A/N: My thanks to new reviewer Bee for your comments on the last chapter. And, as always to everyone else. Always much appreciated!
oOo
CHAPTER TWELVE
"The King?" the Comte de la Fere said, when they told him. "I have not seen Louis since we were both young men. My father brought me to Court after I reached my majority. We spoke only briefly. Why would he want to see me?"
"Word has reached him that the Comte de la Fere resides with us, following an injury," Treville explained. "He wishes to see you."
The lie was easy. The King did not have the faintest idea of what had occurred at the Garrison over the last week or so.
There was also the matter of Athos's wife and the Comte de Rochefort, who was gaining power by the day. Both were known to be antagonistic toward not only Athos, but the Musketeers. The King, Treville knew, would need very careful handling. When better to prepare him than his next audience with Louis, which was fortunately scheduled for later that very afternoon.
"What about my clothes?" the Comte was saying.
"He will not stand on ceremony in this case," Treville assured him. "Your clothes are suitable."
"Very well," the Comte replied, without further pursuing the matter. "I am in your hands."
As much as he was growing to hate the pomp associated with the nobility, Olivier found himself intrigued by the prospect to seeing the Palace once more. With no idea when he would return, indeed if he would return to Paris at some time in the future, it seemed expedient to accept.
It would at least be a tale to tell Thomas.
In view of the proposed appointment with the King at some point, for the moment, then, he was to remain in the Garrison.
It was a prospect he was not entirely unhappy with, strangely.
oOo
That afternoon, Treville found the King in the Receiving Room, dressed in all his splendour, the Queen by his side, equally so. Louis looked somewhat bored. It was a private audience with their Majesties to discuss Musketeer regiment business. Today though, Treville had only one rather delicate matter he wanted to discuss.
Treville approached the dais and bowed, aware that what he was about to impart would cause a reaction of some sort. The King was unpredictable and Treville would need to tread carefully in his request.
"What are we to discuss today, Treville?" the King asked, tapping his fingers on the ornate arm of the throne.
Before Treville could reply, however, the King turned to the Queen and leant forward.
"You may retire if you wish, my dear. Do not trouble your mind with affairs of the Garrison," he smiled briefly before raising his hand to inspect his finger nails.
Treville gritted his teeth, casting a look of contrition at the Queen, but she met his look with a knowing one of her own. She was well used to withstanding her husband's condescending attitude.
"On the contrary, Sire," she replied, sweetly. "I find the Garrison a fascinating place and news of our Musketeers is always most welcome."
"Do you wish Rochefort to be present?" Louis enquired, as he patted the Queen's hand. The Comte de Rochefort had been a presence since he had returned to court. He had schooled the Queen prior to her marriage and although he had been a prisoner in Spain for several years, he had slipped back into court life very easily.
"That won't be necessary, Sire," Treville replied, swiftly. It was the last thing he wanted. Luckily, he had not seen the man this morning. "There is nothing I have to discuss that would interest the Captain of the Red Guard."
Treville had no doubt Rochefort and his Red Guard deserved each other. The business of extracting General de Foix from Spanish hands had cast a dim light on Rochefort in Treville's eyes. The King, however, had quickly appointed Rochefort as Captain of the Red Guard, following that exercise, expounding his bravery over that of his own Musketeers. More recently, they had been fooled by an order signed by Rochefort that had led to the murder of the Spanish Ambassador, Perales. That order, according to Rochefort, had been a forgery. He had implicated the "prophet" Emilie but they had discovered an entirely different plot surrounding her. They now viewed the man with the utmost suspicion.
"Well, that makes a change," Louis sighed. "The Red Guard and the Musketeers seem to always be at each other's throats these days. Don't you agree, my dear?"
Her Majesty hesitated, before smiling.
"Both have their functions, Sire," she replied. "Though perhaps it is best to keep their boundaries separate. I am sure each Captain is highly capable of doing that," she added, giving Treville another knowing look.
"Quite right, my dear," Louis said, after a moment's thought, before a further pronouncement;
"One of these days, I may have to disband one of them. What say you, Treville?"
This again, Treville thought, eager to get on with the business in hand. It was a damnable nuisance having two regiments of soldiers with almost the same remit. A pity Louis didn't disband the Reds when Richelieu died. Now they were in the hands of the duplicitous Rochefort.
He bowed once more, though not as deeply.
"As you wish, Sire," he said, with all the graciousness he did not feel.
