Thank you again to all who have read and left comments.
Apologies in advance if any typos or other errors have crept in here, I have proofread and edited twice but, somehow, I always manage to miss something. This chapter just kept on writing itself to the point that it is twice the original intended length here and there is more but I have moved that into the next chapter! That will - fingers crossed - appear on Sunday.
So, another three days have passed.
30 DAYS EARLIER
TREVILLE
I enter the palace library, the venue to an unscheduled meeting. The summons came from Richelieu in his own hand, the wording succinct and bordering on rude if a recipient did not know the sender. Fortunately, I have been on the receiving end of the Cardinal's missives for so long now that I no longer take umbrage.
Richelieu is waiting, pacing, his black cloak flowing behind him with the movement. He stops abruptly as soon as he sees me and gives a curt nod, the closest to a greeting that I am likely to get.
Devilment possesses me and I give a deeper nod, intent upon going one better. Right now, I relish the opportunity of having the upper hand in anything, of feeling that I am still able to exert a little influence for events seem to be reeling away from me and out of control.
"Good morning. What is of such importance that I was required to stop what I was doing at the garrison to come here?"
"The King demands an immediate audience with us. He wants to be updated regarding the situation and apparently has things that he wishes to say to us both as he has had time to reflect." Richelieu arches an eyebrow. "That's what he says.'
This is the first time that either of us has set eyes upon the King since the day when he was inebriated. Then he withdrew to his own apartments and refused to see anyone, except for the Queen on one occasion. She persisted until he gave in for she was most anxious as to his well being and wanted to see him for herself rather than have a limited verbal report from a trusted servant.
She met with us yesterday and informed us that he was obviously very distressed still, but that he was eating properly and regularly, demanding certain foods to tempt his appetite and more wine, although to her knowledge, he was not drinking to excess. Her eyes filled with tears as she admitted to us that this latest move by his mother had deeply hurt him and that he was wrestling with how to deal with her appropriately.
Although Richelieu and I are of a like mind as to what should be done to this woman who repeatedly behaves treacherously towards her own son and seems devoid of any maternal affection for the man, it is not easy to demand that the head of a former queen should be removed from her shoulders. I know the precedent has been set more than once by our English cousins in the last century, but that does not mean that we follow suit!
There is no chance of further private conversation as the gilded double doors that lead to the royal apartments are thrown open to reveal the King, who stands upon the threshold as if unsure as to whether he wants to take another step. It is clear that events have taken their toll on him and I school my features not to reveal the shock at the change wrought in the man in just four days.
My thoughts stray to Athos and I wonder what effect the same few days have brought about in him. It is of no surprise that he is in my mind constantly and it takes little to bring him to the fore. Even though I have a job to do and must appear objective, to push him to the darker recesses seems like an additional betrayal and I cannot do that to him or to his brothers who are barely holding themselves together, such is their concern.
The King's skin has taken on a strange, greyish hue whilst his eyes are sunken in his head and dark ringed with sleeplessness. He is unkempt and I can only assume that he has refused all assistance for no self-respecting servant would allow their master to be seen in such a state, least of all a man in his position. He seems to have diminished somehow, shrunken in upon himself and I would swear that he is wearing the same clothes as the ones when we were last here in the library.
He eyes us coldly and with suspicion before straightening his back and taking slow, deliberate steps towards us.
"I would not have my mother executed, no matter what either of you thinks," he declares without any preamble and attempts to stare us down defiantly.
"But, Sire …" Richelieu begins as I watch the King stiffen, his fists clenching.
"No, Cardinal!" His voice has risen with the interruption. "There will be no 'but, Sires' from you or anyone else," and he glares at me as if daring me to disagree.
I am happy to hold my silence and watch the exchange between them.
"You can have the heads of everyone else involved and good riddance to them all, especially that Bircann, but you are not to touch my mother. Do I make myself clear, Richelieu? Your King has spoken and you would do well to heed the words."
My breath catches for I see that Louis is immoveable. He has taken advantage of his time away from people to reach his conclusion and formulate what he will say to his First Minister. I wonder, then, how Richelieu will respond and how we will deal with the problem that is Marie de Medici.
"As you wish, Your Majesty," he says, bowing respectfully, but I saw the look on his face just before he did so. He dislikes the King's intransigence, but he knows which battle to fight and when to withdraw and this apparent submission and deference denoting an easy victory for Louis conceal a mind that is tactical and scheming. There is no love lost between him and the woman after her failed attempt to have him assassinated years before.
Bircann may boast that his reach is long, but I'd be happy to bet that Richelieu's is longer, as is his memory and I strongly suspect that he never allows any opposition to go unpunished, no matter how much time it takes. He will already be planning how to best Marie de Medici and all her co-conspirators.
