Chapter 54

When the king finally dismissed those present from the audience, when everyone had already left the hall alone or accompanied, d'Artagnan still stood stunned. Odette had to wave a hand in front of her eyes to make her react at all, and she uttered a curse that made the duke's daughter flinch.

»By the Devil! What has just happened?!« She looked around and realised that apart from her, there was only Odette. The duke's daughter smiled happily, a brightness surrounding her that would have lightened any gloomy day. D'Artagnan frowned. »Have I really been forgiven, I am still free?«

»Free as the untamed wind!« Odette giggled girlishly.

»I doubt that very much,« grunted d'Artagnan, peering towards the double door and noticing Elise standing there. She shook off her own confusion and nodded to Odette. »I am still bound by my duty and my oath. Your personal guard, even though the danger of you being abducted is finally averted.«

»Although His Majesty has pardoned those villains as well? Do you think I am entirely safe from Grinchamps and his friends?«

»It is over, yes. Let's go, Elise awaits you.«

Odette looked towards the door, and her smile changed at the sight of her ever-loyal chambermaid, gaining something affectionate that went beyond mere friendship. D'Artagnan ignored it and was nevertheless very sure at that moment that whatever negotiations His Eminence and the Duc de la Nièvre might have about Odette's future, Elise would always be at her side. The two belonged together, Odette would not leave Paris without her maid.

Elise waited impatiently and then ran the last few steps towards them without being able to be stopped by the sentinels again. Odette welcomed her warmly, grasped her hands and held them gently. »Oh, you should have been there!« she exclaimed with almost childlike enthusiasm.

»How did it turn out? I couldn't hear everything near the end. There, before the door,« Elise added hastily, looking innocent.

Odette liked to be fooled by that, she got the chance to tell the story blithely and dramatically in the process. But she was nevertheless cautious, as long as they were still in public, to tell only in whispers about the parts where a secret had been uncovered.

D'Artagnan let her chatter without interjecting and lapsed into her role as a discreet guard escorting the dames to the Palais Cardinal. She listened with only half an ear, her thoughts went their own way. By Odette's summary of the audience, she realised that it had all truly happened, but it still seemed quite unreal to her. For some reason, His Majesty had been convinced by her speech, by the Cardinal's arguments, and ultimately by his own desire to forgive Tréville, and thus her as well. At least for the time being, until Louis' moods would change again.

Tréville and Grinchamps had escaped exile. The baron would have to answer to the Duc de la Nièvre for the death of the mercenaries and pay compensation for their lives. It could ruin him, make him the duke's vassal until his debt was paid off. The marriage vow with Odette was void, his reputation ruined. It would take years to restore his honour.

Tréville got off more lightly, the king's ire was his punishment, and even so the handshake of reconciliation with Richelieu that Louis had ordered them both to do. One could probably have heard their finger bones crack as they joined hands to peace. The captain of the musketeers had finally given in, he had lost in every way and until he recovered from that he would remain meek for awhile.

D'Artagnan had not given him another glance and that was probably his greatest punishment, which he had to take and would endure until she would forgive him one day. She had long since pardoned him, but he did not need to know that yet. He would have to be patient, bad enough for a Gascon, and hopefully not do anything stupid during that time.

She herself was forgiven for the masquerade, the cardinal's words had reached the king; the demand to marry in order not to cause further harm to the men around her was off the table for now. But d'Artagnan would certainly not be so lucky that the king would forget this whole, embarrassing affair in the coming weeks and months. Sooner or later she was to face the consequences.

She blinked when Elise suddenly turned to her, »Grégoire is back on his feet, by the way. If that interests you.«

That took a load off d'Artagnan's mind, but Elise's sharp tone made her wary. Something was amiss. »Is he well and unharmed?«

»He used to feel better.«

Elise was visibly angry, but d'Artagnan could make no sense of it. Before she could ask, the formalities at the gates to the palais distracted her. She learned from the guardsmen on sentry duty that His Eminence had already returned in Rochefort's and Jussac's company. Mordieux, she really had been entirely absorbed in her own thoughts! She was in for the rebuke given to her by the captain, and trouble was not long in coming. Before they had even crossed the courtyard, Bernajoux, Biscarat, Meunier and Forgeron were already approaching them.

