The consensus from reviewers seems to be that Rochefort should meet an unpleasant end and I think that view will be reinforced by this next chapter. Hope you enjoy!
The day passed both far too slowly and far too quickly, their investigation once more at a standstill as Porthos returned frustrated and empty-handed, with no news from Flea. Athos had spoken with the Captain and the two had travelled to the palace to seek an audience with Rochefort, hoping that the man might give something away, but were stonewalled at every turn, finally returning to the garrison after a series of excuses that ended with a statement that the Comte was outside of the city and no one knew when he would return. To the two Musketeers, it was clear that the man was purposely avoiding them, but with no knowledge of the Comte's location, there was little more to be done. As a result, they found themselves once more in Treville's office, the man's brandy having made a welcome reappearance as they discussed the following day's trial. Sadly, there was very little strategizing to be done, beyond a general agreement that the men would be there to testify on the Gascon's behalf and a promise, elicited by the Captain, that the three would not disrupt the proceedings in any way, regardless of the outcome.
The next day found the Musketeers travelling through the city to attend the young man's trial, the mood among them solemn and expectant as they hoped for the best, but anticipated the worst. Porthos had visited the Court once more before they'd departed, but the look on his face when he'd returned had told his friends the full story of his failed excursion. With no name to offer in d'Artagnan's place, the trial seemed a mere formality and the Captain prepared himself to plead for additional time to bring the true murderer to justice. The three men stood as close to the front of the room as they were allowed, only Treville and Rochefort standing in the front half of the room, facing the members of the court. Athos was devastated to see the number of people in attendance who would bear witness to d'Artagnan's downfall as he was proclaimed guilty.
A murmuring near the back of the room alerted him to d'Artagnan's entrance as the young man was led in, hands still shackled in front of him and surrounded by a group of Red Guards. He caught his friends' eyes as he passed, shuffled forward too quickly for any conversation and positioned at the front of the room to face his accusers, Treville automatically sidling closer to offer morale support. The court was brought to order and d'Artagnan planted his feet, determined not to let his posture display the fear and frustration that he felt at the injustice of his current predicament.
"Your Majesty," Rochefort bowed as he addressed the King, "honored members of the court. We are here to present evidence of this man's guilt in the senseless and bloody murder of the Spanish Ambassador." Porthos couldn't help himself and he rolled his eyes at the obvious theatrics of the man's delivery, heart sinking a moment later as he noted how raptly everyone was hanging off of Rochefort's words. "It is with a heavy heart that I bring this matter before the court, but even the King's Musketeers must be made to account for their actions."
As the Comte finished speaking, Treville took a step forward, trying to contain the damage of the man's introductory words. "Your Majesty, if it please the members of the court, I would ask that you remember that this fine young man has yet to be convicted of anything and that you hear the evidence against him with an open mind."
The King nodded, the other men seated with him taking their cue from him, and Treville was satisfied that, at least for the moment, no decision regarding d'Artagnan's guilt or innocence had been made. Rochefort took the opportunity to take over once more, launching into a speech about the weapons used. As he brandished the dagger, sunlight gleaming wickedly off the sharp blade, he addressed the Gascon, "d'Artagnan, do you recognize this?"
Knowing that there was no benefit in lying, he answered in a clear voice, "Yes, it's mine."
"And do you know where it was found?" the Comte continued, now brandishing the blade in front of the members of the court, ensuring they all had a good look at the murder weapon.
"I've been informed that it was the weapon used to kill the Ambassador. I can't comment any further since I was kidnapped and it was taken from me nearly a week ago," d'Artagnan responded.
"Ah, yes, I heard about that. I understand that you were missing until several hours after the Ambassador's death. I suppose that means that you have no proof of your whereabouts and it's entirely possible that you were at the Ambassador's residence completing this most monstrous deed." the Comte stated smugly. Rochefort continued to move around the space near the front of the large room, addressing his most damming comments to the men who would determine d'Artagnan's fate.
Treville stepped forward to get everyone's attention as he interjected, "There is no proof that d'Artagnan was in the Ambassador's quarters while he was missing and, when we found him, he was in no condition to even stand on his own, let alone murder someone."
"No, no proof at all except this dagger, which d'Artagnan has already identified as belonging to him," the Comte countered smoothly.
"Comte Rochefort, I believe you have more evidence implicating this Musketeer," King Louis prompted, unwilling to allow the two captains to continue arguing.
"Of course, your Majesty," Rochefort demurred. Señor Navas, will you please step forward?" The Ambassador's aide separated himself from the rest of the audience in the room, ignoring the glares of the Musketeers as he presented himself. "Señor, please accept my most sincere condolences on the Ambassador's death. We," he motioned to those gathered around him, "would be most grateful if you would identify the man you saw kill Ambassador Perales."
Navas raised an arm and unerringly pointed to where d'Artagnan stood, the Gascon biting his lip hard to stop the retort that threatened to be voiced. "It was that man. I was too late to stop him from killing the Ambassador, but I saw his face clearly as he fled like the cowardly cur that he is." d'Artagnan guessed that the man would have spit on the ground, had they been outside, but decorum prevented the act.
