Chapter 37
The morning dawned grey on the horizon and barely drove away the night shadows when loud hoofbeats echoed on the forecourt of the Palais Cardinal and startled the inhabitants.
Jussac lost no time after he, Meunier and Forgeron passed the main gate. He slid out of the saddle and left his horse in the care of the other two guardsmen, who looked no less worn out than himself and were relieved to be off the street, back home at last. Dirty boots and dusty coat, Jussac climbed the stairway and his expression meant a rolling thunder.
The night watch and the earliest servants were wise enough to keep their heads low and not dare make a sound until Jussac marched past. He was heading for Rochefort's study, the feather on his hat all dishevelled from the long journey, his clothes rumpled and he himself in dire need of a bath. He would have been fully willing to see Richelieu and report directly to him - but first he had something to discuss with the stable master. About Monsieur and certain half-truths with which the Red Guard had been sent out to get thrashed. Once again.
No one in their right mind dared to stand in the lieutenant's way; so it did not surprise him that he almost collided with d'Artagnan as he turned into the upper gallery. She must have heard the hoofbeat, followed his arrival from a window and now dodged him just in time. Before she could open her mouth, he gave her a curt sign to join him. Someone had to stop him before he strangled Rochefort definitively this time.
Jussac made no secret of his anger and d'Artagnan was clever enough to wait and tell him only what was necessary without him having to ask. »They're here, safe and sound.«
He nodded grimly. At least in that respect there had been no further incidents after their pursuers had been led astray. Pursuers who would not have existed at all had it not been for Monsieur!
Jussac invaded the stable master's study like a gale-force wind blowing hard in Rochefort's face. He did not care about discretion, but gave free rein to his rage. »Are we already abducting young women from their families' custody?! An escort, bah! We had no brigands on our heels, no murderers - mercenaries of la Nièvre! For heaven's sake, Monsieur has kidnapped the duke's daughter!«
D'Artagnan froze, while Rochefort smiled thinly and let the storm pass. It was an old ritual between lieutenant and master spy; Jussac's onslaught has been expected since yesterday, and Rochefort was up early this morning, first to be shouted at and then to reply, quite matter-of-factly, »At the mademoiselle's wish.«
»But of course, no doubt! And this wish was not first instilled in her by Monsieur? Enlighten us!« Jussac already seemed to be absorbed in his role as future captain and called in his first lieutenant. Their combination worked, d'Artagnan raised her eyebrows and Rochefort had to admit that he was inferior to this double stubborn superior forces.
He gave in, albeit reluctantly. »Monsieur may have helped in her decision, if only in a small way.«
»We kidnapped her, Rochefort! We were attacked because a father wanted to free his daughter from our clutches!« It was not hard to guess, Jussac's thoughts were with his own children, with little, innocent Mathilde. He would have moved heaven and hell if she had been taken from him. His conscience cried out for more than vague hints for an explanation.
Rochefort remained impassive and unaffected by this. »Odette de la Nièvre has asked us for refuge. It was an escort, no matter what you imply and accuse me of.« His gaze went to d'Artagnan, not by chance, as he continued, »The mademoiselle, by fleeing to Paris, eludes certain marriage plans.«
Jussac looked over his shoulder and met d'Artagnan's conceivably reserved expression. If Rochefort's remark was intended to drive a wedge between the officers, he had almost succeeded, for Jussac asked suspiciously, »You knew about this?«
»No,« replied d'Artagnan, giving no opportunity to be doubted, »but I suspected it since yesterday. What now, Rochefort? Do we hide her from her troublesome fiancé, her family, in the Red Guard as a recruit? Is that the plan? I could help out.«
Her biting remark made both men frown, united in their opinions, their dispute forgotten. D'Artagnan folded her arms in front of her chest defiantly, but an amused gleam in her eyes betrayed her.
Jussac grunted as it dawned on him to have fallen for it, while Rochefort smirked fleetingly. »The help is welcome, but required of the entire Guard. The duke can be thought capable of having enough influence to have his daughter fetched even directly from the palais. Vigilant eyes will have to be kept on her for the time being.«
D'Artagnan only half believed him. »You just don't want to see the damsel flee from here as well, admit it.«
»She has voluntarily placed herself under the protection of her uncle Richelieu. But experience teaches one to think women capable of anything, no matter how naïve and yet adventurous they may be.«
»She won't be that naïve if she successfully plays off her father against her uncle to decide her fate on her own. We're not talking about ordinary men here.«
Jussac called himself to mind with a clearing of his throat before he found himself seated between the chairs and had to arbitrate. »She will be protected and guarded. Nièvre's mercenaries won't be able to invade the palace. Who's our real enemy?«
»Her fiancé,« Rochefort stated, showing his cards surprisingly openly. Biscarat and Bernajoux would have grinned now and insulated d'Artagnan of her 'Please don't...'-face. Rochefort confirmed her misgivings with a barely perceptible nod. »Fernand Baron de Grinchamps.«
»Devil!« So this was the marital arrangement in prospect the baron had spoken of in the Fir Cone? »Was there another letter of recommendation?«
»Probably.«
Rochefort's regret was not feigned and d'Artagnan took a deep breath before turning to Jussac to make another confession; about the Vicomte de Lécuyer, about a letter from Tréville. About the intention of the captain of the Musketeers to negotiate with Richelieu in this way for d'Artagnan's fate, until she had withdrawn from this game and decided to join the Red Guard.
