I've never been unpopular
Anne was sitting in a chair next to Louis' bed, reading, when he came to see how their son was.
"Is he asleep?" he asked in a whisper.
She nodded, and placed her book on the chair before walking over to where he stood by the doorway.
"How is he? Delorme stopped by to say that he sees no further sign of the sickness." When Delorme had first confirmed that Louis had contracted smallpox it had frightened them all. Just two years earlier and mere months after the death of Anne's sister, her nephew, the heir to the Spanish throne, Balthasar Charles, had died of the same disease at the age of sixteen. Louis was only nine. It had felt like a dark cloud had descended over the Habsburg family, and while the doctors purged and bled the boy, with Louis delirious from fever half the time, he and Anne had feared that their son would be taken next.
Anne nodded again, smiling faintly. He was glad to see the relief in her bearing, and the brightness returning to her eyes after weeks of stress and anxiety as she helped nurse their son through his illness. "Still resting," she told him. "I'll wake him soon and try to have him eat something. He needs to build his strength back."
"What about you? Have you eaten anything lately?" Anne herself had developed a fever at one point, her worry and devotion taking its toll on her.
Anne shook her head. "I still don't have much of an appetite. You should prepare a message for the ambassadors though, letting them know Louis is nearly recovered. Philip will especially want to know."
"You still think we should take up his proposal of a marriage alliance?" he asked. "I'm sure you don't need reminding, but the idea didn't exactly work out the last time."
"I know. But Maria Theresa is bound to marry one day, as is Louis, and if this marriage can bring about peace, then we should take it for the sake of the people and make sure it is a lasting peace this time."
His gaze fell. He knew she was right, but he'd never liked marriage as a political tool and found the convoluted web of alliances more of a nuisance than an aid. Most recently, the Holy Roman Emperor had married an Austrian cousin of his, rejecting their offer of Mademoiselle and therefore a French alliance, instead choosing to reinforce his own family ties. That and they were talking about using children as bargaining chips and having them marry people they may not even like let alone love.
"You know I wish that the boys could marry for love," continued Anne, reading his mind, "and I pray that they will find it in their marriages, but for people like us, sometimes we have to put our personal desires behind our duty. Louis knows that. And you and I can ensure that Maria Theresa is treated well here."
He let out a small sigh. Maria Theresa would be treated better than Anne was, that they could ensure. And who knows, maybe she and Louis would find love in their marriage. Anne's parents did, as did her sister.
"As long as Louis understands what he's getting into and agrees to it," he capitulated.
"Of course," said Anne. "Besides, they're just talks. No one has to make a decision at this very moment, and then it would just be a betrothal. It would still be years before a marriage took place."
He nodded, resigned.
"I'll summon Milady as well," added Anne. "I'd like to know what the people have been saying. We'll meet in your office in an hour or two? I want to see Philippe first."
"Let's say two. He's missed you something terrible," he told her. "As have I." They had moved Philippe to a distant part of the palace and limited their own contact for fear of contagion.
"Aramis?" came Louis' tired voice, making them jump apart. He didn't realize how close they had drifted.
Aramis was kneeling at Louis' bedside in seconds. "Sire, I'm so glad to see you well again."
"You said I could ride my new horse once I was better."
"Indeed I did."
"Can I see it?" Louis asked, despite his eyes being barely open.
"Once it's all right for you to be out of bed, Sire, of course."
"But I want to see it now."
He looked over at Anne, raising his eyebrows.
She gave him a puzzled look, and he inclined his head.
She tutted once she realized what he was silently asking. "Aramis, really?"
"His Majesty has just overcome a serious bout of smallpox," he reasoned. "Would you deny him this request?"
He caught the upturn of the corners of her lips before she sighed, "Very well, you can bring the horse up."
Aramis looked back at a smiling Louis. "I'll get right on it, Sire, and perhaps, in the meantime, you can tell your mother if there's something you'd like to eat," he added, and was happy to see Louis nod his head.
He stopped in front of Anne on his way out, blocking Louis' view as he brushed his knuckle along the back of her hand. "Please eat something as well," he pleaded in a low voice. "You need to rebuild your strength, too."
She gave him another faint smile. "I will," she said, and squeezed his hand before he departed.
MMMMMMMMMM
"What have you heard?"
Milady leaned back in her chair across from them.
"Well, the good news is that many believe the King's recovery to be a sign of God's favor upon France, having spared His Majesty while punishing its enemies with the same disease, referring, of course, to the Spanish crown prince."
"That's awful, Balthazar was just a boy."
"Is there bad news?" asked Aramis beside her.
"There's still talk of your close quarters with the Queen during your last trip to Rueil…"
"It was a small palace," Aramis countered. "And we slept apart for that matter. We always do when staying at other people's homes."
