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The King is finding the situation very hard.
34 DAYS EARLIER
RICHELIEU
"How long has your man been unaccounted for now?" I ask.
I am in the palace library with Tréville and the King. The meeting is supposedly to update His Majesty on the situation with his mother and Bircann, but I am not sure that the King is concentrating on anything I am saying if his random and repetitive questions are any indication. He is sitting slumped in an ornate gilt chair and swallowing large mouthfuls of wine. I don't even think that he is aware that he is doing it and that is the third time the glass has been replenished whilst I have been standing here. Also, I strongly suspect that he was imbibing well before he joined us.
Louis and an excess of alcohol are not a common occurrence, which is just as well as the pair of them do not mix normally and certainly not at this time of the morning.
If that is not bad enough, then there is the Musketeer Captain who has arrived in an agitated state and, if I did not know any better, has slept in his clothes. That is, of course, if he has managed any sleep. It seems that his lieutenant left the garrison sometime yesterday afternoon and there has been no sighting of him since.
"It is almost twenty-four hours," Tréville answers, running a hand distractedly through his hair, the action potentially responsible for accelerating the thinning process that I have noted in recent months; perhaps it is the pressure of his job.
Louis lifts his head and peers blearily at the officer. "You have lost one of my men, Captain? How has that come about?" He makes it sound as though it is an act of deliberate carelessness or neglect of his military responsibilities.
Tréville looks at me and shakes his head, a combination of frustration, anger and worry rolling off him in waves. Even I can see that he is fighting to keep his temper under control. Louis has not been listening at all. Taking a deep breath, Tréville launches into his account for the third time about how the Musketeer lieutenant was tasked with delivering my letters to the council members, how the man's bloodied horse had returned without its rider and the contents of the succinct message left under the saddle and which was linked to the open threat Bircann had given on his arrest.
Tréville fixes me with an ice-blue stare. "When I leave here, I am going to see Bircann at the Chatelet." It is a statement, not a request.
"And you think he is going to admit to being behind the abduction of your Musketeer?" I demand. I really do not want him seeing Bircann before I have begun my interrogation process; the intention was to leave him for a few days to sweat in anticipation of what was coming. It is as if the Captain reads my thoughts.
"I want to get to him before you do; I do not want to wait until you have rendered him incapable of giving me a straight answer. Besides," and he gives a sly smile, "I could offer to put in a good word for him with you if he is co-operative."
"Co-operative for you perhaps," I reply coldly, "but I doubt it would make him anymore compliant for me. The man must realise that he faces the death penalty this time and I, for one, am not prepared to show any leniency. He serves a purpose only until he gives me the names of his co-conspirators."
"He is the leader," Louis moans, head bowed as he stares miserably at the floor. "I hold him entirely responsible for the way he has led my mother astray. She would never have acted the way she has were it not for his evil influence."
Tréville and I exchange disbelieving glances. How quickly the King has forgotten her willing involvement!
I give a half bow. "You are most merciful to your mother, Sire, but we should wait until we have heard what the Dowager Queen has to say for herself by way of explanation."
The King's head snaps up, his eyes blazing in an alcohol-fuelled rage.
"Be careful what you say, Cardinal." His words are clipped, his tone menacing. "You speak of the woman who has been wife to one king and mother to another. I will not listen to your disrespect." He lurches to his feet, spilling red wine on the wooden floor. It pools like blood. "Where is she? What have you done with her? If you have harmed her …"
Whatever he is going to threaten remains unspoken as he overbalances and is in imminent danger of toppling to the floor, but Tréville, who is closer, sees what is about to happen and intervenes, catching the King's arm and shoulder to steady him.
Louis shrugs him off violently. "You dare to touch your King?"
Tréville takes two paces backwards, hands raised submissively. "My profuse apologies, Sire. I thought only to prevent your falling. I would be failing in my duty if I stood by and let you hurt yourself."
