King Louis trotted through the palace, extremely vexed, seeking out his trusted adviser. Crisp parchments crunched under his tense fingers. He finally saw a strip of bright red cloth pass into the Great Hall. "Richelieu! Ohh, Richelieu!" The king cried. "It's a disgrace! It cannot be!"
"What cannot be, my lord?" Richelieu turned his head "curiously". The king had not seen the satisfied smile on the man's face before he'd looked to him.
"A situation of dreadful proportions!" King Louis exclaimed. "L-look at this! I have only just been made aware of their existence. Certain letters, love letters were discovered in the queen's possession. Letters from him!"
Richelieu pulled a convincingly astonished face. "Who, your majesty?"
"Buckingham, of course! Who else?"
"Have you spoken to the Queen about these letters?"
"No. Of course I haven't. She'll just deny the whole thing!"
"Hmm. I can see your majesty's dilemma." Richelieu stroked his chin. "Is there any mention of a specific encounter? A detail? A token on affection perhaps?" Richelieu inquired, masking a casual reaction to disguise his pleased appearance.
"Yes. Yes, there is! A necklace, the one I gave her for our anniversary. Here!
'I shall always cherish the twelve studded diamonds you gave me, as proof of our consummated love.'
D-does "consummated" mean what I think it means?" King Louis asked, his young voice laced with trepidation.
"Yes, I'm afraid it does." Richelieu sighed.
"Oh my g-!" The king's face fell. "This is just terrible! A tragic scandal." He loved his wife so. He hadn't shared those sentiments when they had first wed, an agreement that had been joined under resentment and protest. But that had wavered over time, and the more King Louis watched his beautiful queen, and had gotten to know her, how could he not love her? How had things come to this? Why? Why would his wife be wooed by that frivolous duke? Had he truly failed her so? Was he just not good enough to truly win her heart?
"All your majesty has to do is throw a ball." Richelieu suggested lightly.
"W-what? How would that help?" The king's brows furrowed. "I'm afraid I am lost."
"It would give your majesty the pretext to suggest to the queen that she wear your gift."
The king's eyes lit up with hope. "Oh, Richelieu. That's very clever! That's very clever. So, if she has the diamonds…"
"Your majesty can rest easy." Richelieu nodded.
"Ahh, thank you, Richelieu. You have eased my fear." King Louis smiled, scurrying from the Great Hall.
"Oh, it was my pleasure, your majesty." The Cardinal purred. "Bloody little fool."
Queen Anne was sitting in her chambers, regally smiling as Constance flawlessly touched up her golden ringlets. "He wants to have a celebration ball, five days from now." Queen Anne stated happily. She loved balls, and they did not host them often at the palace. The last they'd had had been on their anniversary the year before.
"The boar hunt must have gone well." Constance commented.
"You wonder what I see in him, don't you?" Queen Anne asked solemnly.
"Your majesty, it's hardly my place." Constance shook his head.
"It's simple. You see the boy there is, I see the man there could be." Queen Anne spoke proudly, a wistful smile on her radiant face.
"Your majesty sees a lot."
"It comes with the job."
"Of being queen?"
"No. Of being a woman. Send my diamonds to the jeweler to be polished. I want the king's undivided attention that evening." Queen Anne commanded.
"Of course, your majesty." Constance curtsied and lightly strode to the queen's private vault, turned the gears to open the doors, and let her inside. As she stepped down the marble long room, she gasped. "What?" She exclaimed. The bust where Queen Anne's stunning diamond necklace normally lay, glittering in the sunlight...was empty!
Constance blinked, committing a double take to insure herself whether her eyes were playing tricks on her. "Oh, dear l-d." She hurried back to the queen. "M-my lady! I...your...your diamonds, they are gone!"
Queen Anne instantly rose to her feet. "What? What did you say?" She cried.
"Your majesty, the studs are not there! Nor are they mislaid inside the vault." Constance told her.