"And now there's speculation regarding the First Minister's attention to the little Duke of Orleans these past several weeks."
"-Checking on him while he was isolated from his mother and brother."
"Furthering their theory that you are the boy's father," Milady stressed. "It does not matter the reason. This is what they notice, and this is what they think. And need I point out that most of it is true? You are the father of not only the prince but the King, too. The only thing they have wrong is you slipping the Queen a love potion, that is, unless there's something you'd like to confess."
Aramis closed his mouth at that.
Anne, meanwhile, had gripped the arm of her chair. "Do they suspect that? That Aramis is also the King's father?"
"No. For whatever reason they do not."
"Because the late King spent so much time with him before he died," she acknowledged. It didn't matter if his reasons were selfish or to hurt her, it was what others saw and believed.
Milady shrugged. "That or the fact that Philippe simply looks more like Aramis than his brother does. Who says the people can't be right and also incredibly thick at the same time?"
"Have you found that there is anyone in particular starting or spreading these theories about Aramis?" she asked.
"People love to gossip, especially about something as scandalous as a bastard love child, and especially about their new favorite scapegoat. But one person you should be worried about is that member of parlement, Broussel. Not only is he furthering the idea that Aramis has seduced you and is corrupting you and the King, but he's the one calling out Aramis over the taxes and encouraging other members of parlement to oppose him."
"Those taxes are going towards winning this damn war," Aramis said through gritted teeth. "As shown with our victory in Lens."
"And yet the war goes on," Milady replied before meeting Anne's gaze. "There's something else, Majesty. Broussel plans on calling a special session of parlement to issue a charter revoking the authority of the King's justice officials, forbidding the implementation of taxes without the parlement's approval, and that no royal subjects can be imprisoned without due process of law."
"Such as-let me guess-the Duke of Longueville?" He looked over at her. "This is Conde's influence. He wants his brother-in-law released and to protect himself from being thrown into the Bastille. And no new taxes means dragging out the war to my detriment and his benefit."
"Not to mention the blow to royal authority this would be," she added worriedly. "Broussel would see Louis reduced to a paper king if he had his way. I must forbid this meeting from happening."
"Do you think that will stop it?" questioned Aramis. "They've barely lifted a finger to stop or dissuade the attacks on your reputation, and now it sounds like they want to essentially overthrow you and the King."
"I have no evidence Broussel or any other member intends to go that far, but now would be an opportune time to do it," said Milady. "The King and Queen Regent are just recovering from his illness, the French army is off at war, and the people aren't exactly happy with the current state of things."
"Then perhaps we should have Broussel taken in for questioning, quietly, during tonight's victory mass while everyone is in high-spirits." She and Aramis were set to attend a special mass this evening to give thanks for the recent victory at Lens as well as the King's recovery.
Aramis nodded before standing. "I'll go and issue the order," he said. "It's me he's against, I will take on any fallout, and keep you and Louis out of it."
"He's quite popular among the people," Milady warned.
"And I'm already not. They can add it to their list of grievances against me, or even better, put it into another one of their little songs about me. Broussel in a cell, that's quite lyrical already."
"Perhaps you should start having a guard accompanying you though," she proposed. While the pamphlets and songs often portrayed her as simply having fallen prey to Aramis' wiles and at worst called her a whore, there was much more animosity towards Aramis and his perceived corruption, along with a desire for him to be ousted. To what lengths they would go to see it happen she did not know.
Aramis was predictably dismissive of the notion. "Treville didn't walk around with a guard," he said, to which she gave him a look that told him he was being unreasonable.
"Fine, starting tomorrow, one or two when I go out," he conceded to her relief before taking his leave.
"Do you recall the fate of Marie de Medici's advisor, Concini, Majesty?" Milady asked once they'd heard the door close behind Aramis.
A chill went down her spine as the cheers and jeers of the mob echoed in her mind. "I do."
When she and Louis were fifteen he had ordered the arrest of Concino Concini, the Cardinal's predecessor and Marie de Medici's closest advisor. Concini had grown too powerful and was unpopular among the people for his greed, his ambition, and for simply being Italian, an outsider. Louis had stipulated, though, that if Concini resisted arrest he could be killed. Whether Concini had truly tried to resist she did not know, but what she did know, and what she could still recall even now, was the roar that had erupted from the crowd of onlookers signaling that the guards had killed him. It was so loud she could hear it from her bedroom window, but only later did she learn the full extent of the crowd's actions.
"It was one of the Cardinal's few fears," Milady continued.
"The King turning on him?"
Milady held her gaze. "A mob tearing him to pieces."
