A/N: Thank you SnidgetHex and pallysd'Artagnan for reviewing!
Chapter 3
Aramis swept his gaze around the now quiet library with its books and papers scattered everywhere, eyeing the sedate candle flames warily. He was having difficulty believing the Comtesse was a witch, though the candles hadn't all just exploded by themselves. Still, it was a strange coincidence.
"Come on," Athos said, starting after the red guards, though he immediately turned to head for the garrison once they were outside. They'd have to report this to Treville.
"What were you doing at the Comtesse's house?" Athos asked, tone characteristically mild but Aramis thought he could detect a note of accusation in it.
"I was in the mood for stimulating conversation tonight."
"Aramis…"
He huffed. "I do appreciate it at times," he said crisply. "Honestly, Athos, I can enjoy feminine company without bedding them."
Athos snorted skeptically.
Aramis just rolled his eyes. Let his brother think him single-minded. The truth was he hadn't been with anyone since Adele and he wasn't inclined to go around engaging in more affairs right now. But he still got lonely for softer company and softer conversation than could be found at a tavern with fellow musketeers.
They reached the garrison and went up to the captain's office to report what had happened. Treville was as stunned as they were about this development.
"You are sure you didn't see these girls when you searched the house this morning?"
"No," Athos answered.
Treville flicked a look at Aramis.
He gave a subtle head shake. "There was a secret chamber."
"And the candles—could it have been a gust of wind?"
Aramis grimaced. "It was rather…unnatural."
"We must ensure the Comtesse is treated fairly," Athos said.
Treville blinked in surprise at his fervent statement. "The charges seem clear to me."
"The Red Guard can hardly be trusted to ascertain all the facts," Athos retorted. "These are serious charges and as such we must treat the investigation seriously."
Treville arched a brow at his lieutenant but apparently decided not to comment on his uncharacteristic defense of a suspected witch. "Alright, I agree. Do you know where the young girls were taken?"
"Probably the Red Guard garrison," Aramis said.
Treville nodded and grabbed his cloak off the hook on the wall. Aramis and Athos wordlessly followed. It would be a long night.
.o.0.o.
"Four young women," the Cardinal said forcefully, holding up four fingers to punctuate his statement as he stood before the King and Queen the following morning. "In their nightwear. I can only speculate as to the horrors they have endured."
Aramis glowered at the man. It had been three months since he'd had Adele murdered and framed Aramis for it, and Aramis had not forgotten, nor had his loathing for Richelieu abated in that time. But the sour knowledge that the First Minister of France was currently untouchable kept him professionally subdued where he stood behind Treville. Athos, on the other hand and in a rather startling reversal, was fuming.
"The girls claim they were not coerced," Treville interjected.
The three musketeers had arrived just in time the night before to stop the red guards from badgering the poor girls into tears. After hours of gentle coaxing and questions, they had continued to assert that the Comtesse had not abducted them from their homes, that she had been kind and given them a place to sleep and food to eat. They had also been confused by the accusation that Ninon was a witch. The fire display in the library had certainly scared them, but they claimed there had never been any indication before that the Comtesse practiced magic.
"Then why lock them in a secret chamber?" Richelieu countered. "No doubt they were to be vilely used for the Comtesse's dark rituals."
"We have no proof the Comtesse was practicing magic of any kind," Athos interjected, a tad too loudly.
Aramis fought to keep his surprise off his face while Treville shot him a covert look of warning.
The Cardinal rounded on him. "You were there, were you not? Do you deny the blatant display of sorcery my men witnessed?"
Athos's jaw ticked. "I do not, but we cannot be sure it was the Comtesse who caused it."
Aramis shifted nervously. While it was true they couldn't say for sure who was responsible, he wasn't comfortable casting suspicion on all the other women who had been present as well. They didn't need a full out witch hunt.
"It must be her," Richelieu insisted. "She's obviously bewitched these young women. The sorceress must be dealt with swiftly and severely."
"I still can't believe Ninon is a witch," Louis remarked. "She certainly doesn't look like a witch. Aren't they supposed to be ugly?"
"Your Majesty, this is a serious matter," the Cardinal said.
