Greetings from back in the house at Laughlin. Everything dry and damage being assessed next week but not looking too bad.
Thanks for reading and reviewing. Apologies for any errors in this chapter.
So what does the messenger arriving at the palace have to say?
(Feel as if I am lighting the touch paper on this chapter and standing back! Lol!)
CHAPTER 33
The new arrival at the palace, Etienne L'Hernault, was confident enough in his relationship with Gaston that he slouched in a comfortable chair, his casual posture designed more to ease his aching limbs after so many hours in the saddle. In his early thirties, his tall frame was muscular and bore no sign of the excesses of a privileged life style but his face was hard, cruel even with heavy eyebrows and dark, hooded eyes.
He reached for the glass of claret that Gaston held out to him, the gesture a mediocre acknowledgement of what he had done on the Duc's behalf.
"So, how was the meeting?" Gaston asked, his tone suggesting that he was not even remotely interested although both men were fully aware that he was eager to hear what had transpired.
"It went reasonably well, all things considered," L'Hernault replied haughtily.
"Only 'reasonably'?" Gaston threw back at him.
"They certainly fell for everything you told me to say on your behalf."
"So they are going to meet us at Versailles?"
L'Hernault shook his head and set his glass down on an occasional table positioned by his elbow.
"They are not prepared to supply the men in the numbers you were expecting."
"What!" Gaston spluttered, his meticulous planning suddenly coming under threat.
"They were disappointed that you were only providing seventy-five men in the first instance. They reasoned that, given your status, you would have more at your disposal."
"I would, except that my loving brother curtailed my ability to have anything remotely resembling an army, otherwise I would not have had to comecrawling to them to secure their support. Surely they understood that?" Frustrated, Gaston downed his drink in one and immediately reached for the decanter to replenish his glass.
L'Hernaiult shrugged. "They pledged varying numbers. Some were paltry, barely ten if they could manage that. Two or three said they could manage about twenty to twenty-five but few of them have many regular trained men. They have to be prepared to provide some kind of militia for the King if needed, but they just pull men from their estates and push something that resembles a weapon into their hands, hoping for the best. The excuse is that it is harvest time and the tenants will starve in the winter if the crops are not brought in promptly and merely left to spoil."
"So how many can I expect?" Gaston ground out.
L'Hernault took a deep breath before replying for he knew that his answer was not going to be well received.
"Two hundred, perhaps a few more if we are lucky."
"Lucky!" Gaston leaped to his feet in barely contained fury. "I need more than luck to go up against my brother. I need men!"
"I pressed them, but they swore that was all they could provide and only about one quarter of them will be trained, experienced men."
"Do they not realise that they will be up against Musketeers? There may even be a few of the Cardinal's Red Guard thrown in for good measure too. They do not play at being soldiers."
"Your force will number nearly three hundred. How many Musketeers accompany the King when he goes hunting?" L'Hernault inquired.
Gaston appeared to calm down a little. "There will be about thirty in attendance for this trip; that seems to be the usual number for an extended trip, less when it is only a day's shooting."
"There you are then," L'Hernault said reassuringly. "You will have nearly ten times the number. Even Musketeers could not contend with a force of that magnitude. You will also have the surprise element. I take it that relations with your brother are vastly improved?"
"Of course," Gaston answered smugly. "He believes every single thing I have been telling him. I have even gone so far as shedding the odd tear when begging his forgiveness for the tenth time. We spend hours together every day and I have to endure his endless ramblings about trivial matters. There are times when I manage to divert the conversation to details regarding the trip to Versailles and try to get from him as much information as I can."
"And have you been successful?"
Gaston smiled, "Naturally. That's how I learned the size of the Musketeer contingent. My brother is so desperate to convince me that I am accepted into the fold once more that he cannot stop talking. He has given me specifics regarding the actual hunting days, his favourite routes, when the party will merely be resting at the lodge and the type of entertainments that are being provided. Using that information, we can plan how and when to launch the actual attack."
L'Hernault frowned. "I have to warn you that many of the nobles are hesitant about raising arms against the King. I think that is another reason for the weak response in providing men. I tried to motivate them but Menier, who has instigated this and motivates them, wants to bring yet another petition to the King at Versailles, thinking that he will be in a good mood with the hunting."
"I must not depend upon their numbers then," Gaston said bitterly.
"I am sure that they will arrive near Versailles in time but they are anxious to avoid conflict at all costs. I reminded them petitions have been produced on previous occasions, all of which have been ignored by Louis, as his father – your father – did before him. Louis understands conflict; you only have to look at what has happened to the Huguenots in recent years," L'Hernault continued.
"It is about time that the nobility learned to stand up for themselves," Gaston grumbled.
"Exactly what I told them and they seemed to be encouraged enough to return to their estates to make preparation. Those who are on the King's guest list for Versailles will be travelling to Paris first."
"So we will have the time to work on them individually when they get here," Gaston determined. "I cannot wait until the trip to see if they definitely arrive north of Versailles."
L'Hernault nodded.
"Was there anything else?" the Duc asked.
"Well there was one other thing," L'Hernault began. "It is probably not of any importance but it did strike me as strange."
"And what was that?"
"There was a nobleman there who was not whom he claimed to be."
That had Gaston's attention.
"You are sure?"
"Completely. I could never forget him or his family." L'Hernault's expression was grim. "Suffice it to say, there is a history there, at least between our late fathers, and it is not a good one."
"Why would he claim to be someone else?"
"I have no idea. All I do know is that the young Comte de la Fėre suddenly disappeared without a trace and re-emerged at this meeting using an assumed name."
"How can this impact upon us? Is he a problem about which we need to be concerned?" Gaston was suddenly worried.
L'Hernault's grin was devoid of any mirth. "Not at all. Given the circumstances of the past, I would have preferred to have had the opportunity of dealing with things myself but I have assigned three of my men to take care of that particular problem and they have never failed me yet!"