Good afternoon, all,
As always, thank you for reading the last chapter and lovely to hear from some of you. Hope these chapters provide a brief entertainment each day! I'm a few chapters ahead in the writing - currently writing ch 91.
So, what is L'Hernault up to?
CHAPTER 83
I
"We ought to speed up, close the gap." Aramis sounded worried.
"He's 'eadin' back to the lodge," Porthos stated unnecessarily.
"And Athos is within the lodge, working with Richelieu."
"Then he's safe. L'Hernault's hardly goin' to burst into Richelieu's office an' attack Athos in front of the Cardinal now, is he?"
"This is Athos we're talking about," Aramis said grimly. "When have you ever known him do exactly as he's told all the time? And who's to know if Richelieu has actually kept to his side of the arrangement. He may have gone off alone or taken advantage of having a Musketeer to be at his beck and call and sent Athos on an errand."
Porthos thought carefully over what Aramis had just said.
"You're right. We need to speed up an' close that gap."
II
L'Hernault was concentrating so hard on what he planned to do next that he was oblivious to the two Musketeers pursuing him.
Reaching the lodge's stables, he dismounted so quickly that he almost lost his footing, much to the amusement of the smirking stable boy who had emerged to take the animal from him. Disregarding the boy, L'Hernault strode towards a side entrance of the lodge and hesitated when he saw a group of Red Guard soldiers lounging on the grass, seated on benches or perched upon tabletops. Some were cleaning their weapons, but all were enjoying the sun, laughing and joking as they relaxed.
"Gentlemen," he acknowledged them breezily. A couple nodded in response, but the vast majority paid him no heed, engrossed as they were with a tale being regaled by one of them. L'Hernault caught the word 'Musketeer', saw one of the guards spit contemptuously into the dirt at his feet and heard the string of derisive comments that followed. There was no love lost between the two regiments then.
It was as he was approaching the last table that he saw them, a brace of pistols lying on the tabletop behind a soldier who was busily adding his own scornful account of his experiences with the King's men.
The idea was immediate. L'Hernault slowed a little as his hand reached out, grabbed one of the pistols and concealed it beneath his cloak.
His heart in his mouth, he headed towards the entrance to the lodge where two of the Red Guard were supposedly on duty, but they were too busy listening to the others to do their duty. Neither one stopped him to ask who he was or why he was there – one of them even deigned to open the door for him.
Perhaps they had recognised him as amongst the King's guests. That was possible but it also signified a degree of laxness in their attitude towards the protection of the King and his party. Unless, of course, they had not been apprised of the potential threat to Louis that was gathering beyond Versailles.
As he made his way down the cool corridor, he hoped that they had not paid too much attention to him for he was only now working out the finer details of the notion that had come to mind and the theft of the weapon would be noticed fairly quickly and reported. He hurried to his small room on an upper floor. It was his association with Gaston that had assured him of accommodation within the lodge, unlike the other lower ranked nobles, who camped in lavish marquees to the north east of the lodge. He had thought the room inconvenient but now he welcomed its remoteness and there were no servants around to mark his presence.
With shaking hands, he used some of his own powder and shot to load the weapon so that it was ready. He had to find a secure yet accessible place to conceal it for it could not be discovered in his room once the alarm was raised and in the event of a search.
He would take advantage of the bad feeling between the King's men and the Cardinal's men. What better than to incriminate a member of the Red Guard in the shooting of a Musketeer, all the better if the Musketeer happened to be the former Comte de la Fère. That only left the disposal of the weapon after he had used it, but he need not think of that right now.
Slipping the weapon in his belt and pulling his cloak around him to hide it, he opened the door of his room, checked that no-one was around and emerged into the hallway.
III
Planque entered, crossing the room to Richelieu's desk with an easy swagger and pointedly ignoring Athos' existence again. He was clearly not anticipating what Richelieu was about to say to him.
"Get your men in check, Captain. I have reliable information that they are about to cause problems with the Musketeers."
The officer's head turned to take in Athos, his face a mask of pure hatred.
"Information supplied by Musketeers, no doubt," he sneered.
"And not without cause," Richelieu snapped. "Grenouille is manipulating the men, agitating them. I will make an example of anyone causing problems at this time." He leaned forward menacingly, hands clasped together, "and that is no idle threat. Make sure that your men understand that, Planque. I thought that I had made myself perfectly clear about behaviour before we left Paris, but it obviously needs to be repeated. Deal with it."
"Yes, Your Eminence; my apologies."
This time, when he walked back past Athos, he kept his eyes on the door ahead, his cheeks burning with shame.
Athos stood as soon as the door shut. "I think it would be advisable if I went to the Musketeer camp and reiterated those instructions to them."
Richelieu's brow furrowed. "But Tréville said you were to remain here."
"Neither of us wants to see our men at loggerheads; there are too many issues of greater importance. I will not be gone long, and I will have Claude for company."
Richelieu sighed dramatically. "Very well, but hurry back. I have more letters for you to copy."
Athos, relieved to have some time away from the Cardinal, started down the corridor. Claude saw him approaching and straightened from where he had been leaning against the wall.
"With me, Claude," was all Athos said, not breaking his stride. He saw Planque disappear around a corner and quickened his step.
"Captain!" he called when he saw the man in front of him again.
Planque halted. When he realised who had called to him, his face darkened.
"What do you want?"
"I wish to accompany you to the camps, to address the Musketeers. I, too, want to remind them of what is expected of them."
Planque's eyes narrowed as he studied Athos, as if weighing up the man before him and wondering about his motive but, eventually, he acquiesced with an abrupt nod.
They began to walk together, Claude falling into step behind them as they passed through tall double doors and out into the afternoon air.