What's in a Name?

Chapter 7

Henri

"Jacques, wait up!" she heard from behind her shortly after leaving the garrison. Why am I not surprised, she thought, rolling her eyes.

"Jacques…," he said, catching up with her.

"Are you going to follow me again today? You know, I could just write you out an itinerary and save you a lot of time."

"I'm not following you."

"You said that yesterday."

"Yesterday was different."

"Really." she responded sarcastically.

"You're not going to bother my father with that ridiculous question, are you?"

"Then are you going to tell me?"

D'Artagnan didn't say anything.

"Didn't think so. I'll see you later, D'Artagnan."

"Where are you going? I know he won't be in town yet."

"You have a one-track mind, you know that?" she stated.

"I try. So…where are you going?"

"Actually, you could follow me right now. I'm going to Mass, and it wouldn't hurt you in the least…"

"I would," he stammered, "except…I have patrol this morning."

"No you don't."

"I have Andre's patrol from last night."

"Oh, I forgot about that. Enjoy your ride then," she said as she turned toward the church, leaving D'Artagnan to look after her helplessly.

Women! he thought. And they think we have a one-track mind? Ok D'Artagnan, get it through your head that she IS going to ask him, and that he IS going to tell her, and that you are NOT going to hear the end of it for as long as you live! He sighed and started walking back to the garrison.

Jacqueline could hear the bells announcing the start of Mass as she neared the church. Great, she was late again; she'd have to sit in the back and strain to hear the service. She entered the church, crossed herself, and went to the only space left she could find: the end of a pew beside an older, distinguished looking man in dusty clothes. Taking her place, she kneeled beside him for a short prayer before settling herself down on the seat next to him. Glancing quickly over, she noted that he was a good looking man probably in his 50's, well dressed, and having an air of almost aristocracy about him.

The gentleman sat watching the young man entering the pew beside him and slid over to allow enough room for him to sit. At first glance he could plainly see that it was a Musketeer. Then, paying closer attention, he noticed the slight build, dark hair, and smooth complexion that made him wonder about this man. Of course, he could be completely wrong in his observation but he had a feeling he was right, though it might require a little investigatory work on his part to find out for sure. He leaned closer to the young man and began the conversation. "Hello."

"Hello."

"I couldn't help but notice that you're a Musketeer."

"Yes I am," she replied, trying to keep her voice at a lower octave as she whispered.

"Believe it or not," he continued, "I was one once as well, way back in the day. I'm Henri." He held his hand out to shake Jacqueline's.

Taking his hand in her own, she replied, "I'm Jacques. It's nice to meet a fellow Musketeer."

"That it is." As he shook her hand he noticed the strong hold, yet it was of a thinner, more feminine bone structure. He wasn't surprised to find that his suspicions were correct.

"Back in the day? Then perhaps you knew the great D'Artagnan."

"I've had the pleasure of making his acquaintance, yes."

"I'm envious then. To be a Musketeer in the day of the four greatest Musketeers that have ever lived!" she said, the envy very clear in her voice. In her excitement, she hadn't noticed that her voice had gotten a little louder until she heard a 'Shhhh' from the pew ahead of her, reminding her of where she was.

The gentleman was softly laughing. "Well, I don't know about that, but it was sure interesting times. I believe his son is also a Musketeer now. Do you know him?"

Jacqueline unconsciously rolled her eyes. "Yes," she said a bit sarcastically. "He's not at all like his father though."

Again, the gentleman quietly laughed. "No, from what I've seen of the younger one, I have to agree on that. It's said that he takes a lot after his mother."

"Well then, I'd hate to meet his mother," she quickly answered. Then, realizing what she'd said, she crossed herself and added, "I shouldn't have said that."

Henri couldn't help but laugh at that, causing another round of 'Shhhh' to be resounded from the pews around them. Talking loud enough for them to hear, he said, "Shhhh, yourself. You can't hear the service back here anyways."

Jacqueline giggled without realizing it.

He looked over at her, finding that he was beginning to like this 'man'. But if she wasn't careful, he thought, she'd end up giving herself away. Leaning back toward her, he asked, "So, you don't like the young D'Artagnan?"

She thought for a moment, trying to think of the right words to say. "Well, yes, I like him. He's my best friend actually. It's just that he's..." She paused.

"He's what?"

"He's…well, he's arrogant, very vain, irritating, stubborn, and…thinks he's the best swordsman around."

The gentleman smiled. "That doesn't sound so different from his father. Have you ever met the 'great' D'Artagnan?"

"Once. I found him to be quite…" she stopped herself from saying 'charming', instead adding, "interesting."

"Yes. They both have that in common as well."

Jacqueline rolled her eyes again. "Well, the 'younger' will never be what his father is."

Henri looked at her thoughtfully. "It's as it should be. One is not the other; each must make his own way in the world. That does not make one better than the other, just different. It is the same with everyone. I'm sure you are not exactly like your father, nor would you want to be."

She nodded in understanding.

"D'Artagnan is young," he continued, "and still making his way in the world; he has a lot to learn yet. But I think in some ways the journey he takes will make him greater than even his father. As I said, there's a lot of his mother in him too."

Jacqueline sat looking at this man, feeling as though he must be the wisest man in France. Had fate played a part in bringing her late into church and placing her next to him? He seemed to see right through her, even though they had never met before. She wondered if they would meet again, but as this was the first time that she'd ever seen him, he apparently wasn't from Paris and was only passing through. That was a shame, she thought, as he seemed the type that she would like to have as a friend.

Hearing a shuffle around them, they both realized that the mass had ended, neither of them having heard any of the service. They rose and walked out of the church together, still talking. At the base of the stairs leading to the street they shook hands again, saying their goodbyes.

Jacqueline started walking back to the garrison. She wondered if she should ask D'Artagnan if he knew Henri, but realizing that Henri hadn't told her his last name, she doubted that D'Artagnan would know who she was talking about. Perhaps they'd meet up later in the day, if this Henri wasn't in a hurry to leave town.

Henri had remained standing at the base of stairs watching Jacqueline walk away. He smiled, thinking to himself, 'Yes, she is worthy'.