Many thanks to readers and those who continue to leave comments. I was deliberately trying to keep chapters short, but this one seems to have got away from me!

So, Bircann has been arrested and taken to the Chatelet. That means all is okay now, doesn't it?

35 DAYS EARLIER

CHARLES BIRCANN

Three hours! Three hours I have been shut up here and it already feels like a lifetime! I remember all too well the last time I was locked up and I thought I would go mad, but then I escaped. Escaped to freedom, to breathe the fresh air – even though it was the air of a foreign country, so fearful was I for my life.

And then the Witch persuaded me to join her anew, to launch another assault. She assured me that this time she has sufficient funds, ample support providing men and supplies.

Marie de Medici is a lying, manipulative woman full of mad ideas and empty promises. How could I have allowed myself to be swayed by her yet again? It came to naught. There is no victory, no preferment, no reward for my efforts.

Instead, I am shut away and ignored. Granted, my current accommodation could have been much worse. I am incarcerated within a spacious room with a high ceiling and two heavily barred windows that provide plenty of light. I huff at the irony; it is too late to treat me like royalty now! I

I admit that it craves some decoration to make it more homely, but I suppose the inhabitants are not expected to remain here long enough. There is sufficient furniture for some comfort. A cot with sheet and blanket – both reasonably clean as I have already inspected them – stands in a corner and beside it, a crudely fashioned low table bearing a candle and candle stick and, surprisingly, the means to light it. Such unexpected luxury! Either that, or they presume that I am not yet so desperate that I will end it all by setting fire to myself. There is a fireplace with logs in a basket. So they do not desire me to freeze to death either or catch a chill and expire from some lung-borne illness. A high-backed wooden chair with arms is placed before it.

A large table and chair stand below one of the windows. There is a leather-bound book and I do not need to inspect it to know that it is a Bible for my personal use now that my soul is in jeopardy. I suppose I could always use it for the fire when the wood runs out.

There is paper aplenty, and quill and ink. Am I supposed to entertain myself by writing my memoir? Isn't that what is expected of a condemned man? Perhaps it is there in readiness for my signed confession. If that is the idea, then I will do my best to ensure that the Cardinal is kept waiting for a very long time. There is also a pewter pitcher containing water and a cup for my use. I pour some into the cup and tentatively take a sip. It has been freshly drawn from a well and I wonder if Richelieu has given the order to have it poisoned. I would not put it past him!

I chastise myself. The Cardinal would not be so short-sighted. He needs me alive – at least for now. He wants more information, I see that. He will require anything I can give him to doom the King's mother once and for all, and he will also want to know the names of the others who are involved in the plot against Louis.

Perhaps I can bargain with him, reach an agreement. I would depart from the country, leaving everything behind me. I was forced to do it once before and can easily do it again. I will be a little sorry to lose the estate which has been in the family for over a hundred years, but it is only a building. I am surprised that he left it alone the last time. When I eventually returned to it, not three months ago, I discovered that it had been abandoned by the staff; I cannot blame them, I suppose, for I was in no position to pay them any coin. It was very run down and neglected but, fortunately, I was able to entice some of them back with generous financial inducements and they worked hard to make most of it habitable again.

In its sorry state, the Cardinal must have thought it an apt visible reminder to everyone not to entertain treason in their hearts. Either that, or he has not yet found some poor soul worthy of advancement and reward to renovate the place.

Perhaps Richelieu is playing one of his mind games, hoping to lull me into a false sense of security, to give me a vain hope that I might be spared the worst if I were to confess. The man is a fool. He is mistaken if he anticipates that he can break me. Does he not know that I am the master of the mind games? I have proved that on more than one occasion.

Damn Tréville! Damn his Musketeers and damn that lieutenant who unarmed me! I must admit, albeit reluctantly, that he was a demon with that weapon in his hand. I know they are described as the King's élite regiment, formed during my absence from France, but I thought that was all for show, a dire warning without substance and for making an impression upon gullible fools – especially when I discovered that their Captain was none other than Tréville. He certainly did not have the look of the military leader when he was my prisoner. Rest assured, I shall not make that mistake again.

I am restless, pacing the room relentlessly and counting the strides of the space that entraps me. I will sit when I am tired.

