Chapter 44
Three grey cats scurried through the night, dodging every faint cone of light from the street lamps as long as they were still in sight of the Rue de Valois and the Palais Cardinal.
They did not move as quickly as d'Artagnan would have wished, for Odette could not close her mouth in amazement and paused at every corner, at every narrow alley, to look around and breathe in the atmosphere. Elise kept close to her, half to shield her from casual glances and half because she greatly enjoyed the closeness of this false guardsman, his childlike curiosity and innocence, which were eliciting a smile of the maid.
With d'Artagnan keeping a watchful eye on the surroundings, Elise could devote herself entirely to Odette's many questions about this street or that house. The duke's daughter only knew the villages of her fief, the market towns along the river Nivernais. The largest settlement, Nevre, counted only a fraction of the souls usually encountered on the Rue St. Honoré.
After sunset, when the shadows grew deeper and darker and the night watchman sang his song in the distance, Paris was full of wonder and terror. Every ray of light that now still penetrated the streets from closed shutters was a last rebellion against the darkness and the unspeakable things that were happening in it unobserved.
The tavern Fir Cone swam in it like an island of light, filled with laughter, music and carousing. Odette smiled broadly as the destination of their excursion could be seen and heard from afar, her spirit and curiosity undaunted by the bustling life that resounded unbridled towards them and stumbled drunkenly at their feet as they tried to enter.
Odette hopped back evasively and Elise frowned at d'Artagnan, a question on her lips as to whether they should really go in. The Three Crowns right next to her house would have been the more natural choice. But d'Artagnan had decided on her own favourite tavern, not only because she was familiar with the customs here and knew that it was mostly peaceful, because the soldiers just wanted to drink away their pay and have a good time without caring about the affairs of the other guests. But also, in order to immediately cut any connection between Elise and this outing, if the maid were to be recognised by a neighbour and later gossiped about what Elise was doing in a tavern in the company of a young cavalier and another woman.
If she had known that Monsieur was already on their heels, d'Artagnan would have taken Odette, who was staring at the drunk at her feet, straight back to the palais. But as it was, she merely smirked with a certain superiority at her experience over Odette's naivety and clung to the younger woman's arm. Elise did the same on the other side, smiling encouragingly at her friend, and so a young man, with a pretty woman on each arm, entered the Fir Cone.
The innkeeper Hélion noticed them immediately and greeted them warmly, as if a regular and his ever-changing beloveds had just walked in. He showed them to a free table and paid the mesdemoiselles charming compliments without giving the young man any reason to be jealous. The lad, despite being in the uniform of the cardinal's men, seemed very inexperienced and distracted by the hustle and bustle around him. A victim not only for the two women who guided him like easy prey to the table and put him onto a chair. Hélion decided to keep an eye on the poor boy so that he would not be completely fleeced that night, whether by the wenches or the dice players.
He did not expect that his own barmaid, Josepha, would also take a keen interest in the innocent, angel-blond lad who handled the payment at the table, spending his money as if he did not know the value of the coins. He was obviously wealthy, probably bought into the Red Guard, and Josepha winked at him as she placed a carafe of wine along with cups on the table, leaning forward provocatively to give a deep view of her exquisitely and lovely breasts in the loosely laced corset.
To her annoyance, the young guardsman did not respond to her beauty, in fact, he did not even notice Josepha's charms and instead gazed in wonder at the carousing men, the noisy fellows at the other tables. He whispered to the wench with the copper-red hair, who was sitting very close to him, possessive and unwilling to share him.
D'Artagnan laughed secretly into her cup as the barmaid left with an offended snort. The lieutenant had caught this look from Josepha often enough, too. The barmaid would not give up a worthwhile opportunity so easily.
It was going to be a cheerful evening, d'Artagnan was having a great time, enjoying the atmosphere, the delicious cooking smells from the fireplace and the rude behaviour of the guests. A drinking song blared from one of the tables, rolling heavily and merrily over the heads, more a bawling than angelic hymn.
Odette listened with hot ears, overwhelmed by the unharmonious tones and the utterly indecent lyrics. Elise eyed her concernedly and was about to ask if she was all right, if they should leave the tavern for some fresh air. But Odette stared at Madame de Chanlecy, on whose face she found a broad, almost joyful smile, which she had never seen before on her. The dame d'honneur appeared to be happy and at ease, as if she were completely in her element, and Odette marvelled at this realisation.
»So this is where those soldier songs come from that you recited to me instead of fine poems? Oh, admit it, you yourself sneak off frequently! You are not at all the quirky and mirthless spinster you always pretend to be!«
»I lost my innocence long ago, Monsieur,« d'Artagnan replied dryly, »though it is none of your business.«
Odette promptly blushed and d'Artagnan smirked. »Quirky, on the other hand, hit the bull's eye.«
Odette giggled girlishly, almost betraying her disguise, had Elise not given her a noticeable kick on the ankle under the table. The duke's daughter fell silent indignantly until she realised that her chambermaid had only acted with the best of intentions. She looked into the taproom, but apart from Josepha's covetous glances, no one cared about the strange cavalier. Odette felt all the more uneasy about the interested barmaid, and concentrated entirely on Madame de Chanlecy.
