Life knows no age or time.
Youth will ever out to seek
fortunes.
Man will ever fight for the love
of Woman.
Kings will threaten - Queens weep -
Ministers conspire.
And so - though our story is of
three hundred years ago, it is as young
as Yesterday - or To-morrow.
Then follow us to France of old,
To fiery days When
hearts beat high,
When blood was young,
and hate was bold,
When sword crossed sword
to give and die.
For love and honor gloried then,
When life was life, and men were men!
Prologue
Even if it was clear she lived in a time where wealth wasn't missing, now she looked a miserly woman, covered with old rags, poorly locked in a dark cell.
She sighed often and almost never spoke. She would likely thank the guardians for her meals, a few letters in foreign seals and other small services, with a quick look or a small nod. She was almost always covered by a white old veil, from which loosely protruded curled strands of light hair.
She had come from the sea. It was said that she spawned from the waves.
As a Venus of the past, she seemed to have left everything behind. Away her sins and riches, but her naked and pure soul that strayed at shore by the gentle breezes. Everything looked like she had been a noble woman.
Perhaps reality was not what appeared on the surface: she had been imprisoned by the command of a high-General, or by hand of some other important minister or commander.
People would wonder if she had really committed any ineligible crime or had only drawn too many dislikes upon herself.
And now, was likely rested on a rock by their jurors, a solid ground, a mysterious passive defender who kept her from collapsing and blend into common cells, among other prisoners, in the waves of that dark sea of the storm of anonymity and misery that had swallowed her one night, only to be brought back to shore.
"Do you need anything, Milady?" - asked a male voice. The sound was coming from the slit of the closed door and double-locked bars of her cell.
"Please bring me a book of psalms, so I can better pray and meditate" - she said in a trembling voice.
"Here, hold mine" - a thin hand, pale, furrowed by visible blue veins, handed her a small booklet consumed edges, covered with a black lining. The sleeve showed how simple was his uniform jacket, devoid of embroidery and velvets which often covered the soldiers or guards of the highest ranks.
"Praise the Lord" - whispered the woman trying to meet eye contact with the jailer, feeling upon herself the sad glare of man in dismal. In that moment, he bowed his head.
"What is your name?" -She asked, her voice was sweet and melancholic.
"John ..." -The man said.
"You are an honest man, John. May God bless you."
Chapter 1
Royal Wedding
(Almost like Charles and Henrietta)
Wine.
More wine.
Now that the harvest was over, it was possible to find good wine anywhere.
The trees were taking hues of yellows and red-fire, reminding everyone how another year was about to end.
So burn the fire in the chimneys, while the clever merchants had already dried their firewood, which they sold at the sides of the roads and streets, new wood, crackling from the acrid smoke, still not quite ready to burn. Wood for the first fire, the one that takes away the dampness in walls and bones, alike.
For some reason, or just because of a now distant memory, Athos used to see fall like a beautiful season, in which to enjoy the last rays of summer sun and still not suffer the harsh cold of the winter.
It reminded him of the time passing by, away from the summer sadness, and how time could heal wounds, all wounds, body and soul. And now, after many years, felt again the thrill of novelty.
The shift of the old wood to the new in the stove, its beautiful burn, the hopes placed in the new year coming, the lightness of waking up in a cold morning with the certainty that the sun would rise, the light would shine and it will be hot again.
A warmth that was missing for a while, no more from his home than his heart. Without forgetting the painful past, the place of what was once taken by pain, had now room for a smile.
And thus it was wine season, good wine, the one that gets people thirsty together, not alone, where there's no need to forget, that does not poison thoughts or feelings.
The festivities for the marriage of the new English King and the sister of the French one lasted for days.
That first visit of King Charles, organized with much fanfare, for better or for worse, by the Duke of Buckingham, resulted in that unlikely union, two young kings and their ministers, perhaps ended a truce between their two kingdoms.
No invitation was excluded: all France had to be party to celebrate the future English queen and a renewed alliance.
Day, night and day yet again.
At the Royal palace people could still hear voices of the ladies in waiting, while many guards were dismissed in advance to faster reach taverns and inns where to spend the gratuities received in charge of their services to the Court at that time of party.
Athos, by now accustomed to his new role as captain of the king's guard, had already added several men under his command and the new reformed guard was returning, at least in part, what was the command of the Musketeers pulled apart a few years earlier.
Sometimes he found that new assignment tedious, useless at first, as the Red Guards, were those of major significance and both he and his men remained only a symbolic habit almost exclusively made up to suit the wishes of the King.
To help him in this task there were two of his most faithful companions, Porthos and D'Artagnan. With Athos, they had accepted the request of the sovereign and the minister to return to be royal guards and he was also quick to entrust them both the role of lieutenant.
As the rest of the guards were not surprised to see a man like Porthos, only a few years younger than Athos, his impressive looks and in a beautiful uniform, taking office; assigning the role to D'Artagnan, a much younger officer, thin and much shorter appearance, aroused some doubts and comments among the troops.
"Fear not!" - their captain quickly responded - "What he lacks in height, he rewards in tenacity!" - soon continued, soothing down the hurting rumors about his friend.
Anyway Athos was expecting to soon be able to leave his role as captain, since it prevented him certain freedoms granted in the past. However he realized what he was capable of keeping order among his ranks, although heavily reduced.
So, finally they were also on leave from the King's service, after several weeks of continuous attendance, the three men went into the first tavern could be seen from the Royal Palace, with a cheerful and jovial tone.
"Drinks all around! Long live the newlyweds!" - Porthos exclaimed satisfied, with a broad smile met the first toast, attracting upon himself the attention of many onlookers.