MMMMMMMMMM
Once he saw Anne into her carriage and on her way back to the palace he went over to the carriage he was sharing with Bellevoix, glad to know the day would soon be over and that he could finally relax a bit. Louis was well, France had just achieved a great victory, and hopefully with Broussel's arrest, the attacks on him and Anne would die down and the path toward peace would be clear.
As he lifted his foot to step into the carriage though, something small but hard suddenly hit him in the back, pitching him forward and causing him to hit his knee on the step before he could regain his balance. Ignoring d'Artagnan asking him if he was all right, he looked down behind him and saw a rock on the ground. Relieved it had only been a rock and not a bullet, he then swept his gaze over the crowd that had remained outside the church.
"Over there, Captain!" shouted one of the cadets, pointing to a teenage boy standing on the base of a nearby statue. As the boy turned to run away, he caught sight of the sling in his hand that he'd used to hurl the stone at him.
"Leave him," he told the cadet. He wanted to get back to the palace to hear how Broussel's arrest went, and this was only a boy with a sling.
MMMMMMMMMM
As soon as Philippe and his governess left for the night she made her way to Aramis' rooms.
"What's this about you being hurt?" she asked once she saw him. He was sitting on the end of his bed, taking off his boots.
She was relieved to see him get to his feet without a hint of pain or discomfort, though she had to remind herself that he would do his best to hide it if he was indeed hurt. "It's nothing," he insisted. "A young boy just slung a small rock, a pebble, really, at my back as I got into my carriage."
"Why didn't you let me know as soon as we got back to the palace?"
"I wanted to give you a little more time between worrying about Louis and then worrying about me."
She raised her eyebrows. "You think I can't worry about more than one person at a time? Besides, I thought you liked my fussing over you." She tugged at his shirt. "Let me see."
Acquiescing, he took his shirt off and after tossing it aside turned to show her his back. "There's barely a bruise," he insisted, and she had to admit he was right, at least for now. There was but a small red mark between his right shoulder and the ridge of his spine. She lightly brushed her fingers over it before he turned back around to face her. "Satisfied?" he asked, his hands settling on her hips while she let hers rest on his chest. Leaning down, he then brushed his nose along hers. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too," she replied before joining their lips in a kiss. She sighed against his mouth as he kissed her back, his grip firm on her hips. They'd seen and talked to each other over the course of Louis' illness, developing a coded language to write notes to each other with, but had refrained from such close contact. Not only did she not want him to become ill or pass the sickness over to Philippe, but they had also wanted to avoid adding evidence to the rumors of their closeness. They were two people who liked to communicate by touch though, who wanted to be physically close to one another, and after the past few years of being able to enjoy that closeness, she was eager to be in the warmth of his embrace again.
"If you're not too tired," he began once they parted, his hands starting to undo the tie of her robe, "perhaps you'd like to conduct a more thorough examination."
"Were you hurt elsewhere?" she asked while her own hands went to his belt.
She arched her neck as his lips grazed down it, his hands sliding around her waist after opening up her robe. "Might've banged my knee on the carriage step when I was hit."
"Oh, we must get you undressed and to bed then, my love."
MMMMMMMMMM
She was roughly shaken awake as Aramis urgently whispered her name. A rush of cold air followed as Aramis threw the sheet back and he jumped to his feet to stand above her. She could hear footsteps hurrying towards them and looked over her shoulder just as the bedroom doors opened. From between Aramis' legs she saw Milady burst into the room, stopping short at the sight of them. While Anne sat up, clutching the bedsheet to her chest, Aramis stepped to the side. She looked to Milady for an explanation, but the woman was eyeing Aramis' naked form. Blinking, Milady raised her eyebrows before sliding her gaze over to Anne.
"What's going on," Aramis asked tersely, hands still balled into fists. It was now that Anne could hear some sort of rumbling in the distance.
Milady's eyes snapped back up to him. "An armed mob is marching towards the palace. Large enough to surround it. They're building barricades too."
Anne inhaled sharply before exchanging worried looks with Aramis.
Aramis jumped off the bed. "We have to get out of here. Go get Philippe ready," he instructed her. "I'll get Louis, I can carry him." He tossed her her chemise before throwing his own shirt over his head. "Stay with the Queen," he told Milady.
"You're not getting anyone, you have to leave!" Milady countered.
Anne turned to them as she unfurled the bottom of her chemise after getting out of bed. "What do you mean?"
"It's your head they're calling for," Milady told Aramis. "Not theirs."
He looked up from tying his braies and shook his head. "I won't leave them."
"They want to free the King from your control!"
"Do they mean to take the King?" Anne asked, her panic rising.
"There was talk of delivering him to Conde if Aramis is not rid of." Milady turned back to Aramis. "Look, if the mob sees you leaving, it should draw them away from the palace, they may even disperse. You'd have to go now though before they're on top of the gates."
