For Whom The Bells Toll – Chapter 4
After gaining admittance to the palace grounds, the four men headed through the gardens to the portico leading to the First Minister's offices. As they approached the building, two guards on duty at the entrance stepped forward, barring their way.
"What business do you have with the First Minister, Musketeers?" The guard spat the last word as if it left a foul taste on his tongue.
Athos stepped forward, his eyes level with the guard's, his voice ringing with authority.
"I am Athos. We are here to report our findings on Cardinal Richelieu's untimely death. We are expected."
The guard sniffed and took a step back, cowed momentarily by the former Comte's confidence and poise.
"You alone may enter," he said, looking down his nose with self-important bravado. "The others will remain here."
Before his companions could object, Athos nodded his agreement and with a slight wave of his hand, ordered the others to comply. Without another word, he followed the guard into the building, stopping at the doorway to the Cardinal's office and waiting expectantly until the guard reluctantly opened it for him, granting him entrance.
As he stepped inside, he was met by the sight of a tall, thin man of about 50 years of age, leaning over the desk, studying one of the many scrolls scattered across the wooden surface. Mazarin's graying hair brushed his shoulders as he stroked his well-trimmed beard in concentration. Wrapped in a regal looking red robe with a skull-cap of matching color on his head, he looked up as the door closed behind the Musketeer and gave the new arrival a wide grin that, Athos noted, failed to meet his dark eyes.
"Ahhh, welcome my good fellow. You must be Athos, of the King's Musketeers. Captain Tréville said to be expecting you." He stepped around the large desk with a flourish and approached the younger man, his right arm extended, palm down as if expecting the Musketeer to bow down and kiss his hand like royalty.
"Your Emminence," Athos bowed , his eyes level with the Cardinal's, refusing to give the man the obeisance he obviously expected. Despite his decision to cooperate with the new Cardinal, he found himself taking an instant dislike to the man, sensing the shrewd air of cunning Tréville had alluded to. It was nothing he could put into words, but he felt the same sense of malevolence he had felt when in the presence of Cardinal Richelieu, and that was enough to make him wary of the man. He was content to see a flicker of annoyance momentarily cross Mazarin's face.
Returning Athos' bow, Mazarin quickly turned and made his way back to the desk, waving a hand at a chair, silently inviting the Musketeer to sit.
Athos considered complying. He didn't wish to completely alienate the man who would have the ear of the King, despite his instincts – and those of his Captain – telling him it was but a mute point at best, but the shrewd smile on Mazarin's face stayed his capitulation. He felt as if the Cardinal were testing him, calculating how far he could be pushed, how difficult he would be to manipulate. He tilted his head in appreciation of the offer, but remained standing at attention.
"I have been ordered by the Captain to turn over the investigation into Cardinal Richelieu's death to you. If it would suit your Eminence, I will report our findings so that you may continue the inquiry to your own satisfaction."
Mazarin took a seat behind the desk and nodded, his eyes narrowing as he assessed Athos' coolly. "By all means, please begin."
Athos nodded and took a step forward, placing himself halfway between the desk and the door. "The dagger that was used to kill the Cardinal was traced to a merchant on Rue Saint-Germaine. The cutler himself sold the dagger to a woman –"
A clash of steel from outside interrupted and he frowned as the sound was followed by the familiar call of Aramis' strained voice.
"Athos!"
mmmmmmmmmmmmm
As soon as Athos disappeared through the archway to the palace, Porthos turned to his friends, a worried expression on his face. "This doesn't bode well."
Aramis shrugged and took a step past Porthos' large frame, his eyes taking in the remaining guard who was nervously glancing up and down the portico. "Perhaps the new Cardinal simply prefers to avoid a crowd?" he offered. A small contingency of Red Guards who were making their way toward them from the far end of the walkway stole his attention. "Or perhaps not."
There were five soldiers approaching, the rapid clomping of boots on stone catching the attention of the other two Musketeers. Porthos and d'Artagnan turned, stepping abreast of Aramis as the group of soldiers drew near, muskets and swords at the ready.
"Easy, now," Porthos cautioned. "Let's see what they want first." He had seen d'Artagnan's hand reach for his rapier out of the corner of his eye and let his own hand drift to the younger man's arm in silent caution.
"Stand down," the leader of the guard ordered as the men formed a line in front of them. "We are here to apprehend the Musketeer known as Aramis."
Without a word, Porthos took two large steps to his right, instinctively feeling d'Artagnan step forward so that Aramis was now safely positioned behind and between them.
