A/N: I am not a hunter, so I have chosen not to go into very many details about the actual hunt because I'm sure I would probably make some blunders regarding procedures. However, the dogs used in this story are a real breed that would have been used in France during the 1600's.
Pronunciation guide: In France, Gilbert is pronounced Zheel-bare.
Twenty Four
At the entrance to the long shaded lane which led deeper into the property of Regnault LaCroix, D'Artagnan sat quietly on the back of his gray stallion and observed the empty road that stretched out toward Paris. Soon, the king and his entourage would be approaching via this road, but he was uneasy, seriously questioning the wisdom of Louis' decision to venture out of the controlled environment of the palace when assassins were still awaiting their chance to eliminate the monarch.
LaCroix's large stone manor house stood regally at the end of the long shaded lane behind him, and he had posted Musketeers at strategic points around the residence, for it was expected that Louis would probably take refreshments there. Beyond the outbuildings, stables, pastures, and crops was open, unfenced land, stretching for great distances in all directions. And, by Louis' decree, the Musketeers had been forbidden access to that area, yet he expected them to see to his safety.
This was the most difficult assignment he had ever been given; guarding the interior of the property without sending men into the areas that were to be protected. He had placed men at various locations at the edge of the property along the road, the most likely point of access, but the entire barracks of Musketeers was not sufficient to guard even one side of the huge estate. I was useless to send his men to the outer edges of the property, for it would take them hours to reach the assigned areas, and they would not have sufficient time to be in place when the king arrived.
His countenance was unusually tense, his brow furrowed, and his mouth set in a grim line. He had not slept well during the night, remaining awake for hours in an effort to form a strategy, but in the end he was forced to concede that there was no good way to protect the king in such a wide open space. As a result, he felt tired and irritable. Adding to his stress was the close proximity of Porthos's estate, and he prayed silently that the king would not order a squad of Musketeers to investigate his estate in search of his outlawed friends, for they would not only find Athos, Porthos, and Aramis there, they would also find Philippe. It seemed that both of his sons and his three best friends were all in danger in one way or another!
The stallion pawed fretfully at the ground with one hoof, but the captain ignored his mount's impatience. Turning in the saddle, he looked up the lane behind him. The dirt road curved through the large trees and around a small rise of earth before it reached the house. There were plenty of potential hiding places for would-be assassins throughout the property.
"This is no good," he muttered to himself.
"Pardon, Captain?" asked the young Musketeer who was mounted beside him on a handsome bay. It was clear that something about the current situation was making the captain ill at ease.
D'Artagnan did not look at him, his eyes continuing to survey the road and the surrounding terrain. "Where are your men positioned?"
"My men are stationed all around the manor house as you ordered, Captain. I have positioned some in the tree line, and some at the outbuildings, including the stables. Others are guarding all entrances to the house."
D'Artagnan nodded, absently. It was easier to protect the king inside a building than it would be during the hunt itself, when Louis would be in the open with few men at his side to protect him. "I am less concerned about the house than I am the rest of the property. We simply haven't enough men to properly secure the estate."
"Yes, Captain," the subordinate Musketeer agreed.
D'Artagnan shifted his eyes to the sky. It was a clear morning with only a few wispy clouds drifting lazily across the heavens. It appeared the king would have good weather for the hunt and for his ball. By the position of the sun, he estimated that it was nearing seven o'clock. The king would be arriving momentarily.
The stallion pawed impatiently at the ground again, its hoof digging a shallow furrow in the soft earth. This time, the captain gave it a light nudge with his spurred heel, and it snorted in protest and tossed its heavy gray mane as it sidestepped away from the spur, but it immediately settled down.
The baying of a hunting dog caught his attention, and he shifted his attention to the Paris road again and saw that the royal procession approaching. Louis was riding at the head of the column, mounted on the black gelding. He was flanked by Lieutenant Andre on one side and his personal valet, Francois, on the other. Other members of the king's court followed, including a member of the armory to reload the king's weapons, the trainer of Louis' hunting dogs and a servant entrusted with two bottles of Louis' favorite wine intended as gifts to his host. The dogs rode in a small cart so they would not tire out on the journey from Paris. Armed Musketeers enclosed the entourage on all sides except the front, all of them keeping a watchful eye for signs of danger.
