My goodness, thank you all for your wonderful comments! It was a wonderful surprise logging in today. I'll try to get back to each of you as soon as I can.
On with the story...
The heavy squeaking and resounding clanks of the drawbridge being lowered was heard inside the carriage. A moat, built a century before, was restored and filled with water from the nearby waterway, and a natural spring that provided fresh water for the tenants, animals, and the gardens. The massive gate made from solid pieces of oak reinforced with wrought iron had withstood time, battles, and rulers. The tall, thick stone walls built from squared, smooth stones protected two massive buildings with arrow-loop windows, designed for shooting arrows through, and had allowed fighting men and nobility to survive. Beyond the entry stood several arched wooden doors leading to the living quarters. The courtyard was large enough for the carriage, the horses, and the men who had escorted them.
Horses snorted, shook their heads, and leather squeaked as men dismounted. Suddenly, the carriage door was opened and Athos immediately positioned himself before the king and queen and looked at the man staring back at them.
"Do yourself a favor, son," the man said, "don't get in my way." He was tall, strong, with graying blonde hair that was nearly white at the temples. It was cut short and strands fluttered around his ears. His mustache and goatee were slightly darker and stained at the corners of his lips. Determined and experienced blue eyes stared back at Athos.
"Crimes against the king —"
"I'm well aware of my crimes," the man said with a snarl. "And I'm familiar with the punishments associated with them. I'm here to make him," he pointed to Louis, "aware of his own crimes." He stepped aside and said, "Step out, or we'll drag you out. Dead or alive makes no difference to me."
Athos turned, looked at Louis and Anne, and nodded. What choice did they have? They were surrounded with armed men, and held captive in an unfamiliar location without a plan of escape. Athos moved forward as the carriage rocked and stepped onto dry land. He turned as Louis exited, and the man stepped toward the carriage and took Anne's hand as she disembarked.
"You may call me, Wynon."
Trembling, Anne clutched at the edge of her cloak and looked wide-eyed at the men that surrounded them. A few ignored her, others looked at her with subtle snickers, and a few winked and puckered their lips with unspoken threats. Anne swallowed, raised her chin, and stood between Louis and Athos.
"You're very amiable… for a traitor," King Louis said as he stood to his full height. He looked around, noticed the lack of respect from those that had taken them hostage and refused to acknowledge his position of power. "This is an outrage. How dare you?" His voice had taken on an unfamiliar tone, one of confident authority. He looked at Wynon, and then at the others. "How dare any of you even attempt to accost me? I am you king! You will all hang for this…"
"No question why, Your," a man said with a snicker, "Majesty — You don't even want to ask why?"
"Why… does not matter," Louis said, "not anymore." He tried to look strong in the face of atrocity, but the longer it continued, the more uncertain he became. Athos noticed a hint of fear as Louis dusted the front of his heavy, quilted doublet with gloved hands, and then shoved his cloak over his shoulder to busy himself. "You're such fools… such blind fools."
"Majesty," Athos warned.
"Do not interrupt me," Louis said, and looked at Athos with disapproval. "I may be a prisoner, but I am also your king."
Athos looked toward the monks, who stood near the edge of the courtyard and just outside the entry doors. Their simple, brown, and woolen robes hung nearly to the ground with long ropes tied around their waists. Their hoods tented over their heads, and wide sleeves draped over their arms toward the ground. Unlike their criminal counterparts, they looked defeated, subdued, and compliant.
Athos was suddenly shoved forward, and he turned to look at the man who shoved him. He was short, with greasy, black stringy hair and a beard that failed to fill in the deserter's branding scar along his cheek. The man pointed a pistol at him and smiled, exposing several missing front teeth and a forked tongue: a deserter and a liar.
Anne gasped, looked away, and then grabbed her skirt and lifted the hem to avoid tripping. She followed Athos, while Louis followed her. She fearfully looked over her shoulder at the men who brought them in, then at the monks who all turned and slowly reentered the monastery, and then she looked downward. Anne hitched her breath when Louis grabbed her hand and gently cupped it to his elbow.
"Stay strong, my dear," he said and swallowed. "Treville and the musketeers will arrive."
"I thought you'd be bigger," someone shouted from behind the crowd and then tossed a handful of horse manure at the king.
Louis hissed, raised his arms to protect his face, and ducked as they continued toward the second building.
Wynon nodded toward one of his men who opened the door and then stood to the side. Five individuals greeted them at the door. All bore the same mark on their faces and several carried the mark of a criminal. They each held a sword and stood in parallel formation when Athos entered and was followed by Anne and Louis.
They could hear the muted clanging of chains, shouting, and wails. The stench of rotting flesh, vomit, excrement, and old piss wafted throughout the corridors. Lanterns hanging from arched hooks against the walls flickered and caused shadows to dance. Dust, cobwebs, and animal remains littered all three of the pathways that led to different corridors of the building.
