three men, feeling strangely self-conscious and wondering how they would react to him now, knowing of his treasonous act. Athos stared back at him, his eyes typically severe, but he made no comment. Porthos' expression was sympathetic but bright with curiosity and interest. Aramis was smiling in greeting, but his smile seemed unusually uncomfortable.

"The woman in the kitchen said to tell you that breakfast is ready," D'Artagnan said.

"Her name is Angelina," Aramis said as he rose from the table.

"Angelina," D'Artagnan repeated. Where had he heard that name before? He nodded as the memory returned. Yes, Aramis had mentioned the evening before that she was an excellent cook, even if she was less than virtuous.

Aramis took the lead, and one by one, the others fell in behind him as he led the way back to the kitchen. As they took their places at the table, Angelina retrieved a stack of dishes from the cupboard and placed one in front of each man. The bowls and platters of food were placed in the center of the table.

When all were seated, Aramis said grace, and then they helped themselves to thick slices of bread, soft butter, peach preserves, eggs, and fried ham. Angelina waited, head bowed, while the priest said grace, then she quietly excused herself and went upstairs to make the beds. She would return later to clean up.

For a long time, they ate in silence. D'Artagnan was acutely aware of the furtive glances from the others, but each time he looked up, they quickly averted their eyes. Clearly, they were having trouble imagining that he and the queen had once been lovers. He smiled inwardly as he caught a discreet glance from the priest. Aramis, he knew, was dying to know what had been discussed while they were away from the house.

True to his nature, it was Aramis who finally broke the silence. "So, did you two have a nice talk?" he asked casually.

D'Artagnan laid down his fork on the edge of his plate and looked at the priest. "All right, let us please dispense with the small talk and the covert glances. There is no need for everyone to feel so uncomfortable around me. I am still the same man I was before."

Aramis looked embarrassed, a moment that D'Artagnan would savor for the rest of his life. "Forgive me, D'Artagnan. You are absolutely right. It's just that –" He shrugged. "Well, this has been a very unusual day with some very startling revelations."

"To say the least," D'Artagnan agreed.

Aramis indicated his other two friends. "I will get to the point. We are curious to know exactly where you stand. When you agreed to join us, you had no idea that we would be proposing the removal of one of your sons from the throne and replacing him with the other." He shook his head, in amazement. "We never imagined that was the case!"

"I'm still having trouble believing it," Porthos said. "The queen has an escort, an attendant, at all times! How did you manage –"

"Porthos!" Aramis said sharply, causing the other man to jump on startled reflex. "Is that all you think about?"

D'Artagnan could not help but smile at Porthos's expression at being rebuked by the priest, but he offered no explanation. He had no intention of sharing the event with anyone.

Aramis turned back to D'Artagnan. "We feared you might try to talk Philippe out of taking the throne."

"I will not try to talk him out of it, nor will I try to talk him into it," "D'Artagnan replied.

Aramis nodded. "Fair enough. Now that you've spoken with him, I am sure he has filled you in on our plan. What are your thoughts on this?"

"I had already reached the decision that Louis must be removed from the throne," D'Artagnan reminded him. "I am supportive of your idea that Philippe should rule in his brother's place, and I will do everything in my power to help him get there, but only if it is his wish. That is something we must discuss. We must be absolutely certain that this is what he wants, because it is a decision he will live with for the rest of his life. We cannot apply pressure on him to do it simply because it is what we want. The decision must be his alone."

"Well, of course it must be his decision," Aramis agreed, somewhat taken aback. "We discussed this with him after we brought him here. I think he was a bit overwhelmed by the idea at first, but I think he understands why it has to be. Is that not right, Philippe?" he prodded.

The young man looked uncomfortable beneath the gazes of the others, and he tucked his hands between his knees and stared at the uneaten food on his plate. "I understand why you want me to be the king, but you gave me very little time to think about it. And now things have become even more complicated than they were when you explained everything to me, because the information you gave me is incorrect. How can I possibly become the king? I do not have royal blood. I have no right to claim the throne."