Queen Anne paled and began breathing heavily. She raced to her vanity set and jerked the drawer open. She rummaged her hands through the inside. "My g-! My g-! I am done for!" She wailed.
Her letters! Her letters, written in secret with great consideration of the implicating consequences of discovery, and strategic thoughts, were absent. The parchments had been addressed to her father and her brother in Spain, her homeland, pleading with them to travel to France and overthrow the Cardinal! Richelieu had them! Who else could've taken them? She had kept them of the utmost secrecy, even from Constance. If her fears were valid…
"Your majesty?" Constance, and the other ladies spoke to her softly.
Queen Anne ignored their entreaties of concern and gathering her skirts, she marched vigorously to the Cardinal's war room, where he was polishing his fencing skills. Two guards opened the doors widely and in walked the queen, her head held high, but her soft eyes flared with fear and hurt."I hope I'm not interrupting." She said stiffly. Richelieu gaped, taken aback at her abrupt entry. But he quickly summed up the most logical motive for her intrusion and pasted a welcome smile.
"Hardly, your majesty. To what do I owe…" He began.
"I know." The queen interrupted him.
"Perhaps your majesty would care to be more specific?" Richelieu feigned ignorance.
"I know."
"Yeah." Richelieu smirked wolfishly. "I assume this is the part where I'm supposed to laugh maniacally and regale your majesty with the details of some diabolical plot. However, I regret to inform your majesty that I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I thought you'd say that." The queen snapped.
"Then why did you grace me with the honor of your visit?"
"To look into your eyes when you said it." Queen Anne spoke coldly. Richelieu shrugged casually as the queen whirled on her heels and briskly left him. He bristled sourly.
D-! She is onto us! She was not supposed to be able to trace it back to me. D- that woman. Fiercely intelligent, putting that bratty husband of hers to scornful shame. Let it be on her own head then. The stupid king wouldn't believe her anyway even if she came to him with this accusation. Had she returned my affections long before now, perhaps things would not be so grim for her majesty.
The queen began to sob. She couldn't see a safe way out of this, she didn't know who to turn to. Constance soothingly took her hands. "Your majesty, all may not be lost yet." She murmured calmly.
"The place was sabotaged near the front door, sir, but nothing really stolen." Porthos told Captain de Treville.
"Has her sword not been recovered?" Captain de Treville asked, rubbing his forehead as he leaned forward on his desk. "A musketeer's weapon, it isn't just every ordinary person walking through the city who is found or even permitted to be carrying one."
"No, sir." D'Artagnan shook his head.
"I'm tellin' you, you can't come in here! The captain is busy with a-" One of the other musketeers could be heard hollering from the front room. Scuffling sounds followed, and suddenly, four small, ragged children burst into Captain Treville's office.
"What the-" Captain Treville blinked. The musketeers all rose to their feet. The one who'd been struggling to keep the children out, staggered into the office. "My apologies, captain!" He huffed. "These waifs have been badgering me all evening, insisting they must trouble you."
"And why, Monsieur Davos, did you consider it wise to detain them?" Captain Treville scolded.
"M-m-my lord, C-Captain...I…" Monsieur Davos stammered. "You were occupied with the case of the missing lass, and…"
"That's what we wanted to talk to him about!" One of the children growled. Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and D'Artagnan glanced at each other.
"Indeed?" Captain Treville straightened up. D'Artagnan approached the kids and knelt down in front of them.
"You...you have information about my sister?" He asked hopefully.
"We don't know who she is, Monsieur." The eldest of the four, about ten-years-old, answered. "But we saw a pretty woman about your age, with copper colored hair."
"Did you?" Aramis spoke up hopefully.
"Runnin' after a scoundrel, she was!" A boy of about 7 added. "But he got away."
"Was she carrying a sword, young one?" Porthos questioned. "One such as this?" He pulled out his own rapier.