The procession stopped at the entrance to the property, and Louis addressed the Musketeer captain. "Good morning, D'Artagnan. I was surprised when Lieutenant Andre informed me that you had left the palace before dawn, with most of the Musketeers. I trust you have secured the property?"
"Your majesty, forgive me, but it is impossible to properly secure an estate this size," D'Artagnan replied. "We have done as much as we are able, but it is not enough. There is simply not enough time or men to reach and protect the outer edges of the property."
Louis did not appear particularly displeased. "That is why I have kept the location of my hunt a secret, revealing it only to necessary personnel. No one outside my Musketeers and servants know that I am here, so therefore I must be safe. Would you not agree?"
He sighed, heavily. No, I would not agree. "Sire, please indulge me. Granted, it was a good idea to keep the location a secret as long as possible, but your life is in danger anytime you are away from the palace. Always, there are watchful eyes seeking to take advantage of an unguarded moment."
"That is why I have you and the other Musketeers to protect me," Louis answered without concern.
"Without a constant escort, it would be very easy for an intruder to gain access to the estate at almost any location, and seek you out."
"With an estate this size, it is unlikely that anyone would be able to find me even if they did gain access to the property. There is far too much wilderness area, and we will be constantly moving."
"The sound of your muskets will lead them directly to you! There is always greater strength in numbers. I beg you to please reconsider and allow a squadron of Musketeers to accompany you."
Louis had been listening with growing impatience. "Absolutely not, D'Artagnan! You know how I feel about this. There are already too many people accompanying me, people I must have to manage the dogs and my muskets. I will allow you and Lieutenant Andre to accompany me, but no others. We will discuss it no further!"
D'Artagnan dipped his head in a slight bow and averted his eyes with a low sigh of resignation. Well, two were better than none. "As you wish, your majesty."
Louis was aware that his captain was displeased that his concerns were not being taken seriously, but he was determined to enjoy this rare excursion outside the palace grounds, and he refused to allow it to be jeopardized by a platoon of Musketeers following him everywhere he went. The entourage proceeded up the winding lane toward the manor house. D'Artagnan accompanied them, keeping nervous vigilance, while the young subordinate on the bay horse remained to guard the entrance.
Regnault LaCroix, wearing his finest blue coat, breeches, snow white stockings, and shiny buckled shoes, was awaiting him in the yard, and offered a deep, sweeping bow to the king that D'Artagnan suspected had been practiced many times for the occasion. Behind him, his wife and daughter, dressed in their finest gowns, curtseyed gracefully. Two younger sons, dressed in the fashions of the day, bowed respectfully. Several servants who stood rigidly at attention also bowed to their king.
"Your majesty, what an honor it is to host your hunting expedition," LaCroix said. His hands gestured toward the gently rolling hills of his estate. "Please, consider my home and my property to be yours during your visit."
Louis' eyes swept over the bowing, curtseying subjects, his eyes lingering a few moments on the lovely daughter, before coming to rest on his host. "I shall," he replied. He signaled one of the servants with a flick of his hand. "Please accept my gift to you in appreciation of your kind invitation."
The servant nudged his horse forward and offered the bottles of Bordeaux to LaCroix. His eyes lit up with delight, and he bowed again. "You are most generous, your majesty. After your hunt, you are welcome to come inside and partake of this fine wine. My chef will have some of his finest creations awaiting your pleasure."
"I shall do that," Louis replied. "But for now, I am eager to take up the hunt. Jacques," he said to the man in charge of his muskets, "You will accompany me, as will Perrot, Lieutenant Andre, and D'Artagnan. Gilbert, you will manage the birds. The rest of you will remain here to prepare for my return." Nudging the black gelding, the king led the way through the populated areas of the property and into the wilderness areas where his host had claimed the game was abundant.
