Chapter 14

They had ridden in almost complete silence for far too long. 'Come on, spit it out,' Porthos growled finally. Aramis did not even bother to try and hide his feelings, Porthos knew him too well. Instead he eyed the big Musketeer with trepidation. 'That bad, eh? Should 'ave guessed. What has 'e done now?' Aramis smiled briefly, before his expression returned to one of thoughtfulness.

'He has done nothing. Unless you count lurking at the very back of the company, avoiding having to help the ladies from their coach, or hiding in the bushes with Roger. Nothing at all.' Porthos looked slightly puzzled.

'Is that what is botherin' you? It all seems pretty normal to me, for Athos anyway. You know 'e's not one for chatter on such occasions, 'e's probably scowling at every tree and bush, just in case it harbours a criminal or would-be assassin.' The very thought reduced the tension and made Aramis chuckle. Athos did have a habit of glaring at his surroundings, as though his very presence was enough to make a brigand reconsider his actions and, to be fair, if they knew what the man was capable of, most probably would. Still he shook his head.

'No, I wish it were just that. I may be seeing ghosts where none exist, and perhaps I am simply being overprotective...' He stopped, unsure exactly what to say next, for he was aware that he was basing all of his concerns upon a mere perfume.

'He does that to all of us. The one man who is capable of looking after himself more than anyone I have ever known, with a sword in his hand, has everyone who cares about him watching his back, to try and save him from himself.' Aramis stared at the big Musketeer in wonderment.

'When did you become such an expert?' he asked, not knowing whether to be amused or worried.

'When I bloody met Athos! The man has you examinin' every move and word 'e says, trying to second guess what stupid thing 'e's going to do next, without tellin' yer. I've told yer before, I'm through carryin' 'is bloodied body back to the infirmary. I'm watchin' 'is every move.' He scowled in earnest, and Aramis almost felt sorry for Athos. If nothing else, it answered the question of whether he was doing the right thing by sharing his concerns with his friend.

'In that case, hear me out and tell me if I am going mad. We think he has told us a lot, though we suspect he has actually told us very little.' He looked to Porthos, who nodded in confirmation, snorting at the remark. 'So we know there was a woman, he loved her and he thought she had been put to death, but then found out she was living and breathing and walking around Paris. The night before we went to the court and he spoke with the King, I waited up.' He paused, waiting for Porthos to explode, and when nothing happened, he dared a glance at the big man.

'Carry on,' Porthos said, his voice cautious and slightly curious.

'He had received a missive in the tavern, before we sat down, you saw.' Porthos nodded, remembering the tense meal in the tavern. 'It was obvious from his reaction it had affected him deeply. Now how many people does Athos know in Paris? Who could have sent him such a note?' Aramis did not wait for Porthos to reply. 'You are right, I watched him like a hawk when we got back to the garrison. He was avoiding me, he knew I would ask him questions, so I stayed awake, and I waited. When I heard the horses stamping and distressed, I ran to see what was amiss, it was midnight and I had waited a long time. Do you know what I found?' Porthos shook his head, though his face was like thunder.

'Bloodied missiles in the horses' stalls, bottle stoppers covered in bloodied linen. Oh, and he hadn't worried that his initial was in the corners.' Aramis looked irked and Porthos shook his head.

'He is a bloody menace.' The irony of the remark was not lost and both men smiled, neither of them seriously angry with Athos.

'I should not have expected anything else, it was brilliant, and I did find him apologising to the horses the next day.' Porthos snorted with laughter at the thought. 'That probably explains the bandage on his hand he is so keen to hide.' Aramis' eyes widened, he had noticed, how could he not have noticed. 'Never mind that now, if he aint dead yet 'e's probably alright.'

Aramis drew a breath and continued. 'He is entitled to his privacy but, as you say, he does tend to put himself in harm's way.'

'If he just told us what 'e was doing and why, we might not treat him like a naughty child,' Porthos growled, scowling into the distance. Aramis agreed, then continued with his explanation.