Jussac listened in silence, grasping the full extent of this intrigue. In the end, he ran a hand over his face, hesitated, and then nodded without resentment towards his lieutenant. »I understand.«
»Thank you,« murmured d'Artagnan, relieved and genuinely grateful not to be blamed again for the unspeakable follies committed by others. What was she to do now? Was there anything she could do or could the ball, once set rolling, not be stopped anymore?
»It's not about you.« Rochefort snapped her out of her unpleasant thoughts. »My Dear, as much as you like to see yourself the centre of attention, your role in this matter has been exhausted.«
»Flatterer! What makes you so sure about it?«
It was not the stable master but Jussac who answered, and he did so in a tone somewhere between impatience and annoyance. »That you've made up your mind in all clarity. It'd be useless to force another bargain.«
»Odette de la Nièvre is to be married,« added Rochefort. »Her father wants it so, she does not, and Richelieu derives his own benefit from it. The continuation of this jocular story is now before us, a family affair. There's nothing more behind it.«
»From your lips to the cardinal's ears!«
»Indeed. His Eminence expects your report around midday, Jussac.«
»Expect Monsieur's at noon. He stayed behind us.« Jussac had not asked as they parted at the town gates. Presumably the agent was still erasing traces and witnesses.
Rochefort took note. The conversation was over, the expulsion unmistakable and even more so the request to rest for a few hours and get the hell a bath!
Jussac took the hint and stomped a little too hard with his boots on his way out. He left dusty prints on the parquet floor and d'Artagnan trod down the dirt as she followed him in his footsteps out of the study.
She accompanied him across the gallery and Jussac finally gave up trying to shake her off. When women wanted to talk, there was no escaping it and apparently there was still a need for his first lieutenant to discuss things before he was dismissed home. All it took was a sideways glance and she shared her thoughts with him.
»Our guest doesn't seem to be aware that by escaping she has only moved from one prison to the other. She has eluded her father's notions, but now she's a pawn of His Eminence.«
»Do you pity her?«
»No.« Indeed, d'Artagnan did not, though both women seemed not dissimilar in their desires, choosing only different methods of escape. »I'm... concerned.«
»About what?«
»Odette de la Nièvre is not as harmless and innocent as she appears,« answered d'Artagnan as neutrally as possible, yet she could not quite banish the suspicion in her voice. »To stand up to her father, she allies herself with his enemies. Once she realises her mistake, she might not want to stay in the Palais Cardinal. She will find a way to escape from here as well before she is forced into another betrothal.«
»What exactly is it you're concerned about?«
»We're to be her personal guard. None of the men are entirely immune to a pretty woman. Odette de la Nièvre is well aware of her beauty, she plays on it. Whether we like it or not, we have long been part of this intrigue.«
Jussac's first instinct was to disagree and dismiss d'Artagnan's assessment as a ridiculous delusion. But then he remembered who he was talking to and that female intuition turned out to be alarmingly often accurate. There was no denying that the duke's daughter had a clever mind behind her supposedly naïve façade - and she had already tried to wrap at least one of his guardsmen round her little finger in the last three days, even though Sorel had been unresponsive to her shy smiles, coquette glances and harmless gestures. Yet.
Jussac took the warning seriously, like it or not, and left the matter to d'Artagnan. »The sentry list is your responsibility.«
She nodded, relieved on the one hand that Jussac shared her concerns. Worried, on the other hand, that Jussac shared her concerns. He would have waved it off if her suspicions had been completely unjustified. She now had full rein in assigning the sentries. Always two guardsmen together, never one alone. That way they should be able to protect each other from sweet danger. »I'll see to it at once!«
»Good, and Lieutenant?«
»Yes?«
»You will be able to separate private from public.«
D'Artagnan stood rooted to the spot, the reminder an embarrassing, loud booming echo in her thoughts. They had talked about this before, about feminine wiles and friendly fire. It brought a blush of shame to her face.
Jussac had long since turned a corner, he was already halfway out of the palace, home with his family, before she barely audibly whispered, »Yes, Sir...« and took his advice all too much to heart.