"By whose authority?" His hand wrapped around the hilt of his schiavona and he crouched slightly in anticipation, allowing his head to dip and his eyes to challenge the guard.
The leader of the guard swallowed hard at the formidable stance of the men before him, but held his ground.
"By order of Cardinal Mazarin."
Aramis, momentarily stunned at hearing the orders, had allowed his brothers to step forward in his defense, but now slowly advanced, bringing himself alongside Porthos and d'Artagnan. "On what charge?" he asked, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart in his chest.
Had Mazarin somehow discovered his liaison with the Queen? Was Anne also in danger?
The child?
"He is wanted for questioning in the death of Cardinal Richelieu," the man responded.
Aramis let out the breath he'd been holding, almost dizzy in relief. Although being arrested for murder was little better than treason, at least this was something they could fight without having to worry about Anne or the child also being in peril.
He placed a hand on Porthos' shoulder and squeezed, a slight dip of the big man's head telling him he understood his relief that they need not fear the worst.
Aramis returned his attention to the leader of the Red Guard, watching as the man took a few deep breaths, obviously trying to summon the courage to execute his orders. The animosity between the Red Guard and the Musketeers was well known, and although the soldiers of the guard were publicly defiant, it was no secret that the Musketeers were the better fighters, only losing to the Red Guard in skirmishes where they were vastly outnumbered. Five to three were generally not good odds for the guards. Finally, the man raised his head and looked down his nose courageously. "You will stand down and allow us to take Aramis into custody."
Raising his sword, the man pointed it toward the Spaniard, causing Porthos and d'Artagnan to draw their own blades at the implied threat to their friend.
"Not bloody likely," Porthos growled with a firm shake of his head. He shoved Aramis back behind him and raised his schiavona, the tip of the broad blade sliding against the point of the guard's rapier. "You'll have to go through me first."
"This is not the way, Porthos," Aramis chided as he stepped behind and to Porthos' right, coming into line with his friends. "Dueling is illegal. I'm sure it is especially frowned upon on palace grounds."
"Then maybe we should just dispense with the dueling and kill them outright."
Aramis smiled at the glee in his friend's voice. "Unfortunately, we would likely end up having to clean the mess. You know how much d'Artagnan hates bloodstains."
Porthos chuckled, glancing over at the young Gascon who returned his grin. "The man has a point, Porthos. Of course, I don't see another alternative."
The Red Guard soldiers, growing impatient, moved forward, spreading out to challenge the Musketeers. The leader of the guard lunged, his blade colliding with Porthos' in a loud clash of steel.
Aramis sighed. "I'm afraid we may need another opinion." With a shake of his head, he took a deep breath and shouted, "Athos!"
Mmmmmmmmmmmmm
The guard on the end of the line lunged toward Aramis who gracefully stepped to the side, allowing the man's momentum to carry him straight past the Musketeers. As he stumbled by, the Spaniard stuck out a foot, catching the guard around the ankle, sending him tumbling face first into a bed of flowering plants on the edge of the walkway.
With a satisfied grin, the marksman pivoted in time to see Porthos riposte then twist his wrist, forcing the sword to fly from the guard leader's hand. The big Musketeer took a step and swung his left fist into his opponent's face. Blood spurted from his nose and the man dropped like a stone. Porthos glanced up and caught the smile on Aramis' face, returning a gleeful look of his own before raising his schiavona to meet the challenge of one of the other guards.
On the far side of Porthos, Aramis caught sight of d'Artagnan dancing around another Red Guard soldier, an expression of sheer delight on his youthful face. Outmatched by the Gascon and knowing it, the guard backed away, his blade held high, desperately trying to parry the skillful thrusts.
"Enough!"
Athos' command carried across the walkway and all three Musketeers disengaged immediately, keeping their swords en guard and pointed at the soldiers. The man Aramis had dropped scrambled to his feet and scampered around them, coming to join his comrades, seething in anger.
"What is the meaning of this?" Athos approached the contingency of soldiers, his eyes flashing as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his friends. Mazarin had followed him from the palace and now stood under the portico, quiet, observing Athos take command of the situation.
"We were following orders." The leader of the Red Guard stepped forward. Breathing hard, his face flushed; his gaze swept the Musketeers with disdain.
"I cannot conceive of any order where battling on palace grounds would be encouraged."
The guardsman bristled at the thinly veiled reprimand.
"We were ordered to arrest the Musketeer Aramis and hold him for questioning in the death of Cardinal Richelieu," the man stated. He lifted his arm and pointed to Porthos and d'Artagnan in turn. "These two miscreants tried to impede us."