D'Artagnan and Andre followed behind with the lieutenant on Louis' left flank and D'Artragnan on the right. Jacques rode slightly behind with Perrot and the dogs. When they reached a likely area for game, Perrot dismounted and turned the reins over to Gilbert while he sent the dogs into the field to begin the hunt.
True to their careful breeding and training, the dogs spread out in the tall grass to seek out the game fowl they were hunting.
Throughout the morning and early afternoon, one plump bird after another was flushed out by the Braque du Bourbonnais hunting dogs. They were shot by the young king, and then retrieved by the dogs, while the two Musketeers kept their attention on the area surrounding them, searching for any indication of intruders onto the property as they moved from one area to another seeking additional game. Jacques was kept busy loading and priming the muskets, and Gilbert took charge of the dead birds, tethering them to his saddle while Perrot sent the dogs into the field again. The king was a fairly good shot, but birds in flight were difficult targets, and when he occasionally missed, he would quickly pass the empty weapon back to Jacques and seize the other to bring down the bird.
With nine pheasants and six partridges dangling from Gilbert's saddle, Jacques finally announced that his pouch was empty of balls. Louis turned briefly to D'Artagnan, and for a moment the captain feared he would request his ammunition so that he might continue the hunt, but he seemed to realize that the lead belonging to the Musketeers was what guaranteed his safety, and thought better of it.
"Very well," the king announced after much consideration. "It has been an excellent hunt and I regret having to retire, but I suppose we have more than we need for the ball. Gilbert, present two of the birds to LaCroix with my compliments. Take the rest back to the palace and instruct my staff to begin preparations for the feast. Perrot, you may go with him. See that the dogs are well-fed; their performance today was outstanding." He passed the empty musket to Jacques, as it was no longer needed. "Jacques, you may retire as well. Make certain that my muskets are cleaned."
"Yes, your majesty," he replied.
Perrot mounted his horse again, and he, Gilbert, and Jacques rode back toward the house, leaving the king alone with the two Musketeer officers.
D'Artagnan watched the retreating figures with unease. The other three men were servants, but he had no doubt that Perrot and Jacques were skilled with muskets, and they added to the number of men who were capable of defending the king. Now, it was merely him and Andre, and it would be difficult to fight off multiple attackers. "We should return to the house, your majesty," he suggested. "Monsieur LaCroix will have refreshments waiting for you to enjoy before we begin the trip back to Paris."
Louis glanced at the sky, and saw that it was early in the afternoon, probably nearing two o'clock. They had missed the lunch hour, but he was enjoying the opportunity to explore his host's property. He understood that his head bodyguard was anxious to get him back into a controlled environment, but that knowledge was enough to make him delay. The king was in charge, and he would not be rushed. "We have had a marvelous result this morning, have we not? I do not believe I have ever brought down so many birds in a mere few hours time."
"You did indeed do well, your majesty," D'Artagnan agreed, discreetly casting an uneasy glance around the immediate area. "Your skill with a musket is excellent."
"LaCroix was certainly correct. Fat birds are abundant on his property. My guests will be suitably impressed."
"Yes, your majesty," D'Artagnan agreed again in a distracted fashion, and glanced nervously over his shoulder. He had that feeling again; that nagging sensation of being observed by unseen eyes. Ahead of him and to the left was a gently rolling grassy field dotted with many trees and shrubs, but on his right was a densely wooded area that he found particularly troubling. His gaze focused on the thickly growing trees and brush, and he felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck, certain that the unseen eyes were watching from there.
Inside that wooded area, the two watchers exchanged surprised glances at the captain's nervous demeanor. "He senses our presence," one of them marveled, his voice a whisper.
"I had no idea that there was such outstanding hunting in this area," Louis was saying, totally oblivious to the fact that he might be in danger. "I shall have to return another time and try my hand at bigger game, like roebuck, red deer, or maybe even boars."
