A/N: Please bear with the next two chapters as Philippe gets settled in to life and procedures at the palace. After that, I have something in mind involving the characters and their futures.
As always, thanks for the reviews. And a special thanks to Sandpiper for suggesting a scene involving Athos's guilt over the wounding of the two Musketeers at the compound.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Dawn found D'Artagnan at the window of his private chamber, gazing across the beautifully manicured lawn.
It had been a long, troubled night. As he had feared, his thoughts had drifted to Louis, confined in the Bastille, rendering him unable to obtain the rest he needed. He had passed part of the night at his desk, providing written orders for the Bastille guards regarding the prisoner's care, and when that was done, he had moved to the window, grieving for the son he would likely never see again.
Once this decision had been made weeks earlier, he had known that this moment would arrive, but somehow he had never anticipated just how badly it would hurt to see his son taken away. It cut to his soul, and he knew that this wound would never heal as long as Louis was in the prison.
The sun was just creeping over the horizon when a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned toward it. It was Anne, accompanied by her aging attendant, making her way toward the chapel. The queen mother walked tall and erect, but even from behind he could feel the aura of pain that surrounded her, invisible to others but shared by him. It was not her usual habit to make the walk so early in the morning, but he understood the source of her need for divine guidance. This time, instead of praying for Philippe, she would be praying for Louis. No matter how much things had changed, they had somehow remained the same: One son was king; the other wore the iron mask.
He watched until she was out of sight, then rested his forehead against the cool glass and closed his eyes, wearily, wishing he could accompany her to the chapel, to join her in prayer for their sons, and to openly offer the comfort she needed. What a strong woman she was to have borne so much grief alone. And she would have to continue to do so, for the orders for Louis' incarceration, signed and sealed, were lying on his desk waiting to be delivered, finalizing their older son's fate with his own hand.
Now, with the sun rising over the horizon, there was no reason to delay the inevitable. As much as he hated to do it, it must be done. Moving to the door of his room, he grasped the handle and opened it. As usual, guards stood at attention in the hall, protecting the royal chambers and awaiting orders.
"Send a courier to my room," D'Artagnan said.
"Yes, Captain," the guard replied.
With a sigh of resignation, he closed the door again and leaned against it, his heart heavy. There was no turning back now. Louis was no longer accessible to him, and as much as he regretted it, as much as he loved him, he must accept it. Lowering his eyes, he noticed that he was still dressed in the breeches and shirt from last night. He must be in his regular uniform when the courier arrived, so he spent the next few minutes changing his clothes.
Ten minutes later, he heard a knock at the door.
"Enter," he said, loudly enough for the person on the other side to hear.
The door opened, but instead of the expected courier, it was Athos who stepped into the room. He was dressed in clean clothes of a style befitting a businessman, and D'Artagnan knew he was reporting for his first day as the king's royal council.
"I know I am a bit early, but I was eager to get started," the former Musketeer said. Noticing his best friend's weary eyes, he said, "Did you sleep at all last night?"
"Very little," D'Artagnan admitted.
"Louis?" Even though they were in the captain's personal chamber where there were no ears to hear their private conversation, he spoke the name quietly.
"I could not stop thinking about him. All his life, he has lived in this palace, surrounded by luxury, his attendants, the finest food and wine, and any woman he desired. Now he is alone, locked inside a dank, dark cell in the Bastille, ordered there by me. This is a drastic change for him. What must he be thinking? How must he be feeling? How he must hate me." He bowed his head slightly, as if to hide his pain from his friend. "I did not know it would be this hard."
Athos was nodding slowly with complete understanding. "The suffering out our children creates a different kind of pain in the heart of a parent, far worse than our own."
"Yes," D'Artagnan agreed.
"We must hope that he will take your words to heart, and will behave himself until we remove him to the house. I saw Aramis last night after the ball. He is already lining up workers, has drawn up plans and diagrams, and is expected to begin the renovations as soon as he can acquire the materials. He claims that it will not take much in the way of alterations. Apparently, the house is quite secure as it is. He said he would come see you with the plans in a few days to keep you apprised of what they are doing."
"The only thing that makes it tolerable is knowing that Louis' suffering is only temporary, and that he will soon have a better place to live."
"Temporary but necessary," Athos reminded him. He paused, averting his eyes briefly in shame. "Actually, one reason I came so early was that I wanted to speak to you in private about another matter, something I wanted to mention last night, but the time was never appropriate."
