CHAPTER 22
"This'll be the eighth day 'e's been gone," Porthos grumbled as he mounted the stairs to Treville's office behind Aramis.
"So he'll be there, will have made his contacts and be ready for that meeting the day after tomorrow," d'Artagnan said a little too cheerily. As the hours and days passed, there was no lightening in the mood of any of them; if anything, it was Porthos who had descended into a deeper quagmire of despondency than the others. He was barely keeping his temper under control and the slightest provocation instigated a verbal explosion and the threat of physical violence to anyone who crossed him.
The boring surveillance detail had done much to worsen the situation but at least it meant that he could fester on his own for many hours of the day. Time within the garrison when he was not sleeping was minimal but his colleagues had swiftly learned to give him a wide berth.
Aramis had frequently tried to offer him words of solace and encouragement but they had fallen on deaf ears on every occasion and he had expired all known platitudes so that now he too simply glowered at anyone who came near.
D'Artagnan attempted to be positive for as long as he could but it was growing harder by the day. The air of pessimism was all-pervading and it was bombarding him from every side, from Porthos, Aramis and Captain Treville, so that even he was bowing under the weight of worry for their friend.
But it was a new day and he had resolved to be optimistic, hence his comment, but it was woefully idealistic and the doubts did not just creep in but suddenly overwhelmed him like a torrent.
Athos could have been attacked by robbers at any point on his journey and left for dead in a ditch. He may have succumbed to illness rife within a village where he had sought shelter from torrential rain. Out of the goodness of his heart, he could have stopped to offer assistance to a traveller on the road whose carriage had lost a wheel and, working to replace it, the axle had snapped and the whole thing collapsed, trapping Athos beneath it and crushing his chest.
An ageing tree could have toppled just as he was passing, unseating him so that, terrified, his mount galloped away in the gathering darkness and he lay on the road unconscious or, at best, hobbled with a makeshift staff on a damaged ankle. A violent storm could have weakened a bridge so that the added weight of him and his horse proved too much and hurled both helplessly into the turbulent waters below. When he had exhausted Serge's rations, he may have purchased food from a disreputable tavern owner who had disguised rancid meat with herbs so that, unsuspecting, a ravenous Athos had emptied a plate before he realised that the meal was tainted and even now, he could be writhing in agony in a rat-infested room in the throes of severe food-poisoning ...
"Are you quite well?" an anxious voice broke into his thoughts and he realised that he had come to a complete halt at the top of the stairs. He held the wooden balustrade so tightly in horror at the plethora of disasters that might have befallen his friend that his knuckles were white. It was high time he curbed his over-active imagination.
Aramis was watching him quizzically whilst Porthos, who was already at the Captain's door, looked furiously impatient.
"I am sorry," the young Gascon hastily apologised. "I am fine, thank you."
"Just as well," Porthos growled as he hammered with unnecessary vehemence upon the door. "It's enough wondering what Athos is getting up to without havin' to worry about you too."
"Oh you don't have to worry about me ..." d'Artagnan began but was cut off by the Captain's roar which came from the other side of the door, ordering them to enter.
"He's in a good mood too," Aramis muttered as he followed Porthos inside with d'Artagnan trailing behind.
The three stood before him as he concluded reading a message he had received; it was from Richelieu at the palace. Treville slammed it down onto the desk top and looked up at the three.
"Well that confirms it. Gaston is heading for Paris and is expected to arrive some time tomorrow," he announced.
"Convenient," Aramis observed. "I mean his being in Paris just when the meeting takes place elsewhere."
"My thoughts exactly. I suspect that it is only for appearance's sake though. I don't trust him and am convinced that he is capable of anything, including having some prior connection with the plotters."
"What did he do that upset the King so much?" d'Artagnan asked, his gaze flitting between the four men as he sought an explanation. His recent arrival in Paris and his years in Gascony meant that he had little knowledge of what had transpired in the royal household.
"What hasn't he done?" Aramis scoffed. "I may not like Richelieu but I do think he has as much reason as Louis to despise Gaston."
"The little rat!" Porthos added his opinion.
"Four years ago, Louis' mother, Marie de Medicis, together with Richelieu, were trying to force Gaston to marry Marie de Bourbon-Montpensier," Treville began. "Several nobles persuaded him to resist the marriage and there was a plot formed to assassinate the Cardinal. Amongst them were the Duchesse de Chevreuse and her lover, the Marquis de Chalais."
"Louis' mother is also quite a character," Aramis added. "She tried to take power herself from Louis."
"Or keep it," Treville corrected. "Louis was only nine when his father was killed and she ran the country until he was old enough. She was a little reluctant to hand over responsibility when the time came."
"Some family!" Porthos was dismissive.
"Anyway," the Captain continued, "Richelieu discovered the plot and had Chalais beheaded but he could do nothing about Gaston as Louis' heir."
"So he got away with it!" d'Artagnan was surprised.
"More or less," Porthos agreed.
"He changed his mind and went through with the marriage, though, in the August of that year; already Duc d'Anjou, he was created Duc d'Orleans by Louis."
"A rich reward," Aramis added.
"More like bribery," Porthos was cynical.
"Granted, Louis personally saw all the actions as a move against him and his position, and I think he was prepared to do anything to keep Gaston contained," Treville said.
"So will he be bringing his wife and a large retinue?" d'Artagnan went on, referring to the Duc.
Treville shook his head. "He's widowed. The Duchess died in childbirth nine months after the wedding."
"And the two brothers never reconciled?"
"Not properly, d'Artagnan. You must understand that Louis has a deep seated mistrust where both his mother and brother are concerned and, as I've just explained, with good reason. News of Gaston and the nobles has greatly unsettled the King." Treville clapped his hands together as if concluding that topic. "Now, gentlemen, what do you have to report on the subjects of your surveillance?"