Chapter Twelve - Also Relatively Short
"Good afternoon, Junge?" The implied question in the Venner's greeting was accompanied by a tilt of the head. "Forgive my curiosity, but where are your countrymen?"
d'Artagnan pulled out the chair Athos had been using and sat himself down, hoping the smile he pasted on his face did not look as strained as it felt. "Aramis and Porthos are still a little under the weather, Athos forbade them accompanying either of us." He laid a tightly rolled parchment on the table and watched the Venner's eyes flick to it as it made the small swooshing sound of paper expanding. "We were making use of your race track by the river this morning and became a little..." he hesitated, dropping his eyes to the table as though slightly embarrassed before glancing up from under his lashes, "... overenthusiastic." He widened the guileless smile he'd practiced in front of the mirror. "Our horses both lost shoes. We were headed for the blacksmith when your fancier delivered the response from the king. The answer being what it is, Athos decided I could use the experience and sent me to conclude the negotiations in his stead." He pushed the doctored reply across the table and waited.
The note from Tréville had been carefully excised, the bottom edge of the parchment exactly as ragged as it had been previously, just half an inch shorter.
The Venner read it, smiled, and passed it to fellow on his right, who read it and passed it over to the fellow on his right.
"Based on this missive, tell us what you wish, young master. Shall we have the capitulation written up for six companies?"
d'Artagnan had considered this as he'd walked the horses beyond the city gates to pry shoes off before leading them back to the blacksmith.
They'd been instructed to acquire for six regiments of armed troops. In principal, the Swiss had just agreed to the number, for a consideration of fifty thousand francs.
"With carte blanche, Athos said to ask for twelve companies, at a price you deem fair. Upon our return to Paris, Cardinal Richelieu will forward a sum of five percent of the agreed upon amount as a good faith measure that the Swiss will continue to support the French if it should come to war with Spain. The king requests a contingency contract of ten years. If in that time he has not called upon the troops, the contract would be up for renegotiation with no recall of the good faith compensation."
d'Artagnan crossed his arms casually on the tabletop as though this was just another bit of tutoring his mentors had foisted on him, not some desperately thrown-together counter measure because the three Musketeers were missing. He could feel sweat trickling down his temple and prayed it would be unnoticed or at the very least attributed to his stated morning excursions. Or even the novelty of finding himself at the negotiating table without anyone watching over his every move, monitoring his every word, jumping in with 'what he meant to say'. He would be glad for any interpretation that did not recognize his bouncing knee or the intense desire to fist his hands in his hair and yank wildly.
The Venner leaned back, resting an elbow on the arm of his chair and his chin in his hand. "You remind me a great deal of my youngest son; he, too, thought he was invincible." The man sighed. "I suppose I should be offended that your elders have delegated you to the mopping up as it were."
d'Artagnan stilled his knee lest it hit the bottom of the table. "Athos did say something about experience in the twenty minute lecture on etiquette he subjected me to before patting me on the head and sending me on this errand."
Smiles up and down the table. Internally, d'Artagnan wept with relief.
"As it is already late in the afternoon-"
"Athos instructed me to apologize for the delay." d'Artagnan bowed his head.
The Venner offered a dismissive wave. "The little delay was nothing, I am just sorry your companions have been so ill and unable to enjoy your time here." The smile bloomed again. "I hope you enjoyed your morning exercise."
d'Artagnan resourced every bit of his newly acquired veneer of sophistication and merely smiled cherubically. "We did indeed, though as you say, it was disappointing Aramis and Porthos could not join us. We are hoping they will be well in time for the farewell ball your lady wife is hosting, Herr Venner."
"If they are not, then you must tell the comte to call upon my personal physician. We would not want anyone missing one of on my wife's galas. She lives to entertain and will be excessively disappointed as I believe she was much smitten by the one you call Aramis?"
"Most women are," d'Artagnan said, before he thought, then grimaced slightly. "My further apologies, sir."
"None needed." The Venner laughed heartily. "I am a fortunate man, my wife the capacity to love largely."
d'Artagnan could detect no malice in the statement; if anything, the man sounded genuinely pleased with his spouse, though he rather thought if Madam was infatuated with anyone it was Athos, not Aramis. Wisely, he kept that thought to himself.
"Berne is not large enough to guarantee even the six companies we initially discussed. To field twelve companies, we will have to reach further afield, among the Confederacy's compatriots. Do you have the authority to stretch your visit by a few more days? We must send messages of our own before we can finalize our own response. Shall we say - two days? We will reconvene at eight of the clock on Thursday morning with an answer for you."