'Then, when we went to the palace, despite the way he dealt with Richelieu and spoke to the King, he was worried – no, not worried, tense. Something bothered him in that room, he was even more uncomfortable than when the King ordered him to be flogged.' He looked at Porthos and the big Musketeer looked shocked.

'Thinkin' about it, yer right, he was proper fidgety. You can tell when 'e's bothered, he clenches and unclenches his fists.' He eyed Aramis and the marksman laughed.

'So he does, we must look out for it.' Both men chuckled.

'E'd make a terrible card player,' Porthos laughed.

'On the contrary, why do I think he would probably be brilliant?' Aramis smiled. Porthos paused for a moment and shrugged his shoulders.

'Yeah, you're probably right. Anyway, what is it that 'as you so worried?' Aramis sighed.

'Athos did not want to go to help at that carriage this morning. I could tell, he deliberately swapped with Rienier earlier, so he would not have to help the ladies out. He is avoiding that carriage, but why?' Porthos looked worried.

'Before we set off, one of them twisted her ankle and I was the nearest.' Porthos grinned and nodded sagely. Aramis rolled his eyes.' By the time I had her seated comfortably, the rest of her companions had also arrived. There is a new member of the Queen's party – Milady de Winter. When I handed her in, I was overcome by the smell of jasmine…' Porthos' grin faded as he took in the meaning behind Aramis' words.

'What does she look like?' he asked.

Aramis looked slightly puzzled, not sure why it was relevant, 'Dark hair, very beautiful, green eyes like a cat, intelligent.'

Porthos scoffed, 'Well that sounds about right, 'e wouldn't have fallen that deeply for just anyone , now would 'e?' Aramis appeared thoughtful.

'No, I suppose not, but I could also be wrong, though there is more. I have seen her before. When we were in court the other day, I noticed her across the room. Any man would, she is incredibly striking, but it was more than that, she noticed me and smiled.' Porthos laughed.

'And that is unusual because?' Aramis did not join in his friend's humour.

'She made me nervous.' He looked at Porthos in earnest as the smile faded from the big man's face. 'She is dangerous, Porthos. I recognised her, but could not remember where from. Then, when I smelt that perfume today, just like Athos, it took me back to that room in the Château Rambouillet. That is where I had seen her, across the ballroom, in a beautiful red dress. I do not believe in coincidences, Porthos. We have to talk to Athos. Something is very wrong.'

'Should we tell the Captain?' Porthos asked, realising now why Aramis had been so worried. Aramis shook his head.

'We need to speak to Athos, there may be an explanation. Perhaps she knew the family, after all we know nothing about her.' Porthos agreed, but he held Aramis' gaze as he spoke.

'We really know nothing about Athos, we make guesses and he tells us what he wants us to know – I suspect the Captain knows more than he is telling, but we are still in the dark. If she is going to make trouble, then…' Aramis understood. It was time, and he did not look forward to the conversation one little bit.

Daylight was beginning to fade, and the clouds that had begun to gather in the distance were approaching rapidly. Treville rode up to the two men and pulled alongside.

'We are almost upon the drive to the lodge; we may be lucky and empty the carriages before the rain arrives, but I am not so sure. Where is Athos?' In the silence that had followed their discussion concerning Athos, neither man had noticed the deterioration in the weather. The wind had risen, the branches now swayed dramatically to and fro and, though he spoke loudly, the shaking of the leaves was almost enough to drown out Treville's voice. As they listened to their Captain's orders, the first drops of rain struck. Treville rolled his eyes and wheeled his horse round to look for Athos.

Athos had still kept to the back of the company, uneasy ever since they had remounted from watering the horses. He could not help but feel they were being watched. He saw the Captain's horse and nodded his greeting. The rain which had begun with large random spots had now increased. It would not be long before it became a torrent, and already the rumble of thunder could be heard in the background.

'I want you to oversee the men and the coaches. Keep a particular eye on the Guard, I do not trust them. Richelieu has some trickery in mind, no doubt, and I want to know what it is.' Athos gave a curt nod and Treville rode away.

Versailles was a pretty hunting lodge, but though the immediate grounds around the newly completed house were attractive, it was encroached on all sides by dense forest. Treville would have been much happier staying at the nearby royal residence at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, but this was the King's new toy and Louis wanted to show it off.

