Chapter 43
Breakfast was a ceremony, an act of state at the well-laid table. The conscientiously and strictly considered decoration of porcelain figures and tableware took up more space than the diverse dishes that Odette could choose from.
Elise marvelled anew each time not only at the display of power and extravagance, but also at the naturalness with which Odette performed the morning ritual. She knew it no differently, not modest or lonely. The only thing she noticed was the absence of Madame de Chanlecy, who, according to yesterday's letter, was supposed to meet her 'cousin' and had therefore excused herself until noon.
Elise wondered what d'Artagnan and Rochefort had to talk about. But Odette also seemed lost in thought and absent for a while now. She was brooding secretly, for she was not expected to have any depth of thought. Only Elise noticed that Odette was quieter than usual and was playing with her cutlery; she was slicing through the air with the knife in barely perceptible gestures, as if she were fighting an exhibition battle in her mind's eye.
It seemed obvious what was occupying her mind and yet Elise was surprised when Odette gingerly put the knife back beside the plate and asked her chambermaid, »Where might she have learned that and for what reason?«
It was not Grégoire who was on Odette's mind today, but her dame d'honneur and whose very astonishing fighting skills. Charlotte's strong wrists, as Odette herself had noticed, with which she was able to hold and wield a sword more than a cello bow.
Elise glanced furtively at the dining room door. It was firmly closed to the footmen and guards, Odette insisting on the private company of her maid and, until yesterday reluctantly, her companion at the table every morning. Nevertheless, Elise lowered her voice in case a servant outside in the corridor was not deaf enough, and moved closer to Odette. »You mean to fence?«
»To fight like a man.« It was hard to tell whether Odette was intrigued or disgusted. She seemed to have concluded, after musing, that Madame de Chanlecy's often offensive behaviour would not have been so very offensive had it come from a man. »It is not in keeping with the proprieties!«
Elise smiled hiddenly. It was no less unseemly to curiously want to know more. Instead of answering Odette's questions, which she had better ask d'Artagnan herself, Elise conspiratorially lowered her voice and admitted, »I own a pistol myself.«
Odette stared, her eyes wide. »Really?«
»It's an heirloom. In the streets of Paris you have to show it at certain hours if you venture out unaccompanied as a woman. But I've never shot with it.«
»Oh.« It dawned on Odette that she had grown up too sheltered and understood nothing of the reality of ordinary people. She reasoned that the town had been a teacher not only to Elise but also to Madame de Chanlecy. There was not always a heroic knight on hand to save a helpless princess, so she had to be able to fend for herself.
»What a crude, grim world...« she whispered back, but a twinkle in her eye betrayed her and her real thoughts. »Do you carry that pistol with you all the time?«
»It's safe in the palace, I don't need to show a gun around to ward off impertinent guardsmen.«
Odette blushed appropriately, then heaved a sigh. »That sounds so exciting, life out there! Oh, I want to be allowed to finally explore Paris instead of being caged in here all the time! But my uncle won't allow me to take a step outside these walls.«
»He's worried about you.«
»Were he, would I also own a pistol? Or could I wield a sword as well?«
»All the more, I suppose.«
»Oh, Elise!« cried Odette dramatically. »I am bored! Awfully, almost to death!«
Elise melted at Odette's pleading gaze to somehow free her from this predicament, not to let her continue to wilt joylessly in the palace and deprive her of all the wonders and life in Paris. »If some guards would accompany us-«
»No, I have already negotiated it with my uncle. I would not even be allowed to see the town under surveillance, to stroll through the avenues and admire the splendid hôtels. Because evil men might lurk there and abduct me. My fiancé and his henchmen who would recognise and pursue me. I certainly do not like to fall into their hands. Alas, I'll be locked up and sad forever!«
Elise bit her lip, long since persuaded to become a conspirator. An idea crept into her mind, an entirely foolish and insane one. But one that had already been tried and proved, and needed only to be imitated in order to grant Odette her desire for a little freedom and adventure without putting her in immediate danger.
