Chapter 26

Jussac had only briefly attended the celebration yesterday. One of them had to hold the position and assure Captain Luchaire that the normal duty did not suffer from the boisterous mood. The cheerful noise from the guardroom could still be heard in the hallways of the Palais Cardinal late into the evening. The news of the promotion spread through the rumour mill in no time at all. Only an hour later it had also reached the Louvre - the signal had been set internally and externally, just as Jussac has intended; a new alliance has been concluded, an old one finally abandoned. Everyone had to come to terms with it.

Now the morning dawned and Jussac was already back in his study. He made a necessary change to the sentry list, because the new first lieutenant of the regiment was no longer assigned a post at the gates or the stairways. Instead, Sorel was ready for duty again, even though he had been exhausted after a short time yesterday and Biscarat had offered to accompany him home.

As merry as the celebration had been, the palace lay quiet today and many a guardsman might be glad of that. They could have withstood a storm with torches and pitchforks in any condition, they all still stood upright and ready for action. The drinking had left no obvious traces; no one wanted to bring shame on the corps, so yesterday they had looked out for each other without orders and controls. They had not overdone it with the high spirits, nevertheless there was a throbbing headache or two to be found and the duty went very quietly.

There was a knock and at Jussac's commanding, »Yes!« the door was opened almost stealthy, a redcoated officer slipped into the study. D'Artagnan could have entered brashly, but there was a mischievously expression on her face and Jussac's gaze fell on a wine bottle in her hands.

»Anjou.« D'Artagnan set the bottle down, somewhere among the piles of papers and reports. »Bernajoux said you liked that one best.«

»I do...« replied Jussac, the 'but' plain to hear. But what was that about?

D'Artagnan did not owe him the answer for long. »For the celebration. Your idea, I heard. And just like that, thank you.«

The thanks came so easily from her lips, so sincerely and without false pride, that Jussac finally sighed and accepted the gift. »So you begin your first day as senior lieutenant by bribing the other officers?«

»The wine was not that expensive.«

»Touché.« Jussac offered a seat and d'Artagnan chose the chair with the green upholstery. Unlike usual, she did not sit tensely on the edge, ready to jump up at any moment to defend herself against a sudden attack. To hold the old rank again seemed to have dispelled insecurities, brought with it conspicuously good humour and rediscovered self-confidence.

Jussac noted all this with some satisfaction and pointed to the papers. »There is much to discuss before you face your new tasks.«

»I've hoped that you would continue to teach me life in the Red Guard.«

»Did you think I would loosen the reins now and unleash you on the men? There is still a hell of a lot for you to learn before I pass on the sceptre.«

»Then I suppose we had best begin at once.«

The next few minutes passed with a discussion among equals. Actually, Jussac should have been subordinate to the first lieutenant, but they both suspected or already knew that the hierarchies would soon change again and left it at that.

Jussacs concluded the conversation. »This is how the next few weeks will go, then you should have taken over all your responsibilities.«

»Understood!« confirmed d'Artagnan. The exchange with Jussac, so perfectly normal among officers, had almost made her forget that there was still something to confess. Her deadline has not yet expired, perhaps she should postpone the matter? Just pretend for a little while longer that everything was fine and enjoy a few days of peace.

Jussac would not let her get away with it any longer. All the tasks and duties had been discussed, but there was something else on his mind. The lie about Versailles. Mademoiselle Batz. The guilt or not of a momentous duel, betrayal of secrets or misinterpretation of a friendship. He could not drop these thoughts since yesterday or push them aside completely. Here and now was the time to clarify last discrepancies and dispel doubts. »Wine from Anjou, eh? I heard you also brought Rochefort a bottle yesterday, after the celebration.«

»That's what they tell?« Nothing really went unnoticed in this palace. The observation in itself was harmless and so d'Artagnan shrugged. »He prefers plain grape juice from the Fir Cone, but at times he makes an exception.«

»You stand well with the master spy.«

»That's no secret. What are you getting at?«

Jussac eyed d'Artagnan sharply. »Rumour has it that your friendship with Rochefort has given rise to a duel.«

D'Artagnan's heart skipped a beat. Then, a distorted smile showed on her lips. »Can I declare the wine as a bribe yet still?«

Jokes would no longer save her, but what else could she do? Richelieu must have suspected that Jussac would no longer be fooled, that he would gradually put it all together. That he wanted to know whether he, too, might at some point be supposedly betrayed.

