Sign of the Cross
By JeanTre16
Chapter 8
Pretty Maids All in a Row
Chapter Description: There are certain duties even a Musketeer shudders at.
As predicted, Duval spent a sleepless night pondering the matter of how Jacqueline was going to infiltrate Cardinal Mazarin's chamber. It would be a serious undertaking. The captain knew Mazarin would keep a careful watch on his feminine nemesis in the first place. That put a strain on setting up a diversion long enough for her to achieve her task. It was daybreak now and the tired Musketeer captain summoned his four trusted soldiers for an early morning discussion on their predicament.
At least two of the brothers-in-arms arriving for Duval's early office meeting shared the same concern as their captain. Amid tensions from their prior day's argument, the d'Artagnans' late night discussions left them feeling just as unresolved. They could not seem to agree on how she was going to pull off her multiple objectives at the palace. How was she to accompany the sisters, ask Louis about her necklace, discover Marie's motives, and search Mazarin's office? Her list entailed more than one person could possibly do. The more the couple talked about their present situation, the more it seemed their plan could benefit from at least one more female Musketeer.
Jacqueline took a seat on a wooden-backed chair before the captain's desk, while d'Artagnan stood behind her. Ramon's stomach growled as he strode in past his friends and took up a position near the office window. He gave the others a look of apology and stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth to satisfy him until breakfast. Siroc was the last to arrive. He gave his hair a quick combing with his hand and took the vantage point facing everyone from the opposite end of the room as Ramon. Apparently the man had come straight from his bed—no doubt he had kept late hours. Only his companions knew he most likely exhausted himself over some invention rather than expending himself over logistics. Their worry-worn leader paced behind his desk as he allowed them time to settle.
As their conversation made its rounds about the room, it seemed they quickly eliminated the more sensible courses of action. Before long, d'Artagnan let out a frustrated sigh as he leaned forward to grasp the back of Jacqueline's chair. Resting his weight on it, he began to think unconventionally. "Too bad we don't know how the chameleon altered his appearance to be all those people." He curiously recollected the time the thief from India had almost caused his captain's demise.
A disquieted Jacqueline turned to him and disapproved. "I'm not sure I'd want to know about the magic used behind that."
D'Artagnan shrugged in acknowledgment of her remark. He recalled her recently admitting how much their run in with this imitator had unnerved her. Holding a man at gunpoint with his identical personification was not only unsettling; but, it left her unsure if she could have gone through with the shooting, had it been necessary. Her encounter with this impersonator so soon after her invincible sword incident, gave her paranoia of killing the man she had just realized she cared for. Her fear stemmed from the vision she had during her momentary unconsciousness during her fight with the asylum escapee. The young husband knew first-hand that his wife still battled nightmares of somehow ultimately being responsible for his death. Aware his mention had acutely resurfaced her fears, he had no intention of feeding them; so he let the subject go.
Redirecting the conversation to all, d'Artagnan raised the question, "Does anyone else see a problem here or are we the only ones who've noticed? Jacqueline obviously can't be with Queen Anne and Ramon's Spanish sisters while she's looking into Mazarin's niece and slipping into the Cardinal's private office. She's going to need some assistance."
Uncrossing his arms, the inventor stepped forward and pointed at his female comrade. "If anything," Siroc agreed, "Jacqueline should be the diversion, while someone else slips in to investigate." His eyes shifted from the young woman and paused in turn on each occupant in the room, as if each were a mathematical variable being systematically substituted into their equation.
"But who?" Ramon threw up his hands in question and voiced their dead-ended predicament. "Rosa and her sisters will need to be present with the Queen. There's no way one of them could help."
Captain Duval had been pacing this whole time, assessing each suggestion or comment. "No, Ramon, even if they could, I would never ask it of them." He stopped his treading to address the Spaniard. "They wouldn't know what to look for in Mazarin's office and I would not want to be responsible for putting their lives in danger, should they be caught." Still pondering the subject, he added, "I do know, however, from my conversation with them yesterday that they share our mutual distrust of Cardinal Mazarin. They showed concern when I told them the Cardinal's niece was here in Paris. None of the sisters had a fix on Marie's character, but they were alarmed she was a courtier in the presence of France's young king."
"Amazing," d'Artagnan mused, "Mazarin's reputation precedes himself all the way from Spain." He let go of the back of Jacqueline's chair, regaining his posture and shot his captain a perturbed look.
"Indeed." Duval nodded in agreement. "But it also suggests that Rosalina and her sisters show some largeness when it comes to understanding the politics of royalty. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask them to keep their eyes and ears open for information on Mazarin's niece. Although," the captain emphasized, "I still don't want them dragged into this whole mess. They have enough troubles of their own."