She went over to Aramis. "You go first then," she said, "I will follow later with the boys."
"No."
She looked up into his eyes, her hands gripping his sleeves. "Aramis, please. I am asking you to do this as your wife. Please don't make me command you," she begged. They didn't have time for gallantry. These people were coming to tear him apart.
She saw his resolve waver as the gears in his mind turned. Suddenly, he went over to a chest and started rummaging through it. "You're sure it's me they're after?" he asked as he took out his musketeer leathers.
"If we were to ignore the months, if not years of negativity from the people towards your tenure, then I'd say their chants of 'Down with Aramis' is a pretty good indicator of who their ire is directed towards," was Milady's sardonic answer.
Anne meanwhile, had grabbed his sword belt, pistol, and boots, depositing the latter before him.
"Send out Captain Meilleraie with a small mounted contingent to see what the people want," he decided once he was partially dressed, his doublet left hanging open and a cloak handed to him by Milady thrown over his shoulders. Grasping her arms he locked their gazes. "I will go out amongst them and then split off. I'll let the people catch a glimpse of me, and then lead them north before heading east to Saint-Gobain. We'll meet there and then figure out our next plan."
She gave a hasty nod, eager to see him off as soon as possible. "Go, then," she said, and after handing him his weapons, started guiding him towards the passageway.
He went ahead readily enough, but stopped just before the door and turned to her. "Anne-"
"Go!" she pleaded, and tried to turn him back around but he easily resisted, instead leaning towards her to capture her lips in an aching, sorrowful, and all-too quick kiss before finally disappearing into the passageway.
Once he was out of sight she rushed over to Milady, and took the woman's hands in hers. "Go with him," she instructed.
"I should stay with you," Milady argued.
She shook her head. "I have my guards, and I'm sure d'Artagnan is already on his way here," she countered. "I need you to keep him safe. Make sure he doesn't turn back. That's an order."
Milady pressed her lips together, but bowed her head in acceptance, and once she too left, Anne was left all alone.
MMMMMMMMMM
Even before he saw the mob, he could tell by the increasing loudness of the din as he neared the palace gate that it was a large crowd boiling with anger.
A line of guards stood behind the gate, watching the crowd, who, for now, stood back a good distance. They shouted for the people to stay back before opening the gate to let Aramis and the others out.
He was dismayed to see the amount of people already gathered outside. Many carried torches, some had pistols or swords, and others had tools or clubs. The crowd was mostly made up of men, but women and children were among them too, and a number of the children, he noted, also carried slings. Their chants not only called for his downfall, but Broussel's release. Somehow, word had gotten out of his arrest.
They had anticipated some pushback, but not of this scale, not even close.
The crowd quieted at the sight of them and once Aramis threw back his hood, murmurs rippled through the crowd. "Good people of Paris," he started. "I wish to hear your concerns, if there is a leader among you, I urge him or her to come forward and I implore the rest of you to disperse befo-"
"We want to see the King!" someone shouted, cutting him off.
"And Broussel!" yelled another.
"The King is still very weak but perhaps I can arrange an appearance in the morning," he replied, which was immediately met with shouts of disagreement.
"We want to see him now!"
"Down with Aramis!"
People began to repeat the latter statement and soon they were chanting it. Something small was then thrown at him and he caught a glint of red as it passed a flickering torch before catching it. He tossed the rotten apple to the ground but worried how quickly things would escalate from fruit to rocks and bullets. Captain Meilleraie and his two men looked to him then, and he nodded. He would not be able to talk his way out of this situation.
As the others urged their horses forward, Aramis turned his, and with a sharp tap of his heels set off to the left, galloping along the palace wall and past the edge of the confused crowd.
As he came up to the Garrison he slowed his horse, and thanked God when he saw Constance standing near the entrance. Behind her there was a flurry of activity in the courtyard as musketeers and cadets assembled but he could not spot d'Artagnan among them.
"Constance," he yelled before jumping off his horse.
She hurried over to him. "Aramis!"
"I have to go, they'll look for me here, is d'Artagnan on the way to the palace?"
"Yes, but Aramis, what's going on?"
"Um, the people are very unhappy with me so I am going away for a bit, the Queen will follow with the boys, and we'll return once things have calmed down."
Constance raised her eyebrows. "Unhappy?"
"Very. Listen, I have to go, please take my horse, and stay safe, Constance." Putting the reins into her hands, he gave her arm a squeeze before pulling his hood back up and disappearing down an alley.
MMMMMMMMMM
She was wearing her nightclothes and talking to LaPorte, the King's valet, when he found her in a corridor near the King's quarters.
"Your Majesty," he called out.
"D'Artagnan!"