D'Artagnan sighed in defeat when she saw Bernajoux' terrifying grin and the amused twitch on Biscarat's lips. The two of them were well aware of the scolding that awaited their lieutenant. Nevertheless, their good mood gave d'Artagnan the courage that she would get through this more or less in one piece. They took over the escort of the women to Odette's chambers, while their lieutenant was to report to Jussac in his study.

Meunier and Forgeron stayed behind with d'Artagnan. She wondered what this meant. Had they been sent to make sure she did not commit desertion if Jussac imposed a draconian punishment on his second-in-command?

Her questioning, tired look seemed to speak volumes. Forgeron cleared his throat uncomfortably and made sure they were among themselves. No one took any notice of the three guardsmen; in the spacious courtyard they would have been alone even among a hundred people.

D'Artagnan was beginning to suspect what the men had in mind. They had not expected to free the lieutenant from Nièvre's residence during the night. They had been told about three women - and Cahusac was taciturn as always, so she had to talk herself. They looked at their lieutenant with different eyes and realised that they had been deceived. Now they knew the truth and d'Artagnan was about to ask for forgiveness, for trust and secrecy.

But then she noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye. Meunier's fingers gently, tenderly brushed Forgeron's hand, very briefly and barely perceptibly and as fleetingly as if it had not happened.

D'Artagnan smiled just as imperceptibly and then nodded. The Red Guard kept more than one secret that all the men knew of yet no one ever said a word about. They were safe here, among friends and comrades.

Meunier and Forgeron left to their posts at the gate as d'Artagnan dismissed them. Then she went herself to face Jussac.

The Captain of the Guard was in the foulest of moods and he made no secret of it when, only a few minutes later, d'Artagnan was in his study and stood at attention, expecting a tirade.

Jussac sat at his desk, which was loaded with all kinds of papers and documents. He disliked administrative duties, and after this night, he especially hated them. The infiltration of the palace would keep him busy for weeks, until all the weak points in the sentry positions had been eliminated, so that something like this could never happen again.

The person responsible for this wore an impassive mien and looked just past his left earlobe at the shelf behind Jussac. He commented on it with a dangerous undertone. »You know the book titles by heart by now, Lieutenant.«

»There don't seem to be any new ones among them.«

Jussac's brows drew together as d'Artagnan finally made eye contact. There was no sense of guilt in her eyes, nothing at all, she was once again hiding behind rank and duty as if she were nothing but an emotionless title and not a person who could make mistakes. He thundered a fist on the table. »For God's sake! Don't you dare make this masquerade in front of me! You are risking the last vestige of trust I'm still willing to muster!«

His outburst of anger was having an effect. D'Artagnan kept her posture, but her expression now showed her true exhaustion and remorse. »That's not my intention.«

»It never is! And yet here we are again, as at the very beginning, and I must wonder if you are suited to be a guardsman!«

»If it is as at the beginning, then I will prove myself anew, again and again, until I have earned your trust once more.«

Jussac rolled his eyes. »Save the fancy speeches for the King! I want to hear an honest answer from you. Why should you be given another chance when you have screwed it up so thoroughly?«

D'Artagnan took a deep breath and finally dared to give the truthful answer that Jussac demanded of her and that revealed her innermost being before him. »Because I belong here, because I want to remain your lieutenant. You have never betrayed me, you have never been dishonest, and to lose everything once more... I could not bear it. Please forgive me, mon capitaine.«

Jussac snorted. »Satisfactory enough. You remain first lieutenant, but mark my urgent warning never again to make such insane plans with Rochefort behind my back!«

D'Artagnan was puzzled, but Jussac looked at her so meaningfully that she finally got the message. She was offered a way out, which the captain was also willing to take, although he had certainly not fallen for Rochefort's lies for a second that Odette's unauthorised outing to Paris had been a ruse to lure Tréville and Grinchamps into a trap.