»Perhaps there is a way...«
The jester grinned and taunted d'Artagnan from his exalted position on the shelf. Someday, she vowed, she would take this wretched porcelain figure and make him disappear. His stupid grin, his arrogant condescension towards the world, would fade away when he had to rot at her home, buried deep in the bottom drawer!
D'Artagnan composed herself as Rochefort followed her scowl over his shoulder and seemed to sense her plans to abduct harmless jesters. He did not comment further, but offered the dame a seat. To the lieutenant of the guards he would have dispensed with this courtesy, but Charlotte's appearance as a dame of honour made him forget any rank. It was not the first time he saw her in a dress, but she wore it so naturally by now, without an embarrassed plucking or smoothing that until then had always betrayed her discomfort, that he treated her just as naturally as a mademoiselle.
She rejected his gesture with a frown and remained standing. »Until I have sorted all this fabric around my skirt and undercoat that I can finally sit down, our conversation is over. So think of me as the same person as before, then I need not pretend to be offended that you summon me for a parley, instead of, the other way round, humbly begging a distinguished dame for five minutes of her time.«
»I see you live up to your new role, and have learned all that's necessary from the other honourable women of the court so as not to attract attention to you.«
D'Artagnan replied with an eloquent look, and Rochefort was careful not to follow the jester's example and laugh at her. Since neither politeness nor compliments were welcome, he got straight to the point. »The Duc de la Nièvre is no longer staying at his country estate. Presumably he's on his way to Paris to personally rescue his daughter from our clutches. There is some bustle in his townhouse; his mercenaries have taken up residence there and are likely awaiting his arrival.«
»Will we hand over Odette to him?«
»A decision has yet to be made, so remain vigilant. As soon as the Duc arrives, this family matter will be negotiated between him and Richelieu. It may all take weeks and months, not everyone will be so patient.«
»You fear that in order to please the father and firm a vague promise of marriage up, our Baron de Grinchamps could do foolish acts?«
»I fear nothing but the unpredictability of men.«
»So you actually fear not being prepared for everything. Not knowing everything.«
»The supreme sin in my profession!«
D'Artagnan dismissed Rochefort's real or imagined worries. »I stand by Odette de la Nièvre's side.«
»As a friend?«
»As a guard, as I have been ordered to do.« She frowned at Rochefort's strange enquiry. »Are you really only warning me about the Duc's mercenaries, about Grinchamps and Tréville? Or are you asking about my unpredictability?«
»We have known each other for many years, my dear, and you are always good for a surprise.«
D'Artagnan glared at the stable master with an angry glint in her eyes. »Then wait and see what it will be this time. To save you from guessing too much, I'll give you a hint; I am the same person as before.«
»Indeed, a hothead. I don't question your loyalty. I was curious to know if you're on good terms with your ward.«
»We get along, that must suffice. Is there anything more to discuss, or am I dismissed back to my duty? If it's not too late already, and Mademoiselle de la Nièvre has been abducted while we're talking.«
»You're truly beginning to feel too comfortable in this role!« Rochefort grinned at the offended dame, who in the past would undoubtedly have challenged him to a duel for his impertinent questions, instead of just giving him a snippy answer. From time to time he had to probe her thoughts and motives if he really did not want to be taken by surprise. For the moment, he was convinced that d'Artagnan would not act in doubt for Odette and against Richelieu to thwart any wedding arrangement to the detriment of the duke's daughter.
What her decision between Richelieu and Tréville would be, however, he was not able to say. She had not mentioned the captain of the Musketeers in the same breath as mercenaries and Fernand de Grinchamps as potential adversaries for nothing. She knew that only Tréville's letters of recommendation had led to this situation in the first place, and she had ultimately chosen the cardinal's Red Guard because of it.
He trusted Lieutenant d'Artagnan to do her duty. However, he was not so sure about Mademoiselle de Batz-Castelmore. He dismissed her with a secret smirk at the challenge of discovering new sides of her even after years of close friendship.