"What is it?" D'Artagnan prompted.
Athos's expression was very serious, and he kept his eyes averted for several moments as he considered how he wanted to present his question. When he finally spoke, his words were apologetic. "When I first learned that Raoul had died, I was out of my head with grief and rage. You know that better than anyone." He looked up, gauging his friend's reaction.
D'Artagnan nodded in agreement, curious to see where his friend was going with this.
"With no thought of the consequences to myself or others, I came here to murder Louis, but instead I wounded two of your men, one of them severely. I was thinking about them yesterday, and my conscience has plagued me since, wondering of their fate. Tell me. Are they both well?"
D'Artagnan hated to be direct with his friend, but he knew Athos would expect nothing less. "One of them is permanently disfigured where you took off his earlobe. His hair will cover the disfigurement, but he remains angry and bitter. We feared the other would not survive, but he rallied on the third day and has been recovering with his family. It is uncertain if he will be able to return to the Musketeers."
Athos looked away, feeling guilty that he had possibly robbed the young Musketeer of his livelihood. "Is he in need of compensation?"
"His family owns property. If he cannot return to the Musketeers, he will find other work. He will be fine."
Athos moved to the window to look outside, thinking about Raoul. "I did not sleep well last night, either," he admitted. "It was my first night at home since we began our quest, and I cannot even express how alone I felt. Many of my son's personal belongings are still there. I went through them to collect mementos of his life, every one of them bringing back a memory of him. There have been many times when he was in the service that he was away, but that house was never as lonely as it was last night, knowing that he would never be coming home again."
"Athos, I –" A knock at the door interrupted their conversation, and D'Artagnan glanced at it rather impatiently. "Enter."
The door opened, and a young Musketeer stood there, but he did not fully enter the room. Instead, he looked inside at his captain, then his eyes darted warily to the other man. The eyes narrowed briefly, recognizing him as Athos.
Athos looked steadily back at him, but understood that the young Musketeer was thinking of that day in the yard, when he had caused such a commotion. No doubt, he had also heard by now that he, Porthos, and Aramis had been admitted to the palace as the king's council. He imagined that had been discussed at length in the barracks the night before.
The Musketeer shifted his attention back to D'Artagnan. "I was told that you requested a courier, Captain."
D'Artagnan picked up the orders from his desk, and handed them to the courier. "Deliver this to the captain of the guards at the Bastille. Tell him they are my orders for a prisoner that was apprehended yesterday during the king's hunt. The king will be sending confirmation later today."
"Right away, Captain." Turning smartly on his heel, the young Musketeer strode from the room and pulled the door closed behind him.
As D'Artagnan turned back toward his friend, he found that Athos was smiling. "It amuses me how your young Musketeers are in awe of you," he explained.
"And you as well."
"The legendary Inseparables," Athos agreed. "Those were good times. I fear, however, that it will take some time for me to regain the respect of the other Musketeers, after my shameful behavior in the compound yard. It pleases me greatly that the four of us are united again for a cause."
"It pleases me as well," D'Artagnan agreed.
"I'm curious to see how Philippe spent his first night in the palace. Have you seen him yet this morning?"
"No, not yet. He had such a busy day yesterday that I wanted to allow him time to recover. He is probably still abed. Will you stay and have breakfast with me?"
Athos smiled. "It would be my pleasure."
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After being dressed in one of the king's usual outfits by Gael, Philippe opened the outer door to his chamber and stepped into the corridor, nodding to the guard who was positioned there. D'Artagnan had not come for him, so he knew that his father intended to allow him to sleep late if he desired. In spite of the strange bed and surroundings, he had sleep soundly and was now ready to begin his day. Whatever that might consist of, for he had no idea how a king might spend his day.
The guard bowed his head respectfully. "The queen requests that you join her in the dining hall, your majesty. She said she will be waiting for you there."
The youth in him had hoped that he might be allowed to dine with both his parents, but the reality was that such a thing would not be possible. He remembered his father saying weeks ago that he dined alone or with the other officers.
Nodding a response to the guard, he clasped his hands behind his back and walked down the long corridor toward the dining hall, careful to maintain a kingly appearance.