"Indeed it is," Anne spoke up. "And as such we should take great care in the actions we take." She leaned toward Louis. "Athos is right; what evidence do we have that Ninon is in fact a witch?"
"The sanctity of the natural order is far more important than debating the issue," Richelieu argued.
"The sanctity of human life is of equal importance," Athos proclaimed.
"If she is innocent, then her soul will rest with God."
Aramis subtly reached out to grip Athos's elbow and hold him back lest he lose it on the Cardinal. Aramis could just imagine Richelieu jumping at the chance to claim Ninon had bewitched herself some musketeers.
Louis nodded decisively. "Athos is right," he said. "Ninon is to have a quiet trial and is to be spared unless she confess directly of her own free will and without torture."
"Your Majesty—" Richelieu spluttered.
"That is my final decision," Louis cut him off.
Richelieu looked as though someone had stuffed a cactus down his throat, something Aramis took extreme satisfaction in witnessing.
Unfortunately, even with the King's proclamation, things were far from over for Comtesse Ninon de Larroque.
.o.0.o.
The wind buffeted Athos's face, blowing his hair back as Savron soared across the skies. Aramis and Porthos were to his left and right, keeping an eye on the party below riding horseback down the road—d'Artagnan, Ninon, and two red guards. They were on their way to the Monastery of the Holy Cross where Ninon's trial would be held. Athos had no doubt the Cardinal, who would be arriving later, would make a mockery out of it. The only good thing was he couldn't sentence Ninon to burn at the stake unless she confessed.
Not that living out the rest of her days imprisoned in the monastery held much appeal either.
The musketeers' dragons landed in a field outside of the monastery and the three of them slung their saddle bags over their shoulders and proceeded to make their way on foot to the gate to meet up with d'Artagnan and their "prisoner."
As the horses approached the gate, Athos noted how stoically Ninon was carrying herself. She was facing terrible charges and an uncertain future yet held her head high with dignity. He stepped forward to help her dismount once they were within the courtyard.
"Thank you," she said, granite exterior cracking for just a moment.
Athos had nothing to say to that, nothing to make this sordid affair better for her. All he could do was stand back helplessly as the red guard stepped in to take her arm and sternly lead her away to whatever cell she would be housed in.
"They made good time," d'Artagnan spoke up, gaze directed through the archway.
Athos looked and spotted the Cardinal's carriage jouncing up the road toward the monastery. Behind it was another, lesser adorned coach. The musketeers lingered in the courtyard, watching as Richelieu arrived. The four young girls climbed out of the second carriage, heads hanging as though they were prisoners themselves being led to the gallows. Athos wondered whether the Cardinal would have had a confession coerced out of one of them, and a cold feeling of dread settled in his gut as they began to assemble for the trial.
The highest ranking monks of the Order presided over the trial, with the Cardinal spearheading it. Ninon, stripped of her finery and left only in a simple dress, was brought to sit on a low stool before a squat podium with the judges looming over her from their raised platform.
"Comtesse Ninon de Larroque," the Cardinal began. "Confess your offenses now and spare your victims the ordeal of giving testimony."
"I cannot confess to imaginary crimes," she replied.
"Do you deny you believe in Satan's magic?" Richelieu barked harshly, jabbing a finger at her. "Now, I advise you to consider your answer seriously."
"And I advise you not to ask ridiculous questions," she rejoined.
Chuckles and mutters reverberated among the monks, nuns, and red guards watching the proceedings. The Cardinal's eyes narrowed darkly.
"Fleur Baudin!" he summoned. "Come forward."
One of the red guards nudged the girl into moving, bringing her over to the side of Ninon to face the panel of judges.
Richelieu leaned over the table, fixing her with an austere mien. "All will be well if you tell the truth, child. What happened to you at the Comtesse's salon?"
The girl glanced at Ninon, who gave her an encouraging nod.
"Answer my question," Richelieu said sharply, drawing her attention back toward him.
"Er…the Comtesse taught us things."
"What things? Many of our young women are educated. It isn't something we're ashamed of," he said haughtily.