"Boars are very dangerous," Andre pointed out when the preoccupied captain failed to answer. He glanced at D'Artagnan, wondering why he had fallen quiet. "My uncle had some on his property, and they were surly creatures."
Louis ignored him. "Still, there must be large game here, wouldn't you say?"
"Well, we have seen no large game, but they were most likely spooked from the sounds of your muskets, and are hiding," Andre replied.
"True. While we are here, let us take a look around, and see what we can flush out."
"Sire, we should return to the house," D'Artagnan insisted, speaking abruptly. "I do not believe it is a good idea to remain in this wilderness very long. The risk to your safety is too great."
"Nonsense," Louis told him. "I have you and the lieutenant to protect me. I am perfectly safe."
"Your majesty –"
Louis pointed to the left. "We shall go this way." Nudging the black horse, he turned to his left, moving away from the stand of trees and dense brush from which D'Artagnan believed an unseen person was watching their every move.
D'Artagnan started to follow, turning his back on the trees, but the sensation of being observed had intensified to an alarming level and he quickly made a decision. In one swift motion, he wrenched the reins sharply to the left. The stallion half reared and pivoted on its hind legs, completing a total about-face. At the same instant, the Musketeer drew his weapon and directed the muzzle into the tree line at the patch of color that did not seem to belong to nature.
"Whoever is there, step out immediately," he commanded.
Andre and Louis stopped and turned around, surprised. Andre immediately sized up the situation and realized that his captain had detected an intruder. "Your majesty, get behind me."
Finally accepting that his life might indeed be in danger, Louis instantly moved his horse behind that of the lieutenant, allowing his bodyguard to shield him from the suspected danger. Andre drew his weapon and, like his captain, directed it at the brush, even though he had not yet determined the specific nature of the threat.
Just inside the tree line, Athos and Porthos stared at the musket that was pointed directly at them, amazed that their old friend had detected their presence. They had made no sound at all, had simply been watching motionless as the three men passed.
"Damn, he's good!" Porthos said once again with great admiration, as he had done many times over the years. "I have never seen a man so intuitive!"
"Show yourself!" D'Artagnan demanded in a firm voice. "Do it now!"
Athos sighed, heavily. "We have no choice but to surrender," he said to his partner. Raising his voice, he said, "D'Artagnan, it is us; Porthos and Athos. We are coming out, so do not fire. We mean no harm."
A moment later, the two former Musketeers emerged from the brush on horseback, their hands raised to demonstrate that they were empty, and D'Artagnan, recognizing his friends, responded by turning the muzzle of his musket skyward to prevent an accidental discharge from injuring them.
"That is him!" Louis shouted from behind Andre before D'Artagnan could inquire about their presence there. He pointed a condemning finger at the intruder. "The one who tried to kill me! They are traitors! Arrest them! Arrest them now!"
"That is a bit premature, your majesty," the captain said, calmly. "We must first ascertain why they are here."
"We have no sinister intentions, I assure you," Porthos said.
"Just as Athos had no sinister intentions when he came to the palace to assassinate me?" Louis retorted. "What other reason could you have for following us? Down off your horses this instant. Leave your weapons in the saddle holsters or I will order you shot on the spot!"
Athos and Porthos looked at D'Artagnan for instructions, and he gave a single nod, indicating that he should do as ordered. The details could be worked out once the king no longer felt himself threatened. Louis' face darkened with anger that they had deferred to their friend for confirmation rather than instantly obeying his command, but he remained silent. He would have the final word on their fate!
Moving slowly and deliberately, the two men dismounted from their horses.
"On your knees, traitors," Louis ordered. "Place your hands on your heads."
Athos and Porthos glanced at each other apprehensively, then did as they had been told; they sank to their knees in the grassy turf and laced their fingers together behind their heads. D'Artagnan watched uncomfortably from the back of his horse as his friends knelt like captive criminals, and shook his head slowly with disapproval at the humiliation.
Louis watched attentively, making certain that his prisoners complied. "You are to be commended, D'Artagnan," he said, admiringly. "Your attentiveness is unequalled. This is why I always feel safe in your presence."
