10. Pressure

The morning sun shone brightly on the backs of the Musketeers; the entire garrison was turned out for a special assignment given by none other than the Legend himself. All of the men—and a disguised woman—craned their necks to see the small platform that had been brought out for the address. Charles d'Artagnan strode out purposefully with Duval at his flank, and the assembled crowd murmured in excitement.

Charles took two steps up and turned to the sea of grey and blue before him. All he had to do to regain their full attention was raise one arm. "Loyal men of the Musketeers, I have an important mission for you." He shook out an old wanted poster of Mazarin's. Jacqueline paled as her ink and paper likeness looked her back in the face. Ramon shifted so he stood in front of Jacqueline, and Siroc glanced nervously around as he moved closer to her as well.

"Jacqueline Roget has been at large for the murder of a Cardinal's guard for almost a year. She is now wanted by the Musketeers—a top priority," Charles explained surveying the mass of soldiers before him with a stern eye. "Take her alive and unharmed. That is very important. Do. Not. Harm. Her."

The Musketeers looked at each other confusedly. Duval took the initiative to bellow, "You heard him. Do your duty. Dismissed!" The crowd dissipated quickly into the street, ready to comb Paris for one woman.

Jacqueline shuffled out with the rest, trying to hide her face in Ramon's back. Siroc pulled her over to the right, and the three of them reentered the garrison through a side door into Siroc's workshop. Safely inside, she looked up at Ramon, but he was staring at his feet. She moved her glance to Siroc who met her eyes steadily. Something was missing.

"Where's d'Artagnan?" she asked suddenly.

"He went back in the main door with Duval. I don't think he recognized you," Siroc tried to reassure her.

"No," Jacqueline shook her head, "not that d'Artagnan. My—our—d'Artagnan."

Siroc raised his eyebrows at the 'my.' Ramon did not show any outward signs that he had heard the slip, but rather he speculated, "He's probably sulking somewhere; an appearance by his father wouldn't be on his list of things to see."

Jacqueline took a deep breath, eyes closed, seemingly accepting the explanation. "This is okay, this is fine. I haven't been found out yet, and they won't be looking for me dressed as a man in their very midst." The men exchanged glances; it was going to be rough sailing ahead.

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D'Artagnan blinked the fog out of his eyes. His wrists and ankles were chained and his back was against the wall. Weights on the chains held him stiffly upright even while he had been unconscious. He took stock of his surroundings; it was a dungeon of some sort, but not one he had seen before. Only one man in Paris would have use for a personal prison—"Mazarin!" d'Artagnan called, straining against the chains that bound him. "Show yourself!"

The Cardinal floated down the staircase in his red robes. "I see you have finally revived yourself, d'Artagnan. I have to say I was starting to get worried." The evil grin on his face was too much.

"If this is still about the assassination attempt, you know it wasn't me. The Spanish still plot against you, Mazarin," d'Artagnan fished for information. It was lazy of him to allow the Cardinal to capture him so easily.

"I admit that was my first motive, but this morning something else came to my attention. You father has ordered all Musketeers to search for a woman that I have also been looking for," Mazarin explained, starting to pace just in front of d'Artagnan. "Then there happens to be the biggest coincidence—this is the part where you come in—you are promised to marry this woman, of all things! What a small world we live in. Now I have a few questions to ask of you. Where is your peasant wench betrothed, and what does she have to do with Aramis?" Now the wicked man paused in front of d'Artagnan.

The Musketeer's head was spinning. Father gives orders to find Mazarin's wanted woman that I am betrothed to? I am to marry a peasant girl? And Aramis has something to do with it? "I don't know what you're talking about," d'Artagnan replied defiantly, trying to pretend that it was not true.

"Wrong answer," Mazarin told him. He looked over to the left and nodded at a cloaked man who stood there. The man started pulling the levers in front of him, and the chains began to pull d'Artagnan's limbs taut. D'Artagnan gritted his teeth to keep from crying out in pain; his joints were screaming in agony as he was being stretched in a rack.

Mazarin watched in pleasure as his least favorite Musketeer suffered for his eyes only. "I will be the first to find her and kill her, don't you fret about that. You could just make this much easier for us all. Tell me where to find her, and I'll let you walk out of here, relatively unharmed." Reluctantly, he motioned for the lever man to stop. D'Artagnan slumped in the slack of the chains, body throbbing in pain.

Mazarin came as close to d'Artagnan's face as he dared. "Does this name jog your memory: Jacqueline Roget?"

The look of fear in d'Artagnan's eyes gave the Cardinal all the answer he needed.

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A carriage rumbled along a dark road leading to Paris. Glancing out the window, the sole occupant tapped twice on the ceiling of the carriage with his staff. The horses were pulled to a stop, and a masked man opened the door and pulled himself inside.

"It hasn't been done," the coach owner stated bluntly.

"No," the masked man replied, "the plan was flawed. I'm sorry, Monsieur le Duc." He bowed his head in submission. "I obtained some new information but was unable to act on it and risk missing this meeting."

The Duc considered this for a moment. "Very well. Move quickly; I want the job done before I leave Paris."

"Yes, Your Excellency," the masked man kissed the ring on the Duc's offered hand before leaving the carriage. Pausing to think for only a minute, the Duc tapped the ceiling once more to put the coach back into motion.