"You've brought me to a lunatic asylum?" Louis gasped. He covered his nose and mouth with the back of his wrist and turned to look at Wynon, who motioned with his hand toward the center corridor.
"See what your taxes are forcing the people to do, Majesty," Wynon said. He motioned toward two of the men to lead the way, and then he looked at Athos. "If you try anything, Monsieur," he said, "your queen will find herself in an unfortunate condition."
Anne inhaled sharply and swallowed. She looked at Athos, who looked at her, and nodded once.
"What do taxes have to do with lunatics? These people are mad." Louis grumbled and looked over his shoulder when someone stepped behind him.
"One might ask you, Your Majesty, if you're willing to spend a day in their condition?" Wynon motioned for Louis to follow. "Please, or I'll have you dragged."
Louis raised his chin, looked at the men who walked beside him and followed Anne and Athos down the corridors. Minimal light entered the building through the narrow windows. Thick stone walls provided protection for those within its confines. They took a turn to the left and more lanterns flickered. One man grabbed a torch, lit it, and then continued down a darkened tunnel. The farther they walked into the bowels of the monastery, the louder the noises became and the stronger the stench.
Louis clenched his gloved hands, feeling sweat collect on his palms. Moisture stained and marked the walls near the windows. It dripped and ran down the walls in streams, narrowing until it pooled on the floor. Several mice squeaked and rushed back toward their hiding places as the men approached.
Wynon cleared his throat as they stepped before a heavy wooden door reinforced with iron and heavy locks. "This monastery has spent the last four decades caring for the ill — lunatics — as you call them. Those that are not violent work in the gardens and care for the animals — including the men beyond that door." Wynon raised his eyebrows and looked at King Louis, and glanced occasionally at Anne. "Those that act like animals, are treated as such… they are either chained or caged." He motioned for the door to be opened. "Some of these… animals… will look at you like a plaything and given the opportunity they will wrap their hands around your necks just to watch you die not understanding the consequences of their actions… This," Wynon said, "is what you're pushing the people of France to do. You're forcing them to take action, regardless of what the consequences might be."
"Why are you doing this?" Athos asked. He looked at Wynon and purposely avoided those who stood threateningly around them. Athos clenched his jaw, tightened his fists, and felt the dagger against his leg.
"So the king knows that these men… these animals… will one day run wild in France," Wynon looked at Louis, "in Paris. When the money runs out, families will no longer be able to pay for their care. Instead of lunatics being locked within the recesses of monasteries or homes, they'll terrorize the streets you love."
"How much care can they be receiving… chained like common animals?" Anne said. She looked up, met Wynon's eyes and pursed her lips. "They're human beings… not wild dogs."
"Human beings don't toss their parents through windows, blind men in violent fits of rage, burn homes and barns, or have their way with members of their own family — or worse."
Anne felt her stomach turn, and she tightened her hold on Louis' arm and looked away.
"They're not all this way, Your Majesty," Wynon said casually. He cocked his head to the left and quirked a subtle smile. "But it only takes a few to bring chaos to a place of order. Just a few to terrorize a village… or a city."
A large man with wild red hair swung open the old door that squeaked and rattled when it moved. Anne covered her nose and mouth with the edge of her cloak. Louis opened his mouth as if to vomit and quickly recovered himself and pulled a silk tissue from his pocket and covered his nose. Athos swallowed and breathed through his mouth.
The sounds of screams, moaning, whining, and babbling suddenly stopped. Chains clanged against wrought iron doors. Whether they were called men, patients, inmates, or the insane, the poor souls looked at the newcomers with curiosity, longing, and pity. They pressed their faces against the iron grate of the grid patterned doors. With widened eyes they peered out while their knuckles turned white while gripping the rough edges. A man chained in place against the wall simply raised his hand in surrender. His blouse was torn, his braies stained and thin, and his bare feet were dirty. His matted, dark hair hung in clumps around his bearded face. A bucket was placed against the wall and his food dish was turned upside down next to it. The others were in much of the same condition: underweight, dirty, and horrific to look at.
A few of the men snorted, spit, and reached their arms through the grates. Louis hissed and stepped back. Anne looked at them in shock. She paled, and her eyes widened. She quickly looked away when one man moved his hand toward his groin.
"Majesty," Athos said as he slowed and graciously took her hand.
Anne nodded, walked steadily behind Athos to his left while clutching his hand and the sleeve of his doublet. She could feel Louis right behind her. Though he stayed quiet, she could not ignore his mutterings of disgust and disapproval.
The corridor was long, with inmates on either side. When they reached the end, a door was opened to expose a damp, dark room with only one narrow window that was too high to see through. Athos, Anne, and Louis were pushed inside. Athos stopped suddenly and stood in front of Louis and Anne, who had pressed themselves against the back wall.
"There's no way out," Wynon said and stepped back.
The door was slammed shut, and was followed by the clicks of several locks clanged against the iron doors.