»Say,« she asked hesitantly, »since you seem well-travelled and know of many things...«
»Whatever it is, ask frankly.«
»You have lived in Paris a long time, and... are you perhaps acquainted with a Baron de Grinchamps?«
»I have met him ever and anon.«
»Oh!« Odette hovered between delight that her question had not been in vain and demure embarrassment at wanting to know more about a certain man quite directly.
D'Artagnan said in a casual way, »A hopeless filou he is, from whom his fiancée has run away. I know of everything, Mademoiselle...«
Odette lowered her eyes abashedly. »I have asked Elise for advice, and now you. I wonder if I did the right thing, rebellion against the wishes of my family.«
»Never doubt it!« d'Artagnan replied emphatically and Odette caught a nod from Elise. She did not seem convinced, however, and she whispered barely audibly, »Possibly we would have been on good terms, perhaps even in love after a while?«
D'Artagnan laughed out. »The baron loves quickly, indeed. He would fulfil his wife's every wish! At least, whenever he would find the time besides his acquaintances with a beautiful maid, a naïve peasant's daughter or a young governess. A charming bon vivant he is, unfaithful unto death.«
»You know him quite well, it seems.«
»We share a past,« d'Artagnan replied vaguely, thinking much more harmlessly than Elise and Odette might have wanted to imply. »He's of quite a handsome figure, sophisticated and eloquently. But he also wastes his money on pleasures of all kinds, on women and gambling. For a while, he would have pulled himself together for a respectable wife. But it was the right decision not to choose him and to prefer freedom.«
Odette was inspired by these words, her self-confidence regained. »No more doubts, I promise!«
»Let's drink to that!« But the decanter had long been empty and d'Artagnan agreed to have it refilled at the counter.
The self-service was of little use, however, because Josepha appeared unexpectedly at the table as soon as one of her potential competitors had got up with the carafe and started looking for the innkeeper.
Josepha needed not many words. First she wiped the table far too close to Odette and almost pushed her bosom in her face. When the supposed lad only slid out of reach with his chair, Josepha quite suddenly stumbled awkwardly and landed on his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, and she giggled with hot breath into his ear. Elise reacted too late to stop it and Odette instinctively pushed the cheeky barmaid off her.
Josepha could have just held on tight, nothing would have happened except clearing of throats, muttered apologies, and for the rest of the evening they would have ignored each other. But the barmaid was indignant at the rejection, she landed on the floor with a dramatic gesture and scolded the impudent boy, this lout who understood not a »No!« and therefore tried to take and rape her!
Josepha had plenty of friends and lovers and suddenly Elise and Odette found themselves beset by an angry mob of drunken roughnecks. The most cunning one helped the barmaid back to her feet and held her protectively in his arms to dry her fake tears. Two others clenched their fists, grim expressions and an anticipatory gleam in their eyes.
Odette backed away fearfully, Elise bravely stood in front of her and prevented the fight for the time being, but not the scorn and ridicule that the false lad received for first becoming insolent and then hiding behind a woman.
The argument was still harmless and the other guests only watched with interest. But at one of the back tables, a broad-shouldered, unwashed man was elbowed in the side. He almost spilled his wine and grabbed his scrawny crony by the collar with an angry growl.
The latter hastily pointed to the commotion around the barmaid, to the young cavalier. »Call me a fool, Serge, but that face... Take a closer look and squint!«
Serge grunted and did so. He first noticed that the lad's uniform did not fit, making his shoulders look even more slender. A weakling, a pushover. The handsome, effeminate face suited him and soon a bloody nose if this continued. He squinted and then his grin revealed bad, brown teeth. He struggled to his feet, pulling his crony right up with him. »Must be our lucky day. Get the others!«
The scrawny one nodded and disappeared to the guest rooms. Serge was still grinning ugly and staggered with heavy steps towards the elusive fledgling in disguise. All he had to do was catch her, break her little wings and return her to her father...
He never reached her. At first it was only a brief twinge under his ribs, he stopped and looked down at himself, puzzled. He stroked his side with trembling, cold fingers, raised his hand and looked uncomprehendingly at the blood. Then suddenly his legs lost all strength, his eyes rolled up to the ceiling and a gasp escaped his throat.
Someone caught him, pulled him back to the chair and made him slump over his mug. The last of Serge's breath silently fled into Monsieur's handkerchief, he almost gently passed over into eternal darkness.