Rochefort's face twisted into a mirthless smile at the Spaniard's words and the Gascon knew for a fact that everything was proceeding according to the Comte's plans. "Your Majesty, this amounts to an act of treason and requires a punishment suited to the enormity of the crime."
d'Artagnan did his best to focus on what was being said around him, but the truth was that Navas' words had condemned him and all that was left was for the sentence to be announced. It was the outcome he'd hoped against, but a large part of him had expected, knowing that his friends had a monumental task ahead of them to find the real killer in the paltry time they'd had. He wasn't keen on dying but he knew in his heart that he would not beg for his life. He'd long ago come to terms with the fact that he would likely die in service to his country and, while the circumstances were far different than anything he'd imagined, his death would ensure peace with Spain, allowing him an honorable enough death even though there would only be a handful of people who recognized it as such. Vaguely, he was aware that the King was speaking, but he couldn't make out the words over the buzzing in his ears, his brow furrowing unknowingly in surprise at how disconnected he was feeling from everything going on around him.
It seemed that the trial was over as guards approached him on both sides, turning him around to march him back out of the room. He caught a glimpse of the Captain and did his best to offer the man a smile, not wanting him to feel guilty for failing to prevent his death. Treville frowned back at him but there was no time for anything more as he was pushed forward, retracing the steps they'd followed earlier. His gaze drifted across his three friends, looks of disgust and anger on their faces, Aramis and Porthos speaking while Athos stared at him with a stricken expression. He tried to reassure them, but his mouth felt somehow numb, his lips moving but no sound coming and he stumbled at another hard push from behind, barely catching himself when one of the guards at his side roughly grabbed his bicep to steady him. His head turned once more toward his friends, the look on Athos' face now looking panicked and d'Artagnan wondered what had happened to put that expression on his mentor's face. But there was no opportunity to ask as moments later they'd exited the room and he was pushed into the back of a cart to be taken back to the Chatelet. The Gascon tried to pay attention as guards climbed in behind him, but his vision seemed to be narrowing, darkness pushing in at the edges, and he couldn't be bothered to fight it, letting his eyes drift close instead and welcoming the blackness.
His return to awareness was shocking in its intensity, pain in his head and side jarring him awake and leaving him dazed and disoriented as he looked around his surroundings, groaning as he recognized the dank cell from before. One of the guards who had apparently helped carry him here and then dropped him unceremoniously now laughed at the look on the Gascon's face. "Don't worry," he jeered, "you'll only be here a couple of days before you're swinging from the end of a rope."
The other guard guffawed loudly at his comrade's comment and the two turned and left, locking the door behind them. At least he had his answer now; he'd been fairly confident that he'd been found guilty and the guard's words confirmed it. He had two days until he'd be at the end of a hangman's noose. Pushing himself to a seated position, wincing at the aches that had been reawakened by his rough handling, he wondered at his friends' reactions. He knew that they would be angry and upset, but he didn't want them wallowing in guilt over his death. Athos, especially, carried far too heavy a burden, often taking responsibility for events beyond his control, and he wanted more than anything to elicit a promise from the man that he would not blame himself for d'Artagnan's end. Idly, he wondered if a priest would come to absolve him and if he might have one last chance to say good-bye to his friends. It was customary, he believed, to be allowed an opportunity to make peace, but perhaps his situation was different, his crime too serious to allow such a courtesy to a condemned man. He sighed, his breath hitching abruptly as the action pulled on still tender ribs and he scrubbed a hand across his face in frustration. Two days with nothing but his thoughts was far too much time to face and yet he could not claim to want to die any sooner, holding out hope that his brothers would find a way to visit before he saw them one last time from the gallows.
The room had erupted when the King proclaimed d'Artagnan guilty, sentencing him to hang the following day. Treville had moved forward to plead with the royal immediately, while Rochefort moved to stand next to Navas, the two men practically crowing at their success in proving the boy's guilt. As d'Artagnan had been led away, the Captain caught a glimpse of the young man's face and his brow furrowed in confusion at the look he saw there, the boy seemingly unaware and detached from everything going on around him. Filing the piece of information away for later, he'd forged ahead, eyes locked firmly on the King, ready to beseech the man for more time in order to prove d'Artagnan's innocence. While it was a hollow victory, in the end the King had relented, postponing the Gascon's death by another day which the Musketeers could use to find the real killer.
In the back half of the room, people were calling out and pushing as d'Artagnan was led from the room, the three inseparables outraged at the verdict, while Athos felt numb at the thought that he was facing the loss of another brother the following day. Aramis quieted as he noticed the look on the boy's face, his expression turning from anger to concern as he noted the remoteness and lack of awareness, his lips moving but no sound coming forth. "There's something wrong with d'Artagnan," he spoke urgently to his friends, redoubling his efforts to get to the young man. But the people surrounding them, coupled with the guards that hurried their prisoner forward, made it impossible to reach him and they arrived outside just in time to see d'Artagnan close his eyes and fall limp against the back of the cart.
