The Key to Salvation
Chapter Fourteen
The storm has washed the sky clear of clouds and the wind had died down by the time the Musketeers set out on their journey back to Paris. Aramis rode hunched and unresponsive, wrapped in a cloak against the early morning chill. By the time they reached Provins it was early afternoon and the sun was beating down on them enthusiastically. The small church was on the outskirts of the village on a small rise, close to a fast flowing river and just downstream from the mill. The cemetery was at the rear bordered by a meadow filled with blossoming purple and yellow wild flowers. It was a beautiful and peaceful location.
When Aramis made no move to dismount Athos and Porthos exchanged a concerned look.
"I will go and find the Priest," Athos said. He slid from his horse and walked up the path leading to the front door. The door was open so he stepped inside. There were pews on either side of the central aisle with seating for no more than thirty people. The windows high in the walls were of plain glass, nothing like the stained glass that adorned the many churches in Paris. The altar was a simple table covered with a gold embroidered white cloth on which two large brass candlesticks rested. It appeared that the Baron did not give generously for the upkeep of the church.
Athos didn't cross himself, having long ago renounced the idea of a god of love and forgiveness. He strode down the aisle towards a door to the left of the altar. He knocked and waited.
"Just a minute." The voice carried faintly through the heavy wood.
Athos removed his hat, not wishing to offend the Priest with any sign of disrespect. The man who opened the door was younger than Athos had expected, with an open and welcoming smile.
"It isn't often that we see strangers here. My name is Father Michel. How can I help you?"
"I am Athos of the King's Musketeers. I seek the grave of the child born to the Baroness."
"That is a strange request. May I ask why?"
Athos was in no mood for long explanations. "My friend is the baby's father. He wishes to pay his respects."
"Ah," Father Michel said. "So the Baron was correct. His wife was unfaithful."
Athos scowled at the Priest, not liking the note of censure in the man's voice. The last thing Aramis needed was to be rebuked by a man of the cloth. "Her grave?"
"Of course. Come with me."
They left the church to find that Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan had all dismounted. Aramis was standing by the low gate in the hedge leading to the cemetery, his gaze fixed on the neat rows of crosses. He turned when he heard footsteps and looked at the Priest with a haunted expression.
"You are the child's father?" Michel asked.
Aramis nodded, unable to formulate words to ask the questions that had plagued him ever since the Baron had revealed the truth.
Father Michel took his arm. "She was baptised Clara Jeanne." He opened the gate and urged Aramis to walk through. "She was born sickly and died when she was five days old." He led the way along one of the rows of graves, stopping at the far end. "This is her final resting place."
The mound of earth was tiny with a small wooden cross at the head. Aramis collapsed to his knees and bowed his head. His hand sought his crucifix which he brought to his lips.
Father Michel retraced his steps, joining the other three outside the graveyard. "Your friend needs solitude to grieve. Come, let me offer you some refreshment."
As they walked back towards the church Athos looked over his shoulder at the motionless figure. He would have stayed to keep watch but Father Michel touched his arm and shook his head. They entered the building, leaving Aramis alone with his daughter.
TMTMTM
Aramis wasn't aware of them leaving. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the grave. A few weeds were flourishing in the earth and he reached out to pluck them. His hand skimmed across the cold pitiless earth and his shoulders sagged as grief tore through him. His eyes though remained dry, itching with weariness.
"Clara," he whispered. Somehow knowing her name made the nightmare more real. "Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord. Let perpetual light shine on her. May she rest in peace." The familiar words calmed his racing heart. "I humbly pray Thee to show Thy mercy on the soul of your servant, Clara, whom Thou hast commanded to pass out of this world, that Thou wouldst place her in the region of peace and light. Through Christ our Lord. Amen."
He was silent for a long time after that, staring into the distance without seeing what was before his eyes. He tried, without success, to imagine her face. He couldn't conceive of the grief that her mother must have felt when she passed away. Too frail and precious a soul to survive the harsh realities of life. Finally he gave a deep sigh and rose to his feet.
"I love you, my daughter," he said. "Even though I never had the chance to hold you in my arms you will always live in my heart."
When he didn't see his friends he went inside the church. At the door he genuflected before walking up to the altar. He could hear voices coming from close by and found his way into the Priest's study. Father Michel smiled when he saw him.
"Welcome to our humble church, Aramis. Your friends have told me a little of the ordeals you have faced in recent months."
"Thank you, Father." He accepted a cup of wine before sitting next to Athos.
"It appears the Baron has much to answer for," the Priest continued. "He wasn't always a cruel man. His wife's infidelity hit him hard."
Aramis flushed and looked away.
"That is no excuse for what he did," Athos said. "To condemn a man to prison and then sell him to the Spanish is not the act of a good person."
"His actions were extreme," the Priest conceded. "What will happen to him now?"
"He'll be arrested," Porthos said. "With the testimony from us and Lemaire we hope to clear Aramis' name."
"You speak of Philippe Lemaire?"
Aramis looked curiously at Father Michel. "Yes."
"Then I am sorry to have to impart bad news. Monsieur Lemaire died yesterday. He fell down the steps leading to the cellar of the inn and broke his neck."
A chill ran through Aramis and he looked at Athos with an anguished expression.
"An accident?" Athos asked.
"So it seems. There were no witnesses." The Priest looked from one to the other. "You believe he was killed?"
"It's too much of a coincidence," d'Artagnan said. "The Baron knew Aramis had spoken to him and must have guessed that we had also questioned him. He is the only one to profit from Lemaire's death."
"There is no evidence to support your suspicions."
"Lemaire admitted to me that he had committed the crime of which I was accused. He told me that he was acting on the Baron's orders. His death has made it impossible to prove." This latest development only deepened Aramis' resolve to leave the secular life. The one thing that might have persuaded him to stay was the return of his commission and that was now firmly out of reach.
"We can't give up," Athos said. "You must tell the King everything you have learnt. The Baron will pay for his crimes."
"The nobility is untouchable. You know this." Aramis looked at the former Comte. Athos, out of all of them, understood the way things worked having been born to the life of a nobleman.
"Then we will consult with Treville." Athos drained his glass. "Thank you for your assistance, Father."
"Before we go I should like to make my confession," Aramis said.
Father Michel rose from his chair. "Come with me then, my son. May you leave with a lighter heart than when you arrived.
Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan waited in the study while the two men returned to the church.
"What now?" d'Artagnan asked.
"We can prove that the Baron sold Aramis to the Spanish but that won't overturn the conviction. There has to be someone else who knows what Lemaire did. Without a commission we have no chance of persuading Aramis to stay and I'm not ready to abandon him to the monastic life." Athos frowned in thought. "I think it's time to go and have another talk with Madame Dumond. If she was hiding something from you it is likely to relate to the incident with the Queen's necklace. We are missing one link in the chain, gentlemen, and we will find it."
Tbc