The youthful ambassador came to his feet along with the rest of the contingent, bowing gracefully. "I am sure that will be perfectly suitable, sir. I will convey this information to ..." d'Artagnan was momentarily at a loss for words. Strictly speaking, he was not a Musketeer, the three men he had accompanied were not his teammates; he was in truth, nothing more than a tag-along. "To the Musketeers. Thank you for your consideration."
"I have no doubt we can come to terms that will be mutually satisfactory." The Venner inclined his head complacently. "I would adjure you again to acquaint yourselves with the city. Do be sure and visit the Bärengraben," Herr Joos suggested, as they progressed toward the hallway door. "All visitors love our bears. If you wish, René will arrange for you to visit the park with one of the caretakers. The bears are as tame our city grandmothers."
"Tame?" d'Artagnan echoed, praying his voice did not give away his complete and utter disbelief. Nor the trapped and bubbling hysteria he must tamp down before it escaped in either maniacal mirth or mindless madness.
"Oh yes, generations of bears have been born and raised in the Bärengraben. They're just like big dogs."
d'Artagnan cleared his throat, touching a finger to his brow. He could not stop himself opening and closing his mouth twice as his scrambled brain sought a reply. He settled on a half-choked, "I will suggest it to the others."
Either the Venner's mind was already turned to other things, or he was a kind man. He appeared at least, not to notice. "Send a note around to René if you decide you want to visit, he will make arrangements with the keepers and escort you personally, will you not Renee'?"
"It would be my pleasure, Herr Venner." René, an elderly man whose blond hair was shading to silver, his lean frame beginning to pad out, bowed from the waist. "Just give a note to one of the Rathaus pages and they will find me. 'Tis an easy thing to arrange."
A part of d'Artagnan's split mind was laughing hysterically at their preposterous attempts to redirect the bears attention; while the other part was recalling the sound of splintering wood as the biggest had thrown itself against the walls inside the building. He made his farewells quickly and peeled off to take the stairs up to the suite of rooms he shared with the missing Musketeers. For the moment, his part in this charade was done. He could do nothing but wait and pray until night fell.
Almost grateful for the reprieve, the Gascon laid himself down upon Aramis' bed again. He had tried to rest on his own bed, but Athos being far neater than the other two, the chamber he shared with the elder Musketeer lacked the familiarity of the gentlemanly accouterments gracing chair backs, bed posts and the desktop in this room. Strange comfort though it was, d'Artagnan was grateful for the bit of presence lingering in the personal items scattered about, lending the fiction that Aramis and Porthos would walk in at any moment. His aching body was insisting upon respite, but he dared not sleep lest Morpheus refuse to release him 'til morning.
d'Artagnan fussed the pillows into a mound again and slumped back, though he did not close his eyes. Fear kept poking its ugly head around the door jamb, smiling icily at the lone youngster, silently threatening all manner of ghastly outcomes. In this, though, d'Artagnan's naturally buoyant, youthful optimism served him well; he stuck his tongue out, daring it to slither on into the room where he could grab it in both hands and choke the life out of it. Overwhelming odds were an everyday occurrence in the life of a Musketeer; in the end they would prevail. He believed this as surely as he believed himself capable of earning a commission.
His eyes were sliding closed yet again when an idea slithered into his mind, hooking him like a fish on a line. He did not immediately jump up and set it in motion, sliding around it from every angle he could think of before allowing it free enough reign to rise from the bed and write another note. This one to René.
TBC 12/19
Deena and Musketeer Adventure - my undying gratitude for you faithfulness in reviewing every chapter. You make me want to check my inbox every morning and evening. Another Guest - a lovely review like you left eight chapters in is always welcome! Honestly, I treasure each contact like pearls of great price. To know you're reading and enjoying is a priceless gift to an author. UKGuest - you made me chuckle. I don't have a problem if you reuse adjectives! (LOL) And thank you for the gift of that lovely review! Doubtful Guest - YOU had me hooting out loud with hilarity! And that raised my endorphin level for the day! Thank you. ... Writing, by nature, is a pretty solitary endeavor, so it's always fun to interact with readers when a story begins to post. Everybody in the office wants to know why I'm grinning all day long, and occasionally sneaking peaks at my inbox. But that's a secret I share only with ya'll and a few close fandom friends, because no one in my Real Life understands my fan fic obsession. Thank you for understanding!