He jogged over to her. "Your Majesty, the mob, I could barely get past them. Are you all right? And the King?" He swept his eyes around the room. "Where's Aramis?"
The Queen took a second to gather herself before raising her chin. "I've ordered Milady to escort him out of Paris, to safety. It's him they want to harm, not us."
"You didn't go with him?" he could hardly believe Aramis would leave them behind like this.
"I had planned to follow after him with the boys once he drew the mob away, but…" she shook her head, looking remorseful. "We can't leave yet. They're still at every gate."
"Can't your guards push them back? My musketeers?"
"And risk escalating this to the point of bloodshed?" She shook her head. "No, they can watch the gates all they like." Her attention was then diverted by the arrival of the captain of the royal guard, Meilleraie.
"I sent Meilleraie out to talk to them," she informed him as Meilleraie came up to her, bowing. "Captain, what did they say? What do they want?"
"Majesty, word has spread of Broussel's arrest. They demand his release."
D'Artagnan thought he saw flames flicker in the Queen's eyes. "They demand?" she repeated, just as a sound like thunder reverberated through the palace, once, twice, three times.
"They're battering down the gate!" someone shouted from down the hallway, and the fire in the Queen's eyes was swiftly extinguished.
"Very well," she said, and requested that a piece of parchment be brought to her to sign the order.
"Majesty, there is something else," said Meilleraie. "They want to see the King, to be sure that you're not trying to escape with him; that he hasn't been spirited away by the First Minister."
"Aramis got away safely then?"
"I think we'd know if they had captured him," d'Artagnan replied.
"We could bring the King out onto one of the balconies," Meilleraie offered. "Or just a window would be safer."
"We could also use a decoy, Majesty," suggested LaPorte.
"No," the Queen replied. She turned to LaPorte. "Put the King back to bed. I will be with him shortly."
He didn't understand. Was she going to concede to the mob or try to fight them off? "Majesty, what are you doing?"
She turned back to him and held his gaze, resolute. "I'm going to let them in."
MMMMMMMMMM
So far, he was able to weave through the city unperturbed. On foot, he drew less attention than he would have on horseback, and was able to more swiftly and discreetly make his way. The streets were fairly quiet, with residents assumedly huddled inside if not among those milling about, discussing the current unrest, and he continued to wonder how things could have escalated so quickly, how so many could believe that he was deceitful and manipulative and not see that he was just trying to help them all.
Walking past a couple of men who were sitting outside one of the buildings and smoking pipes, he turned a corner and saw two other men standing around towards the end of the short, narrow road. The men turned toward him and a bad feeling started to build in the pit of his stomach. He turned around to go down a different road, but the men who had been smoking had stood up and were now blocking his way.
"Excuse me, monsieurs."
"Who might you be, friend?" one of them asked as they stepped forward.
He took a step back, aware of the approaching steps behind him. "The First Minister," he said loudly as he stepped toward the left side of the road, not wanting them to get a good look at his scar. He then gave a hearty guffaw. To his relief, the others chuckled at his joke, and he felt the tension around him ease. "Actually, I'm meant to be seeing my mistress," he announced, "and I'm late enough as it is, so if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to be on my way."
"You're not against the First Minister then?"
"Oh no, I can't stand the upstart, and I'm of a mind to join you all, but I'd like to see my lady first. Like I said, she's waiting for me and I don't want her to worry." He looked past them on either side, discouraged not to see any sign of Milady.
"All right, let him through."
"Wait," said another. "Let me see something."
A short, but broad-shouldered man came over, approaching him from the left. He had grabbed a nearby torch and Aramis' heart beat even faster than it already was. Where was Milady?!
"That's a pretty nasty scar you've got there…Minister."
He laughed. "A common mistake, my dear gentlemen. No, the First Minister's scar is on the right side of his face, not the left." He clapped the man on the shoulder. "I'll be on my way then."
"I don't think so!"
Hands grabbed at him, ripping off his cloak and then holding him by the shoulders while blows were delivered to his face and stomach. He kicked back at them and wretched one of his arms free to punch one of the men across the jaw. He didn't want to hurt them, but he couldn't allow himself to be captured.
While he twisted and kicked someone called for a rope, and another fist connected with his face, causing him to bite down hard on his lip. He tasted blood.
"Where's that rope!" said the man delivering most of the blows.
There was a sound of a scuffle then, and the man turned to look behind him. One of Aramis' eyes was starting to swell shut, but he could still make out Milady's face in the flickering light of the torch she now carried as she ran up to them, its previous bearer lying on the ground, hopefully just knocked out.
"Told you I was meeting my mistress," he said, relief flooding through his body. "She won't be happy that you've delayed me."
The man looked back and forth between him and Milady and then up at his friends.
