CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Milady had entered the King's bed chamber and found, to her dismay, that it was empty.
There were signs of violence though and her heart clenched. Her days at Court would be numbered if the King was killed. She had put all her hopes into this venture, and it was slipping away from her.
Ignoring the hidden passageway, she exited the room and turned left and walked down the stone steps, unknowingly following the route that both d'Artagnan, and the King along with Aramis, had taken earlier.
The body in the room further along was a welcome sight.
"Three," she smiled to herself, totalling the body count, as Aramis had previously done.
She was disappointed that this was not Dubois. He was obviously still at large. He had threatened to kill Athos and, if the King was dead, she would need to fall back on her husband's duty to see her secure. She therefore needed to find Dubois before he ruined her plans on both counts.
Turning away from the room, she continued her search.
oOo
Dubois met the Musketeer's lunge with a powerful upward stroke, which vibrated painfully through Olivier's hand.
Both men were sweating, their balance adrift, but neither gave quarter. They had degenerated into a ruthless battle of might over finesse. There was room to fight here; to push and to kick, and they did all of that.
Acutely aware of the women pressed to the wall, Olivier sought to keep Dubois away from them.
The women had fallen silent, the older one earlier calling out for them to be quiet. They watched in shocked fascination as the King's Musketeer battled the palace guard imposter.
The floor was polished wood and did not serve them well, but Olivier had got Dubois's measure by now and found he could anticipate his moves. Not only that, but he found himself employing moves that he did not remember learning. Perhaps it was instinct, but his code of chivalry had been somewhat diluted as he fought this man.
He knew nothing about Dubois but he suspected the man was a ruthless killer. He had entered the domain of the King of France, for whatever gain he thought he might achieve. That, in itself, was not only foolhardy, but spoke of an arrogance that he had continued to display during their encounters.
His theory was proved as he lashed out with his blade, catching Olivier above his knee. Olivier hissed as the blade sliced into his flesh, but Dubois took the opportunity to cross the room and grab one of the women by the hair. It was the oldest one of their number; their matron. The others tried to catch her hands to draw her back, but Dubois was too strong.
Olivier's attempt to follow was hampered by the cut to his knee and, before he could reach the woman, Dubois gave her neck a sharp twist, snapping it instantly.
Silence fell as she dropped at his feet.
The motion cause the women to begin to scream en masse.
Dubois raised his sword and turned toward them, but became tangled in the dead woman's skirts and crashed to the floor.
Olivier could not help the dead woman but took the moment to stagger to the table that blocked the doors and put the last of his strength behind shifting it. Slowly, it began to move. One of the women saw what he was trying to do and ran across and together they moved it away enough for Olivier to throw open the doors.
"Go!" the Comte roared, stepping aside and motioning them with his sword.
At first, the women seemed too scared to move, but a glare from the Comte had them scattering like mice, and, as a group, they fled through the doors.
Sure they had all gone, Olivier turned back to the room and began to circle behind Dubois as the cold-bloodied murderer gained his feet.
oOo
Aramis, d'Artaganan and the King had reached a junction in their passageway.
Tired of brushing off cobwebs, the novelty of their journey had lessened for the King and he had begun to mutter about finding their way out.
"Look for a red mark on the wall," he was saying from his position behind Aramis. "Milady has marked a way through."
"Of course she has," d'Artagnan muttered, but truth be told, he was tiring of the King's complaints.
"I should not have allowed you to persuade me in here," Louis was saying now.
"Here!" Aramis suddenly said, running his hand along the wall, saving d'Artagnan from a dangerous response. "Ahead of us, a red cross."
"That will be it!" Louis cried.
As he did so, a noise came from the other side of the passageway wall. The sound of running feet, and no small amount of female cries and exclamations.
Aramis searched for a lever to open the door, as the sound outside grew to a crescendo. He flattened his hand against a block of wood beside the door, and to his relief, the block pressed inward, and the door clicked open. Before he could exit, Louis pushed past him into the corridor, in time to see a group of women, rushing away down the corridor.
Aramis stepped out behind him, followed by d'Artagnan.
"What's going on?" d'Artagnan said, as he dusted himself off.
The women disappeared around a bend in the corridor, and they turned as a lone female appeared and nearly collided with them.
Recognising the King of France, she dropped into a curtsey.
