He squeezed her tightly against him and swung out from the ledge. Anne gasped and clung to him in a way most undignified for a queen. But it was a long drop.
Aramis let out the rope with a first unsteady jolt. They moved downwards.
"Close your eyes, your majesty," whispered Aramis. "I will tell you when we are on the ground."
He thought he spied the glint of metal among the trees. If they were to be shot, it was better that she knew nothing. He tightened his arms around her and let out the rope as fast as he could.
She weighed as little as a child. He had never known how slight she was, encased in stiff gowns of bead and bone. Her hair, untied, caressed his hands, its chestnut softness like the wing of a wren.
"Nearly there," he lied.
"Do not go slowly on my account," Anne whispered. "Be as quick as is safe. I beg you."
"You need only command."
He reeled out rope and the ground neared.
Anne tried to be calm, to be gracious in rescue, as befit a monarch, but she was shaking so much that grace as impossible. Her hands were wet with fear. She pressd harder against her rescuer, this daring musketeer who risked his life for hers. He smelled of horse, naturally, and of fresh green grass. Wholesome smells, comforting smells. She put her face into his neck and knew that he would feel her terrified tears.
"We're here." An impact from her soles to her spine followed his words. Anne opened her eyes.
The castle was above them and they stood on the last slope of the rampart.
She started to shiver. His neck was wet from her weeping and she wanted to escape, to run from him and everybody, but also her arms were locked around him and she could not let go.
Aramis detached her, took her gently by the shoulders and peered into her face. He seemed not to see her weeping wirh fear and relief. "Now we walk, your majesty, you and I, just slow and easy across the meadow, like a young couple in the first silvery weeks of courtship."
He embraced her impulsively, forgetting her royalty. "You're doing well. No one could be more fearless than your majesty."
Taking her hand he led her across the field. Her ankles were wet with dew, her skirts dragging, but Anne knew only that she was escaping Racaut. This cavalier was taking her to safety, his calloused left hand firm around hers. His other hand was free ready for sword or pistol.
"That rather ruins the illusion of innocent love," Anne said.
Aramis smiled dangerously. "Not as surely as a musket ball in the face if someone sees us," he said. "Stay close to me, and I will be the easier target."
"If they kill you I will take your gun and shoot them until they fall," said Anne.
Aramis burst out laughing. "You are as fierce as a musketeer, madam. Perhaps you should seek a commission?"
He led her to the trees. "We must keep on until they have no chance of finding us. There is a rough path through the forest. Are you strong enough?"
"I can walk or ride as far as you. When you have done so much for your queen I can hardly quibble at anything you ask."
He stopped, bowed, doffed his hat to her. He straightened, produced a white handkerchief and offered it to her.
She wiped her face, watching him. He had dark, thoughtful eyes and his beard was streaked with silver. His hair was wild. "Where is your horse?"
Aramis pointed to his boots. "My mount is the other side of this woodland."
She marvelled at him. "All this, accomplished alone! I am beginning to think we do not need quite so many musketeers." But she smiled, for the first time in days.
He bowed once again.
She peeled off her glove and gave it to him. "You have your queen's heartfelt gratitude."
He kissed the glove and put it in his pocket, his eyes sparkling. On a whim, Anne held out her bare hand. His eyes widened, then he bent over it, a faint touch of his mouth to her skin, then he withdrew.
Such charm. His manners were as beautiful as any nobleman's. And his eyes - when had she ever seen reverence tempered with such fire?