"That's the problem," d'Artagnan exasperated, "We still don't know what it is that we're not dragging them into. As far as I see, we still don't have a way into the Cardinal's office." At this point the roguish man looked as though he would prefer marching directly into the palace and demanding his precarious list at sword-tip.
"That's just it," Jacqueline concurred with his statement, but frowned at his tone. Feeling the need to think the problem through out loud, she pushed on, "Captain, it has to be one of us. And it can't be me, so it has to be…one of you." The deducting woman looked around at d'Artagnan, Siroc and Ramon with a sudden realization. "We need one of you to go in there."
"Wait one minute." Duval waved his finger in cautioning. "You mustn't forget that Cardinal Mazarin knows all of you. If any of you went near his office, he would find out about it. We cannot afford to raise his suspicion of our search."
"But!" Jacqueline's expression hinted a developing mischievous idea. Her recent jog of memory with the invincible sword made her think of something else from her vision. She bit her tongue, realizing how much Siroc was going to hate her for her suggestion. Approaching the scientist, she examined him dubiously and dared, "Siroc, has anyone ever told you that you have a feminine jaw line?" Her accentuated use of the word feminine was adjoined by a d'Artagnanish raised brow.
After Siroc's initial shock, he noticed all the eyes fixed on him with no one coming to his defense. "Oh, no, no, no!" In sudden alarm he bolted for the door. The inventive man smelled a rat of a plan brewing in the mind of his female comrade. He was not going to stand around and be talked into it.
"Siroc!" Jacqueline jolted in pursuit, careening her weight against the door. "You're the only one available who understands Morin's work and what to look for." She was convinced her intuitive friend could make this work.
"But, I'm a man." Siroc fought her to grab the door latch. "I'd never pass as a woman."
"Just leave that to me," Jacqueline argued back, holding her ground. Then with squinted eyes and raised chin she quelled in piqued accusation, "Besides, wasn't it you who recently requested me to dress like Jacques Leponte, a man, when you were making plans to rat out the mole? I don't recall you asking how I felt about that first. You assumed I would do it for the good of the Musketeers. Are you saying now that it was fair to expect me to dress like a man, while it's not all right to expect you to dress like a woman?"
Noticing the other's gazes still fixed on the two of them with no one daring to intervene, Siroc felt himself being boxed into a corner. Even the captain, perhaps due to his inexperience in dealing with Jacqueline's feminine assertiveness, surprisingly looked unable to offer direction on this one. The faltering man stood alone. "I never suggested you take on the personification of Jacques in the first place."
"You're changing the subject." Jacqueline would not let up. "I had to in order to do my job. Consider this part of your duty to the Musketeers."
"Gee," the outmoded man squeaked. Still noticing none of his male companions coming to his aid, he managed in a nervous high-pitched voice, "You're all true friends."
"Friend?" Jacqueline pressingly reminded him, "Consider us even then for all the torture you just put me through with your medical treatments and therapies."
"Torture?" Siroc looked like a wounded puppy. "I kept you from seeing that quack at the palace. Not to mention, my treating you kept you from being discovered." The young medic-to-boot knew that if the palace physician had treated Madame d'Artagnan after her acquittal, he would have discovered scars possibly leading to her alias as Jacques Leponte.
"Which brings us right back to our need," Jacqueline confidently landed her point. "In order for you not to be discovered, we need you to be in disguise."
Siroc closed his eyes and shook his head. Slowly, he saw his argument weakening and his avenues of escape vanishing.
"Siroc," Captain Duval eventually found his voice, "As much as this highly unethical notion smells of potential treason, I believe it just might work." The captain's face shone with a light of encouragement he had not displayed since they were first faced with this dilemma. Then facing his reluctant volunteer, he sobered, "If we didn't need that information so badly, Siroc, I'd wait until we could come up with another solution. But we don't have that luxury. We have the opportunity now, we have a diversion, and we cannot allow the situation with Marie to progress unchecked."
"Face it, Siroc," an amused d'Artagnan sarcastically ventured. "Your corset's as good as tied. It's pointless to argue with Jacqueline. And it looks like the captain's made up his mind. Besides, I kind of like the idea…Sophia," he teased, smirking.
The blond-haired scientist resigned his fix on the exit with a look of dread. "Why do I feel I'm going to live to regret this?" Looking at d'Artagnan and Ramon, he solemnly requested, "Remind me to grow a full beard if I survive this misadventure."
"One more question." Ramon looked at everyone, still unsettled. In truth, during the whole conversation, the Spaniard's thoughts were preoccupied with how three of the genuine women attending today's palace outing were going to figure into their plan. "What about Rosa and her sisters? What do we tell them?"