The beleaguered Musketeer did not feel worthy of praise. To the contrary, his heart had sunk the instant he had heard Athos's voice from the woods, knowing that whatever reason they had for being there, Louis would believe they intended to make another assassination attempt. And, as he had declared the previous day, he would show no leniency. Had D'Artagnan known it was his friends, he probably would have chosen not to betray their presence, but in apprehending them, he now feared the result of his attentiveness. Slowly, his mind working furiously to find a way to defuse the situation, he dismounted and tied the stallion to a tree limb.
When the captain did not answer, Louis shifted his attention back to his protector and saw that the captain had lowered his weapon, a rather uncommon reaction to capturing wanted fugitives. "Keep them covered, D'Artagnan," he commanded.
"Sire –"
"Do it!" Louis raised his voice. "Lieutenant, get their weapons."
Andre dismounted and stepped forward to retrieve the pistols from the saddle holsters, then backed away several steps. With the perpetrators unarmed and on their knees, Louis felt safe to dismount as well, and he approached them on foot.
"For what purpose are you here?" D'Artagnan asked his friends, hoping they could provide a suitable answer. If they could not . . . he did not even want to think about that.
"I heard gunshots from my home," Porthos explained. "We came out to investigate who was trespassing."
"The king was hunting pheasant," he replied, wondering if Pasquier had failed to deliver his message the previous day advising them that the king would be in the area.
"I have no objections to the king hunting on my property," Porthos said in an amiable tone, "but it is always a politeness to inform the landowner when his property is to be used for such activity."
"You are mistaken," Louis told him. "This is land belonging to the LaCroix estate. He invited me to hunt here."
"You have wandered onto my land," Porthos replied. "It is easy to understand how you might have made such a mistake; after all, the unfenced portions of our land adjoin one another, but I assure you, you are standing on my property right now." His eyes shifted back to D'Artagnan with great emphasis in his expression. "As I said, I heard the gunshots from my home; you were getting near to the house, so we came out to investigate who was shooting on my land."
D'Artagnan had been unaware that they had traveled from one man's property to the next, but he understood exactly why his friends had determined that they must keep an eye on the hunting part and head them off if possible. He gave a slight nod, satisfied that their observation of the hunting party was justified. "That is a reasonable explanation, your majesty."
"That changes nothing!" Louis retorted. "Even if this is his property, he had no right to be following us. I can only assume that they meant to do me harm."
"Your majesty, we have no evidence of that," D'Artagnan said, attempting to calm the angry young king. "It is probable that it is as Porthos has said. After all, you said yourself that no one outside the entourage knew of your hunting party, so how could they possibly know that the person hunting here was you? It seems only natural that Porthos would wish to investigate the source of shooting so near his home."
Louis frowned at D'Artagnan in apparent disagreement, then looked at his two prisoners. "Tell me, where have you been these past weeks?"
"We have been away on a personal matter," Porthos replied, ambiguously.
"Both of you?"
"The three of us, actually."
"The three of you," Louis responded, mockingly. "Aramis, too. I sent Musketeers out here to question your servants. Why is it they had no knowledge of where you had gone?"
"I did not tell them," he replied, calmly. "They are servants; it is not their concern where I go or what I do."
"Tell me. What was this personal business you say you were conducting?"
"Why all these questions, your majesty?" Porthos asked, maintaining an innocent expression. "Am I not free to come and go as I please?"
"Did you servants inform you that the king had been looking for you?"
"They did. But we only returned two days ago, and have not yet had the time to request an audience with your majesty."
"Why were you hiding in the woods?"
"To determine the identity of the people who had come onto my property with guns. For all I knew, you could be highwaymen seeking to do me harm."
Louis was not getting anywhere with his interrogations, and D'Artagnan could see that he was growing impatient with Porthos's evasive answers. "Sire, he has provided satisfactory explanations for his absence and also for his current presence. This is clearly a misunderstanding."