"Ordered? By whom?" Athos ignored Porthos' low growl of protest at the insult.
"By me." Cardinal Mazarin stepped forward, his arms crossed beneath his robe, his shoulders back, his head cocked in an air of superiority.
Athos turned to face France's new First Minister, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "On what grounds did you issue this order?"
Before the Cardinal could respond, the sounds of approaching footsteps echoed from the walls, and the soldiers turned to see King Louis and Queen Anne, followed by their courtiers, striding down the portico toward them. As the royal couple approached, they recognized the look of alarm on the face of the Queen as well as the scowl covering the countenance of the King.
"What is this?" Louis called out as they came to a stop on the walkway. "Sheathe your weapons! There will be no hostility in my home!"
The soldiers quickly complied, bowing as the King and Queen stepped to the edge of the portico to face their subjects. Louis' angry glare came to a rest on Athos.
"You are the one they call Athos, is this correct?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Athos rose and stepped forward to address the Sovereign, bowing his head in contrition. "My humble apologies for any distress my men may have caused."
Louis scanned the men assembled before him, recognition flashing across his face as he glanced at the Musketeers before returning his attention to Athos and Cardinal Mazarin who had stepped forward to join them.
"I'm sure you have an explanation for this travesty?"
"I believe it was of my doing," Mazarin interrupted. "My guards were following my instructions to apprehend the Musketeer Aramis for questioning, Your Highness. I'm afraid they were a bit too enthusiastic and the man's associates took offence."
"Apprehend Aramis?" The Queen's soft voice held a hint of reproach. She placed a hand on her husband's arm, her eyes holding Mazarin's. "Why on earth would you order your men to arrest so loyal a Musketeer, Cardinal? Monsieur Aramis has risked his life for the crown on many occasions. Both the King and I hold him in the highest regard."
Aramis lowered his head to hide the expression of fondness he knew was written on his face. His appreciation of the Queen's confidence in him warmed him and he longed to hold her and tell her how much he cherished her profound faith in him. Instead, he schooled his face and raised his eyes, tilting his head in a chivalrous display of gratitude.
She smiled graciously in return.
"I do not make this accusation pointlessly, Your Majesty. I'm afraid there is evidence implicating your steadfast champion," Mazarin responded. His mouth lifted in a contemptuous grin as his gaze shifted from the Queen to the Musketeer, and Aramis' breath caught in his throat, praying the glint of suspicion he imagined he saw in the Cardinal's dark eyes was borne of his own anxiety rather than any physical tell he or Anne may have revealed.
Mazarin's scrutiny had not gone unnoticed and Athos stepped in front of Aramis, effectively cutting off the Cardinal's line of sight.
"You spoke of evidence?" he intoned, successfully diverting attention away from the younger man.
Mazarin nodded. "It has come to my attention the dagger used to brutally murder my friend and predecessor belonged to none other than your Musketeer."
Athos eyes narrowed at the pronouncement and he held up a hand for quiet before any of his brothers could respond.
"And where did you learn of this development, if I may inquire?"
Mazarin spread his hands before him and smiled, defying Athos to counter the accusation. "Do you deny the allegation?" the First Minister asked, ignoring the Musketeer's question in favor of pressing his own agenda.
"Is this true?" Louis asked in shock.
Athos turned slightly, sharing a quick glance with Aramis, who nodded, giving his friend permission to handle the situation as he saw fit.
"We do not deny it." He turned to the King, his voice level as he continued. "The dagger did once belong to Aramis, but it has not been in his possession for many months. As I was about to report to the Cardinal before we were interrupted," he sent a looked of annoyance towards Porthos and d'Artagnan who both had the grace to look abashed. "I recognized the dagger when we were first called to investigate the Cardinal's death. When confronted, Aramis revealed he had traded the dagger to a cutler on Rue Saint-Germaine many months ago. The merchant remembered the transaction and who he subsequently sold the dagger to."
The King beamed at the Cardinal. "Ah, there, you see, Jules, a perfectly reasonable explanation." He seemed extremely pleased to have his Musketeer cleared and turned to his wife, patting the hand that still remained on his arm. "Fret not my dear, nothing to worry about."
Anne smiled at him, her relief obvious. It wasn't completely telling for the Queen to make a plea for a man who'd saved her life on numerous occasions, and Louis seemed to understand her need to champion her savior without suspecting anything amiss. For that, Aramis breathed a sigh of relief.
"You said the merchant remembered the man he sold the dagger to?"
"It was a woman, Sire."