"What's wrong with him, Aramis?" Athos turned on the medic worriedly.
Aramis shrugged, wanting to reassure his friend, but able only to speculate about what they'd observed. "I'd guess that he's overwhelmed at all that's happened. The trial, combined with his lack of proper food and rest, as well as the mistreatment he's endured in recent days has likely caught up with him." While he didn't feel confident, he infused as much sincerity into his tone as he was able as he said, "I believe he's only passed out and will be fine when he wakes."
Athos nodded uncertainly, Porthos still staring worriedly at the retreating cart. "We can't let them hang the boy."
A voice from behind echoed his sentiment as the Captain joined them, "No, we can't. The King has given d'Artagnan an additional day before his sentence is carried out. That's all the time we have to find the real killer so let's not waste it. You have a plan?"
The men naturally turned to look at Athos, the man well-known for his strategic mind, but the older Musketeer was sadly shaking his head, his tone defeated. "There is nothing. It does not matter how many days the King allows; we cannot make evidence appear from thin air and there is nothing more than there was before."
Treville moved forward, placing a hand on his lieutenant's shoulder, "Athos, I know what d'Artagnan means to you." He looked at the other two men, noting their shared looks of concern, "to all of you, but now is not the time to begin grieving for a man who still lives. d'Artagnan is alive and if you want to keep him that way, you'll shake off this melancholy and find a way to prove his innocence. Now, what is your plan?"
If Athos was shocked by the man's words, he gave no indication of it, but his eyes seemed to clear and his back straightened with renewed determination. The other three stood quietly, waiting for him to speak, as he scanned the crowds around him, his eyes falling on the countenance of Madame Bonacieux who was currently weaving her way through the throng of people toward them. "I believe Madame Bonacieux wishes to speak with us," he stated, moments before she arrived in their midst.
"Athos, tell me you have a plan that won't have d'Artagnan hung for a murder he didn't commit," the woman beseeched him, forgoing any attempt at politeness by jumping directly to the point.
"We were just discussing it, Madame," Aramis tipped his hat to her as he spoke.
Moving their group off to one side where their conversation might be a little more private, Athos concurred, "Aramis is correct, Madame. If you'll excuse us?"
Constance reached forward with one hand, catching Athos' arm before he could move away, "This was Rochefort's doing, wasn't it?"
Porthos raised a questioning eyebrow as he asked, "What do you know of Rochefort?"
Bonacieux snorted in a most unladylike way, bringing a smile to Aramis' face at the familiar response, which was undoubtedly part of the woman's charm. "That man's a snake. He does everything he can to ingratiate himself to the King and Queen, all the while poisoning them against the Musketeers."
"Madame, is there anything that Rochefort's said or done that could help us prove d'Artagnan's innocence?" the Captain questioned, leaning in closer as he lowered his voice.
Constance seemed surprised by the question at first, but then she stopped to think, racking her brain for anything that might be useful to the Musketeers. "I don't know," she stammered. "I mean, he's never said anything that would implicate him in the Ambassador's death." She seemed at a loss as she said, "I just don't trust him, is all."
"Why not?" Aramis pressed, "What has he done to make you mistrust him?"'
Again, Constance seemed uncertain about the question, but decided she could trust the men with her observations. "He convinced the Queen to write to her brother when the King was missing," she confessed. "I tried to counsel her against it; I knew d'Artagnan would bring him back safely, but she wouldn't believe me. Rochefort took the letter and delivered it to the Spanish Ambassador."
Athos looked up sharply at Bonacieux's words, silently communicating with the men around him. "Madame Bonacieux," Treville spoke, "is it possible for you to keep this information to yourself and to ensure that you're never alone with the Comte until this has been sorted?"
Constance drew back from the men as she considered the Captain's words, "You think I'm in some sort of danger?"
"It's possible," Aramis acquiesced, knowing well that Rochefort was a brutal man and a survivor who wouldn't hesitate to eliminate someone he perceived as a threat.
"Look, d'Artagnan wouldn't forgive us if somethin' happened to you, so for his sake, can you take extra care for the next few days?" Porthos requested, knowing that the woman was more likely to be cautious for the Gascon's sake rather than her own. He was rewarded with a shaky nod as Constance agreed, Porthos grinning at her response.
Looking around, the group realized that most everyone else had departed, leaving them nearly alone in the deserted square. Athos looked to Aramis as he asked, "Will you please escort Madame Bonacieux back to the palace?"
Aramis dipped his head as he questioned, "And where will you be?"
"I believe Porthos and I have someone to see in the Court." Turning to the Captain, he said, "We'll report at the garrison afterwards." Treville tipped his head in acknowledgement and the group dispersed, bolstered by the possibility that they finally had the thread of a lead that could save their friend's life.