"Not just embroidery and sewing," Fleur answered. "Natural philosophy, the movement of the cosmos, the secrets of our bodies."
That statement elicited another ripple of whispers throughout the audience.
"The bodies?" Richelieu repeated in a scandalous tone. "So, she took you and locked you in a secret room…and showed you intimate things?"
"You twist every word that comes out of her mouth," Ninon protested.
"Be quiet or you'll be gagged," the Cardinal threatened.
"I was gagged the day I was born a woman!"
"Cheap sentiments of the decadent romance novels your acolytes waste their time in reading!" Richelieu sneered. He turned back to Fleur Baudin. "There's no need to be ashamed, child. This woman has used you for her foul appetites. You cannot be blamed."
"You're making her work sound corrupt," Fleur blurted. "You will suffer for this! You're the one who'll be judged!"
Richelieu waved a dismissive hand at his guards. "Take her away."
The red guards grabbed Fleur by the arms and tugged.
"No!" the girl screeched, and suddenly every window lining the meeting hall blew inward in a shower of shattered shards.
Athos threw his arms over his head to shield himself from the bombardment as pieces of glass tinkled down around him. People screamed and gasped. Even the pitcher of water and glasses on the judges' table had exploded. One of the monks was clutching a bleeding hand.
"Witchcraft!" he exclaimed.
Several red guards drew their swords, and Athos pushed his way to the front to defend Ninon. His friends were soon at his side, not drawing their weapons but holding the overly eager red guards at bay.
The Cardinal surged from his seat. "Who did that?" he demanded, gaze narrowing on Fleur.
"I did," Ninon abruptly declared.
Athos whipped his head around, eyes widening in dismay.
She rose steadily to her feet, lifting her chin as she addressed the judges. "I have dabbled in magic in my pursuit of knowledge. But I tell you this: I have never consorted with the Devil until this moment. I am looking at him."
Richelieu jabbed an enraged finger at her. "Condemned from her own mouth!"
"What are you doing?" Athos hissed.
She swallowed hard. "I am sorry," she replied softly.
"At a time to be determined, you will be taken to a place of execution, and your body will be burned to ashes," the Cardinal proclaimed. "Take her away!"
The red guards shoved the musketeers aside in order to seize Ninon and drag her from the hall. Athos watched helplessly, once again unable to do anything in the face of such blatant displays of sorcery. And now Ninon had confessed. Athos wasn't sure what he felt—betrayed? She had kept this from him, even after the initial charges.
Not that he could have done anything for her if she had told him the truth. In fact, it would have only condemned her, as his duty would have demanded he report her confession.
Although, she would not be the first witch he had neglected to arrest. And Ninon had never given any indication that her pursuits were anything less than noble. Athos had let Agnes go for the same reason.
But Agnes had used her magic to help people and Ninon had used it to…throw tantrums? In front of numerous witnesses both times that would only condemn her. That didn't make sense. She was an intelligent woman and wouldn't possibly be so stupid.
"I can't believe this," d'Artagnan uttered, looking around at the shards of glass glittering all over the floor.
"Something isn't right," Athos replied.
D'Artagnan frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not sure I believe Ninon is a witch."
"Athos," Aramis interjected reluctantly, "I was there for the candles, and now this? I don't think it's a coincidence."
"I don't think Ninon is foolish enough to use magic so blatantly in front of the Cardinal and his men."
"You think the Cardinal is trying to frame her?"
"That would mean he's in league with a witch," Porthos pointed out. "You really think he could stomach that?"
Aramis cocked his head in consideration. "He does want to seize the Comtesse's wealth."
"That doesn't explain why she confessed," d'Artagnan put in. "Why would she do that?"
"She's protecting someone," Athos said as the pieces started coming together. All four girls had also been present for both instances, but Fleur Baudin was the one who'd been livid with the Cardinal right when the glass exploded. And back in the library, the red guards had been manhandling the girls after finding them in a secret chamber. And what would a secret chamber be for if not to hide the girls for their own protection? Now things were beginning to make sense to Athos. Ninon did care for the girls she took in, not just for their education but their well-being too.
"Fleur Baudin is the witch."