Suddenly, there is the sound of the key in the lock and the door swings open. A hooded figure enters and stands inside the door which is closed behind him. Has Richelieu decided that there is no purpose in questioning me and has sent an assassin to do his work? I look around wildly for something to employ as a weapon and reach for the heavy chair by the fire when the newcomer lowers the hood to reveal his identity.

"I had not thought to be visiting you here," he says casually.

"Your warning came too late," I admonish him, replacing the chair so that it faces him and sitting on it.

"I sent word the moment I heard of the plan in Richelieu's office. I was lucky to get away; I had the Captain's lieutenant on my heels."

I frown. "It was he who captured me. He is a highly skilled swordsman and, I am ashamed to say, defeated me when we fought. He is a thorn in my side, as is Tréville. They are to blame for what has happened to me; I will make them pay."

My visitor laughs lightly and sinks into the chair at the table. "May I remind you that are in a prison. How do you expect to exact any sort of revenge from in here."

I scowl at him. "I warned Tréville that my reach is long, and I meant every word of it. You will act for me."

He doesn't look so happy now. "Me! Why should I do it?"

"You and I both know the answer to that. I will give you access to the money I have secreted away for just such an eventuality. You have the same contacts as me to do your bidding and may use my money to that end. You are still free and unidentified at the moment. That circumstance may not last should you refuse to do what I ask."

"You are threatening me." There is a tremor in his voice which pleases me.

I shrug. "If that is what you want to call it. I consider that I am giving you sound advice as to your future and your continued good health. I want you to deal with the Captain and his Lieutenant and I shall tell you exactly how you will bring that about." I pause as something occurs to me. "How did you manage to get in here anyway? I was under the impression that I was to be left in isolation, save for the guard bringing me my meals."

"It's amazing what money can do. Enough of it and you can override any instructions given by the Cardinal."

The irony appeals to my sense of humour, and I chuckle. Here I am, in prison, and yet I still have the means to frustrate any of his resolutions.

"You have not inquired after the King's mother," my visitor changes the subject.

"No doubt she has also been arrested and the King has taken to his bed, bewailing her betrayal and wondering what he has done to deserve such a mother. She will weep, plead and beg for his forgiveness and no doubt declare me entirely responsible as she protests her misguided innocence. She is a stupid yet power-hungry and dangerous woman; a bad combination. I have yet to decide how long I will keep secret the knowledge that I have. Richelieu will interrogate me and I must deliberate on whether it is worth my while enduring treatment and remaining silent. I might just tell him everything so that I bring down the Witch completely."

"Telling him everything might implicate me," he hisses.

"It might," I agree, "but then it might not. You have your uses given your position at court and on the King's council. It is better that you remain there."

"I don't know …" he begins, an annoying whine in his inflection.

I bristle with anger and frustration. "Do your bit and I will make it worth your while financially. I said I will give you access to the money."

"How do you know I won't just take it and disappear?" He attempts some bravado, but I ensure that it is short-lived.

"My reach is long," I remind him. "It can easily extend to you."

"I don't believe you."

"Are you prepared to take that risk?" I bluff. I wonder if he knows that right now, he is the only one whom I can trust, the only person with whom I have this tenuous contact.

"If there are others who can do your bidding, then summon them. I will do no more." He stands as if to leave.

"Refuse me this and you will not leave this prison today."

His shoulders sag and I know that I have him. "Do this one last thing for me and I swear that I will not ask anything more of you. The Musketeer Captain and his lieutenant. You have to do this for me."

"What is your obsession with them? They are but two soldiers in the employment of the King. They were merely doing their job when they arrested you! I thought you were above petty revenge."

Now he sounds frustrated. How can I make him understand?

"It is far from petty," I insist. "As the two senior officers, they are the cornerstone of the regiment. Yes, Louis will replace them eventually, but what of the damage to the men and morale in the meantime? Louis is so proud of his Musketeers, his creation, that this will be an additional personal blow to him in the wake of his mother's treachery.

"If I am to die, I want to make sure that I cause the maximum misery before that happens and you will help me achieve it. The Captain and I have a history. I regard him as my nemesis, and he thinks the same of me; it is not for you to know the particulars. His lieutenant is more of an annoyance. Yes, I admit it; I resent everything about him: his lack of years, his obvious and unquestioning loyalty to Tréville, his arrogance and his skill with a sword.

"He is a means to an end. Break one and you will break the other. I have a plan."