She nodded gratefully to the secret pact. »Understood, Sir! I will henceforth first seek you out and let you in on it when Rochefort needs my help in one of his intrigues.«

»Good.« Jussac was pleased, even if his anger was only subdued and had not dissipated. »Remember, you are my first lieutenant and only secondary Rochefort's would-be agent!«

»The descending order will be burnt into my mind. When did Rochefort talk to you about... the plan?«

»After the audience. You're lucky to be able to call him your friend. You are one of the few peasants he doesn't like to sacrifice.«

»It would seem so...«

»Still, the Guard has a loss to mourn for.« Jussac took a letter from the pile of documents and tossed it open on the desk for d'Artagnan to read. Her gaze slid to the signature first and her heart was pounding in fear as she deciphered the name. Grégoire Vicomte de Ventadour.

Jussac watched her intently as she read the rest as well. She grew paler with each unemotional, cold sentence. Jussac was aware of the effect the letter must have on d'Artagnan and yet he confronted her with it relentlessly. Sorel's letter was more of a punishment than the captain could ever have thought of.

When d'Artagnan looked up again, all words had fallen silent, not a sound passed her lips. A resignation letter. Sorel retired from his post as ensign. He was leaving the Red Guard forever.

He was leaving... her.

»Any explanation for this, Lieutenant?«

Her voice failed, the letter pulled the rug out from under her feet. She struggled to get ahold of herself as Jussac shooed her out with a harsh gesture. »Well then, that's all. Dismissed!«

D'Artagnan obeyed and strode stiff-legged out of the study. She felt the blood rushing in her ears and was hardly aware of her surroundings. Some guardsmen looked in wonder at their lieutenant, who did not return their greetings and walked past them as if stunned. They did not yet know that they had lost their ensign.

Because of her. It had to be because of her. That was why Elise had been angry with her. Grégoire had made a decision and there was nothing Charlotte could do to reverse it.

He left her, like all her friends before. Without an explanation, without a last conversation, without a farewell. Just a letter on the captain's desk. Impersonal, formal. Three times she had had to read such letters in the past, the fourth time hurt no less. It hurt more. In a different way.

Her feet led her to Rochefort's study without her noticing. She only realised it when she was already standing in front of his door and knocked. The stable master was the only constant in her life and she owed him a word of thanks for telling Jussac a brazen lie to avert from her a disciplinary punishment, perhaps even the end of her career.

Rochefort had his own stack of papers piled up on his desk and he looked up from the reports only fleetingly when d'Artagnan entered at his permission. Then he became engrossed in the documents again, as if he were snowed under with the work that the previous night had saddled him with. D'Artagnan chewed on her lower lip with a guilty conscience and remained standing at the door, undecided whether her presence was still welcome or whether she had put her friendship with the master spy to too hard a strain to be allowed to bother him.

Her unaccustomed hesitation, where she would otherwise have acted with gascon impudence, made Rochefort glance at her with a frown. Without putting down his quill, he scrutinised her thoroughly from top to bottom and she instinctively stood at attention. He sighed. »This is the last time. In future, I will not clean up the mess you left behind and set matters straight anymore.«

»I wouldn't deserve it either, no...«

»So ruefully? You surprise me, I was expecting a different answer. Something more like, 'But Rochefort! It was your plan after all, I only did my part.'«

D'Artagnan smiled faintly. »I've learnt my lesson. I thank you for the aid that allowed Jussac to forego a demotion or something worse for me.«

»Indeed. You will nevertheless maintain a low profile henceforth. His Majesty, for selfish motives, has granted mercy before justice so as not to have to send his esteemed Captain of the Musketeers into exile. To reveal yourself was a welcome excuse to do so. But...«

»But the King's favour is a fickle fortune.«

»The Cardinal's favour is not. You have had more luck than brains, d'Artagnan! You cannot always rely on that.«

»I've only gained a temporary reprieve. Do you think I don't know that? His Majesty will soon have divulged this absorbing tale about a female officer to the whole royal court, when he gives way to his next whim.«

»That is to be feared, and then no Mademoiselle de la Nièvre will be able to intercede for you again.«

D'Artagnan lowered her eyes under the harsh words and was grateful for the door at her back, which offered her last support. Everything was falling apart, her entire house of cards had been swept away. Well, maybe she really had been lucky for too long and had always been able to ward off the consequences of her actions with cunning and the help of her friends. But now she had to finally face them.