By the time the coaches had reached the front entrance, the rain had begun to pour in earnest – unloading of both people and baggage was going to be a chore, and it could not have been more daunting to the men who would then have to set up camp for the night.

If any of the Musketeers were surprised when Athos began to issue orders, none of them remarked upon it, though Deveaux, who had kept himself to himself throughout the journey, made it obvious he did not appreciate being kept hanging around in the rain, and Aramis secretly suspected this was part of Athos' payback.

Sometime later, once all of the inhabitants were safely inside, ensconced in their rooms, baggage unloaded and horses safely stabled, Treville was about to leave the Château, when the head of staff called his name.

'Captain Treville, the Queen has asked me give you a message. She says the King wishes some of your men to be inside the lodge throughout the evening and, as the lodge gardens and stables are not as yet fully staffed, she says there is ample room for your men to bed down underneath a roof, without the worry of setting up camp in these awful conditions. Henri will show you the way.' With that, the man turned abruptly and disappeared behind a green baize doorway into the bowels of the lodge, leaving a relieved Treville with the young footman, Henri.

'Captain, if you please, this way.' The young man led Treville out into the foul weather and toward a large wooden structure where the stables were still being given the final touches. 'This large building is where the men have been living and working for the duration of the building work. It is due to be demolished over the next few months, but it will be dry, and warmer than a tent.' The young man grinned. 'Food preparation is underway, and warm soup will be bought out to you within the hour.' He bowed low and scurried away.

Treville passed the welcome news on to the men, who quickly moved their belongings inside the large structure and began to light the abandoned braziers.

'Aramis, Athos, Porthos, over here.' Treville eyed the three men, all of them capable and reliable – his best. However, for the first time he was not wholly sure whether they were the right choice for the job he was about to give them and, even more disconcerting, he could not fathom why he had doubts. He was hoping their reactions might help him to make sense of the alarm bells that were ringing quietly in the back of his mind –maybe then he might know how to act upon his intuition.

'The King has requested a presence inside the lodge, I think he is thinking of Montmorency, killed in the middle of a ball at Rambouillet. You three and Renier are to spend the night inside – take it in turns, and be vigilant; many of these staff are new and do not have the benefit of being tried and tested with the King in residence. I do not like where the lodge is situated – I fear there could be far more than game lurking in those dense forests.

Porthos grinned. 'Perhaps if they spill 'is soup in 'is lap, we can all go 'ome!' Treville smiled.

'I do not think we will be that lucky, and I would not wish that upon a poor footman.' Porthos nodded at the Captain's comment; the King's temper tantrums were indeed legendary, and he too would have felt sorry for the poor fool who marked the King's person. The five men left the warmth of the large barn and hurried through the strengthening storm.

The wind was bending the new saplings over at tortuous angles, and the sound of the rustling forest made it appear all the more violent. Rain poured and bounced back off the ground with the same vigour, and the once distant thunder was now almost overhead. The men had to shout to make each other heard as Treville directed them toward the servants' entrance. It was going to be quite a night, not to mention what state the roads would be in come the morrow.

Once they were out of the storm, the silence in the lodge was deafening. The head of household emerged once again, like a ghost from an almost invisible doorway. Aramis pulled his pistol on the man, and for a second the servant's mask of quiet confidence slipped.

'My apologies, Monsieur, I was not aware there was an entrance in that wall. 'Aramis held up his hands to show he meant the man no harm.

The man raised a brow to cover his lapse and cleared his throat. 'Musketeers, I presume. I am Duval, the King's head of household at Versailles. I have been informed that you are to maintain a presence in the lodge throughout the stay. I presume, as the King's regiment, that is something you are used to. However, most of the staff are new to their posts, and having the King present is making them nervous enough, so I would therefore prevail upon you to try not to shoot any of them in error.' The men smiled, even Athos, and it was the swordsman who addressed the man.

'I am Athos. May I ask if there are many such secreted doorways in the lodge? It may be useful to know if we are to maintain the welfare of your staff.' He gave the man a sardonic smile, and finally received one from Duval himself.