Louis eyes him belligerently for a moment, sniffs and shrugs as he re-arranges the set of the brocade doublet he is wearing.
"Apology accepted, Captain," he says, briefly mollified, but then his ire re-ignites and is directed at me. "You will tell me what has happened to my mother right now, or you will cease to be my First Minister immediately."
I inhale slowly as I can see that His Majesty requires shrewd handling. He is behaving illogically, a man broken by grief and fracturing before our eyes, a situation not helped by his intoxication. All he is conscious of at this moment is the betrayal – yet again – of the woman he has tried desperately to love and forgive, the person from whom he has unsuccessfully craved affection and acceptance all his life. Instead, his reward has been her repeated attempts to undermine and overthrow him.
Still, the son continues to make excuses for the mother. It is pitiful and, dare I say it, a sign of weakness if I do not assert control of the situation.
"Sire, your mother is being held safely in a chateau beyond Paris as befits her status. She wants for nothing and has servants carefully selected and appointed by me to wait upon her every need."
There is no need to inform him that I have removed her entire retinue and replaced them with those whom I trust, or at least with those who are in my employment, receive my coin and know better than to cross me.
I try to give a reassuring smile, but from the odd expression on Tréville's face when he looks at me, perhaps the gesture is not as convincing as I would hope. Instead, I couch things in a manner that I trust the King will find more acceptable. Now is not the time to declare that the treacherous woman is under heavy guard whilst I encourage him to sign her death warrant. "We would not want any of the traitors to find her and attempt to exert undue influence over her again. She is under protection -"
"By my trusty Musketeers?" he interrupts, pausing in the act of replenishing his wine to look from me to Tréville with a childlike hope.
"No, Your Majesty," the Captain replies gently. "She is well provided for under the Cardinal's protection."
The King takes another large mouthful of his drink and waves the goblet around, indicating nothing of import with a trembling index finger. "Of course, of course. You have other things on your mind, my dear Captain. My poor lieutenant! You must find him! Find him, Tréville. He is a fine example of my brave Musketeers. An attack upon him is an attack upon me!" He bewails the fate of the luckless Musketeer. "Another victim of the dog Bircann! I cannot bear to think of him suffering on my account. What a brave man, sacrificing himself for me, for France!"
The man's mind is wandering and he is unpredictable, convincing me that we will not make any progress today.
"Your Majesty is in need of rest," I say solicitously. "The Captain and I will trouble you no longer."
Louis slams down his goblet and struggles to his feet, his eyes tortured and tear-filled so that I am relieved that no courtier is around to witness this.
"You are right, Cardinal, as always," he says, his words slurring together. "I will retire and do not wish to be disturbed for the remainder of the day." He looks from Tréville to me. "By anyone." He turns his back on us and weaves his way to the double doors leading to his apartments.
"We will keep you apprised of events, Your Majesty," I call after him.
He waves a hand airily in my direction. "Do what you have to do, Cardinal. I am too distressed and exhausted to think of what is happening."
We watch and wait for him to pass through the doors which are closed after him.
I realise that Tréville is eyeing me strangely. Perhaps he is concerned that the King has just granted me the freedom to act as I see fit, but I am not going to reassure him by declaring that I have no intention of rushing to my office and ordering that the Dowager Queen's head immediately be removed from her neck. He is a witness though to Louis sounding as if he is letting me make the decisions here, something that I am determined to do anyway.
His eyes narrow. "I will be back later for we will talk more about the situation and the King's state of mind but, first, I am going to the Chatelet to see Bircann."
He strides away from me and I let him. There is no point in my reiterating that the traitor will not be helpful in providing the information he so desperately wants to hear, and I wonder how long it will be before Tréville accepts that his lieutenant is lost. The man needs to focus. There are other pressing issues requiring our attention. What is one musketeer? After all, there are plenty more in the regiment from whom he can select his next second-in-command if that is what bothers him.