"Do not argue with me, D'Artagnan," Louis snapped. "This is no misunderstanding. I know that you are merely covering for your friends. I say that he and Athos and probably Aramis too have been conspiring against me and that they are here to do me harm. It is also a fact that this incident would not have occurred had you not been derelict in your duty the first time."
D'Artagnan flinched noticeably at the allegation. Never in his entire life as a Musketeer had anyone accused him of dereliction of duty. "Sire, my dedication to you has always been ---"
"Silence! If you will recall, Athos made another attempt on my life hardly more than a month ago in the Musketeer's compound, yet you made excuses for him and ultimately allowed him to go free to try again! And clearly, that is what was intended here. I understand that you have loyalty to your friends, but your first duty is your loyalty to your king." He stared long and hard at the captain, deciding the manner of punishment that he felt was deserved. "Since you failed in your duty before, it will be for you to see this through to its conclusion."
D'Artagnan was unable to hide the feeling of trepidation that shivered down his spine at the ominous implications of Louis' words.
Louis nodded at the comprehension that flickered in the Musketeer's eyes. "Yes, you understand, don't you? You have always been very clever. My orders are for Athos to be executed immediately, under my direct supervision, so that I will know that it was done properly and that he will no longer pose a threat to me. Porthos will be taken into custody for questioning. You may redeem yourself by conducting the execution yourself! A single shot to the head should be sufficient."
The king's harsh words and unexpected command sent a stab of agony through D'Artagnan's heart, and he stared at the young king in disbelief, unable to believe he had heard correctly.
Andre also expressed astonishment at the particularly cruel directive that his captain had been given, and he looked from Louis to D'Artagnan wondering how his commanding officer would respond. He understood the difficult position in which he had been placed, for he had been ordered to kill his best friend when there had been no clear evidence of wrongdoing. He shifted uncomfortably. As a Musketeer, he had seen executions before, including some that he felt disapproval of, yet his had never felt as apprehensive as he did in this moment. This did not feel right.
After a long moment, D'Artagnan said quietly, "Sire, it is not necessary to kill this man. I can assure you –"
"Your king has issued a direct order, D'Artagnan!" Louis interrupted. "I expect you to carry it out!"
Another long hesitation followed as D'Artagnan struggled with the ramifications of the order he had been given; to murder the best friend he had ever known or face an as-yet unspecified punishment for failing to obey his king's order. Duty and honor.
"D'Artagnan!" Louis said, sharply, jerking him out of his contemplations. "Must I turn this over to Lieutenant Andre?"
Andre looked startled, no more eager than his commanding officer to carry out this heinous order.
"No," D'Artagnan replied at last. All for one. "This is for me to do." He looked at Athos, still on his knees, and their eyes met. The older man's lips parted slightly in disbelief, apparently believing that his friend intended to carry out the execution as ordered.
"D'Artagnan," Porthos said incredulously, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
"What I am about to do is for the good of the country," D'Artagnan replied, his voice fraught with emotion, but his eyes were locked with those of Athos, as if to convey a message that the other man was failing to comprehend. One for all. "I am sorry that it must be this way, but I have been given no choice."
Louis nodded, approvingly, pleased that in spite of his personal anguish, his captain intended to carry out his orders. "Your loyalty and dedication has always been strong, and will stand up to this test. You understand what your duty is. That is what makes you such a good Musketeer."
D'Artagnan lowered his gaze to the pistol in his hand, regretting the task with which he must use it. He could feel the eyes of the others on him as he delayed; Andre was gazing at him with sympathy, understanding the bond of devotion and friendship that existed between him and his friends, but there was no such feelings from Louis, who shifted impatiently, waiting for him to carry out his orders. Do what you must! he told himself, silently. It is the only way! After a moment's hesitation, steeling himself for what he knew he must do, he raised the pistol and took aim – not at Athos, but at the king!
Louis and Andre both took startled steps backward. "What – what are you doing?" Louis demanded.