'I see your point, Monsieur Athos. Indeed, the King found the idea amusing when it was first shown to him and most of the rooms have doorways such as this. In the bedrooms they simply lead to dressing rooms, but in the main salons some of them hide passageways for the staff to move about the lodge so that they may go about their daily business without disturbing the guests.' Athos frowned at the news, his brow creased in thought.

'Who would know about such passageways, other than your staff and the King?' Athos did not want to put words into Duval's mouth, but he had a good idea of the reply. The man considered the question before he answered.

'I could not rightly say. The architect, of course, and I suppose if anyone had discussed the plans with the King it would be his First Minister.'

'Thank you, we appreciate your staff's endeavours to be discreet, but I fear we need to avoid use of such entrances for the duration of the King's stay. I will, of course, ensure His Majesty understands why it is necessary.'

Duval bowed. 'I can see the sense in your suggestion, Monsieur Athos. Perhaps you could reassure the King that by the time he visits again the staff will be more experienced and…'

Athos completed the sentence for him. 'More known to you.'

Duval smiled. 'Precisely. You have been allotted a room, gentlemen; I am sorry if it sounds frugal, but the lodge was never really intended for such a gathering as this. I have also been reassured that you will not all need to avail yourself of the room at the same time. Someone will find you and show you the way. All of the guests are currently in their apartments, I will see you have a list, if that will help?'

'That will be most useful, thank you.' Aramis answered this time, as Athos appeared deep in thought and was no longer listening. Duval bowed and exited through the secret doorway, closing it behind him, leaving a wall with very little sign of the opening's existence.

Once the man was gone, Aramis spoke. 'What is wrong?'

Athos looked at the marksman and frowned, and it was Porthos who answered. 'He is pondering what idiot suggested secret doorways to a man whose life is regularly under threat from one source or another.' He eyed Athos, who gave the big man a smile of surprise.

'I had no idea mind-reading was part of your skill set, my friend, but you are correct, I would very much like to know who pointed out such a ridiculous feature. I doubt even the Cardinal would have initiated such a thing, though I do not doubt he would not hesitate in exploiting it.'

For the next hour, they familiarised themselves with the layout of the lodge, grateful for its diminutive stature in comparison to most of the Royal households. Apart from the secret doorways, the lodge was fairly simple in its construction on the ground floor and, as such, it would not be difficult to keep watch. There was only one way down from each floor, that being the main staircase. Only the King, possibly Richelieu and, of course, anyone working for the First Minister, would know of the existence of the false doorways. If Richelieu knew, then Athos had a pretty good idea who else would know.

The party were beginning to gather in the Blue Saloon, ready for dinner. The King and Queen would be last to arrive, and Reinier was stationed outside the apartments to guide them down. Athos, Aramis and Porthos stood guard at the major points along the way. The atmosphere was tense, and the raging storm did not help. Rain slammed against the windows and thunder continued to explode above their heads, flames guttering in the sconces on the wall, as the strong draughts caught hold of them, making them fight to stay alight.

Female laughter broke out upon the main stairway and Athos and Aramis stood to attention. Two women passed between them nodding a greeting and then giggling as they whispered behind their hands. Aramis smiled and bowed low, then shrugged his shoulders at Athos, who simply rolled his eyes. Behind them were four more, and Aramis realised Milady de Winter was one of them and turned his attention to Athos. The man looked directly ahead, his face an unreadable mask. As the women drew closer, one of them, Lady Suzanne, turned her attention to the swordsman and began to walk in his direction, a confident smile upon her face. What happened next was somewhat unclear. Angeline, the lady with the twisted ankle, stumbled once again, managing somehow to step on the back of Suzanne's dress, resulting in the sound of rending fabric. Aramis rushed forward, mainly to prevent the irate Suzanne from doing the timid Angeline bodily harm. Whilst this unfolded, out of the corner of his eye he noted Milady take Athos' arm, albeit somewhat reluctantly on his behalf, and walk away from the chaos, and he strongly suspected she had somehow orchestrated the whole event.

