King Louis followed his escort to a small room that overlooked the courtyard. A fire blazed in the stone fireplace with a hearth that extended the width of the wall. A stack of wood stood to the right, and a bucket filled with ash was next to it. Lanterns hung from wrought iron hooks that arched in long curved formations from the wall and over the mantle for easy reach. The flames in each caused shadows to dance and amplify the highlights of each of the paintings in the room: landscapes of waterfalls, forests, and valleys filled with red poppies and blue irises.

The man who escorted him to the room pulled out a chair from a round oak table that was inlaid in mahogany and seated four. A glass port with a bulbous belly and two filled wine glasses stood on the table with a plate of fresh fruit and dates. He was of average height, thinly built, with dark black hair that was graying at the temples. His narrow hooded eyes were lined with long thick lashes and heavy eyebrows that were nearly connected in the center.

"Your Majesty," the man said, and motioned toward the chair. "Please take a seat."

"What do you want? And where is my queen?" Louis asked. He looked at the man standing before him. He tried to remain strong, appear kingly in a situation that demanded it, but his fear of the unknown caused his spine to weaken, his blood to race through his veins, and his heart to slam against his ribs. Louis wasn't a brave man and he had never pretended to be. He had his musketeers for that; men who stood before him ready and willing to fight in his defense, men willing to sacrifice themselves for him, to surrender their lives for him. Louis swallowed and looked at the man once more.

The man cocked his head and said, "I want nothing from you, Your Majesty, but there are others who do." He bowed, motioned toward the chair, and then, with a motion of his hand, ordered the others to leave. "Monsieur Souder will join you shortly."

"Join me?" Louis said distastefully.

"You are not in a position, Your Majesty, to make demands… not here, and not from these men."

"You'll hang for this."

The man nodded, bowed once again, and then suddenly left the room.

The fire cracked, and the wood shifted. Sparks flew upward, and smoke continued to darken the stones below the mantle. He could faintly hear the cries coming from the cells as the insane fought the inner demons only they knew were there. Louis closed his eyes. They were hardly men, more like animals, tied to keep them confined and prevent them from harming others. Men too lost in their own minds to understand the life they were living. He had seen it before but only occasionally when the insane were brought before him as families struggled to feed, clothe, and care for them. They had pleaded for help, too poor to send the sufferers away, they were kept at home in the care of their families. They were children, brothers, parents, and cousins, and sometimes friends. Some were unable to speak, others were so deformed they had to be fed by hand, clothed and cleaned like infants. Some were kept in chains as violence consumed them. And others, Louis shivered against his fear and the chill of the room. Others looked normal, peaceful, quiet, and even affectionate… until they weren't.

Louis took a seat at the table and, with his hands on his thighs, he watched the flames of the fire flicker. He wondered about the men that had taken him, those holding him and his queen hostage. Were they just as mad? Were they insane? Were they capable of murder? Louis knew the risks and understood the hazards. He knew about the threats made against him, those that were unhappy with his policies, his rules and regulations that were meant to keep the people safe — or so he thought.

He turned suddenly when the latch of the door sounded. Louis watched a man step inside the room. He was tall, with bright red hair, a long beard that was split in two and braided. He walked to the fire, added another log, and then turned and took a seat. With sharp, determined, and vibrant green eyes, he looked at Louis and then gently tugged at the corners of his mustache that curled upward on each of his cheeks.

"Majesty."

"Monsieur Souder, I presume?"

The man nodded and reached for a glass of wine.

"What do you want from me?"

"There are forty men in this monastery… twenty-five of them are tied or confined in the cellars because they're considered a threat to society," Souder said. He took a sip of wine, looked carefully at the wineglass, and then took a deep breath as he leaned back in his seat. "The families of those men pay the monks to care for them… food, water, clothing —"

Louis huffed and rolled his eyes. "Your men paraded me through them… They hardly looked well fed and they're in desperate need of clothing. Apparently, the family members are not paying enough."

Souder quirked a knowing smile and glanced toward the fire. "You say that as though it means something… as though those families could find more money… perhaps reach into their coffers?"

Louis frowned and said, "What does this have to do with me?"

