What's in a Name?

Chapter 11

Complications

"What ARE the two of you babbling about now?" Anne asked her two attendants as she checked her hair for the fifth time in the mirror. From that mirror she could see them give each other a nervous look. As she continued watching them, she addressed them again, "Come, come, now ladies. You have been whispering about something ever since you first came in here. Now, what is it?"

"Well, Madame," Isabelle started but hesitated.

"Well what? Must I ask you again to tell me what the chatter is about," asked Anne, with a note of irritation starting to show in her voice.

"It is a rumor, Your Majesty," replied Elise, with lowered eyes.

"It's not really a rumor though," added Isabelle. "It's something we've heard, but are not sure whether to mention it."

"I have asked you twice already, so yes, you must mention it." Anne was now turned away from her reflection and staring at the two young women who have been serving her for just over two years.

Looking at her companion again, Elise continued, "Well, you see, my sister is being courted by a man who works in the mercantile, who has a sister that is friends with a --"

"Yes, yes. Get on with it, please. The day is waning away."

"Yes ma'am. Well…it is about your favorites, Madame."

The Queen looked as if she were being handed some sort of riddle she was to decipher. Confused, she asked, "My favorite what? Are you purposely trying to befuddle me so late in the day?"

"It's about your favorite Musketeers, Your Majesty," Elise replied quickly.

Turning back toward the mirror, unconcerned about the conversation at hearing this, as the Musketeers were Louis' servants, Anne replied, "I have no favorite Musketeers. They are not my concern."

Elise continued on as Isabelle nodded her consent, "But it's not the young Musketeers, Madame. It's the two older ones; the ones that had just arrived in town today. D'Artagnan and…who was the other one," she inquired from the other girl.

Anne turned back around in a hurry. "D'Artagnan and Aramis?" Trying to hide the concern that was starting to grow within her, she asked them both, "What about them?"

"It has been told down the line from someone that is friends with a guard that the two Musketeers are in the dungeon."

"In the dungeon? That can't be," glared Anne as she tried to make sense of this. "Why on earth would they be in the dungeon?"

Isabelle looked to Elise before continuing, "Well, that is where the rumor comes in."

"No one knows for sure," added Elise. "The guards are being very quiet about it. There are a few stories going around, but no one knows what the truth is."

The two girls were fascinated by the look that had appeared in the Queen's eyes: a look of concern turning quickly into rage. It had been a long time since they'd seen her worked up over anything that happened in the palace.

Anne was returning their stare but not really seeing them. Suddenly visions came to her of the two men she knew so well being held as prisoners; the two men she trusted most in all of France. How dare they arrest those dear men, she thought. Gaining her composure as best she could, even though she felt as though every inch of her was seething with rage, she started for the door. "We shall see about that!" she exclaimed as she stormed out of her bed chamber towards the rooms of the young future King.

Continuing to match his gaze, Jacqueline was not going to give up this time; she was getting closer to the answer to her query, she was sure of it. "All you have to do is tell me and the book is yours to read."

"All you have to do is say a simple yes and I will tell you," D'Artagnan replied to this, feeling he was getting closer to his quest. All thoughts of the diary had slipped his mind; he could only think of the woman standing in front of him.

"I know what you're hoping to read in here," she started, holding the diary in front of her. "But I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed."

"I don't think so. I think I'd learn a lot from it."

"Like what it's like to be a poor farmer's daughter? If you're that curious about it, you could borrow a dress and wig; I'm sure we could find a poor farmer that could use some help for a while. You might want to shave a lot more though, unless we find one that's nearly blind. But," she continued, "you could save yourself a lot of work by just telling me."

"Jacqueline…"

"No, that's my name. You're supposed to tell me yours. You know…something, something D'Artagnan."

"Not without a yes."

"I could always ask your father tomorrow, you know."

"Ahh, tomorrow. I have yet to figure a way out of that."

"Why? It sounds to be a lot of fun."

"Right. Just how I want to spend my birthday, being roasted and toasted by my father."

"It sounds like most of Paris will be there. I'm sure there will be a lot of available women too, each bringing you a gift," Jacqueline replied, already imagining him surrounded by young, beautiful women, most of whom probably already knew him inside and out. She, too, was starting to wonder if the party was such a good idea after all.

"That reminds me, what's under the covers," D'Artagnan asked as he remembered seeing her hiding something on the bed.

As he took a step toward the bed, Jacqueline cried out, "D'Artagnan, don't!"