Jussac remained untouched by her obvious fright and the joke that followed. But then he surprised d'Artagnan by taking two cups from a drawer and placing them on the desk. He poured them the wine and pushed a cup over. »Your version. Off the record.«

»You want to hear my way of looking at things? So off the record that only you will know? No one, really no one else will learn about it?«

»Yes.« Jussac ended the banter with a direct attack. »Is that it? You have divulged regiment matters or private thoughts of your captain to Rochefort?«

»I never did!« flared d'Artagnan up, only to confess all the more quietly afterwards, »That was never the reason...«

»So you're not standing up for Tréville's and Rochefort's honour, but for that of your sister? That was a charming encounter we had at the washhouse with Charlotte de Batz-Castelmore.«

D'Artagnan, without looking up from the wine cup and her hands that held it tightly, murmured, »Close, damned close, and yet wrong guess.«

»Shall I go on, or will you speak at last willingly? What is the secret of this duel that has cost the Musketeers an officer and earned the Red Guard one?«

»It no longer matters.«

»Then you may as well tell it.« Jussac strove to keep the harsh tone out of his voice. Even if he could not muster understanding, he could at least offer moderate patience. »It may have become insignificant by now, but you continue to carry yourself with guilt. Why? Speak up already!«

Richelieu has foreseen this, too. Disputes, that whould arise from secrecy. D'Artagnan turned the cup in her hands without giving herself liquid courage. She needed not to be brave, only to find the right words. »It's a long story, I have no idea where to begin. I can only confess because it's my very own secret and not anyone else's that I'm betraying.« She looked up and met Jussac's frown with a firm look. »I implore you to keep it. Even if you must realise that I am indeed guilty, that I have committed a crime, and that you can no longer tolerate me in the corps.«

The word 'crime' circled ominously in the room and pinched Jussac's ear maliciously. He has heard it right. Not a love affair about a sister, not an affront to honour, not silliness, no, a crime was to be the reason!

With a jerk he stood up and marched to the door. D'Artagnan heard the key turn, the lock click. She looked over her shoulder. Jussac was still there, but he had built himself up like a grim guard at the door. With a curt gesture, he demanded her to speak. »No one will disturb us and interrupt your story.«

He promised nothing, he did not grant d'Artagnan's imploring request for secrecy. Probably she herself would not have acted differently at such fragmentary hints. But she was protected in this room, no one would be able to eavesdrop. She stood and took up a brave stance to face the matter straight on. There was no more stalling. She gathered all her courage and faced the truth like any other fatal opponent on the battlefield.

However, she could not say it outright after many years of silence, and put the cart before the horse. »Do you remember our conversation about a strict captain, about Tréville's only weakness, namely for perfect sentry lists?«

»A joke.«

»A lie.« D'Artagnan took a deep breath and then it burst out of her as if she did not want to say it and yet could not hold it back any longer. »I lied. Tréville's true weakness... is me. Was me. I didn't know. Rochefort suspected something, but he never spoke to me about it. It's my fault for staying. I should have left, but I stayed!«

»What the-? For heaven's sake, I have no idea what you are talking about! What you're implying!«

»Yes, you do. You not only suspect, you already know everything.« She smiled ruefully. »This duel was fought out of... jealousy. Jealousy of an intimate friendship that another man would have desired with me.«

Jussac did not understand immediately, his mind was completely blank. Then the words gradually seeped through to him and he uttered a curse he would not have thrown at even the most inapt of his guardsman. He rushed to the desk, grabbed a cup and emptied it in one go. In all the years, oh decades! that he knew Tréville and Rochefort...!

He thundered the cup back and stood frozen at the desk for a while. A crime against nature, was that what was meant?