"The only thing I can do." His eyes turned to Andre, who was so overwhelmed by this shocking act of rebellion that he seemed to be uncertain whether to turn his musket on his captain in defense of the king, or remain still. He saw the bewilderment in the younger man's wide eyes, and knew that his initial reaction would be to defend his king. How many times had he drilled that very thing into his men: No matter the cost, you must defend your king! "Don't do it, Lieutenant," he advised.
"Captain, I . . . " His voice trailed. After a moment of hesitation, the lieutenant lowered his pistol.
Athos and Porthos watched in astonishment, for the two of them alone understood what the other two men did not: That D'Artagnan had drawn his weapon against his own son, a son he loved dearly, even though he had never been able to acknowledge him as his son. This was something the former Musketeers did not take lightly, for they both knew the true depth of D'Artagnan's devotion to Louis.
"You will not get away with this!" Louis protested. "I am king! You would not dare harm me!"
"It is not my wish to harm you," D'Artagnan replied, "but do not mistake my caution for indecisiveness. I will do what I must." He gestured toward Andre. "Return their muskets, and turn yours over to them as well."
Athos rose slowly to his feet, and reached out his hand, expectantly. Heavier than his friends, Porthos struggled to his feet with a little more difficulty.
After a moment of stunned hesitation, Andre complied with the command, returning Athos's and Porthos's muskets to them, plus his own. "Captain," he protested. "Are you certain you want to do this? This is treason!"
"There is no treason here, Lieutenant," D'Artagnan replied, his demeanor very calm, in Andre's opinion, for a man who had just violated his vow to protect his king. "Very shortly, you will understand why."
"No treason?" Andre repeated the captain's words. "You have just turned your weapon on your king, the sovereign you are honor-bound to protect! How can this not be an act of treason?"
"The lieutenant is correct, D'Artagnan!" Louis told him. "Because of this action, you will join your traitorous friends on the execution block!"
"No one is going to be executed," he replied, his voice quiet. "This is not how I had wished to do this, but you have given me no choice."
"You had a choice, D'Artagnan," Louis retorted. "Your duty was to obey the orders of your king!"
"I cannot carry out an unjust order. For too long I have stood silently by while you misused your authority. I have protected you since the day you were born, but I can no longer stand by and witness your treachery. Your power has corrupted you in ways that I never anticipated." He gestured toward Athos. "You deliberately sent this man's son to his death so that his fiancée would permit your advances toward her, for she would never have done so otherwise, and even then, she did so only to help her ailing family, for you would have denied them medical attention had she not. You distributed rotten food to your people, and then sent Pierre, your loyal advisor, to his death accepting the blame for your own misconduct. I only wish I had known then what I know now, so that I might have prevented it. That is only a small sampling of the injustices you have committed. You have disgraced the crown with your despicable behavior. I no longer recognize you as my king."
Louis' face darkened with rage. "How dare you speak to me with such insolence?" He made a movement toward D'Artagnan, but the Musketeer raised the pistol higher so that Louis was looking down the dark bore. He instantly froze, staring fearfully at that small round hole. Shifting his eyes slightly, he looked into the eyes of the man who held it, eyes that were once filled with kindness and patience, now brimming anger.
"It is long past time for someone to speak the truth to you," he continued. "All these years, I have attempted to guide you, to help you learn humility and honesty, and to understand the great responsibility that your office holds, but I was forced to stand back and watch while the former king turned you into a spoiled, pampered peacock with no regard for the lives of others."
"Do not speak so disrespectfully of my father!"
D'Artagnan averted his eyes briefly, then met the king's gaze once again. "In a way, you are as much a victim as the subjects who have suffered under your reign, for your authority came to you much too young for you to understand how to properly use it. I pity you, Louis, for you have no knowledge of how to treat others, or of the hardships you place on them. But that will soon change, for I know the truth. All of it."
A stab of apprehension rippled through the young king's body at the ominous declaration. "Wha – what do you mean?"
"I know your secret, the one revealed to you upon the king's deathbed."