»I will be what the Cardinal commands me to be,« she said quietly. »A soldier, a lieutenant, a dame of honour. Was it not always like that?«

»But which of these do you want to be?«

D'Artagnan flinched and looked up when Rochefort asked the question very close to her ear. She had not even noticed that he had joined her at the door to stand by her side in all friendship, despite her follies and mistakes. She had not lost him, too, and now he leaned back, an amused smirk on his lips because after all these years he could still surprise her as much as she could surprise him.

»Well?« he repeated. »What do you want?«

D'Artagnan shook her head and replied in a low voice, »I always thought, 'to be a musketeer' was the right answer. Then I learned that, 'to be a guardsman' can be just as true. Being 'a lieutenant' is what freedom meant. Freedom is what I wanted and I had it.«

»You have forgotten one last choice that would allow you to continue this life as an officer, as a guardsman. His Majesty himself suggested it; be a married wife.«

Rochefort looked at her urgently; d'Artagnan had never noticed the scar on his temple so distinctly. What the-? Had he just made her a suggestion of his own, a marriage proposal?! »You didn't mean that!«

Rochefort blinked in confusion at the vehement defence that was directed at him. Then he laughed at being misunderstood and waved it off. »No, my dear! We negotiated that several years ago, didn't we? Another attempt would not end differently.«

D'Artagnan murmured, embarrassed at the memory of old feelings, and indignant as well, »You still don't mean it. I've never felt comfortable with the idea of being a well-behaved wife.«

»Well-behaved?« Rochefort enjoyed himself immensely by exchanging words with her, but d'Artagnan was anything but in the mood for laughter. Her grief over the loss of Sorel was catching up with her. »Who would want me? I've scared away all the men who ever had any feelings for me. Why do I tell you, Charles-César! I suppose you're one of those who knows best.«

»I'm the best at seeing through your excuses. What happened?«

D'Artagnan hesitated. To no one but Rochefort would she have confided more willingly. But she didn't trust herself to be able to talk about anything without tearing down the last vestige of her reasonably brave façade. »Nothing. It only crossed my mind that there is another choice for me; the life annuity.«

»It shall take the place of your commission only in distant years.«

»That's how His Eminence put it. Of course you know about it.«

»Little of what is said at the Palais Cardinal, what goes on, what people think - and what letters they write - is hidden from me.«

»Fie, Rochefort! If Jussac learns that you read his correspondence-!«

»You won't give me away, will you?« replied the master spy with a small smile, for in truth it was d'Artagnan who had just gave herself away. He placed a hand on her shoulder, when she said nothing and stubbornly tried to hide her emotions. »You should not let Sorel go without saying farewell.«

»He wants to go without saying farewell! Not a single word in his letter was addressed to me. I... I respect that.«

Rochefort eyed her for a long moment. Then he shrugged. »If you say so. I capitulate to gascon stubbornness, against which even God is powerless.«

»And mark this well!« D'Artagnan answered with feigned cheerfulness, feeling miserable. Three times already. Three times she had watched her friends leave Paris without being able to say farewell to them. They were suddenly just gone, lost somewhere where d'Artagnan could no longer reach them. Perhaps she was granted one last chance, perhaps she could still catch up with Grégoire...

Rochefort looked up from the reports and protocols he had meanwhile returned to when the door suddenly slammed shut. He smirked and murmured with amusement, »Still a poor, little fool.« before he resumed to his paperwork.