"Are you hurt my love?" Milady asked in a high falsetto. Coming up to him, she loudly gasped and then exclaimed, "What have they done to you!" before executing a backhanded swing of her torch at the head of the man in front of him, hitting him in the face. She then swung the torch at the leg of one of the men holding him. As that man faltered, Aramis shoved him off, leaving the last man open enough for Milady to strike him in the stomach with the torch, pushing him back and causing him to release his hold on Aramis.
He fell to his knees, but Milady quickly grabbed a hold of him and pulled him up. "Come on," she said, and putting an arm around him, let him lean on her as she led him towards the end of the street.
"What took you?" he asked, half-serious as they rounded the corner and he finally saw the carriage waiting for them.
"It wasn't easy finding a driver willing to be out among all this. And he wasn't cheap either," she added. "If you're able, we'll switch to horseback before reaching Athos." She jerked her head towards the driver and said in a low voice, "We don't need him going off and telling people where we went for even more money."
She opened the door for him and he staggered up the carriage steps before falling onto the bench, his stomach and face aching.
"I'm sure the Queen will repay you." He coughed as Milady stepped into the carriage. "You should go back. You have to tell her to release Broussel and show them the King, I don't think they'll fully disperse until she does."
"I'm sure she can figure that out herself!" she retorted before she banged her fist twice against the roof and the carriage jostled forward.
MMMMMMMMMM
It was madness.
She knew it was madness to let these people not only into the palace, into her home, but into her son's bedroom to stand mere feet away from him, and with no royal guard there. But as far as she saw it, her only other choice was to start arresting members of the mob if they succeeded in breaking in, which would trigger a fight and possibly even a revolt, something they did not have the resources to combat. If she let them in and gave them what they wanted, she could avoid having her own citizens fired upon.
And d'Artagnan would be right there.
So she sat there in Louis' bedroom, on the end of his bed, and waited for their visitors.
"Mama, will they want to touch me?"
"We won't let them touch you, darling. Just pretend to sleep and they'll leave you be."
As the sound of footsteps became clearer, she slid her hand over Louis' duvet and gave his leg a comforting squeeze as she heard Laporte outside the door reminding the visitors to be quiet.
One by one men started filing into the room, but stopped short at the sight of her.
"Please, come in, monsieurs," she said in a low voice. "But please, try not to disturb His Majesty."
After a moment's hesitation, the men continued to shuffle into the room until it was near full. They looked almost confused at having been allowed in so easily, at seeing their king alone with only his mother at his side to guard him. And as their gazes settled on a seemingly sleeping Louis they began to look contrite or even ashamed, with some removing their hats out of respect.
"He is not yet fully recovered from his illness," she said softly, "but he looks well, does he not?"
"Is that really the King?" someone asked in the crowd. The tone wasn't accusatory though, just uncertain.
She swept her gaze around the room. "Is there one among you who has seen His Majesty before and can attest to his appearance?"
A man stepped forward, and looked to her for permission to approach Louis' bedside. "Please," she said, willing her smile not to waver.
The man leaned closer to Louis, and she kept her eyes on his hands as she reminded herself that d'Artagnan was right there watching also, ready to pounce if the man tried to harm her son.
The man soon straightened though, and turned to his comrades. "He is indeed the King." He stepped back into line with them, bowing his head. "Thank you, Your Majesty, for letting us see him. We will leave you now," he said, and motioned for the others to begin filing back out.
A series of bowed heads and murmured blessings for her and Louis followed as the crowd began to quietly disperse, the men leaving the room as if walking on tiptoe. The man who recognized Louis was about to be the last to leave, but she stopped him.
"What is your name?" she asked.
The man's eyes widened in surprise and he hesitated for a second before answering, "Your Majesty, my name is Dulaurier."
"What is it that you do, Dulaurier? For work?"
"I am a clothier, Your Majesty. On the Rue Bourdonnais."
"Perhaps we will pay you a visit one day, monsieur. Thank you," she said, dismissing him.
With another bow of his head, Dulaurier departed, and once they could no longer hear his footsteps she got to her feet and walked over to the door while Louis leaned up on his elbow.
"They're gone," she confirmed, and breathed a sigh of relief as d'Artagnan stepped out from behind the bed curtain he had hidden himself behind.
Returning to Louis' bedside, she hugged her son. "You were so good, so brave," she told him, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
"I'll, uh, pay for the curtain to be mended," d'Artagnan offered, glancing over at the bed curtain which he had cut an opening into for him to look out of.
She shook her head, and reaching over, grasped his wrist. "Thank you, d'Artagnan."
"It was you who saved us, Majesty. Tonight you have saved us all."