"I don't think it wise to keep Siroc's identity concealed from them. They're bound to figure it out, and they'd want to know why," D'Artagnan admitted. "But how much do we tell them?"
"Captain," Jacqueline once again asserted herself, "you did say they detested Mazarin and that you trusted their judgment. Maybe they could help me with Siroc's transformation. Four women are bound to do an adequate job on one man."
After a moment of consideration, the captain conceded, "All right." He knew he was subjecting his young impersonator to more humiliation; yet he knew they also could use every advantage to pull this off. "You may let them in on Siroc's guise. Tell them he seeks critical information in interest of the king in regards to Marie, but you may not tell them anything more. Is that clear?"
The captain's final order was met with four, "Yes, Sirs!"
oooooooo
For breakfast the four Musketeers made their way over to the d'Artagnans' apartment where Rosa, Dora and Maria promised a Spanish home cooked meal. The sisters were staying at the apartment temporarily until further plans could be made certain. After their meeting with the Queen today, they hoped to be along their way. For now, the gracious women gladly reciprocated the d'Artagnans' hospitality with their own culinary talents.
"This is excellent," d'Artagnan complimented after his first bite. "What is it?"
"Tortilla Paisana," Ramon answered for the sisters between mouthfuls of his own. Raising his fork in emphasis, he listed, "Eggs, peppers, onions, ham, and spices."
"Oh, Ramon." Rosa laughed. "I can see you're a connoisseur of the culinary arts. You are enjoying your meal, no?"
"Mmm, Senorita." Ramon conveyed his satisfaction. "It has been some time since I've tasted such fine cooking. Bueno."
"Gracias." Rosa blushed.
Immediately the other Musketeers caught on to the attraction shared between Ramon and Rosa, but said nothing. They noticed their mutual attentiveness yesterday, but thought it merely shared heritage. This morning it was unmistakable that their Spanish friend was falling for this vivacious woman. Of course, the younger house-guests had noticed from the start, but kept their teasing to themselves.
This was the first time all four brothers-in-arms had spent any real time with the three sisters from Spain. As for the male Musketeers, they found their new company invigorating and a pleasure. Other than Ramon and Rosa's attraction to one another, the close friendship the soldiers had built with Jacqueline over their short history made the addition of the three sisters feel like more of the same.
As their meal was finished over discussion of palace plans, Jacqueline took further notice that while Rosa was the eldest and undoubtedly the most forthright of the three, the other two also showed strong personalities as well. Dora, though more reserved than her sisters, showed a depth of intelligence. If she could compare the woman to one of her own companions, it would have to be Siroc. In conversation, Dora took longer to open up, but when she spoke, it became evident of her vast education and ability to apply the voice of reason. Maria, Jacqueline thought, could not have been more than sixteen. She was, young, but also portrayed a strong thread of courage and maturity in her mannerisms. Jacqueline doubted that the three of them would have gotten far without all of their wits added together. They were three uncommonly strong women. It proved to be refreshing for the female Musketeer to be in the company of such women.
It was Jacqueline who dared the question, "How did the three of you grow up so strong in such a male dominated world?" Her admiration of these women shone obviously on her face.
Rosa's eyes momentarily betrayed a history she seldom spoke. She soberly replied, "Castile is a rough place these days, even for ladies." As quickly as she had let her guard slip, she recovered her cheerfulness. "But, I cannot complain. Here we are in such a place. God has been good." Looking at Jacqueline, Rosa gestured at her happy surroundings and smiled contagiously.
Ramon's eyes quietly followed this beautiful olive complexioned woman and silently admitted his liking her. He saw Rosa's pleasantly assertive behavior as a love for life, and it showed in how even the smallest of details did not slip unnoticed by her. A simple morning meal became a festive event. From a full spread of food to a bouquet of flowers on the table, this lovely woman from his homeland took charge and warmed the atmosphere. It made his heart feel full. He liked her. In fact, he confessed to liking her very much.
"Let's get started on our make over for Siroc," d'Artagnan chided, pushing his empty platter forward on the table. "This I've got to see," he directed at a distant looking Ramon as he stood up from his seat. Three men had walked into his living quarters this morning, but they would be the only two to walk out.
D'Artagnan's interjection had its desired result, his comrade's eyes drifted back toward their upcoming artistic challenge. The poet had difficulties conceptualizing his masculine Musketeer friend posing as a woman. Reflexively he turned to Rosa to ask her opinion, "What do you think? Do you believe we can transform this humble looking man into a gorgeous senorita?"
Rosa gave the blond-haired man a hard look, while her sisters looked on entertainingly. "With a wig, a little make up and the right dress, you'd be amazed what even an unattractive woman could pull off." Finishing her survey she chortled, "I've seen worse."