'My my, such a lot of fuss over a ghastly dress, it was not even her colour. But then, what would be?' she purred as they walked toward the door to the salon.

'What do you want?' Athos hissed. She looked up at him, head tilted at a slight angle, lips parted.

'Why husband, what makes you think I want something?' She stroked his arm and, despite the leather between her hand and the flesh of his arm, both of them felt the jolt of electricity.

'Is this your idea of punishment?' Athos murmured, as they paused before the doorway. She smiled once again.

'Well, they do say you can kill with kindness.' She raised a perfect brow in askance.

'I would rather you stabbed me in the back,' Athos replied, his voice arrogant and aloof. She tried hard not to let his demeanour affect her, but inevitably it did.

'Do not think I have ruled that out, either.' She trailed her hand down his arm and over his hand, Athos now wishing he had not removed his gloves, as the touch of her fingers sent a spasm of need coursing through his treacherous body. The smug smile on her face flickered for a moment, before she tossed her head and turned her back, the swish of silk the only sound as she passed through the doorway and out of sight.

Angeline and one other lady passed close behind her, and Athos was left alone in the passageway with Aramis. Reluctantly he turned, hoping to find the marksman oblivious, but the look on Aramis' face sent a bolt of uncertainty through Athos. He knew, of that he was sure.

'We need to talk, mon ami.' Aramis spoke quietly, his face showing no anger or judgement. Athos wanted to refuse, to walk away and hide in the shadows, but he knew Aramis was nothing if not persistent. And then there was Porthos – if the big Musketeer knew, there would be no place for him to hide. The swordsman dipped his head and veered away from the doorway, leaving the laughter and the chatter behind him. It seemed luck was on his side, for at that moment, Reinier and Treville descended the stairs, walking discreetly behind the King and Queen. Aramis and Athos straightened and stepped against the wall as the party passed and, as they drew level, the King paused.

'My head of household has informed me you have instructed my staff not to use the passageways for the duration of my stay, Monsieur Athos.' Aramis' heart stuttered for a moment and his mouth went dry.

Athos looked at the King and, in his most noble manner, replied: 'I was concerned for their safety, Your Highness. With so many armed men on the premises, I foresaw the possibility of an unfortunate incident, not to mention the ability for Your Highness's own safety to be compromised. I apologise if I was too forward, Sire.' Athos bowed low before the monarch, but when he lifted his head the King was smiling.

'Very foresighted of you Athos. Once again, I am glad you are with us.' With that, he moved on and left a stunned Aramis and a slightly bemused Athos in his wake. Treville walked past and winked at Athos, causing the swordsman to give one of his infrequent smiles. Aramis watched and revelled in the moment, realising they were far too rare. Athos looked up and caught Aramis' eye, the smile instantly fading, and the blank defences dropping back into place, as effective as any portcullis.

With the royal party now present, the entire company went into dinner. Once they were finally seated, the Musketeer guard retired to the corridor outside; Rienier and Porthos took the only doorway and Athos and Aramis went to seek refreshment, before they were due to take over at the end of the meal.

'Do not think I do not know why you have paired yourself with me, and be assured that I have nothing to discuss,' Athos drawled, as the pair walked off toward the kitchens.

Aramis eyed the stoic man and said nothing for a several moments. 'I have never attempted to pry into your life, Athos, I have always simply waited and listened when you needed and ear. But I am concerned, and I suspect you know why. I am not a fool, Athos, I have eyes in my head, and I can read the signs when they are so clearly laid out before me. But I would still rather hear it from you without the necessity for questions.' He stopped and made Athos look him in the face. 'I fear this will only get worse before it gets better. I am concerned for you my friend.' He placed a hand on Athos' shoulder and silently beseeched him to disclose what he already suspected to be true.

Athos sighed and dipped his head in surrender. Perhaps it would be for the best to explain to Aramis and Porthos; after all, he had no idea why Richelieu had insisted she join the party, and perhaps three pairs of eyes would be needed after all. Aramis witnessed the battle going on within his friend's head, and recognised the moment when his will had finally surrendered.