Louis beamed.
"Though not today, eh!" he cried. "At least, not until we have heard your report."
Treville looked carefully around, to ensure there were only the tree of them in the room.
"As you know, Sire," he began. "There was an accident in the Garrison recently."
Louis frowned, though the Queen quickly replied, not wishing the King's forgetfullness to offend Treville;
"Yes, Captain. How is Athos?"
"He has recovered well, Majesty," Treville offered, turning his attention to her. "Though, there is a problem."
"Problem?" Louis cried, apparently suddenly very frustrated. "Well, out with it, man!"
Treville tilted his head in a semblance of a further bow and took a deep breath before explaining the situation to the King, saying that Athos could remember nothing of his life in the Musketeers. Only his life as a provincial Comte; and not, the reason why he chose to come to Paris several years ago. The matter was very delicate, he finished, awaiting a response with a heavy heart.
He was met with silence, before Louis jumped to his feet on the dais.
"But Athos is my best swordsman!" Louis said, turning to the Queen;
"We cannot be without him. Remember his duel with the Duke of Savoy, my dear?"
Louis had always found his sister's husband tedious in the extreme; his inflated opinion of himself intolerable. But he did tolerate him for his sister's sake as she obviously doted on him and their son, Victor Amadeus.
The Queen shared a look with Treville, before replying.
"Of course, Louis."
Athos had beaten the Duke to the ground that day, quite uncharacteristically losing his famous control. The action had delighted Louis but infuriated Treville. Fearing a diplomatic incident, he had ordered Athos to apologise. The Duke, fortunately had accepted his apology.
"I am hoping a visit here, to familiar surroundings, may help stir his memory" Treville was saying. "Tomorrow, if possible," he added.
"Tomorrow!" the King cried. "But I haven't met the Comte for many years," Louis replied. "Not since he came to court as a young man with his father. I was only a boy myself. Now there was a noble of loyalty and honour!" he digressed.
Treville bit back an exasperated sigh.
"By familiar, Sire," he said, "I was meaning familiar to Athos. It is not the Comte who is important here. It is Athos.
"Oh, this is all getting very confusing!" the King sighed impatiently. "How am I to know what to say?"
As always, Louis needed guidance.
It came from the Queen.
"When you meet the Comte, Sire," she said, "Talk of the Musketeers. Tell him they are a fine body of men. And that loyalty to the Crown is their by-word."
Louis though, looked confused, unable to separate the Comte from Athos. They surely had the same face after all!
"Do not worry, Sire," Treville interjected. "I will introduce him to you only briefly, in the context of re-acquainting him with court life. My men will be here. The Queen is right. A combination of the two may affect a shift in him. Dr Lemay is in agreement with the plan."
At the mention of his physician's name, the King's face brightened. Both their Majesties trusted their quiet physician. Here was firm counsel at last in a sea of confusion.
"It is his opinion that we keep this matter solely between ourselves," Treville finished, pointedly.
"Very well," the King sighed, dramatically. The Queen tilted her head in agreement.
"I would ask that you only refer to him as the Comte, Majesties. Any retrieval of memory should not be forced and must come naturally."
The King walked slowly up to Treville.
"I have many nobles at Court," he said, quietly."But only one who has become the finest swordsman in my Musketeers. Pray allow him to return to us quickly. I want my swordsman back, Treville," he said. "See to it."
The Queen caught his eye as he bowed and he knew he had her trust in the matter.
"Yes, Sire," he said, sure that the King had not grasped the import of what he had said. "That is my dearest wish."
Truth be told, he hoped that the tedium of court life may also play a part in showing the Comte that he did not belong in this life. He hoped that somewhere in the recesses of Athos's astute mind, the spark of brotherhood and adventure lived on.
Of course, he could only think of one fly in the ointment, but he hadn't seen her today.
Openly Mistress to the King, Milady de Winter knew not to antagonize the Queen unnecessarily. She usually complied, unless she was in a spiteful mood and felt the King's protection firmly around her. He hoped that the King would not impart their agreement to Milady in an "unguarded moment." It was imperative therefore, that this was done as quickly as possible. Tomorrow could not come soon enough.
Bowing again, he walked backward to the door, before turning and leaving.
Unbeknownst to him though, Milady de Winter, secreted behind a compact, ornate screen, had heard every word and her mind was now whirling with possibilities.
To be continued ...