D'Artagnan would have waved off such thoughts with a sniff, if only because she had never been comfortable being seen through. She did what was required of her by duty and sometimes also what she thought was right, against all odds. Now, as she followed the corridors back to the chambers to rejoin her place as secret personal guard and official dame d'honneur, she pondered whether it was right to share the news with Elise and Odette; that the Duc de la Nièvre was coming to Paris to bring his recalcitrant daughter back from one cage to the other.
She decided against it. The message had been intended by Rochefort for her alone, so that she would remain all the more vigilant. It would only have made her task unnecessarily difficult, to upset Odette and Elise by the news. They would hear about it in due course; when that was, was not for d'Artagnan to decide. Sometimes, it was also an advantage to only have to obey orders and to be able to disregard your own conscience.
D'Artagnan finally shook off all the pros and cons as she pressed the handle to the antechamber - and the door remained closed to her. She was locked out, but soft noises from the chambers reached her ear.
Someone was in Odette's private chamber and after the conversation with Rochefort, his warning, d'Artagnan was too much of a guard to suspect only a discreet gathering of well-meaning friends not to be disturbed. She did not knock on the door or call for Odette and make herself known in some way. Instead, she looked around for the sentries, but found not a single guardsman posted nearby and went all the more alarmed to her own chamber right next door.
She rushed in. Whoever had distracted the sentinels and locked themselves in with Odette, presumably also Elise, had not considered one thing; the inconspicuous tapestry door between the wardrobe and the armchair, which connected the rooms of the dame of honour and the duke's daughter.
D'Artagnan had discovered the door during her first, thorough inspection of the chamber. The rooms had not been assigned to Odette and her by chance, and all it took was a reach into the wardrobe for her sword, then the lieutenant was equipped for battle, to make at least enough noise, so that the guards would become aware and hurry to the rescue.
D'Artagnan felt the knob, which could have been mistaken for an ornament in the tapestry. She wrenched the door open and fell into the room beyond with her weapon raised, prepared for any attack, shouting a loud warning and challenge at the same time to the world.
Silence greeted her, no fear-filled shrieks, no frantic fighting noise of surprised abductors suddenly rose. She secured the room, her gaze flitting over the furnishings, the walls, to the double door, the bed, the furniture; and lingered on two dumbfounded staring people by the dressing table.
For endless seconds, every movement was frozen. Then Elise moved first, thrusting her hands on her hips and glaring indignantly at d'Artagnan. The lieutenant blinked in confusion and paused in a battle-ready pose, all her attention fixed on the back of the person sitting at the dressing table.
The long, angel-blonde hair was pinned up the length of her shoulders in a skilful arrangement. The face in the mirror was devoid of any powder, the eyes and cheekbones not accentuated with rouge and eyelash black. The lips lacked the fresh gloss of red colour, the whole countenance was pale, less lovely than usual. The jewellery had been discarded, no heavy earrings glittered, no precious gem lay on the décolleté and the filigree fingers were not entwined with golden bands. Instead of a flowing dress, only a linen shirt covered the signs of fair femininity.
Odette turned around in the armchair to face her dame of honour, at first frowning at her for this assault, then she saw the épée, the tense attitude - and she laughed, with the greatest amusement at her determined companion, who wanted to save her like a brave guardsman and made a fool of herself in doing so.
The disguise was betrayed now at the latest, and Elise gave a caught little cough instead of continuing to reproach d'Artagnan, who in turn lowered her weapon and uttered, as much annoyed as disbelieving, »You can't be serious!«
Odette wrinkled her nose in defiance. Even if a beard had been painted on her, glued on or tied on like a wig, her natural femininity and grace could not be concealed in this way. What a farce!