Aramis noted Athos' gaze on Mazarin as he recounted the description they had gleaned from the cutler. The Cardinal's expression remained passive, but Aramis could see a touch of displeasure in his eyes.
"I'm sure you will be able to find this woman and bring her before the court." Louis' words were more of an order than a request. "I want justice served, Cardinal. Armand was very dear to me and I want you to stop at nothing to find his murderer. Consider this matter your first priority."
"As you wish, Your Majesty."
"I am escorting my wife to her chambers. When I return, I expect this…" he waved a hand toward the soldiers standing in the garden, "… to be resolved."
Mazarin bowed in acquiescence, stepping aside so the royal couple could continue down the walkway.
The rest of the men assembled bowed as they passed. Aramis lifted his gaze in time to catch Anne's eyes, a soft smile gracing her beautiful face, before they disappeared through an archway further down the portico.
"If you have no further need of us, Cardinal?"
Mazarin took a deep breath through his nose and glared at Athos, obviously angry that his orders had been overruled, but gave a sharp nod before turning and striding purposefully back into the palace. Without any objective directing them, the five members of the Red Guard reluctantly dispersed, leaving the four Musketeers alone in the garden.
"I guess we've got ourselves another enemy," Porthos noted as he relaxed his shoulders and stepped closer to his friends. He placed a hand on Aramis' shoulder, dipping his chin toward the arm the smaller man had wrapped protectively around his torso. Aramis smiled to let his friend know he was unharmed and Porthos accepted his affirmation. "He especially took a liking to you," the big man grinned. "You cuckholding him like you did Richelieu?"
Aramis snorted a laugh. "Porthos, please," he said indignantly. "I've just met the man. I wouldn't dream of sleeping with a man's mistress until I've gotten to know and despise him accordingly."
"It would seem the Queen has taken a liking to you as well," d'Artagnan chuckled. His attention was on the two remaining guards who had once again assumed their positions near the palace entrance, so he missed the identical looks of alarm his innocent words garnered. Aramis was barely able to choke off a grunt of surprise at the Gascon's comment.
Aramis sent a fleeting glance of apprehension to Porthos before shifting his gaze to Athos. The pointed look of displeasure from the older man made it obvious he had not missed the exchange between the other two seasoned Musketeers. Aramis sighed, shrugged a shoulder in contrition. It wasn't as if he'd ever been able to keep a secret from Porthos for long.
As Athos shook his head, reproach glinting in his eyes, Aramis was thankful he postponed chastising him for his obvious lack of judgment until d'Artagnan was no longer within earshot. There was no reason to put the young man's neck in a noose along side their own. He only hoped Athos would understand his decision to confess to Porthos. As difficult as it had been to admit his transgression to his friend, it had been even harder to hide it from him.
Luckily, Athos had more pressing matters to consider.
"I believe our new First Minister may be in league with Milady de Winter."
Three pairs of curious eyes turned to their leader at once.
"What makes you think that?" d'Artagnan inquired.
"Because he already knew about the dagger," Aramis speculated. He quickly considered the way Athos had reacted to the news of the Cardinal's order to have him arrested. Mazarin would not have learned of his connection to the weapon from Athos, so for the order to have been issued before they'd even arrived to report, the Cardinal would have had to have spoken with someone who knew the truth.
Porthos nodding, understanding. "The guards were ordered to be ready for us. Mazarin would've already had to know it was Aramis' dagger."
"And unless he was able to speak with every cutler in Paris in the short time since the Cardinal's death…." D'Artagnan finally caught on. "He could only have gotten that information from the person who purchased the dagger in the first place."
Athos nodded slowly. "Milady." He sighed, the sound sending a shiver down Aramis' spine. "Apparently, my wife has found a new patron."
"Then nothing has changed," Porthos spat.
Aramis shrugged, offering a more optimistic viewpoint. "We are no longer in the dark concerning her intentions." He glanced at Athos, a look of sympathy on his face. "And we are painfully aware of her objective. So we will not be so easy for her to manipulate again."
Porthos and d'Artagnan exchanged a glance then nodded in agreement.
"Her plan to frame Aramis has been foiled as is the Cardinal's hope to divide us." Athos laid a hand on Aramis' arm, smiling sadly. "That said, I do not believe we will have to deal with any more threats from either of them tonight." He straightened his shoulders and let his eyes meet his friends' one by one. Despite the knowledge Milady was still in Paris and still determined to bring about Athos' destruction, Aramis was pleased to note his friend's eyes lacked the despair that had resided in the blue depths before.
"Tonight," their leader allowed a grin to lift the side of his lips. "We drink."
TBC