"Wi! Wi!" The children chorused together. "She did! She put it away when she couldn't find the runnin' fella."
"Do you know where she is?" D'Artagnan asked seriously. "You must tell me!"
"We don't know, sir." A girl who must have been 8 replied.
"Can you tell us what happened to her?" Captain de Treville.
"Started helpin' a poor old crone, she did." The 7-year-old nodded.
"Old and frail, beggin' for water." The 10-year-old explained. "The woman with the sword tried to help 'er. Fetched 'er some water from da well."
"Andre!" The youngest groaned. "Tell 'em 'bout when she fell and…"
"What's that?" Aramis cocked his head.
"The crone dropped the bucket a water!" The youngest spoke excitedly. "Then the sword woman falled down on her back. She couldn't get up. She looked like she was sick-ed."
"Dear l-." D'Artagnan gulped.
"Then the strangest t'ing happened." Andre said. "The old lady stood, removed 'er dirty shawl, and looked fancy and real pretty. She wasn't old after all! She lied. Met a big man and he kissed her hand-"
"Ew! Yuck!" The younger ones cringed.
"This man!" D'Artagnan raised his voice. "You say he was large? What else can you tell us about him? Please tell everything you can remember! It's vital!"
"He was big and mean looking." The youngest spat. "Ugly too. Had a pirate lookin' eye patch."
"And he had a long black cape." Andre said.
"Rochefort! I knew it!" D'Artagnan exclaimed. "What did I tell you? I knew it! He's taken her!" He clenched his sword.
"What of the old woman?" Athos asked darkly.
"She wasn't old, Mister." The youngest argued. "She was pretty."
"Very pretty." The girl added.
"The ugly man kissed her hand, then he and his bad men took the sword woman away."
"Oh my g-." Aramis swallowed.
"And the pretty lady?" Athos persisted.
"She followed 'em. Then they were gone." The children answered. "We didn't know if anyone would believe us. Once we told the police that we was robbed of our supper. They didn't listen or do nothing! We argued whether to come to you." Andre explained. "But I recognized the sword, I did. A musketeer's weapon. We agreed to come tell you."
"Bless you, little ones!" Aramis cried. " 'The truth' indeed 'shall set you free'. What are your names?"
"I am Andre. This is Fredrick, Carissa, and Celine."
"Here. Take these coins." D'Artagnan dropped money into their dirty little hands. "You four have just helped solve the mystery of the very case we were discussing! You may have saved my sister's life! Take this money and buy some food for your families, and some soap, and proper shoes."
"Merci! Merci!" The children gushed in wonder, as if they'd been handed rare jewels.
"You have told us everything that you have seen?" Athos asked. "Everything?"
"Everything! Yes, yes, sir!"
"Captain Rochefort has kidnapped my sister!" D'Artagnan fumed. "Captain, you must do something! He is a rotten thug, and she will only come to harm under his hand!" He urged.
"I am sure she is not the only innocent who has suffered from his vile intentions." Aramis added angrily.
"How do you suggest we confront him about it?" Porthos grunted. "If we march right up and accuse him to his face, he will deny the whole thing."
"Monsieur Davos!" Captain Treville barked. "Escort these children back safely to their homes. Inform their parents that they proved themselves most useful in assisting us in solving a missing persons case.
'D'Artagnan? I understand your concern for your sister, but acting in haste may bring her to more harm. We must consider a strategy, if you wish to get her back unscathed. Porthos is right, lad. If you run in there, demanding him to hand her over, he may have her moved and better hidden than before.'"
"I can't just sit around and do nothing!" D'Artagnan seethed.
"Of course not. Athos, the four of you head back to your quarters and come up with a plan. I am going to find the Chief of Police and speak to him." Captain Treville ordered.
"We will need the queen's help!" D'Artagnan exclaimed, marching through the streets.
"The boy is right." Porthos agreed. "The Cardinal has spies all over. This was an inside job, no doubt." Athos said absolutely nothing.