"You do have royal blood," D'Artagnan told him. "On your mother's side. Granted, it is not the blood of the Bourbon kings of France, but you must also consider this: if you decline and Louis is deposed by revolution, as I believe will eventually happen if a change is not made, everyone in the country who has a drop of Bourbon blood in him will be fighting over the throne. That would traumatize the country. Besides, it is also a fact that none of them are fit to rule, any more than Louis has been."

"This is true; a mob of idiots and glory-seekers, all of them," Aramis agreed. "And if other nations see instability within our nation, they may feel it is a good time to make a move toward war. There are so many factors to consider here."

Philippe continued to stare at his plate without seeing it, looking extremely beleaguered. "I want to do the right thing, but I must confess to being a bit fearful. All of you say that you will teach me what I need to know, but I've been locked away at prison for the past six years! I have no idea how to make the decisions necessary to govern a nation. What if I do something wrong?"

"We're not going to throw you into the lion's den, Philippe," Aramis assured him. "We, the four of us, will be at your side as your advisors. We will help you make the decisions until you gain the experience and confidence to handle them on your own."

D'Artagnan added, "You have been granted a rare opportunity. To my knowledge, something like this has never happened before. You have a chance to do great things for your country; to right the wrongs that your brother has created."

"If a change is not made, I believe D'Artagnan is right," Aramis said. "There is an undercurrent of discontent within France, and my Jesuit brothers grow impatient with the current government. There will be a revolution with much bloodshed. We have already seen rioting in the streets of Paris. It is only a matter of time before it carries over to the rest of the country as well. Hopefully, the food your father has sent to Paris will stem the tide of discontent for a while, long enough for us to get you onto the throne. I know that is a great responsibility to place on your shoulders, but you have the power to avert what could turn into a civil war."

Automatically, Philippe deferred to his father, his blood, even though they barely knew each other. "You want me to do it, don't you?" the boy asked.

"I said I would not pressure you, and I will stand by my word. I do not tell you these things in an attempt to sway your decision, but I must impress upon you the facts that we have given you, and you must think about them carefully. The decision is yours, and one that must not be entered into lightly, but I assure you, that if you decide to do it, you will not be alone. The four of us will be at your side to help you through the transition. But no matter what happens or what decision you make, you will not be abandoned."

His assurances seemed to have a calming effect of the young prince. "I fear that if I decline, I will be letting everyone down after they have been so kind to me."

"You won't let us down, Philippe, no matter what conclusion you reach."

"You would be with me at the palace?"

D'Artagnan smiled. "I am head of the king's body guards. I reside in a room near the king's chambers. If you need me at any time, day or night, all you have to do is summon me and I will be there."

Philippe next turned to Athos, a man he greatly admired, seeking his views as well. "You have never told me what you think. As a former Musketeer, would it bother you to serve a king who was not of the royal line?"

"If there is one thing that history has shown us, it is that royal blood alone does not make a worthy king," Athos said. "Blood is less important than heart. And I believe you have the heart of a king."

Philippe considered this, but still appeared apprehensive. "I – I need time to think about it."

"There is no time for that!" Aramis exclaimed. "We must know your decision, so that the training can commence."

"Aramis, it is only right and proper that Philippe have time to consider the things you are asking of him," D'Artagnan said. "Why are you in a hurry to do this?"

"We planned to make the exchange during the masked ball, which is only a few weeks away. That is the simplest way of getting him inside without being detected. It is an open invitation to nobility, and everyone will be wearing costumes and with masks covering their faces. It is our best option, but there is still much to do before then. He must be ready. Every day we lose will be critical."

"There is no reason why we should lose any days. We will train him while he considers his alternatives," D'Artagnan suggested. "Then, when he is ready, he will give us his answer."

Aramis was clearly displeased, but seemed to be finding no supporters. Athos and Porthos offered no comment, which suggested that they did not support his efforts to pressure the young man into a hasty decision. Finally, he lifted his hands as if in surrender. "Very well, then. We will commence with the training while Philippe considers what he wants to do."

