Chapter 28
The errand boy found Biscarat at the stables. The smell of fresh dung, steaming animal fur and damp horse blankets was omnipresent and sought to cling stickily to skin and hair. Biscarat was busy sorting the horse tack and inspecting their immaculate condition. It was a task for the ostlers, but he liked to take these things into his own hands. With the horses there was no room for court intrigues and human malice, here there were only the animals and honest work; a casual agent found some respite from the devious and entangling machinations of this world.
Biscarat sorted his thoughts as carefully as the bridle to prepare himself for an inevitable conversation with Jussac. Deep rings were under his eyes; he has spent the entire night up. After bringing Sorel, whose constitution was fast weakening because of the wound he had just recovered from, home from the celebration, Biscarat had not returned to the guardroom to rejoin his comrades. Instead, his steps, and his curiosity, had led him into the secret archives; Bernajoux had spurred his ambition with the remark that he still knew nothing about Charlotte Batz, and Jussac had given him half permission to investigate about the mademoiselle.
He found out more than he would have liked. By flickering candlelight, he spent the hours until sunrise studying his troves from the archive. In the end, a reach to the payroll list in Jussac's study was enough to check a name. Captain Luchaire had it neatly noted down; full titles, ranks and names of all the soldiers. Biscarat had left for the stables in the chilly morning air to find some rest.
He looked up from the leather straps in his hands as a somewhat timid-looking lad of perhaps fourteen in the fine livery of a palace servant approached him. The boy's voice was barely breaking, his face devoid of fuzz - and he was intimidated enough by Jussac's quick-tempered personality to barely open his mouth when he asked Biscarat to come to the lieutenant's study.
The Gascon hung the straps back on the hook provided. He has certainly been summoned to justify his research in the archives. Jussac would not like his explanations, not at all. Should he do as Sorel did and say nothing, but stare obliviously into the caldron with the ration? Sorel must have observed more in this side corridor than he wanted to admit - and he had prevented an embarrassing initiation during the celebration just in time. Because old Cahusac was the only one who had correctly understood his silent pleas to stop at this point and release d'Artagnan.
With a mocking smirk at Sorel's motives, which he himself was probably not even aware of, Biscarat knocked on the door to the study a few minutes later and entered without waiting for permission. He found Jussac standing at the window. The lieutenant looked into the courtyard, from where bustling noise was echoing. Someone had given the order for weapons practice and when Biscarat also stepped to the window, he spotted their new first lieutenant among the guardsmen.
Jussac was aware of his friend's presence but nevertheless he did not take his eyes off d'Artagnan and watched her every command carefully. He was not looking for mistakes or trying to make sure the other lieutenant was handling things well. He was just observing what was going on in the courtyard, probably taking in the morale of the corps after a night of drinking and under the command of a new superior.
Biscarat spotted Bernajoux sitting a little apart on a wooden crate, leaning against one of the pillars, his hat pulled low over his face to protect his eyes from the sun. He had celebrated hard yesterday and probably with his sweetheart afterwards as well. She must have challenged him a lot, he looked tired but extremely satisfied. In surprisingly good spirits, in fact, because at one point he raised an arm in a congratulatory gesture towards d'Artagnan, who has accurately fired a bolt into the target.
The shot seemed to have been preceded by a bet, or so Biscarat interpreted the general burst of laughter, the amused applause of the guardsmen and Bernajoux' recognition of d'Artagnan's weapons talent, who bowed exaggeratedly grateful to the men. Morale appeared to be in excellent shape. Everyone was busy and distracted.
»As if it had always been like this.« Biscarat looked from the courtyard to Jussac. »That's what you're thinking.«
»You know me too well and I'm not sure I like it.« Jussac turned away from the window and eyed his friend in clear annoyance. »Read off my face what I'm thinking besides.«
»A steep frown wrinkle and biting sarcasm? Rochefort was here.«
»Lucky for you he was here! I was just able to convince him that you were not a traitor and were acting on my authority. It was the last time. Understood?«
»Yes, Sir!« The warning had been voiced by the superior to the subordinate and Biscarat took it quite seriously. He had expected trouble for himself, but for Rochefort even to take up the matter personally- He needed to explain to Jussac what he had stumbled upon! »We were talking yesterday about Mademoiselle Batz and-«
»Heavens, yes! Rochefort wants his reports back, which you took without any brains at all. He's going over the matter with some degree of mercy; Richelieu will not learn of it. I, on the other hand, wouldn't mind, telling d'Artagnan that you are pursuing his sister like that. I'd gladly leave the punishment to him.«
»Him,« Biscarat repeated less contemptuously than cynically. It could have been misinterpreted that he did not want to accept the authority of the new lieutenant, and certainly not in a private matter.
Jussac, however, understood him quite correctly, for he put it right. »Her.«
»...you know?« Biscarat stared, completely dumbfounded. Then it occurred to him that his own knowledge had just been verified and he was set back one seat in the ranks of the initiates. He composed himself and shrugged. »For good reason, Rochefort keeps these reports under wraps. I'm relieved you don't have to hear it from me first.«
»Too hasty. You are going to talk to d'Artagnan tomorrow and face whatever punishment she imposes on you for your espionage. You will keep silent before everyone else. Before everyone else.«
Biscarat bowed his head in obedience. Bernajoux had to remain in the dark. That was not only annoying, but also very unpleasant. How long had Jussac himself kept it this way with his friends, and struggled with his own conscience?