He took a deep breath, slowly, controlled, without turning towards d'Artagnan. The disgust over this suspicion was too clear in his face, he could not look at the other lieutenant. »You mean to tell me that, despite all the affairs with women, all the philandering and changing mistresses after his wife passed, that-« He hesitated and lowered his voice in case someone was standing outside listening after all. To that spy he tossed a name that did not immediately connect with the person of the Captain of the Musketeers. »-that Comte du Peyrer actually has a- a different taste, that he... and his lieut-« He could not utter it without shaking himself in disgust.

»It's much worse than that.«

His gaze jerked towards d'Artagnan. He stared in disbelief because that cursed Gascon had actually sounded amused. D'Artagnan dared to joke where there should have been a tremble! »You think that amusing?!«

»Watching you? I would love to see the images in your mind's eye.«

Only with this remark did images steal into Jussac's mind and he grabbed the second cup to wash them away - instead of thrusting his fist into d'Artagnan's face. »My God... you are completely serious? It's true?«

»Despite all the womanising you may have heard of, yes. There was and is one woman Tréville has never had - and neither has Rochefort, if that should worry you. That is my fault and my secret. I lied to everyone when I came to Paris and I stayed when there was no longer any reason to hide. My crime is... not to be a man. I am Charlotte de Batz-Castelmore d'Artagnan.«

Jussac was beginning to feel foolish to keep staring incredulously at the other officer. D'Artagnan stood in best lieutenant's pose, hands clasped behind the back and in impeccable posture, as if... she had just recited a perfectly mundane, boring sentry report.

Without realising it, he overcame the two steps of distance between them and raised his hands. He wanted to capture her face, turn it and look at it under a new knowledge, discover the supposed woman. All he saw was the pale scar on her cheek before d'Artagnan dodged backwards.

»Stop it!«

A commanding tone, harsh, rough, but in an undisguised voice. Jussac blinked and stepped back as he realised he had almost gone too far. He was not yet a captain, and even the blow that had hit him with the confession did not justify crossing boundaries in any way. Especially not towards a woman.

This scar... »Charlotte Batz? Versailles?«

»There is no sister.«

»I'm aware of that!« he snapped at d'Artagnan, not sure where his anger was coming from or where to direct it. Was he really blaming the lie or his own stupidity at not having figured it out on his own long ago? It was so obvious! All the inconsistencies and strange character traits suddenly made sense - and he stood stunned before it, almost helpless. »And what now?«

»It's not my decision.«

»Bah! You say that, yet you have long since decided!«

D'Artagnan wondered most of all why she remained so calm, why she could still take something amusing about the situation. Perhaps it was gallows humour. Jussac either still did not understand anything at all or she was outrageously lucky that he left it just at angry words and metaphorical hair tearing. Perhaps she has misjudged him all along as much as he had her. »My decision fell on the commission when the cardinal presented me with a choice. I made it in the knowledge that you will soon be my captain. It is your decision, you have the final word.«

»Great! Don't shift the responsibility onto me! His Eminence is pleased with you and until just now I would have seen no reason to contradict him. It is a nasty surprise you have caused! I should have you arrested here and now, removed from my Red Guard. Yes, I should!«

»Or you can let me go in peace, and I will disappear with an annuity, never to be seen again.«

»There is that option? Seize it!«

»...at your command,« whispered d'Artagnan with the tremble that Jussac had missed a moment ago. She was about to steal away and already had one hand on the handle, when an authoritative, »Wait!« held her back.

Jussac leaned against the desk and looked more composed than before. He had overcome his first, instinctively angry reaction to the unbelievable truth. His thoughts had calmed down so that he remembered a favour he had promised to fulfil. A bullet that had missed him. »I owe you to listen. You have not told the whole story yet. I need to know the rest before I can judge.«

More hopeful than would have been reasonable, d'Artagnan nodded. »That's only fair, to win back your trust.«

»My trust?! All this time I've been wondering why you are so distrustful and acted secretive to everyone! Now I know the answer and I have yet to understand it. You have my silence. Let us-« Jussac ran a hand over his face. »Let us go on duty for now. Give me this day, we will speak... in the evening?«

»Agreed. Back here after duties?«

»Strike of the bell.«

No one would ask questions if the officers retired to the study again for a debriefing. D'Artagnan confirmed in military terseness, feigning a normality that had just been irretrievably shattered. »I'll see to the morning roll call.«

With that, she left the study to face what seemed like an endless day.