Hearing the pleading in her voice, he stopped and turned to look back at her. It wasn't hard for him to understand that it must be a gift she had gotten him for his birthday. So, she cared enough to get him a something; that was a good sign. As he stood looking at her, it no longer seemed as fun for him to keep this secret from her; after all, he was trying to win her trust. He took a step closer to her, holding her gaze, and opened his mouth to speak...

"D'Artagnan!" The sound of the deep, commanding voice echoed down the hallway. Not now, thought D'Artagnan.

"D'Artagnan!"

Footsteps were heard as someone descended the stairs into the darkened chamber lit only by torches. The guard on duty got up from his small desk to see who had just entered his domain as a man dressed in a Musketeer uniform rounded the corner. Without a word being said, the guard knew why the young man was there.

"Do you have orders to be here," the guard asked, already knowing that the Musketeer wouldn't be there without one.

The young D'Artagnan nearly threw the orders to the guard. "Where are they?"

"Over here," the guard replied as he started walking to one of the cell doors.

D'Artagnan followed the guard to the door. When he saw the key being produced to open the cell door, he held out his hand to stop the guard. Reaching up with his other hand, D'Artagnan opened the small window on the door and peered inside. As his eyes adjusted to the even dimmer light inside the cell, he saw two figures sitting on a bench on the far side of the small room.

Breaking the silence within the chamber, his voice echoed through the opening in the door, "This is a sight I never thought I'd see." He found he couldn't suppress the small smile that came to his lips.

"Finally!" the elder D'Artagnan exclaimed as the two older gentlemen got up from the bench and crossed the distance to the door. "We knew you'd come sooner or later, son. Did you get the orders to get us out?"

"Yes," the younger man replied simply. He was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

"Well then," started the older gentleman as a feeling of relief washed over him, "hurry up and open the door, we could use some fresh air. They really could stand to clean these cells once in a while."

The younger D'Artagnan didn't move. He just stood there staring at his father.

A grin came to the lips of Aramis as he watched the exchange. It had been years since he had witnessed a battle of wills between the two D'Artagnan men. He had nearly forgotten how entertaining it could be.

"Why aren't you opening the door?"

"I will."

"Well then, open it!"

"In a minute."

A small burst of laughter escaped from Aramis as he listened. He quickly looked away as his friend threw a glance his way.

"Ok, son, you've had your fun, now open the door."

"Not yet. I want to savor this moment."

"Good Lord!" the older D'Artagnan exclaimed as he threw his hands up in the air. "What would Duval say if he saw you acting like this?"

"I don't think the Captain would say anything."

"You do know this is insubordination! You were given an order to release us."

"And I shall. The order didn't say I had to release you the moment I got here."

The father returned the stare of the son. "Alright! Have your fun; what's a few more minutes in this place," he answered as he turned and walked back to the bench and sat down. "After all, I'm only your father. Just let me know when you're ready to let us out."

The older D'Artagnan sat watching as Aramis took his place at the little window. He could tell the two were talking but couldn't hear what was being said.

If they're going to have a chit-chat, they could at least wait until we're outside, he thought.

After a few minutes, he saw his son look back toward the guard, and then heard the key in the lock. Slowly the cell door opened, offering the two men their freedom.

When the three men finally stepped out into the fresh air, the younger D'Artagnan turned to his father and mentor, "Now, will the two of you explain to me how you managed to get yourselves arrested, and why I'm to give you this order to go speak with the Queen?"

"Well," began Aramis, "we're on a bit of a mission."

"What sort of mission? And why would it get you arrested," the younger asked, looking curiously from one man to the other.

The two older men looked at each other. "It has to do with my present to you," Aramis answered.

"You mean you stole something from the palace for my birthday?"

"No," Aramis answered with a grin. "It's something to go with the gift I brought you. Or I hope it will. But I'm not going to tell you about it tonight; you'll have to wait until tomorrow."

The older D'Artagnan chimed in, "And now, we best get back to the palace. We can't keep Her Majesty waiting. Let's just make sure we have that order so we don't end up arrested again."

The young Musketeer watched as the other two walked away from him. He couldn't help but wonder what they could possibly be hiding from him; something for his birthday. Or perhaps, he thought, that could have been a ruse. But he didn't think long on it as the thought of his birthday brought back the memory of his talk with Jacqueline. He hurried back to the garrison, hoping that he would reach it before she left on patrol; if not, he wouldn't get to speak with her again until tomorrow.