MMMMMMMMMM
Next to her, Aramis was hunched over his horse's neck, coughing and breathing heavily as they came upon a house in a small clearing. Naturally, it had relentlessly rained the last hour of their journey and Milady thought it would be hours still before she stopped shivering from the damp and cold. They had journeyed throughout the night, only briefly stopping at one point so that she could acquire some food and a couple of horses from an inn along the way, and she could only tell it was early morning as the sky had changed from black to gray.
Her legs felt both numb and heavy as she got off her horse, and after quickly tying the reins to the paddock fence, she went and helped Aramis, who had yet to dismount. Taking the reins from him, she tied them off, and watched as he slowly swung his leg back and then practically slid off his saddle, wobbling on his feet once they hit the ground. He'd taken a good beating back in Paris, and with the heavy rain on top of the somewhat strenuous ride, she worried he was likely to collapse at any moment.
He allowed her to hook an arm around him again and together they went up to the front door, whereupon she banged her fist urgently against the wood, calling Athos' name as she did.
There was barking and then a shout for Athos from inside before she heard a lock turn and the door was swung open to reveal Sylvie. She stared at them open-mouthed, and Milady noted how her other hand rested on her rounded belly. Athos was having another child with this woman? Good God, he really must love her.
"Aramis?"
"Sylvie!" called out Athos as he hurriedly came up behind Sylvie, his eyes wild when Milady saw them. Quickly, he stepped in front of Sylvie, a hand keeping her behind him. They were both wearing their nightclothes. "You dare bring her here?" Athos hissed, rounding on Aramis.
"Athos," Aramis said weakly.
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, for God's sake, if Aramis wasn't injured and likely ill, I'd already be gone," she told them. "Now are you going to just stand there, or should I bring him back to Paris so the mob can finish him off?"
"Athos, quickly, let them in," Sylvie instructed behind him.
Athos reached out for Aramis' arm then, giving her a warning glare as he did, and she let him take Aramis over the threshold before following behind, hoping that they had made the right decision in leaving the Queen behind.
MMMMMMMMMM
If only that had been the end of it.
Once the men had returned to the mob, word quickly spread of their visit, and rather than disperse as Anne had hoped, others decided that they too wanted to see the King for themselves. So for the next few hours she, Louis, and d'Artagnan endured dozens of visitations, with Louis pretending to be asleep throughout, and d'Artagnan dutifully resuming his hiding place behind the bed curtain each time.
Before the second group of visitors had come up, she sent someone to check on Constance, Elodie, and the girls, as well as to let them know that d'Artagnan was in for a long night at the palace. She had told d'Artagnan that he could swap places with Captain Meilleraie or one of the other royal guards and return to the garrison, but he declined, and admittedly she was relieved to have him by her side and protecting Louis. She had also directed a number of men to guard Philippe well before the first visit, fearing that he would be the one kidnapped or harmed over Louis because of his supposed connection to Aramis and an assumption by the mob that he would be less protected than the King. Once the last group had finally left at around three o'clock in the morning though, she was relieved to hear that no one had tried to reach Philippe at any point during the night.
Still, even though no more groups were being sent up, the mob did not fully disband, and she feared she would not be able to leave with the boys anytime soon.
MMMMMMMMMM
Athos was sitting in a chair, smoking his pipe when Aramis first opened his eyes. He had to open and close them several times before he got used to the brightness of the light streaming through the window of the room he was in.
He groaned, his body sore, as he turned onto his side. "What's happened?" he asked.
Athos studied him for a moment. "You sustained some injuries leaving the palace and then fell ill upon your arrival, a fever. You've been in and out of it for over a day now."
A day? He's been here for that long already? "The Queen, is she here? And the boys?"
Athos lowered his pipe, letting his hand fall to his lap and then gave a solemn shake of his head. "No, Aramis. They could not come. And you cannot go back. You've been exiled."