Sipping that first cup, the three men made their way straight to the table where a woman sat strangely alone. She was veiled in black as if she was in mourning, yet youthful, slowly sipping from a small glass of liquor.
"So, how are you?" - She asked to the three men, without looking up or looking at them.
"You know how it went, you were there too: King Charles arrived, put the Duke of Buckingham in place, took the wife that King Louis offered him to fix things up and left! "- said the tallest musketeer blatantly sitting down.
"And all is settled?" - asked the woman again to the three.
"Not at all! If the king had not been on our side we would all be locked up in the Bastille, you too!" - said the youngest of the three.
"Especially you!" - laughed the older one, turning to the woman.
A laugh that did not go unnoticed in the eyes of others, surprised to see him so serene after so much time spent to fray between rage, jealousy and revenge. Sad events of the distant past.
"Anyway, how are you now?" - Asked the three men to the woman.
"Better, thank you!" - She said, hinting a smile and a nod, behind the veil.
"Is it really so boring to be a lady of the French Court?" - Asked D'Artagnan.
"Judging by the rumors of the other ladies I would not say so!" - Porthos laughed at the boy.
"Do not be fooled by their lies. It is a life devoid of events, where others news speak louder than their own" - she said with a slight movement of the head. With a sweep of her arm, she took out some gold coins and put them in front of him while addressing his eyes.
"And they are right! News from others is always the best, compared to our own and they pay you well for it, I see!" - Said Porthos more seriously, counting the money.
"As usual, you continue to never be satisfied with what you have, Aramis"- muttered then between his teeth, pretending to hide a corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, and so he stood up again vigorously, heading for more drinks.
"How much do you plan to stay away? Constance asks of you" - D'Artagnan asked.
"Do not be afraid for the young Constance! She does not need my company as long as you are in Court!" - She replied with a gentle pat on his back - "You know, I'm not going to come back soon. I'm going to make a trip, to meet some distant relatives ..."- she said in a dreamy tone.
"Where will you stay in the meantime?" - asked the boy again.
"I thought, for the days in which dwell in Paris, the abode reserved vacant for Monsieur Aramis would be ideal, if any of you could ask Planchet to get away for a night or two... I do not believe that a single lady, in that dwelling, it can be well seen ... "- she tried to explain, stopping almost immediately at the approach of one of them.
"Certainly, Renèe ..." - whispered Athos.
At that gesture, the other two were not too surprised. They had their suspicions about the kind of confidence that the two other men had never taken with her and laughed between amusement and embarrassment.
The young woman was not new to the three men, however were her new clothes and her new pose. Until a few months previously, she was known under the nickname of their trusted comrade Aramis and, finally, due to a series of circumstances had called her in the private service of the Queen, revealing her true identity and preventing it from resuming again the position left .
Although the three knew some facts of Aramis, the musketeer, little they knew of who was behind that mask worn with skills for so long: the "Baroness Renée d'Herblay," now lady of the court, and now more than ever it was time to ask questions and demand answers.
Although they had been ordered several times by Renèe not to change their attitude towards her and she ensured that all the facts she told in the past, even when said in man, were true, this deal was still an unusual and particular secret.
"So it is your intention to avoid exercising, now?" - Asked D'Artagnan, Porthos and returned with four bottles and as many glasses.
"No, I will train in the gardens or in the stables under our house in downtown Paris. Then you have to admit that the only blade being sharpened in an environment like the Royal court is the tongue..."- she sighed, filling alone a full glass - "Women!" - she continued, drawing back from the table.
"And what are you then?" - Retorted Porthos, almost rudely.
"What?" - She asked puzzled, lowering her glass and lifting the veil to look him better in the eyes.
Athos cleared his throat in an attempt to point out the error his friend just committed, not to direct her as a person.
"Better to hear it from me than a stranger! Don't you think?" - He apologized, gripping his shoulders and holding out his glass for a toast. She nodded and sighed wistfully.
"My friend, you see, sometimes some of the ladies' quirks are too difficult even for me ..." - she said responding to the toast, but looking away.
"But you have to admit that in your new clothes, you can fight against Richelieu's guards as you please!" - replied D'Artagnan with a chuckle.
"Be careful of what you say, you could always be a part of those guards just by the Cardinal's wish!" - remind the lady to him.
"If you ever decide to pick a fight with the Red Guards, certainly no one would dare go and report back around!" - laughed Porthos taking the glass from the table.
"... Indeed!" - He suggested Athos watching. Her features and her manner under those clothes were more attractive, but her temper had apparently remained the same.
"You want to bet?" - she urged and, without giving them time to answer, had already marched from its sheath to one of their rapiers and pointed to a Red Guard, at the next table, who had long tried to harass the lady serving him.
Both looked at her with surprise: the black lady brandishing a rapière, as if to challenge the cardinal guard to a duel.
The Red Guard paid his bill, sitting down right away, while the maid ran away speechless.
"Oh! You see ?! Not even the pleasure to see him try ..." - she said, sitting at the table again with his companions and returning the sword.
"Do not be afraid! Your skills will not be lost. The Queen needs someone like you as close as possible!"- reassured D'Artagnan, giving her a big smile.
"For that, you have been enough!" - She replied with a shrug.
"Renèe, always remember that you will never be only one court lady: you are a valorous musketeer and never stop to be. In any dress you decide to appear!" - Reminded Athos taking her hand.
Amazed by the sweet exclamation, the young woman gave him a dreamy eye for a few moments and looked down again, strongly flushed.
"To the royal weds!"- interrupted Porthos with a new toast - "What will bring France into a new era!" - exclaimed, meeting their glasses.