"The queen has fled."
The Cardinal's decisive tones echoed around the great library. Oak shelves gleamed golden in spring sunlight. From beyond the windows murmured the noise of a large crowd.
The King frowned. "That's ludicrous." He paced about, his buckled shoes squeaking on the polished floor.
The Cardinal crossed to the window, his cape flowing behind, and stood gazing out until the King could not bear it and came to stand beside him.
Beyond the walls of the Palais, crowds of citizens milled about, herded away by soldiers. They glimpsed the King at the window and cried out wordless jeers. The Cardinal looked pointedly at the King. "This civil unrest is enough to terrify anyone without the moral fibre to stand firm."
The King shook his head. "Anne would not leave me. She is my Queen! She is the future of France!"
"Your heir is the future of France, sire."
"I haven't -"
"Precisely. And until you have, the Queen must feel that she is inadequate. Perhaps these feelings, quite natural in a feminine mind, have led her to this abandonment."
The doors at the far end of the library opened and Treville entered, accompanied by Athos, D'Artagnan and Porthos. Their cloaks were dusty and their boots showed signs of hard riding across country back to Paris.
The King waved them forward to join the conference. They advanced, Athos noting the King's tremulous expression.
"The Queen has not abandoned me," said Louis to the Cardinal, in a small voice.
"Did she by any chance beg you to go on this trip out if Paris, to see the Duke of Racaut?" asked the Cardinal.
"No. She begged not to go, in fact. She has been kidnapped!" Louis tugged at his broad lace collar.
The Cardinal's expression turned to regret. "No note, no ransom demand? A week has passed, sire."
Treville bowed minimally and caught the King's eye for permission to speak. "The Queen definitely never reached Racaut. The Duke became worried when she failed to arrive, and sent out scouts, but her carriage has not been seen."
The King turned on the Cardinal. "Where are your Red Guards? You'll hang for this!"
"If the Queen has truly betrayed you," said the Cardinal steadily, "your majesty may thank me for uncovering her true nature."
"Do you accuse a queen?" cried Treville. Athos stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"I merely state the facts," said the Cardinal with a smooth smile.
"Find her, Treville," begged the King. "Take my musketeers," and he placed a heavy emphasis on 'my' - "and bring my Queen back to me."
Treville nodded and strode away, cloak flying.
"We can start immediately," said Athos as they reached the antechamber.
"Do it. Where's Aramis?"
"He's not well," said Porthos.
"Sick to his stomach," added D'Artagnan. "It started as soon as we returned to Paris."
"Is this some trick?" Treville asked.
D'Artagnan and Porthos looked at each other in confusion.
"Did you see him?" Treville asked Athos.
Athos shook his head. "I rode ahead and met D'Artagnan and Porthos here. What's wrong, Captain?"
Treville smiled grimly. "I've known Aramis six years. And I've never known him fall sick when there's work to be done."
There was a pause. Then Athos sighed and nodded. "Especially work involving rescuing a carriage of royal ladies."
The three friends looked at each other. "Aramis!"
"Find him," ordered Treville. "If the Queen is in danger, he will need help. If she has indeed abandoned the King, then Aramis will only incriminate himself by getting involved. Go!"
He leaned on his sword as they sprinted away.