'Let us find a drink and somewhere quiet where we can talk.' Athos nodded and the two men walked in silence to the kitchens. Their appearance caused quite a stir in the already manic kitchen, most of the young maids either shrieking in fear, or giggling, and it was left to a rather stern and well-proportioned cook to bring about some order as she glared at the intruders.

Aramis immediately went into charm mode and bowed low before the outraged woman. 'Madame, I do apologise for the intrusion, but we were hoping we could acquire some refreshment, if you could spare a moment.' He gave the woman one of his best smiles, and Athos could not help but smile too, as the woman folded beneath the weight of the marksman's charisma.

'I am not sure if what you have should be bottled or declared unnatural,' Athos whispered to his friend. 'If you were female, you would probably have been burnt at the stake.' Athos gave the woman a smile and bowed his thanks as he gratefully accepted the cup, she offered him.

The two men exited the kitchen and headed back to the main house. When they reached the dining room Porthos indicated all was well, and Aramis nodded toward the now empty blue parlour.

'Shall we?' Athos glared, but walked before him into the quiet room, and Aramis and Porthos exchanged a knowing look as Aramis closed the door behind them. Athos had walked over to the window where, night having now fallen, there was little to be seen beyond the rain cascading down the glass. Thunder still rumbled, though it was now further away, lightning still lit the room every now and again, giving it a slightly unearthly quality. Aramis walked over to stand beside his friend but said nothing.

'How did you know?' Athos asked quietly.

Aramis decided the truth would be the least painful. 'I smelt her perfume.' He held his breath, not knowing if his interpretation of the question had been correct, or whether they were talking at cross-purposes. When Athos sighed and looked into his cup, Aramis' heart sank – he had been right, but he took no pleasure from it.

Athos spoke quietly. 'I should have anticipated such a thing. I am sorry, I underestimated you, my friend.' Aramis shrugged his shoulders.

'There was the letter that had you so upset, not to mention your midnight meeting, which we will say no more of. Then, of course, in the palace only yesterday, you were almost as distressed as those poor horses you tormented. Even I can add up such obvious clues, and that is without her interesting manoeuvre this evening before dinner. What does she want Athos?'

Athos frowned. 'I do not know. Revenge, maybe? My demise?' He shrugged, and his pained confusion struck deep in Aramis' soul.

'Is that all? How did she come to be part of the Queen's retinue?' The marksman looked to Athos for answers, leaving him no choice but to explain.

'She is working for the Cardinal. She is his creature, employed to do his bidding. It was he who arranged for her to accompany the Queen, and even she does not know why, though she fears his interest in our relationship is dangerous.' Athos could not bear to acknowledge the depth of her relationship with the First Minister; call it honour, call it pride, but he could not bear to say the word mistress out loud.

Aramis was appalled, 'Why?'

Athos shook his head. 'I do not know,' he acknowledged quietly.

'There is more, Athos, I have seen her before. She was at the ball in Rambouillet, I noticed her across the room. She is a beautiful woman.'

Athos flinched. 'I smelt her perfume in the room when we found Montmorency.' He looked at Aramis. 'You said you smelt nothing.' There it was, Aramis blushed and hung his head.

'I am sorry, my friend, I did not understand, I thought it was for the best. I was trying to help; I have been trying to find a way to apologise ever since.' He gazed with saddened eyes at the shocked man before him. Athos finally nodded in understanding.

'It is alright, I understand why you said what you did, but you do realise, she may well have been the murderer?' Athos looked at Aramis who frowned in surprise, as if the possibility was the last thing he had considered.

'You believe she could have killed the man, just like that?' Athos paled, and leant his forehead against the cold glass.

'Oh, indeed she could, and it would not be the first time.' He whispered his reply as though he were speaking to the night, rather than the man standing next to him, his breath against the window the only sign his words had been uttered. But still Aramis gasped. He placed his hand upon his friends' back, horrified by the confession, horrified that the woman was amongst them, horrified that they had no way of knowing her agenda. Richelieu may have bought her to carry out some weird and perverse plan, but Aramis had no doubt that the woman was also hatching a plan of her own.