"Athos? You are rather quiet." Aramis noted. "You have that look. What is your take?"
"It can't be. But who else could've executed so devious a trap?" Athos spoke quietly, more to himself.
"You don't think...you believe it could be her?" Aramis stiffened. Athos was silent, but the sullen, defeated look on his face said it all. "If your hunch proves valid, my friend, then we are in for a more perilous task than first suspected."
As if I need to be reminded, Athos thought sourly.
"Do you think the Cardinal is behind this?" D'Artagnan suggested, stepping through their threshold.
"Somehow, yes, I can smell that." Porthos nodded.
"But why?" D'Artagnan grasped his head in dismay. "When has she ever crossed him? My father taught me to show that man the utmost reverence, next to the king. But I am rapidly losing my admiration for him!"
A loud pounding on the door startled them. Planchet hurried to answer it. "Coming! Coming! Hold your horses! It's not a matter of life and death, you know?" He hollered.
Constance stood there, removing her cloak's hood. She said dismally,
"Actually, it is."
"Constance?!" D'Artagnan gasped, and scurried to her side. "What brings you here? Have you news of Felice?"
"What? No." Constance shook her head. "What of her?"
"Have you seen her? Have you seen Captain Rochefort at any time today?"
"No. I have not. I am sorry. What is this about?"
"Felice is missing! And we have every reason to believe that Rochefort is mixed up in it!"
"Oh my g-." Constance gaped. "That's dreadful! Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Keep your eyes and ears open at the palace. And we must implore you to entreat the queen's help."
"Actually, her majesty is the reason I am here." Constance said solemnly and explained Queen Anne's dilemma.
"You want me to go to England, retrieve the diamonds, which the Queen suspects might be in Buckingham's possession, which will naturally involve breaking into some heavily fortified, highly impregnable facility?"
"The Tower of London. Since the Cardinal's spies are trying to implicate the Duke, it is the most logical choice."
"Then return to Paris, with every soldier, assassin, mercenary, bounty hunter on both sides of the channel to stop me from doing so. Did I miss anything?"
"All in five days."
"A minor detail. Anything else?"
"No."
"Well, I really only have one question for you. Why in the world would I do that? Why should I bother with the prissy duke, try to save his pretty neck, when my sister's very life is at stake?" D'Artagnan crossed his arms. Constance leaned in closely and lightly kissed his lips. D'Artagnan stood there, mesmerized, his heart fluttering wildly, enchanted by her sweet smile.
It was as if the world has lit up, with lightning.
"England it is."
"Fellows? Constance has come to entreat a mission of us." D'Artagnan told his friends. "With what she has told me, perhaps it will lead us to discover just where they are hiding Felice."
"Go on." Porthos suggested.
"Diamonds, Buckingham, Tower of London, five days, Queen's reputation and the fate of France as we know it. Who's with me?"
Porthos immediately rose to his feet. "Well, I should imagine the Queen would be quite generous." He boasted. "Count Porthos! Hmm? What do you think? Got a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Besides, I hear the English women are a lot like a frosted bottle of champagne. Icy on the inside, but once you warm them up…" D'Artagnan rolled his eyes in amusement.
"It's all making sense now." Aramis stated. "Felice's disappearance was no mere act at random. It was only part of a larger, much more sinister plan. And the poor girl is caught right in the crossfires."
"Buckingham's there. So is she." Athos muttered.
"Felice? With Buckingham?" D'Artagnan asked.
"Countess de Winter. Charlotte Backson. Anne de Breuil. Lady Clarick. Milady." Athos scowled.
"Milady? I know her. I saw her with Rochefort!"
"She's switched sides again. She's working for the Cardinal, no doubt." Porthos groaned.
"Of course! She's taken her to Buckingham!" Aramis exclaimed.
"But why?" Constance asked, confused.