The previous day when he had arrived, he had not taken the time to look at the palace decoration, and last night on his way to the ball he had been too nervous to notice them. So he took his time, admiring the elaborately patterned floors, the beautiful marble pillars, and the gold leaf accents that were everywhere. Huge portraits and scenery paintings framed in gold leaf were hung on the walls, and he paused before one that reminded him of the river at the village, a place which would forever occupy a special place in his heart.
"It is lovely, isn't it?" asked a feminine voice beside him.
Turning his head, he found that Anne had joined him there, and was admiring the painting with him. "Good morning, Mother," he said. Leaning toward her, he kissed her cheek in a loving fashion, bringing a pleased smile to her lips. "It is indeed," he said in reply to her question. Nodding toward the painting, he added, "It reminds me of the village."
"It holds pleasant memories for you," she guessed.
"Very pleasant. Some of the happiest days of my life were spent there."
She glanced quickly around to make certain that they were alone, then said quietly, "Your father told me about it. It has pleasant memories for him, as well, for that is where he met his son. I wish I could have been a part of that, as well."
Philippe gazed at her beautiful face for a long moment. "We will make new memories, the three of us."
She smiled. "Yes. I look forward to them. But now, the servants are preparing to serve us breakfast. I have been waiting for you."
As they turned toward the dining hall, Philippe apologized, "Forgive me for taking so long, but I awakened a bit late and then had to wait for Gael to arrive and dress me. It would have been much faster if I had simply dressed myself!"
"If he does not do his job adequately, he can be replaced. Is he slow or clumsy?"
"No. A bit awkward, but I understand that he has never done this before." He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "I know exactly how he feels, in fact! I fear I upset him last night. I forgot that I should have waited for him, and undressed myself. He was very much afraid that he would be reprimanded or removed from my service for failing at his duties. No, I do not want him replaced, for it is as much me as it is him. I am very much unaccustomed to this."
She reached out and took his hand in hers. "You will get used to it," she assured him. "I have not been waiting long. I rose early and went to the chapel to pray for . . . your brother."
Philippe's heart instantly felt heavier under the weight of his brother's ordeal. "I prayed for him last night before I went to bed. I will consult with Aramis often and keep you informed on the progress of the house. I know what he is experiencing, Mother, and I promise you, I will not allow him to be confined in the mask any longer than necessary." He sighed with regret. "Truthfully, I did not want it placed on him to begin with, but I understand that he would have been recognized without it. It was a difficult decision for me to reach."
She squeezed his hand affectionately. "Your experiences give the two of you a special bond, even if he is unable to appreciate it. I do not wish for either of my sons to be in the mask, yet it is good that you understand how your brother feels and is willing to show mercy. You will be a good king."
"I hope to be," he replied, earnestly. "I want to be the best king that I can possibly be. I want to help the people, Mother. I know what it is like to be hungry and hopeless."
As they neared the dining hall, she raised her hand, indicating that he should refrain from talk that might be overheard by the staff. They entered the large room together, and she discreetly indicated that he should take the seat at the head of the long table. Instead of taking the seat at the foot of the table, where she normally would have sat, she took the position directly to his right to be nearer to him, and with a servant holding her chair, she gracefully sank into it. Philippe remained standing until she was seated, then he sat down.
Quickly, he turned over in his mind everything that Athos had told him about proper table etiquette, determined that he would make no mistakes. Even though he was dining only with his mother, he knew that the servants would be watching attentively to react to each of his needs and wants, so he was careful to behave in an exemplary manner and to keep his posture erect and dignified. His plate was already in place along with the silverware, so he placed his napkin on his lap and waited while the servers filled his plate and that of his mother.
During their meal, they spoke only of general things which would not betray his identity and experience, but always he was aware of the watchful eyes of the servants. They were not intentionally eavesdropping, but instead were attentive to his and his mother's needs, but it made Philippe feel somewhat uncomfortable to have so many people watching his every move and every bite.
How strange it felt to be seated at a very formal dining table with his mother beside him! Accustomed to dining with men the past few weeks, he found himself watching her carefully, noticing the small delicate bites she took and the graceful way she handled her tableware. She was truly royalty, reminding him of the differences between her way or life and that of his father.
A small sigh escaped his lips before he could stop it. As his father had said, their situation appeared to be hopeless for any kind of legal union.
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"I had forgotten how well the Musketeers are fed," Athos said as he and D'Artagnan walked slowly along the corridor toward the king's dining room. "Since I have been gone these past weeks, the woman who had been cleaning my home and cooking for me has sought employment elsewhere, and until I can locate a replacement, I find myself facing the prospect of preparing my own meals!"