D'Artagnan looked at the two younger women with the strict face of a humourless, spinsterish governess, which she was not and would never be. »What is the meaning of this? Are you plotting your escape from the palais?«
Elise answered quickly to prevent argument and to placate d'Artagnan, who not only had to think secret fears confirmed, but also to feel mocked at seeing in Odette a poor imitation of herself. »We want to take a little outing to Paris unrecognised.«
»In a silly masquerade that wouldn't stand up to a scrutinising glance for two seconds?«
Odette blinked at the blatant criticism, looked down at herself, considered she was actually well disguised, and replied flippantly, »If you can do better, then advise us or keep quiet about it!«
D'Artagnan snorted and ignored Elise's amused smile. Instead, her gaze rested mainly on Odette, whose last weeks of supposed independence and self-empowerment were upon her. Soon her fate would be renegotiated and d'Artagnan could not warn her.
But she could allow her, at least for a while, a little true freedom, let her taste real life out there for once and watch over her closely during that time. What of it? Just an outing, a breath of Parisian urban air and marvelling at the bourgeois mentality.
She would not have been able to dissuade Odette and Elise anyway. Sooner or later the two of them would have slipped out of the palace. Besides, d'Artagnan, for her part, felt an urgent need to escape court society for a few hours herself, the ridiculous intrigues and taunts. She had to get out of here before she would press a pillow to her face and screamed until she was hoarse and exhausted.
She nodded. »Some advise, fair enough.«
Odette was surprised by the unexpected concession; Elise, on the other hand, smiled furtively, as if she had anticipated it, and formed a soundless 'thank you' with her lips. D'Artagnan leaned her sword against the tapestry door and began to put the finishing touches to Odette's disguise with good advice and a great deal of tact. The duke's daughter was amazed when Madame de Chanlecy, with some experience and the greatest skill, soon turned a maiden in men's clothes into a man with maidenly features.
»Shirt and trousers alone don't turn you into a man. It's your whole behaviour with which you must distract from the truth,« explained d'Artagnan as she laced Odette into a tight and flat corset. »Forget that pretty smile of yours! Show me your grimmest face, your scowl!«
Odette tried her best, had to laugh at her own reflection, and only after some practice no longer made the offended pout of an indignant woman, but showed the mien of wounded pride of a very young man. Boyish, not very convincing, but at least the blond angel was covered up enough to quickly turn away from any counterpart before the disguise was seen through.
It was easier to teach Odette to walk with a rolling gait and absolute self-confidence. It needed no more than stuffing a rolled-up stocking into her trousers.
D'Artagnan was still not satisfied after all that, but Elise whispered to her as Odette staggered and tottered about the room, »You can't make of her in half a day what needs years. Will it suffice as it is?«
»...yes, probably. In semi-darkness, on a late night outing. In a tavern among drunks and revelers who have grown inattentive over wine, women and song. There it will suffice, there we will go to.«
Elise looked surprised that d'Artagnan seemed to have come up with a complete plan on how they were to make the escape and the outing. Before she could jokingly ask whether such strategic considerations were part of officers' training, d'Artagnan distracted her by a question. »Where did you get shirt, trousers and doublet?«
»From home, from Grégoire's clothes chest.«
D'Artagnan nodded, as if she had been confirmed in the obvious. »It doesn't befit her; the lankiest fellow hasn't such slender shoulders.« Without another word she turned and left the chamber through the tapestry door.
Elise was about to follow her, but Odette's amused laughter at herself stopped her. Half-heartedly, Elise found some praise for Odette's efforts and kept one eye on the door. D'Artagnan soon returned, bringing men's clothes. She had raided her wardrobe to lend Odette her own shirt and doublet, which would fit more properly because of the slimmer cut.
Elise, however, was more amazed by the red uniform overcoat that d'Artagnan also held in her arms and which she presented last to the astonished duke's daughter. »This will keep any remaining telltale sign hidden under the tunic and give you further protection. No one will molest or stare long at a cardinal's guardsman out of sheer contentiousness.«
Odette nodded a little hesitantly and d'Artagnan personally dressed her with the uniform, adjusted it, girded her with the baldric, put the feathered hat on her, pulled it a little lower in her forehead and took a step back to look critically at her.