Historical background/inspiration:
-When Louis had smallpox in November of 1647 Anne "spent practically her entire time at his bedside and nursed him with her own hands, feeding him, giving him medicines, and generally comforting him...Mazarin visited every day and, when the king was better, presented him with an English horse that had to be led upstairs and into the king's bedroom because he insisted on seeing it immediately...Philippe had been moved from the Palais-Royal for safety until February 1648. He begged to see his mother, and Anne went to visit him every few weeks, at first daring to speak to him only through a window. She herself suffered a fever as a result of fatigue, though that cleared up while Louis was visibly recovering" - Ruth Kleinman, Anne of Austria
-"The editor of the Gazette, recalling the recent death of the Spanish crown prince, echoed the universal relief in December when he wrote, '...Thus we see how well God loves France, contenting Himself, as He does, with merely showing her the rods of punishment with which he beats others.'" -Ruth Kleinman, Anne of Austria
-Concino Concini was one of Louis XIII's ministers and a favorite of Marie de Medici. His assassination was possibly arranged with Louis' support -Ruth Kleinman, Anne of Austria
-In response to Mazarin's decrees, the members of the parlement called a special session to debate them. The meeting was forbidden by the Regent, Anne of Austria, but went ahead anyway. "The parlement, issued a charter...which revoked the authority of the King's justice officials, forbade any new taxes without the approval of the parlement, and declared that no royal subjects could be imprisoned without due process of law." -Wikipedia
-"Mazarin recommended to the Queen that she listen to the parlement and modify her decrees, but she was furious at their opposition. She waited until the right moment to strike back. The occasion she chose was the celebration of a major victory of the French Army over the Spanish at the Battle of Lens in Belgium on 26 August 1648. On the day that a special mass was held at the Cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris to celebrate the victory, she gave orders to the Captain of her guards to arrest the leaders of the parlement, including the popular Pierre Broussel. News of the arrest quickly spread in Paris, and crowds came out into the street to protest and to build barricades. That evening Mazarin wrote in his journal, 'the parlement has performed the functions of the King, and the people have deferred to it entirely.'" -Wikipedia
-The Fronde, a rebellion against the government, took its name from "The children's slings (frondes) which were used by the mobs in the Paris streets to hurl stones. It combined the anger of the Parisians against the new taxes with the resentment of the nobility against the reduction of their ancient privileges." -Wikipedia
-When the Parlement brought their demands to anne for her signature, "At first, Anne flatly refused to sign a declaration so injurious to royal power. Never would she do that, she exclaimed, for it would make her son just a paper king." -Ruth Kleinman, Anne of Austria
-'The Parlement, with Gaston's endorsement...asked Anne for Mazarin's dismissal. In the meantime Gaston authorized the Paris citizen militia to put up barricades in the streets...Anne was not inclined to leave. It was Mazarin who volunteered to leave, on the advice of Madame Chevreuse, who urged him to leave court at least long enough to let the present storm blow over." -Ruth Kleinman, Anne of Austria
-"Mazarin, disguised as a musketeer...fled to Saint-Germaine-en-Laye, fully expecting the King and Queen to follow him" -Olivier Bernier, Louis XIV: A Royal Life
-Mazarin left Paris quietly late in the evening. "Anne had shown no sign of emotion during their leave-taking. She...no doubt expected soon to see Mazarin again. Her plans for secret travel, however, did not work out..." Word got out of Anne's preparations and "the militia turned out immediately to guard the city gates and cut off escape routes from the Palais-Royal. Anne ordered the royal guards doubled at the palace entrances but otherwise showed no alarm...she added, the people could watch the gates all they liked." -Ruth Kleinman, Anne of Austria
-"The unrest continued, however, and rumor had it that Gaston meant to seize the king. He was actually considering such a move but decided against it...His fears of her leaving were quite unfounded, for the king and his brother were sound asleep and she herself was in her bed and in no state for travel. She invited Gaston's messenger to go to the king's room and see for himself. The messenger did so, and on his way back to Gaston's palace, tried to reassure the crowds int he streets. Some of the people however, preferring the evidence of their own eyes...shouted they wanted to see the king. With great presence of mind, Anne commanded that all doors be opened to them and that they be taken to the king's room. There men gathered around the bed whose curtains had been opened. As they watched the sleeping boy their truculence turned to tenderness and admiration, so that after a long interval they left, softly murmuring blessings." -Ruth Kleinman, Anne of Austria
-"It had been a very close call; only Anne of Austria's coolness had saved the situation, for there cannot be much doubt that, if she had ordered the gates defended instead of opened, all the inhabitants of the palace would have perished that night" -Olivier Bernier, Louis XIV: A Royal Life
-After sending for two officers of the citizen militia, she sent them out twice to speak to the people still gathered, and with that "at last the crowds dispersed. By then it was three in the morning." -Ruth Kleinman, Anne of Austria
-"For several nights she has to admit people who demanded to see the king asleep in his bed. Even after those visitations ceased, she and her sons remained virtual prisoners in the Palais-Royal for more than a month. Not until late March did the citizen militia disband" -Ruth Kleinman, Anne of Austria
-Aramis escaping via carriage was also inspired by Twenty Years After, in which d'Artagnan and Porthos smuggle Mazarin out of the city to escape the mob. Anne allowing members of the crowd to visit Louis' bedroom is also depicted in the book.
A/N:
Whew! That was a lot of citations. I was able to solve a problem I was having with this BIG chapter and get it to you all sooner than I thought. I've made some good progress on the remaining chapters, but still have a few things to figure out, so it will likely be a long while before the next update. Stay well, and happy holidays :)