The color slowly drained from Louis' face as he considered the possibility that the secret he had kept for so many years might have been discovered. "How could you --?" he began, then quickly recovered his composure. "I do not know what secret you are referring to, but even if you do think you know something, what good could it possibly do you?"
D'Artagnan turned to Porthos. "Find Aramis and have him bring Philippe here. We will make the exchange now. Instruct Philippe to wear his old clothes beneath his coat."
Porthos picked up the reins of his horse. "You two will be all right while I am gone?"
D'Artagnan nodded. "Go. We must do this quickly."
Porthos mounted the horse, wheeled it around, and rode away at full gallop, knowing that the exchange must be done before the entourage at the house came out looking for the king.
After the sound of hoof beats had faded away, Louis asked, "Phil-Philippe? Who is Philippe?"
"You do not even know his name, do you? To you, he was nothing more than the man in the iron mask; a nameless creature of no more value than a dead dog. How have you been able to look at yourself in the mirror and not think of him? How could you live in such luxury and not wonder about the squalor to which you condemned him? How could you sit at your fine table and fill your belly and not wonder if he was starving? How could you lie in your soft bed each night and not think of him lying on that cold stone floor of the prison? How, Louis?" D'Artagnan's voice rose to a shout, his abrupt outburst causing the young king to jump. "How could you do that to him?"
Louis' heart was beating faster with fear as he gazed into the enraged eyes of the man who stood before him, understanding at that moment exactly what was about to happen. "No! That cannot be! He is dead! I received word from the prison! They burned the body and sent me the mask as proof!"
"An illusion," D'Artagnan replied. "An illusion created for a specific purpose."
Louis wiped his sweaty hands on his coat. "He's alive?"
"Very much so."
"What . . . what are you going to do with me?"
"Ultimately, that depends largely on you, Louis."
Andre had been listening to the conversation in quiet confusion. Never before had he seen his commanding officer behave so unpredictably. Clearly, something major was occurring, and he was beginning to suspect things he did not even want to contemplate. "Captain, what is this all about?" he asked, nervously. "I know that you must have a reason for what you are doing, but at this moment, I cannot imagine what that might be."
"You will find out momentarily. All I ask is that you trust me for a few more minutes. After that, you will need to make a decision regarding your loyalties. Quite possibly, it will be the most important decision you will ever have to make, for the future of your country is at stake."
"You are intending to overthrow the government, aren't you?" Andre asked, seeking confirmation of his suspicions.
"Not in the way you think. Once you understand our plan, it is my hope that you will join us, but even if you do not, it will be our word against yours. No one will believe you if you attempt to make accusations against us."
"I do not understand. How can that be? How can you replace the current king with someone else, and then expect that no one will notice?"
"All will be revealed in a few minutes."
Andre fell silent again, waiting to see what would transpire when Porthos and Aramis arrived with the person called Philippe.
D'Artagnan glanced repeatedly over his shoulder toward the direction of LaCroix's house, but so far there was no sign that anyone was looking for the king.
Athos followed his gaze. "How long do you suppose they will wait before someone comes looking for him?"
"Hopefully, it will be a while yet. They know I was with him and that the property is being patrolled by Musketeers, so they would assume he is safe here." He glanced at the sky, observing the sun's progression. "How near are we to Porthos's house?"
"Not far," Athos replied. "Just beyond that rise."
"So close?" D'Artagnan marveled. "I had no idea."
"Well, the fact that you are no longer on LaCroix's land works in your favor, for they will likely search his property first if his staff becomes restless." He paused, briefly. "D'Artagnan, for a moment, I thought . . . " He looked away, ashamed that he had even considered such a notion.
"I know," his old friend replied, softly. "I regret that I had to put you through that."
"You had no choice," Athos agreed, then the hint of a smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "I must say, you are a very good actor. I think you even had Porthos convinced that you would follow through with the order."
D'Artagnan managed a slight smile, but Athos could see that his heart was not in it. After all their preparations, the moment of truth had arrived: the Musketeer captain would now pay the price for his sin, as one son was exchanged for the other. One would rule the country, and the other would be sent to the Bastille.