»Rochefort expects to find the documents back on his desk this evening.«
»Understood!«
Jussac took the salute benevolently, albeit with a certain weariness. Biscarat's unauthorized behaviour had gotten his friend into trouble more than once. As captain, he would no longer be able to defend him. But perhaps in future another lieutenant would stand between Jussac and the delinquent?
»Do you want to hear details of the reports?« Evidently Biscarat set out to make this case happen more quickly than necessary. Jussac should have indignantly objected and rebuked him. But he hesitated. Rochefort could have retrieved these documents already and yet he still left them to the guardsmen for the next few hours. It was easy to suspect intent.
Biscarat interpreted his facial expressions correctly once more and silenced Jussac's conscience on the one hand, only to entice him on the other. »In essence, there is nothing compromising written in them. Not obviously.«
»Between the lines?«
By inquiring, Jussac has fallen into the friendly trap; Biscarat saw himself quite in his element. »The oldest reports go back as far as ten years and are of little interest. Seven years ago, however, Rochefort commissioned an agent to make enquiries about the Batz-Castelmore d'Artagnan family in Gascony.«
»Probably country aristocrats, half peasants with their own soil.«
»A sufficient soil with a large yield. The father, Bertrand de Batz-Castelmore, served before retiring to his estates and marrying Françoise de Montesquiou-d'Artagnan. The church records state the birth and baptism of a daughter, Charlotte. Nothing could be found of any other children, a son. A bastard, the agent concluded.«
»Rochefort will not have sent Monsieur, who would not have made such a serious mistake.«
»Monsieur would have taken everything from here to Lupiac hostage to find the missing piece of the puzzle.«
Jussac dismissed the objection without being able to entirely avoid a shudder. Biscarat loved exaggeration, only it was unnecessary with Monsieur. »We have the piece of the puzzle.«
»Indeed. The neighbours were still worth a mention. The d'Orfeuille and du Peyrer families.«
Versailles came to Jussac's mind again. Jean d'Orfeuille, whom he had arrested in the audience hall as a conspirator. The one who had escaped and shot at his fiancée, inflicting a dead-straight scar on her cheek. He snorted snidely. »Peyrer, yes, better known as Troisville and poshly called Tréville in Paris. Neighbours, bah! That's how you end up with the Musketeers.«
»Probably. Nothing else worth mentioning there. The other reports are about the affair that led to Buckingham's murder-« Biscarat cleared his throat. »Of course, the Palais Cardinal had nothing to do with that terrible event! D'Artagnan was nevertheless implicated.«
»I don't want to know those details and you forget them on the spot!«
»My memory is sketchy, quite without prompting.«
»Good.« Jussac rubbed his neck and only then realised how tense his shoulders were. A warm bath in the tub, he promised himself for home. »Is there more?«
»No, just...« Biscarat hated to squeal on a comrade, but in this case there was more at stake than just a missed sentry duty. »Sorel suspects something or knows it for sure.«
»I was afraid of that. Talk to him before I have to. Heavens, d'Artagnan begins to grow careless! Soon the whole Red Guard will know, and if I order everyone to strict secrecy, some ostler always blabs!«
»D'Artagnan doesn't seem that careless to me. Unlike Rochefort, who lets himself be overheard and stolen from.«
»Don't talk of theft if you value your life!«
Biscarat was less worried, but raised his hands placatingly. »Does Captain Luchaire know?«
»Certainly not. It's not worth while, I myself only found out because I'll soon be following in his footsteps.«
»Congratulations!«
»Tush! I won't sell the fur before the bear is shot with a signed and sealed commission! In the end, a certain heroine snatches the promotion from under my nose.«
»You think so?«
»No. For good reason, she lacks the ambition to attract even more attention to herself.«
This made sense to Biscarat, just as many things finally made sense to him. Without Rochefort's carelessness, he would never have seen through it. He would only have continued to wonder why d'Artagnan acted so conspicuously aloof and at some point dismissed it with the thought that the former musketeer could not overcome old rivalries. That an officer would not fraternise with subordinates. It would soon have made her very lonely about it, for the guardsmen would have respected the desire for distance. Was this another reason why Jussac insisted on talking to her?
Biscarat had spent hours thinking about what he had learned from these reports. So far, he had only known with certainty that he had to enlighten Jussac. Unnecessarily, as it turned out now. How was he himself feeling about all this? Astonished, of course. But honestly, he thought this mystery far more fascinating than scandalous. It made him curious, he would not get bored under this first lieutenant.
He eyed Jussac questioningly. »Did you know from the beginning?«
»No.«
»Really?«
»Why so surprised?«
»Well, at the first morning roll call you persistently pointed out her female behaviour to d'Artagnan. Diplomatically speaking.«
Jussac stared blankly, then the memory of that day crept back into his mind. »Oh, for shame!«
»In retrospect... We all wondered if you were not only going to deliver perfumed letters of invitation and personally escort d'Artagnan to the courtyard holding hands, but ask if 'he' would want to sleep with you.«
Biscarat ducked and dodged backwards a few steps because Jussac's face turned a dangerously angry blush as he snapped, »I knew nothing!«
»Well, d'Artagnan looked quite disgusted. She must have thought similarly.«
»Enough already!« Jussac roared, pointing to the door with an outstretched arm. »Pack off!«
Biscarat immediately complied with the request and laughed quietly to himself. He would be able to have this fun more often in the future when his friend urgently needed a distraction from too dark thoughts.
In high spirits, he made his way to Rochefort's study to put some reports on the desk unseen and then go somewhere to catch up on a few hours of sleep.
