Good morning.

Thank you for reading and for comments on the last chapter. Had a good writing 'spurt' over the weekend so I have a few chapters in hand again at last - like I had when I started posting this story . That extended adventure to the US seems so long ago now, and so much has happened in the world. No good dwelling on the fact that recommended isolation for the vulnerable here is twelve weeks - the same as that trip! Don't think they compare somehow! :)

Anyway, the tensions are mounting all over at Versailles and the situation is accelerating all the time! (Can I keep up with it?)

CHAPTER 75

I

"Tréville has no proof," Milady insisted. "There is nothing to incriminate either you or me. He's nothing more than hot air."

"Air that is currently scorching us," Richelieu hissed at her. He rearranged papers on the desk in the room that he had appropriated as his office within the lodge. He deliberately took some documents, put them in a drawer and locked it, pocketing the key. He could have done without having to act as nursemaid to an injured soldier who was worryingly astute. Richelieu knew exactly what game Tréville was playing. Did the officer really think he was a fool? "He has some exceedingly strong suspicions that cannot be ignored."

"They are only suspicions and there is nothing that he can substantiate …"

Her words were cut off and her eyes widened in uncharacteristic fear as Richelieu's arm snaked out, the fingers of his right hand tightening at her throat as he dragged her towards him, their faces inches apart and his spittle specking her cheek.

"He is suspicious because he has long known of the existence of a mysterious woman behind the attack on his Musketeers during that debacle over the Treaty with Spain. He wants that woman. He also seeks the person responsible for the false charges brought against his lieutenant. He knows of your existence and he saw you leaving my office in Paris."

"But I eluded him," she gasped, holding as still as she could in the Cardinal's grasp. She did not think that he would actually throttle her – she was still useful to him- but the constriction of her throat assailed her with the nightmarish memories of a rope around her neck.

"Your obsession with the Musketeer Athos is going to bring about your downfall if you are not careful. That is what brought you here, isn't it? Don't even bother lying to me or I will crush your throat right now. I stopped you from returning to Troyes to take advantage of his presence at the meeting. I did not want you exacting whatever petty revenge it is that you seek, and now you are angry because he survived the attack on him by other parties. So you come here, pretending your loyalty to me and your usefulness in the situation when in reality you want to finish the job that has so far ended in failure. Whatever your reason is for wanting him dead, you are to do nothing whilst we are in Versailles. Do I make myself clear? You make one move against him here and it will not only be the last thing you do whilst in my employment, I will ensure that it is the last thing you do ever!"

He pushed her away from him, his dark eyes wild with barely contained fury. She staggered, drawing in deep, ragged breaths, her hand rubbing protectively at her throat.

"You had better leave. Now! Tréville has arranged it that the object of your attention is to work with and for me for the duration of the day. I suspect that it would not be a good idea for him to find you here. I am about to wave His Majesty off on his hunting trip and, when I return, you must be gone. You have told me where you are staying if I have need of you."

The emphasis was on the word 'if'.

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Milady troubled. Did the Cardinal have any idea of the past she shared with Athos? She dismissed the notion. There was no way that he could have discovered their link; she went by a totally different name. She thought she had been so careful in what she said and the manner in which she said it whenever it related to Athos. There had been the two plots that involved him, both of which were designed to end in his demise: the incident with the Spanish Treaty and the attempt to implicate him in a series of serious crimes in Paris that so nearly had him executed and brought dishonour to his regiment.

But then the Cardinal had an extensive and intricately structured spy network and she was only a small part of it. He could have asked pertinent questions and others had found enough of the answers. She would have to be careful from here on in; the powerful man had made known his displeasure in her and her need for his employment and the generous largesse with which he rewarded her currently superseded her desire for revenge.

No matter. She knew where she could find Athos in Paris and, should he have the good fortune to survive what was about to erupt at Versailles, there would be no escaping her there.

II

After hearing the Captain's orders for Athos, three of the Inseparables rode with the column over the short distance separating the camp from the hunting lodge, leaving their brother to trail behind on foot for his day with the Cardinal.

His Majesty, of course, would be the last to make an appearance so, as the soldiers divided and took up their predetermined positions around the patiently waiting nobles and beaters, Porthos and d'Artagnan headed to the stables to check on the King's favourite horse that was to be used on the hunt. Strict security measures had been put in place around the animal and it was their duty to ensure that no unauthorised personnel had gained access to the building.

Now, the pair led a small procession out from the stables, followed by the head groom leading Louis' mount. They walked over to where Tréville and Aramis awaited them, the latter holding the reins to their horses.

They swung with ease into their saddles.

"All ready?" Tréville asked.

Porthos nodded. "I checked the King's equipment carefully; went over it a couple o' times for any cut or loose stitchin', damaged buckles or any mysterious burs that'd upset the animal."

"And I examined the King's horse," d'Artagnan added. "I spoke with Boulais and Vallin who had been guarding it all night. They reported that all had been quiet, but I still checked it. There was nothing wrong with it or its shoes. Anyway, I was there when it was given its morning feed so I saw that it came from the same stock supply as all the other horses in that section of the stable. Unless there is a mass, simultaneous collapse of about a dozen horses from that block, all is well."

"So far so good then," Tréville muttered. He looked in the direction of the main entrance to the lodge. No sign of the King yet. If he did not appear soon, the proposed day's hunt would become nothing more than the afternoon's hunt. Low movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention.

Athos had arrived and stood beside the Captain's magnificent stallion, a hand absent-mindedly stroking the animal's sleek neck. His eyes were fixed on the group of nobles.

Tréville also looked over at them, trying to gauge who or what held Athos' attention.

There was Gaston in the company of a tall, sandy-haired nobleman.

The Captain did not need to ask. The mixed expression of disbelief and horror on the face of the unfamiliar noble as he stared directly at Athos said it all.

L'Hernault - and now he knew that Athos still lived.