The shadow next to him faded as unnoticed and silently back into the taproom as he had appeared. He strode along the counter and casually brushed a female by the elbow, who looked first in wonder, then with a shudder, into a face devoid of any characteristic, any uniqueness worth remembering.
For the duration of a blink, d'Artagnan froze in icy fear, and a second later had already forgotten that ghastly mien, his touch, for noise blazed up further back and distracted her. She uttered a curse and pressed the just-filled wine carafe into the hands of a stunned Hélion, then pushed through the crowd with flying haste.
She would be too late, she knew it already. Whatever had happened, one fellow grabbed Odette roughly by the collar, another dragged Elise away from her by the wrist. Elise fought back with all her might, scolding and pleading to leave her companion unmolested, and then she got angry and used her free hand to pull her old pistol out from under her skirt.
Everyone froze before the weapon; the ruffians, the spectators, Josepha, time itself. Only d'Artagnan struggled forward, much too slowly, as if every movement was an endless toil.
Then the seconds snapped back together as if the world had been spooled and was now making a leap forward to make up for lost time. Elise was thrown to the floor and her hand with the pistol was pinned down. Josepha broke free from a protective embrace and shouted at everyone to stop. Odette got away, for d'Artagnan threw herself against her assailant and made him stagger. Heavy boots thumped on the stairs to the guest rooms, and a scrawny mercenary roared over everyone's heads.
»Seize them!«
And then a chaotic battle raged in the Fir Cone.
D'Artagnan writhed under a hard punch into her gut, because her opponent instinctively struck and only then realised that he was beating up a woman. With this act, Odette was no longer the worst villain, but he was, and bystanders rushed forward to save all the women - by their soldier's honour!
The fellow on top of Elise was pushed off her and Josepha pulled her back to her feet, pressed down her pistol and hissed, »Let that thing disappear!«
Elise obeyed and Odette stumbled to them, all pale and confused.
D'Artagnan staggered and a shadow caught her, growling an order in her ear. She tore herself away and her eyes darted to the stairs, to the Duc de la Nièvre's mercenaries, who were roaring and throwing themselves into the fray, targeting Odette.
D'Artagnan rushed forward, took Odette and Elise by the hands and followed Josepha's commanding beckoning without thinking. The barmaid guided the cavalier and his friends past the thrashing, swaying mob to the back door, frantically unlocked it and shoved them out into the night.
Only now did Odette catch her breath, Elise continued to hold her hand. D'Artagnan looked over Josepha's shoulder into the taproom. Monsieur could no longer be seen, but the Nièvre mercenaries had noticed them fleeing and were making their way towards them. D'Artagnan gave the two friends a shove. »Run, do run already!«
Elise did not hesitate for a second at the command and pulled Odette with her. D'Artagnan caught Josepha's gaze. The barmaid shrugged off a curt word of thanks, as if this was all her daily business. She locked the door behind them to give them a head start on their pursuers.
D'Artagnan no longer speculated about Josepha's motives for helping them, gathered up her skirts and ran after Elise and Odette. She caught up with them at the entrance to the next alley where they were hiding.
Elise greeted d'Artagnan at pistolpoint as she joined them. The maid breathed a sigh of relief when she recognised the lieutenant and lowered the gun. Odette whispered behind her back, »What now?«
D'Artagnan spied out of the alley, peering into the night, into the deserted streets, and thought them escaped for the moment. »My place. Rue Tiquetonne.«
Elise frowned and seemed to want to contradict her. For a moment, d'Artagnan had forgotten that she was not dealing with two subordinates and that she had to explain her decisions in order to be obeyed. She turned to Odette all the more insistently. »You have been recognised, your father's mercenaries are on our heels! They know exactly where we are headed, they will follow us and ambush us on the way back to the palais. We must take a detour, prepare ourselves!« Elise had a pistol with her, but d'Artagnan only had her dagger. She had to get her own weapons, pistol and sword, if they were to stand a chance. It was the best plan she could come up with in a hurry. Later, once they were off the street and in temporary safety, she would consider the next steps.
Odette's lips quivered as the real danger finally dawned on her and she nodded tentatively. Elise squeezed her hand encouragingly and said to d'Artagnan, »We'll follow you.«
»I know the district almost blind. Stay close to me, not another word!«
An officer's tone worked, the women went ducked through the night, dodging every pale glow of the streetlights, stopping as if frozen when a rat scurried away, its claws scratching loudly on the pavement. Several times a shout could be heard in the distance and Odette and Elise's hearts were pounding like mad until they were convinced that they had only heard the night watchman.
D'Artagnan led them along a safe path, listening, peering, telling them to stop or catch up. At last the Rue Tiquetonne came into view, a warm light from the windows of a house called out to them, promising safety.
An icy shiver, a silent shadow accompanied them all the way, awaiting their return in the darkness...