"To throw us off the track."Athos answered. "She's schemed this all out, with the diamonds. Kidnapping Felice was intended to be a red herring, to keep us so distracted searching for her that we would overlook the Cardinal's plot and not catch on."
"Well, we know where they both are now!" Porthos exclaimed.
"Poor Miss Felice!" Planchet shuddered. "She must be quite frightened."
"Aye. And with good cause." Aramis grimaced. Who knows what Rochefort has done with her?!
"He'd better not hurt her!" D'Artagnan clenched his fists.
"Stay calm, lad. Buckingham is a sly fox. But I don't believe he will abuse what he deems a reward for his scheming." Porthos assured him.
"We'll get her back." Aramis said, clinging to the cross hanging around his neck. I hope! I pray they do not abuse her!
"Who is Milady?" Constance asked.
"The devil himself in a lady's body." Athos gritted painfully. "A devious creature with an angelic appearance, a dove's voice, and a harlot's soul!" Aramis patted his friend's shoulder. His heart broke hearing the hurt, bitterness, guilt, and emptiness in Athos's voice. The older musketeer preferred to uphold his reputation as the strong and silent type, and small wonder! He was a proud man, but it was mostly only a facade, to cover up his wounds that Milady had branded on him...for life.
"Someone who uses her wiles of beauty and seemingly pure innocence to seduce and get what she wants, and then weave others to finish her own dirty work." Aramis hissed.
"So, the infamous Milady is behind this?" D'Artagnan frowned. "What are you going to do if you catch her?"
"Musketeers! Open up and surrender by order of the Cardinal!" A yell rang down in the street outside the house. Everyone looked at the window while Athos advanced toward it.
"You were followed!" Aramis told Constance.
"It's Rochefort!" Athos announced.
Sure enough, Rochefort was seated formidably on his mount in the middle of the street, Jusaac at his side, and a platoon of Cardinal's soldiers behind him. "Athos! Porthos! Aramis, and D'Artagnan, surrender your weapons and no harm will come to you." Rochefort told the musketeers, then lowered his voice to Jusaac. "The moment they step out, kill them!"
"Light the torches!"Jusaac commanded.
"What do we do?" D'Artagnan bit his lip, throwing on his uniform and hat.
"What choice do we have?" Athos replied.
Jusaac yelled again. "I will count to five, then we'll burn you out! One! Two! Three! Four!"
"Hullo!" Planchet shrieked from the upper window. "Pardon me, sir! You have the time? You see, me missus is expectin', anytime now! And…" He prattled on.
"Somebody shut him up." Rochefort shook his head. Jusaac pulled out his pistol but before he could fire, the stable doors burst open, and a host of musketeer riders, save Constance, charged straight for the soldiers and down the street, and up the alley.
"FIRE!" Rochefort shouted. The soldiers fired their muskets, but by now, the musketeers were too far out of reach to land a solid shot.
"Keep riding!" Athos told his friends.
Rochefort quietly entered the Cardinal's war room and bowed before him. Richelieu was filling out documents and didn't even give the captain a second glance."Let me guess. You are here to tell me that the musketeers are dead, our plan is proceeding on schedule, and that I have absolutely, positively nothing to worry about." Richelieu muttered smugly.
"We were taken by surprise, your eminence." Rochefort admitted shamefully.
"Somehow I was laboring under the assumption that the plan was for you to take them by surprise. Was it not?"
"Eminence…"
"Yes, you are quite fond of that word, aren't you? Sadly, repeating it doesn't get you into my good graces. Alert Milady. Watch the ports. No one is to leave for England without my official permission. Post a bounty on their heads. The bigger, the better!" Richelieu ordered. He was really growing tired of these wild goose chases with the pesky musketeers, and them simultaneously getting in the way of his plots. Enough was enough.
"Yes, your eminence." Rochefort bowed and began to take his leave.
"Rochefort? Do not fail me again."
We should catch up with Felice, Milady, and Buckingham in the next chapter.