Elise and Odette did not dare to make a move under the strict scrutiny. Only when Madame de Chanlecy nodded with satisfaction and even a little, proud smile did they both breathe a sigh of relief.
Elise smiled at the metamorphosis into a spruce cavalier. Odette turned before the mirror to look at herself from all sides, tried her scowl once more and then clapped her hands joyfully. »It is done, indeed! Just look, I have become my own brother!«
»Verily...« murmured d'Artagnan, feeling for fleeting moments reminded of herself, of a naïve, adventurous lass from the provinces who had known no danger and no common sense, who had taken a chance and tried her luck without ever regretting a minute of it.
Odette acted out her role with pleasure, now tipping her hat to Elise in a deep bow and complimenting her in a disguised voice. The chambermaid blushed, although she was aware of the play, and fended off the cheeky cavalier as was appropriate.
Odette winked playfully at her friend and turned to d'Artagnan. She tilted her head and scrutinised her dame of honour. »You are a strange person,« she said. »With your loud, coarse jokes, your obscene drinking songs, your rude behaviour, and you rush in with a sword in your hand, as if you were the captain of the Red Guard himself!« She shook her head, but then smiled gently. »I thank you, Madame.«
Before d'Artagnan could something reply in embarrassment, Odette asked curiously, »How did you get the uniform?«
D'Artagnan thought she heard a double meaning and feverishly searched for a plausible excuse. Elise quickly jumped to her aid and off-handedly, but not thoughtlessly, admitted the truth, which was more unsuspicious than any lie. »It must belong to Monsieur d'Artagnan.«
»Oh?« Odette could wield a single word as sharply as a dagger, so that a harmless statement came out of her mouth sounding like the worst contempt. »This lieutenant?«
D'Artagnan put on an inscrutable expression and joined Elise's explanation under duress. »So it is. He's away on home leave for a while and will not learn of this.«
»I see.« The men's clothes probably made Odette forget all feminine restraint and discretion, too. »You know him so well that his uniform and clothes hang in your wardrobe?«
D'Artagnan had the presence of mind to clear her throat and to glance with some interest at her fingertips, which were smoothing her dress in an embarrassed gesture. At least she suspected that this was how a dame of honour, whose secret affair had just been uncovered, behaved in such manner.
Odette did not stop there, but showed her clever mind behind the naïve façade. »Oooh, is that why the guardsmen obey to your word? Because you are the beloved of their lieutenant?«
In old habit, d'Artagnan thought of Jussac first and groaned in horror, »No! Never!«
Her vehement resistance made her even more suspicious in Odette's eyes. The duke's daughter looked triumphantly at Elise, who sent d'Artagnan a silent apology. She had not intended for Odette to make something up and to raise an accusing finger mockingly now. »Tsk, tsk! You cannot deny, I don't believe a word you say. Oh, how exciting! How did you meet him? When? How did you two become- oh, and did he teach you fencing?«
»Please, Mademoiselle,« d'Artagnan raised her hands defensively, »you suspect wrongly. The lieutenant and I are... just friends.«
»There was hesitation in your voice!« chirped Odette like a young bird, no longer dissuaded from the idea that Madame de Chanlecy would have loved to be a Madame d'Artagnan.
Elise caught a helpless look from Charlotte and she hurriedly assured Odette, »There really is nothing more between them and never will be.«
»No?« Odette seemed to trust her chambermaid's word more than any other affirmation. She looked disappointed and yet did not quite let go of the matter. »How unfortunate. Do you not love him at all, not the slightest jota, and secretly?«
D'Artagnan sighed. A 'None of your damn business!' would have been halfway appropriate in male company; Odette's romantically inclined personality could not be silenced with such rudeness. She probably saw herself and Sorel reflected in the story and hoped for a good ending. D'Artagnan had to drop a small honeypot for Odette to escape. She fell into her own trap, for once she thought of Sorel, he remained stubbornly in her thoughts and she murmured, »Secretly, yes...«
»Ah, how wonderful! And how sad!« Odette felt her troubled heart and smiled full of warm sympathy and fatuous romanisation. »Will you ever confess to him?«
»No!«
»Oh.« Odette blinked at the harsh reply. She apparently failed to realise that she had hit a sore point and was happily poking and prodding at it until you wanted to break her petite finger.