"What's going on?" Aramis said, repeating d'Artagnan's words.
The young woman looked up.
"Oh, Sire," she cried, gathering her voluminous gown around her trying no doubt to make herself look smaller. "Forgive me."
"Yes, yes," Louis said, impatiently. "Answer the question, madame, if you will," he said, not giving her leave to rise.
Tears streaked her face and she looked longingly past the three men above her, wanting desperately to reunite with her companions.
"Speak! Speak!" Louis said, as Aramis and d'Artagnan glanced at each other in sympathy for the distraught young woman.
"The Blue Room," she gasped. "They are fighting. A palace guard. Though he is no guard, Sire! He killed Marie!"
Aramis took charge, bending to lift the young woman by her elbows and leaning in toward her.
"Take a breath," he said, calmly. "Who is fighting?"
"The Musketeer Athos and a palace guard. Though he is no guard!" she repeated.
"The Blue Room, you say?" the King said then.
"Yes, Sire. We were sheltering there when he burst in, through the wall! Then the Musketeer Athos came to our rescue and freed us."
"They are still fighting?" Aramis urged, before the King could interject with a less pertinent question.
"Yes," the young woman said, her eyes still trained on the end of the corridor where the others had fled.
"Go," the King said, waving his hand and she bobbed a curtsey once more and fled, her heels clicking on the floor.
"Fortunate we came across her," Aramis said. Now they knew where Athos was and could waste no more time. He had been fighting for some time and would need help.
"Which way?" d'Artagnan asked, disorientated from being in the passageways.
The King set off.
"Follow me!" he cried, and they hurried to keep up, hoping he did actually know the way.
oOo
"This damned palace," Porthos snarled, as he prowled cautiously forward. "It's like a badger set."
He had searched his own part of the palace, allotted to him after the second body had been found.
It was an eerie experience. Apart from the ladies in waiting, who he had secured in their room, he had seen no-one. Those women had truly been abandoned, and it rankled with him. He would bring it up with the Captain when this was eventually over. Right now, he was more concerned with Milady.
Disinclined to enter the labyrinthine passageways to search for her, he continued along the corridor he now found himself in. There were more rooms to search along here.
It was just so bloody quiet.
"Give me an open air battle any day," he growled, as he ploughed on.
oOo
A little later, hearing footsteps, Milady hid behind a door.
Opening it slightly, she peered through. At the sight of the man coming slowly along the corridor, she opened it and leant casually against the door frame.
Porthos stopped as she stepped out and faced him.
"Where 'ave you been?" he said, his voice low, eyes flicking into the room she had vacated.
"If you must know," she said, closing the door. "I have been to the King's apartments."
"And?" Porthos said, tersely, realising she had more to tell, by the frown on her face.
"Someone was fighting in there," she replied. "And it certainly wasn't the King. The room is a mess."
"What?" Porthos said, pointedly, waiting for her to elucidate.
"Either Louis has been taken, or he found the switch to open the hidden door, and I didn't show him it."
"You've lost me," Porthos grunted.
"It doesn't matter," she said. "What matters is the King was not in his rooms. There were five assailants in the Palace. Now, to my knowledge, there are only two."
"You killed three of them?"
"Well, who else do you think did it while you were all standing around chatting! Someone had to!" she sneered. "And I only killed two. The third body is in one of the rooms near the King's apartments. Beneath a hideous tapestry."
She leant against the wall of the corridor and looked back at him.
"But Dubois is still at large," she added.
"Dubois?" Porthos said, shaking his head in confusion as she continued to talk in riddles. "The one you went after. Wait, you know all these men?"
"So do you," she snarled. "Or at least, you knew their leader. Dubois was in Sarazin's employ."
"Sarazin!" Porthos growled, before taking a step forward and grabbing her wrist. "Wait a minute. Did you know about this plot?" he demanded.
She twisted and snarled at him angrily, freeing her wrist and storming away down the corridor, leaving him with his back against the wall, getting his breath back from his encounter with her.
Someone had killed a third assailant. That, at least was good news. His brothers were out there, and he needed to find them now.
Suddenly, up ahead and out of sight, there was a scream.
Hand tightening on the hilt of his sword, he pushed off the wall and gritted his teeth, running toward it.
To be continued ...