"Then you must dine with me more often," D'Artagnan said. "I would be glad for the company. I sometimes dine with the other officers, but lately it seems I eat alone most of the time."
"Well, with me working at the palace again, we will have more opportunities to socialize together."
"That we shall, my friend."
"What do you have planned for the king today?"
They were alone in a long empty corridor, but as a precaution D'Artagnan lowered his voice, "Well, it is only a matter of time before Claude and Gerard approach him on issues of state, so we need to brief him thoroughly on matters of importance."
"That will not be easy inside the palace," Athos said, glancing furtively over his shoulder. "When I am here, I always feel as if I am being watched!"
D'Artagnan smiled, amused. "It is probably the portraits. All those stern faces glaring out of their frames is enough to give anyone the sensation of being watched. I was thinking perhaps we could take him for a ride around the property as soon as he had finished his breakfast. There is no place inside the palace that can give us as much privacy as a quiet ride. Even inside the king's chamber, there is always the possibility of interruption."
"I think he approve of that. He seems to enjoy any opportunity to ride that black horse."
At that moment, Claude emerged from an adjacent corridor ahead of them, walking with long, purposeful strides toward the dining room. He did not notice the two men behind him, and he kept glancing rather nervously at the small stack of papers that was clutched in his hand. It was clear to see that he was intending to intercept the king as soon as he left the dining room.
D'Artagnan exchanged a quick glance with Athos, then spoke loudly enough for the advisor to hear, "Claude?"
Hearing his name, Claude stopped and turned around to see who had spoken. "Ah, Captain," he said when they reached him. "Good morning." His eyes shifted apprehensively to Athos. He did not speak a greeting, but gave a quick nod of acknowledgement.
Athos responded in kind, experiencing a curious sort of pleasure that the advisor was so uncomfortable in his presence.
"Are you looking for the king?" D'Artagnan asked.
Claude's eyes snapped back to the captain. "Yes," he replied. "I was informed that he is in the dining room with his mother. I have some documents that require his signature."
D'Artagnan had hoped that the advisors would not approach the king this early in the morning, and he knew he would have to head him off until he could speak to Philippe. "It will probably have to wait a few hours," he said, maintaining his calm demeanor, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "The king has instructed me to ready his mount. Athos and I are to accompany him."
Claude was visibly surprised by this announcement. "I was not informed that he was leaving the palace this morning," he said, then before D'Artagnan could respond, he added, "Then again, he does not tell me everything he has planned. As well it should be, I suppose. He is the king. Still, it is getting harder and harder to get these documents signed when he is so busy with other things."
Athos had moved to the advisor's side as if to go around him, but had stopped and was looking discreetly at the top document with a troubled frown.
"The king has many duties," D'Artagnan reminded the advisor.
Claude did not seem to notice the former Musketeer's interest in the document. "Where is he off to so early?" he asked.
"I do not know. He did not say."
The captain's words were a gentle reminder that the king answered to no one, and Claude understood them completely. Glancing down at the documents again, he said, "Well, I was hoping to get this over with, but I suppose it can wait."
"Give him a couple of hours, and then he will meet you in the office," D'Artagnan said. "I will remind him that you are waiting."
"Thank you, Captain. I have a few other tasks that I can be doing before then." He retreated back up the adjacent corridor, walking considerably more slowly than before.
After he had gone, Athos turned to D'Artagnan. "Did you notice the document he carried on top of the stack?"
D'Artagnan shook his head. "No, I did not pay any attention."
"Come. Let's get to the king. I will explain on the way."
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As he was completing his meal, Philippe noticed that D'Artagnan was standing in the doorway, waiting for him. A silent nod indicated that he must speak with him, so he stood up and placed his napkin on the table beside his plate.
"Mother, I have enjoyed our breakfast together. Will you consent to joining me for lunch?"
She smiled. "I look forward to it, my son."
"Then I must take your leave for now."
Leaving her, he joined his father in the corridor and was surprised to find Athos was with him. Both men were grim-faced, indicating that something serious had occurred. Philippe nodded a silent greeting to them both as they started down the hallway, seeking a private place to talk, but he could only wonder where they were going and what had happened.