Elise intervened and said, from the point of view of a simple maid, »We do not get involved with guardsmen.«
»Why not?«
»Because-« Elise wanted to tell of how she would have meant no more to the men than a little fun, that every sin was punished by God, and that no promise of marriage followed therefrom to protect a woman and her unborn child.
But she could not enumerate all these reasonable arguments, for d'Artagnan had had enough and she yelled her own truth in the naïve Odette's face. »Because they are soldiers, because they die like flies! Not all of them come home, could you bear that uncertainty? The fearful waiting after every command? I cannot, I never could. Not if his death might be my fault...«
Elise was not the only one to stare at d'Artagnan in surprise at her heated outburst of emotion, her revealed thoughts and fears. Odette, embarrassed, turned the feathered hat in her hands and dared to ask the crucial question. »Your fault?«
D'Artagnan shook her head. »Ask no more, Mademoiselle, I beg you...«
Odette nodded in dismay and Elise was thinking her own thoughts. She suspected that d'Artagnan's reasons against love were to be found in the dastardly attack on Sorel. She blamed herself that he had been stabbed down; she feared that one day she would send him to his death herself, that her commands would be his ruin.
The contradiction was in Elise's eyes, but she kept it to herself. D'Artagnan was grateful for it and now said cheerfully to distract them all, »But we can be friends nonetheless, we owe your perfect disguise to this circumstance. Shall we try it out this very evening and venture on the outing?«
Odette looked a little uncertain at the sudden seriousness of the situation. But then she nodded eagerly and full of anticipation, forgetting the dampened mood of a moment ago. She was admirably young and lively and, inspired by this, Elise also agreed to the idea without further hesitation.
D'Artagnan smiled indulgently and decided, »So be it. I will have to prepare a few things. In the meantime, be good and don't do anything stupid! Well, no more of it.«
Odette and Elise saluted silly and laughed as d'Artagnan raised her brows and left the chamber to make the announced preparations. These consisted above all in rummaging in her wardrobe for plain clothes, for a gentlewoman should not be seen in an tavern in one of those splendid dresses of frills and lace.
A gentlewoman should not even sneak out at dusk, but the plan was made and their escape route scouted out after a short walk. The old servant's entrance was still unguarded and forgotten, like the day d'Artagnan had taken up her beginner's post here back then.
So it came to pass that a chambermaid, a dame of honour and a princess scurried stealthily through the half-dark hallways as night fell. Elise led them, for she knew best the byways for the servants, where no one was at this time of night, and how to avoid the night watch. They reached the servants' entrance unmolested, the almost petrified, low oak door swinging silently open on its hinges as if it had been freshly oiled.
Apart from a few superficial ruts in the loamy ground, the women left no traces and soon a young cavalier in the uniform of a guardsman and two common maids were standing on the Rue de Valois, enjoying the fresh breeze under a starry sky, grinning adventurously at each other and heading out into Paris by night.
As clever and skilful as they thought they were, their escape had not gone unnoticed.
Rochefort's face was sallowly reflected in one of the windows, a dark and unmoving silhouette. Only his closest confidants could have interpreted the barely perceptible twitch around the corners of his mouth, which fluctuated between disappointment and amusement. But his closest confidants were doing the greatest foolish things in these moments, confirming the master spy in a suspicion he already had had this morning; he knew Lieutenant d'Artagnan - Charlotte de Batz took him by surprise.
His breath clouded the cold window glass as he ordered, »Follow them.«
Rochefort did not say the 'inconspicuously' where it was not necessary. A hitherto unnoticed, rigid shadow moved behind him and disappeared into the hallways of the Palais Cardinal. Monsieur knew what was asked of him.