"You keep raising taxes, Majesty. The more taxes you raise for your," he motioned toward Louis' fine clothes, "wardrobe, the less those families have to feed their own children."

"Which would you prefer, Monsieur Souder," Louis said, "higher taxes to protect the people from foreign enemies, or more money in their coffers that will be stolen to provide weapons for our enemies?"

"Your people will continue to suffer —"

"We are a generation, Monsieur Souder, that knows nothing but war. Some of us were born to it… others were born of it."

"Can you not sympathize with your people?" Souder said with a look of concern.

"Sympathize?" Louis asked with a frown. He leaned forward, pulled his eyebrows together and said, "You have taken me and my queen prisoner. You have threatened our very lives," he pressed his index finger to the table to emphasize his point, "because of taxes?"

Souder leaned forward and looked at the king with critical eyes. "Do you want your people to starve? Do you want children to go hungry? What happens when your taxes become so high that farmers can no longer farm their lands… The very lands that feed you and the people of Paris? What happens when sheep and cattle become too costly to feed and butcher because you need a new carriage, a new set of dishes, or a new doublet for a grand ball? The more you tax your people, Sire, the more your people will hate you. And if the people hate you," he raised his eyebrow, "then your enemy will be your people."

"To say such things is treasonous."

"That, Your Majesty, is the road you and Cardinal Richelieu have built. No musketeer, no red guard, or Captain Treville will be able to save you if your people turn on you."

Louis swallowed, rubbed his hand on the table and looked away.

"The men who ride with me know the repercussions of such actions," Souder said. "These men have nothing left to lose —"

"Their lives?"

Souder curled his lips into a sad smile. He wasn't an evil man. His dreams as a child were of horseback riding through the mountains, becoming a soldier and fighting bravely amongst friends, getting married and owning lands. But here he was, a traitor to his country, his king, and his family. The journey had been an arduous one, but as he looked at Louis, he knew he had to carry it through to the end. "Most of them consider themselves dead already." He looked Louis in the eyes. "Trust me when I tell you that anything you threaten us with will be mocked. They believe what they are doing is worth dying for." He watched Louis look at him and then glance around the room as his words were comprehended.

"My queen?" Louis looked Souder in the eyes. "Will you give me your word that no harm will come to her?"

"You're in no position to ask for anything, Majesty. And I am in no position to make promises I cannot keep."

Louis' stern features paled and the fear he had been feeling was suddenly expressed through his eyes. "Please don't hurt her." There was an unfamiliar desperation in his voice, not unlike months before when she had nearly been killed by Gallagher and his men. Louis thought about Anne, their unborn child, and the future of France. He thought about his legacy and suddenly looked at Souder. "I beg of you… please don't hurt her."

Souder ignored him and spoke as he shifted in his seat, "I am going to release you." He looked at Louis and saw the look of question across his face. "You will depart here on horseback with a monk who will escort you back to your men. Your queen will remain here…" He stood, finished his wine, and then placed the glass on the table. "If you try to attack the monastery… if you attempt to free her…" Souder raised his eyebrows. "I'll unlock the door that separates her from those less fortunate, those whose impulses are less than honorable."

Louis swallowed. "Why?" he asked and watched Souder toss another log onto the fire. "Why are you letting me go?"

Souder smiled knowingly and turned toward Louis. "I expect that you and the cardinal can discuss land and salt taxes… Perhaps you will both come to an understanding about the people you rule… about the people that harvest the fields of vegetables, fruit, and grains that you eat, the people that sheer the wool from lambs that clothe you, milk the cows so you can butter your bread and drink your milk. Perhaps, Your Majesty, you can reconsider some of the choices you have made?"

"I will not discuss anything without knowing the queen is safe," Louis said as he stood. He straightened his back and clenched his jaw as he looked at Souders.

"She is safe and will be returned to you once you confirm your tax reforms."

The door opened and Louis turned to face three men, two of which had their faces covered with masks, and they motioned for the king to follow them.

"You have three days, Sire…" Souders shrugged, "After that…" he licked his lips and raised his eyebrows. "You will need to make some decisions."