Finally, in a quiet area of the corridor, D'Artagnan stopped and looked cautiously about to assure that no one else was present. Finding it empty, he turned to address Philippe. "Something has come up," he said, quietly. "Claude was on his way to the dining room a few minutes ago with some documents for you to sign. Since I wanted to describe matters of state to you first, I stalled him by informing him that you wanted to take a ride around the property with Athos and me first and asked that he wait in the office for you in a few hours. While we were talking, Athos happened to see one of the documents in his hand, and because of its consequences it is imperative that we speak to you before you are confronted with it."
Philippe heard the mention of the important document, but his youthful enthusiasm allowed it to drift as aside for the moment as his mind focused on the prospect of a pleasant morning horseback ride around the property with his father and Athos. His eyes lit up, eagerly. "I am always ready to take a ride with you, and I am most anxious to see the property. I did not see much of it yesterday as we arrived, and what I did see I was too nervous to notice anything except how big it is!"
The captain gestured down the corridor. "Come; I have already notified the staff to prepare our horses. They should be ready by now."
Philippe gave a silent nod of assent and fell in step between the other two men as they proceeded through the corridors toward the main door. They passed several servants along the way, polishing the floors, the columns, and the glass windows, and they instantly paused in their work to bow to their king as he passed. Philippe did not believe he would ever grow accustomed to these rituals, but he did his best to ignore them, as if it was something he had seen every day of his life.
The warmth of the sun greeted them as they stepped outside and descended the massive steps to the bottom where the horses were waiting for their riders. Philippe's heart always stepped up a few notches whenever he saw the black gelding, still marveling that this beautiful animal actually belonged to him. He had not yet seen his brother's white stallion, but knew that one day he would need to ride it as well, once he had gained more confidence in his abilities.
A handler held the reins of the horse while he mounted, then he waited until the other two men were settled, leaving it to them to decide which direction to take.
D'Artagnan's stallion reared up, eager for a gallop, but was restrained by its rider's firm hand. When all four hooves were on the ground again, the captain nodded toward the open ground well away from the palace, and they moved out in that direction, the horses' hooves clopping loudly on the cobblestone until they reached the grass.
D'Artagnan and Athos automatically took positions on either side of Philippe to shield him from harm, maintaining watchful attentiveness as they searched the grounds for possible threats.
Riding between his father and his mentor, Philippe's eyes constantly moved from one point to another, taking in the details of the palace grounds with the wonder of a young man who had never seen so many fine things.
It was a beautiful day, a perfect day for a ride. The sun was still low in the eastern sky, making its daily climb toward its zenith. The lawns were meticulously manicured, and workers were carefully trimming the hedgerows into perfectly shaped borders. Fountains of many shapes and sizes sprayed their streams of water into the air in a rush of sound as they cascaded back into the clear pools. Statues stood frozen in their marble poses, and lush gardens displayed their gently nodding flowers in the mild breeze.
And outside the palace gates were unspeakable poverty and hunger. The contradiction was explicit.
"I have never seen such extravagance," Philippe said at last, breaking the silence, "The fountains and gardens are very beautiful, but it is difficult to imagine all this richness in the midst of such terrible poverty. It seems selfish. Obscene, even. How can it be justified?"
"It is as it has always been, Philippe," Athos said in a kindly voice. "For some, life is not fair, but you have the ability to improve their living conditions."
"But there is so much need. How do we even know where to start? What can we do to help them?"
"Obviously, we are not going to resolve the problem overnight. These people do not want the government to provide them with handouts. They want to work, to earn their living and make their own way in life."
"But how do we create the work for them to do?"
Athos smiled, patiently. "Ah, now you see the difficulties of governing."
"I am uncertain that I am capable of doing this."
"We will take one small step at a time. I have faith that you will make a difference."
D'Artagnan scanned their surroundings carefully, and determined that they were sufficient distance from the palace and the grounds keepers to avoid being overheard. "Son, we brought you out here because we have matters to discuss that we did not want to risk talking about inside the palace."
"Something has happened, hasn't it?" Philippe asked, reminded of the serious purpose for the horseback ride. "Is it Louis?"
"No, not Louis. As I said, Claude has a stack of documents ready for your signature, but there is one particular document that I wanted to warn you about. It is an execution order."
Philippe felt his breakfast ripple uncomfortably in his stomach. He had been king less than twenty four hours, and already a man's life was in his hands! Pulling back on the reins, he drew his horse to a stop and turned his head to look at his father. "An execution order?" he said, hesitantly. How could he possibly pen his name to an order demanding the death of another human being?