"My mother continues to be well looked after wherever it is that you are holding her?" he demands. "I take it that you still refuse to tell me where she is."
"It is for the best, Sire; for security reasons. Not," he hastens to add with a raised hand when Louis opens his mouth to object, "that I think for one moment that Your Majesty would jeopardise that security, but it is for your sake and hers."
Louis frowns, trying to follow Richelieu's reasoning. "How so? You think I would be so careless as to discuss openly with others where she is being held?"
"Certainly not, Sire," Richelieu seeks to reassure him.
I suddenly become fascinated by a mark on the patterned wooden flooring to give me the chance to suppress a smile. For a man of God, Richelieu can be a consummate liar! He and I both know that Louis is not consistent in his level of tact and diplomacy when in possession of some information and we have known him inadvertently let it slip more than once which would have been better kept silent.
"Then you think her allies would seek to rescue her from her imprisonment?"
The Cardinal shrugs as if the idea had not occurred to him. "There is that possibility, Sire, but I was more worried by the fact that, given this is yet another failed attempt on her part to move against you, her allies might no longer be so supportive. Instead, they may consider her a liability, turn against her and take steps to remove her permanently."
"They would murder my mother?" Louis is appalled at the notion.
After all that she has done to him and the acknowledgement that he cannot bring himself to sign her death warrant, he likewise cannot conceive of the notion that others might want her dead.
"They could carry out the deed in such a manner that it looks as if Your Majesty were instrumental in the heinous act, yet declaring clemency publicly. Even at her end, they would be doing all they could to disgrace your name and your legacy."
Do my eyes deceive me or are Richelieu's eyes lighting up as he warms to his invention? He is a master, I must give him that, but he is the First Minister after all. His position demands that he is able to look at a problem and come up with workable alternatives. I like to think that I can do it to a certain degree otherwise I would not hold my rank or responsibilities, but Athos is another masterful strategist. He would be horrified that I liken him to the Cardinal.
On another day, in another situation, I fancy that they would be an interesting match for each other. My lieutenant has already made invaluable suggestions to me regarding the Cardinal.
My heart misses a beat. Athos. My lieutenant … pervading my thoughts again. I take a shuddering breath and compose myself, glancing surreptitiously at the King and the Cardinal, willing them not to have witnessed my sudden distraction and relieved that they have not.
"No-one is to think that they can harm my mother," Louis is angry now at the prospect. "So have you arrested them all, Cardinal? All those in league with Bircann?"
"Not yet, unfortunately," Richelieu replies through gritted teeth. The fact that they are all still at large and unidentified irks him. "Bircann's interrogation commenced yesterday and continues as we speak here. Once we have concluded our business, I shall go to the prison and supervise things personally."
An involuntary shudder runs down my spine and, for a moment, I almost feel sorry for Bircann, but it is only fleeting when Richelieu turns to me.
"The prisoner had a message for you yesterday, Tréville, and I agreed to pass it on. It was a strange missive and somewhat obvious but …"
"Get on with it!" I interrupt and Richelieu looks affronted, but I am past caring.
"He said that if your man is still missing, then you are wasting valuable time searching in all the wrong places."
"Of course it's obvious," Louis interjects. "Had Tréville been looking in the right places, naturally he would have found my missing Musketeer by now."
Something grates with me about the way Louis claims Athos as his Musketeer. He does not really care; does not feel the worry and hurt that I feel in the continued absence of a much-valued man, or the physical pain that gnaws away at Porthos and Aramis as each day passes when they fail to locate their brother. Nor does he understand the increasing anxiety permeating the garrison and hanging like a pall over all the men.
"Did he say anything else?" I demand, unable to hide the irritation in my tone.
"Only that you were obsessed with looking amongst the dead and concentrating too close to home."
Louis looks at Richelieu, mouth agape. "What is that supposed to mean?" Then he turns to me. "What does it mean, Tréville?"
"It means, Your Majesty, that Bircann is one step ahead of us - of me - all the time. If he knows where the searches for Athos have been conducted, then we, the Musketeers, are being watched and possibly people are being paid for vital information. Someone is collating that and communicating it to Bircann even though he is in prison.
"He repeatedly boasts that his reach is long, and I have been a fool in underestimating him but no more. This stops now!"
I glare at Richelieu, my heart hardening.
"Do whatever you have to," I insist. "He is playing a game, a clever but sick game of chess, manipulating and manoeuvring us around his board. Look at us," and I indicate to each of us in turn. "The King, the bishop and the knight whilst Athos is the pawn."