"Thank you," the boy said, gratefully.

With that matter settled in Philippe's favor, D'Artagnan turned to Aramis. "You seem to be in charge of this operation. What are your plans to prepare him?"

"For starters, we need to teach him everything he needs to know to become Louis," Aramis replied. "Eventually, he can assert his own personality, but at first, he must make everyone believe that he is in fact Louis. Athos is going to teach him to use a sword, and I've been schooling him on posture; to carry himself erect and self-assured like a king."

Listening to Aramis's words, Philippe, who had been slouching in his chair, discreetly straightened his back and sat up straight.

"And Porthos is going to show him how to use a musket," Aramis concluded, unaware of the change in posture that Philippe had just made.

"Those are basic necessities for any gentleman. He needs to know a lot more than just that," D'Artagnan told him. "Louis has a demeanor that is his alone; a certain way of speaking, of looking at people, certain mannerisms, and expressions."

"Arrogance," Athos said.

D'Artagnan glanced at him, knowing that the comment was thrown out there in an attempt to offend him. Instead of allowing the remark to insult him, he nodded. "Yes; and arrogance. Philippe must master all of that if he is to convince others that he is Louis."

Aramis nodded, eagerly. "You are absolutely correct, and for that we are going to need your help. You know Louis better than any of us. Philippe will need to learn those mannerisms you spoke of, those odd little behaviors that we all have that seem insignificant but whose absence will be noticed by anyone who is around him. They will be important in order to convince those around him that he is the king, so we will leave that to you. He must also learn to ride a horse. I've seen Louis riding on the hunt. He is fairly accomplished at horsemanship. Philippe has indicated that he has never even been on a horse."

Philippe looked up, and for the first time there was eagerness in his eyes. Clearly, this was one lesson he was looking forward to.

"I was going to teach him that, since I am quite a good horseman myself," Aramis continued, "but since you are the finest horseman in France, superior even to me, perhaps it should be you."

D'Artagnan nodded to acknowledge the suggestion. His expression remained unchanged, but inside he felt delighted at the proposal that he should be the one to teach his son to ride. "He must also learn to dance."

"Dance!" Philippe exclaimed, wrinkling his nose in repulsion. "Must I?"

"Yes, you must," Aramis told him, firmly. "Louis is well known for his love of dance. The trouble is, I am not a very good dancer. I'm pathetic, if you must know the truth. One of the few things at which I do not excel."

Listening at the other end of the table, Athos shook his head, as if disgusted by the priest's conceit.

"I am not a good dancer, either," D'Artagnan admitted. "I am always on duty during the parties, so I never have the opportunity to dance myself, even if I wanted to."

Porthos shrugged. "I am the proverbial bull in a china closet. I am passable, but certainly not good enough to teach a king who is as skilled as Louis."

All heads turned to Athos, who had been listening to the conversation without joining it. Feeling the eyes of the others upon him, he looked up in surprise. "Me?"

"I have seen you dance," Aramis said. "You are as skilled a dancer as D'Artagnan is a horseman."

"I haven't danced in years!" Athos protested.

Aramis said patiently, "Athos, I know that dancing is not one of your favorite pastimes, but you are the most knowledgeable. It is for the greater good. He must know how to do this if he is to pass for Louis. And the lessons must continue, even after we reach the palace, for he must know all the current dances, and there are simply too many for him to learn in a couple of weeks."

Athos offered no further protest, and finally nodded his consent.

Porthos watched with amusement as Philippe licked a dribble of jam off his wrist. "I think perhaps some table manners would be appropriate as well."

Philippe froze, realizing that he had done something wrong. Slowly, he pulled his tongue back in his mouth and lowered his wrist, looking like a little boy who had just been caught by his mother while committing a serious offense.

"You're right," D'Artagnan agreed. "A lack of proper table etiquette will be noticed immediately."