"Last week, a man entered the palace grounds with the intent of assassinating Louis," D'Artagnan explained. "He was apprehended before he could carry out his plot and is now confined in the Bastille under orders to be executed after the ball. If you sign the document, it will be carried out in a few days, but I must advise you that there were extenuating circumstances that led to his desperate act. I made inquiries and discovered that the man is one of Louis' tenants." Seeing the puzzled expression of Philippe's face, he added, "He leases a small plot of land just outside the city. Louis increased the rent on his tenants, and when he could not pay, his livestock was confiscated. He owns very little, only a team of oxen with which to till the ground, and without them he cannot work his crop. Without his crop, he cannot feed his family."
"And without him, his family will be destitute," Philippe concluded. "Are they still living on the property?"
"For the moment. Since his wife cannot pay the rent either, she has been ordered to vacate within one week of the execution. She is currently looking for a place to live, but so far she has not been successful."
"Are there children?"
"Yes. But herein is another problem. It is certain that there are other tenants who will be leaving as well, for they cannot pay the additional rent either. If they leave, the government will lose money in the long run. This was a bad policy decision for everyone involved."
"Can the execution be stopped?"
D'Artagnan's mustache twitched in a slight smile. "I thought you would probably ask that. If that is your wish, yes. You are the king, and the decision is yours to make. But if you choose to halt the execution, we must have a plan in mind to deal with this man."
"What kind of plan?"
"Do you wish him to be imprisoned, fined, or freed without punishment?" Athos asked. "You will be required to make a decision regarding his fate."
Philippe looked down at the reins in his hand, uncomfortable with the thought of passing judgment on a man he had never even met. A man who, in a moment of desperation, had attempted to commit a serious crime.
"He has no money, no property, and no valuables," D'Artagnan said. "Only a ramshackle cottage on land that is not his own. If you issue a fine, he cannot pay it."
Philippe was quiet for several moments, thinking about what he had just been told, and was reluctant to make a decision without additional input from the more experienced men at his side. "What is your recommendation?"
"If you wish to show mercy, you may free him, but make certain he understands that there are conditions to his freedom. He may not approach you or the palace at any time, or risk being shot on sight."
Philippe looked up, startled. "That is harsh!" he objected. "I could never order a man to be shot like –"
"Trust your father," Athos advised. "The man came here intending to assassinate the king! This is a crime punishable by death. It is what he expects, and he will be so grateful for his freedom that he is not likely to come anywhere near the palace. You must not appear too lenient, and something must be done to discourage a repeat of the offense. The threat to his life will be an effective deterrent."
Philippe fell silent for several moments, pondering the information carefully and trying to understand his brother's logic in his treatment of his subjects. By raising the rent on underprivileged tenants, no one benefited, not even the crown, for the tenants would look for lodging elsewhere. Realizing that his father and Athos were providing him with the insight necessary to make the decision himself, he said, "Then I should reduce the lease back to what it was and return his oxen."
Apparently, it was the right decision, for neither man objected to his resolution.
"Remember, Louis is not a forgiving person, so by sparing this man's life and returning his livestock you are doing something that he would probably not do," Athos reminded him. "This change of heart alone will surprise your advisors, so when you issue the directive to Claude, make certain he relays the fact that while you have made the decision to be lenient, there are serious consequences to any further attempts on your life. Be firm and decisive. The king will not be so forgiving a second time."
Philippe nodded. "I understand." He hesitated, reluctant to risk offending his father, but he was so upset at being immediately confronted with a matter of life and impending death that he spoke with a slightly accusatory tone, "You never told me that I would be faced with something like this my first day as king."
"I was unaware of it," D'Artagnan replied with no apparent offense. "The incident occurred while I was at the village. I did not find out about it until I returned, but I thought we would have another week or so before it was to be carried out, enough time for you to acclimate yourself to your position before having to address the issue."
Philippe looked away, feeling ashamed that he had believed the information had been intentionally withheld from him during his deliberations at the village, when he was trying to determine his own fate. "Forgive me," he said, regretfully. "I should not have –"
D'Artagnan reached out and placed a firm but affectionate hand on his son's shoulder. "Philippe, there is nothing to forgive. I know what you were thinking, and it is only natural that you would assume that we withheld the information to influence your decision to accept our proposal. Just know that we will always be open and honest with you."