Siroc did not like being the center of this kind of attention. "Could we just get on with this." He gestured to Jacqueline. "After all, this was your brilliant idea."
Jacqueline put a hand over her mouth to hide her own fit of laughter and walked off. She went over to the changing screen on the secluded side of the room to grab one of the dresses Siroc added hidden pockets to. Suddenly a hand grasped her mouth and strong arms pulled her body behind the screen. She found herself face to face with a mischievous looking d'Artagnan who had slipped off unnoticed while everyone's attention had been on Siroc. He released her mouth as soon as she saw it was him.
"What are you doing?" Jacqueline scolded in a harsh whisper, obviously not sharing her husband's amusement at startling her.
"Trying to have a few private moments alone with my wife?" D'Artagnan smiled and pulled her close to kiss her teasingly. "I miss you. We never made up properly from the other day." He had thought of little else than making things right with her after their harsh words to one another. Nothing, not even their difficulties with her role as a Musketeer would quench his love for her. He wanted her to know that before she went into that palace today. Their careers were just too dangerous to leave important things unsaid. "I love you," he whispered in her ear.
"Oh yes," Jacqueline tilted her head back, smiling. She found herself distractingly sensed by his affection. "I love you and I've missed you too. But, this is hardly the place or time for this." Then resisting mildly she reasoned, "What would the others say if they found us back here like this?"
Largely ignoring her concern, he answered, "They might suspect we're young—" he caressed her cheek "—in love—" he kissed her softly "—and not to mention married." He really did not care what they thought. All he wanted was Jacqueline.
"Jacqueline?" Rosa's searching call piercingly interrupted the young couple's moment of intimacy. "Are you in here somewhere?"
"I'm over here," Jacqueline answered, trying to regain her composure. "I'm…looking for something. I'll be right with you," she covered. Then noticing her husband still held her tightly in his grip, she nudged him back to his senses. "D'Artagnan, you can let go of me now."
Realizing his arms were still around her waist, he recalled the first time he held her...well, not technically. They had been tied together in ropes. But he recalled how he had forgotten himself in her captivating hold on him. She had pegged his behavior as flippant. And since that time, he schemed every possible way to place her in his arms again. Later, in his jealousy over thinking she was after another man, heightened by the situation looking so much like her rendezvous with the king of England, he foolishly drank a love potion in attempt to break down her resistance to his advances. To his surprise, he discovered she held his noble character in high esteem. Her confession made him realize her love would not be won cheaply, and that he wanted to win it for more than just one night. And he eventually had, but he was still d'Artagnan. Coming through to his senses, he let her go with a smirk. "It's a good thing I'm on the noble side of my flippant character right now or I might demand you stay here with me."
Jacqueline decidedly grabbed a burgundy dress and shook her head, smiling as she left. "D'Artagnan, you sure know how to ruin a moment." How incorrigible this man she loved could be.
oooooooo
Before long, the four women and one man were dressed and nearly ready to leave for the palace. Dressed as a woman, but with the voice of a man, Siroc briefly walked Jacqueline through the armory and other gadgets he prepared for today's expedition. Mid-explanation, he drifted from his demonstration to notice all eyes in the room watching him with alarm. "What?" he asked.
"Do us a favor." D'Artagnan slapped the femininely dressed man on the arm. "Don't say a word if you don't have to. Let the ladies do all the talking."
"It's just not natural," a cringed faced Ramon added, "Perhaps if you had more practice imitating voices, but no, not the way you sound now. You'd surely blow your cover."
Appropriately so, sensibly quiet Dora spoke up. "Senor, we'll just say you're shy and don't like to talk."
Assessing their readiness, d'Artagnan clapped his hands together. "Well, it looks like you're set to go." Seeing four women and one man side by side in pomp, he playfully tagged in a sing-song voice, "…Pretty maids all in a row."
"What?" Maria did not seem to follow his amusement.
"Ma Mere l'Oye," Jacqueline inserted while crouched beside Siroc, making last minute adjustments to his dress. Noticing Maria still did not follow, she translated, "Mother Goose." The Frenchwoman expounded while trying to concentrate on her task, "King of France…turn of the first Millennia…his wife told stories of a countrywoman children's rhymes…"
"Poetry," interrupted d'Artagnan sarcastically, "You'd like it, Ramon."
"As I was saying." Jacqueline shot her husband an annoyed look. "King Robert II's wife passed down these children's stories…and thus we have, 'Mary, Mary, quite contrary…and pretty maids all in a row.'"
"Hopefully," the disguised man mocked, "the current queen won't have any new stories to pass down after today."
Jacqueline stood up. Her work finished, she turned Siroc to view their handiwork in the mirror. As frightening as he looked, he had to admit, the women had done a pretty good job at making him over. "This better work," he exasperated.