Aramis turned to the Musketeer. "D'Artagnan, you reside at the palace ---"

"I dine with the other officers or sometimes in my room. I have never dined with Louis. I can teach him basic table manners, but to teach him the more delicate etiquette of the gentry, I am afraid I am as ignorant as he is. It should be a member of the nobility to point out the small details that will be detected by other aristocrats."

Again, all heads turned to Athos, but this time, he nodded his consent without protest, understanding that he was the only one among them who was qualified by virtue of his noble heritage.

"Athos is a count by birth," Porthos explained to the curious young man.

"A count?" Philippe asked, startled.

"I gave up my title and my lands a long time ago for reasons that are my own," Athos said, shortly, indicating that it was a topic he did not wish to discuss. "There are eccentricities among the gentry, and I will gladly teach you what you need to know."

Philippe nodded, gratefully. "Thank you." He looked around the table at the faces of the men who were going to help him attain the highest office in the country, if he so desired. "There is so much to learn. I just hope I can learn it all."

"You will," D'Artagnan assured him. "But we must work hard."

"And I do know basic table manners," Philippe added in his own defense. "It was difficult to eat while wearing the mask. I will strive to do better."

"That's all right, Philippe," Porthos said, apologetically. "I did not consider how it must have been for you in the mask. And you have dined with us before, and you have done well. Obviously, you had some training in your youth. Perhaps you just need some reminders, like not licking your hands."

Philippe sighed, clearly discouraged. "I knew better than that. I guess I just wasn't thinking."

"Don't take it to heart, Philippe," D'Artagnan advised. "Porthos is teasing you." To Aramis, he asked, "What were you planning to do today?"

"Well, I was planning to go to Paris," the priest reminded him. Reaching across the table, he placed his hand on D'Artagnan's hand and squeezed it with gratitude. "Thanks to you, the trip and the meeting have been cancelled. I'm awaiting word that everyone has been contacted, but I anticipate good news on that front. As for Philippe, I was leaving that to Athos and Porthos to decide. They were going to remain behind to continue the lessons."

"I was thinking we should work with the sword today," Athos said. "We worked a little bit on it yesterday morning, but we lost much of the afternoon." He cast a quick glance at D'Artagnan, letting him know that it was his arrival that had interrupted the schedule.

"What about the shooting lessons?" Porthos asked. "We should begin that, soon."

"Not as important as the sword," Athos told him. "He must know how to defend himself."

"Isn't that what a musket is for as well?" Porthos countered. "Besides, if he goes hunting, he must be able to shoot straight."

Philippe looked from one to the other, greatly distressed that his day was being planned for him. "Do we have to do anything today? After years of not knowing who I was or where I came from, I have just found out that I have a father! How do you expect me to be able to concentrate on lessons?"

"Perhaps the lessons could be suspended for one day?" D'Artagnan suggested.

"It will be a struggle for him to learn everything as it is without losing an entire day of preparation," Aramis objected.

"Yes, I know, but he's been locked away in that prison for six years, and I never knew of his existence until this very day. Perhaps he just needs some time to simply enjoy his freedom. You can't expect him to be willing to work all the time. Let him – let us -- have the day, and we will begin tomorrow."

"Spoken like a father," Aramis said. "It would seem that I am going to see some argument from you on his behalf, doesn't it?"

D'Artagnan could only smile at this, but Philippe was grinning with joy that his father intended to side with him on this issue.

Aramis glanced at Porthos and Athos, who offered no comment. "I suppose one day won't matter that much," he said, reluctantly.

Philippe spoke up. "I know that to be king, I must also be Louis. But sometimes, I just want to be Philippe." He glanced at D'Artagnan. "And I just want to spend the day with my father. If something must be learned today, perhaps it could be some of the mannerisms you were speaking of earlier. That way, he and I can still be together and I can still learn some of the things I need to know."

Aramis considered this option, and nodded his approval. "Very well, then. That sounds acceptable. You shall resume the fencing lessons tomorrow, and the shooting lesson the next day. But be prepared to work all the harder!" he added with a smile. "You will have some catching up to do."

"Thank you," the boy said, gratefully.

With that detail laid to rest, they resumed their meal.