"I will never doubt either of you; any of you," Philippe added to include Aramis and Porthos. "I appreciate everything you have done for me. Only a few short weeks ago, I had lost all hope that I would ever be freed from that place, and now I am the king of France! It is all such a rapid change that my head is still spinning from it."
"It should never have happened the way it did," Athos said with conviction. "I could strangle Aramis for placing you in the mask and sending you to the prison."
"It is in the past," Philippe said, quickly. "He had no choice but to follow the orders. Louis probably kept in touch with the keepers at the prison, since they notified him that the prisoner in the mask had died. Had he not carried out the orders, he would have been found out and severely punished. No, he did what he had to do."
Athos looked at him for a long time with an admiring gaze. "I have said it before, but it bears repeating: your forgiving nature becomes you well."
"I lost six years of my life, but I remember what you told me at the village; that I could let what happened to me make me bitter and hate filled, or I could let it make me a better man than I was. I want to be the latter. I know what it is like to be unjustly imprisoned and treated with unfairness. I will never do that to others."
D'Artagnan's stallion lowered its handsome head and pawed restlessly at the ground, impatient to be moving again. Philippe nudged his black with his heel, and they started forward again at a walk.
They fell silent for several minutes, and Philippe thought about the work involved with being the king. He supposed he knew that the business of running the country would involve certain intricacies and formal procedures, but he had not really thought about them before. With the matter of the prisoner's life out of the way, he was curious about the other documents. "Do you know what the other documents will be?"
"No," Athos replied. "I only saw the one on the top."
"Are there certain procedures for signing documents?"
"Your advisor and accountants compile all the necessary paperwork. They will then present you with the items you must sign and you will do that, but I would advise that you carefully examine each document before you put the king's signature on it. If you have questions about it, ask that they explain the need for it."
"What kind of documents will I likely see?"
"They can be almost anything," D'Artagnan replied. "You may see orders for the generals at the front lines, requisitions for purchases, or any other manner of business that the king needs to approve. The bill from the physician you directed to care for the old man will probably arrive this morning. I should imagine that Claude and Gerard will be a bit confused by the king's generosity in this matter, so we must have a plan for that."
Philippe shrugged, failing to understand why his compassion would confuse anyone. "I will simply tell the truth; that I was very moved by the sight of that old man who had dedicated a part of his life to the service of his king and his country."
Athos could not contain his amused smile. "Coming from Louis, that will be a major surprise for them. Louis is not moved by anything, unless it is a beautiful woman. Everything he does benefits him alone." He glanced quickly at D'Artagnan, and felt compelled to apologize. "Forgive me. I should have held my tongue. Philippe displays such a forgiving attitude, while I continue to allow my bitterness to overwhelm me. I do not follow my own advice."
If D'Artagnan felt a twinge of resentment, he carefully concealed it. "It grieves me to admit that your assessment is probably correct. Louis is not known for being sentimental, but he will say sentimental things to serve his purpose. Philippe, it would be better if you offered no explanation at all. Simply tell them it was your decision, and that is final."
"I agree," Athos said. "The king owes no explanation for anything he does. But do not sound overly compassionate when you speak of the old man. For the time being, you must behave as Louis in your manner of speaking."
He had heard that many times before, but sometimes it was a necessary reminder, for it was easily forgotten in the transition that had placed him on the throne. "I will remember," he said. "What about the Jesuits? Will they be a threat to me as they were my brother?"
"That is unlikely," Athos replied. "Aramis is their general and although he has not revealed the existence of a twin, he has sent out word that the assassination attempts must stop, that he has a better plan. We will still keep a sharp out, though, in case some have the inclination to disobey their leader, but I think you are relatively safe from them. It is your subjects that you must worry about. Louis has made life very difficult for them."
"Then we must turn things around for them, somehow," Philippe said. "I am ready for a canter and a few moments of pleasure before we return to the palace and the king's duties. Would you gentlemen care to join me?"
Without waiting for a response, he nudged his horse, which responded instantly with a burst of speed, and the young king surged ahead of the other two riders. D'Artagnan's stallion snorted and adjusted its gait as it attempted to follow, so he allowed the animal to break into a strong canter. Athos's bay responded in kind, and within seconds, he and D'Artagnan were at his side again, their horses eager for a race. With manes and tails flying, the three horses galloped over the gently sloping hill.