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The meeting with Bircann is not going well.
35 DAYS EARLIER
TREVILLE
"Why the …," Porthos begins behind me, but I thrust out a hand to block his forward progress.
"Enough!" I order loudly and turn so that I might look into his eyes. His anger and frustration are a mirror of my own feelings, but I drop my voice.
"Do not react; it's what he wants. Give him nothing."
The room is not that small and I try to speak softly, yet Bircann hears me.
"Sound advice, Tréville. Best to keep the hounds on a tight leash."
My warning glare is directed to both Porthos and Aramis. They have straightened their backs at the insult, drawing themselves up to their full height. The gaoler has not deprived us of our weapons – he obviously thinks that Bircann is not going to be able to disarm the three of us to make good his escape. With my reminder that we are the King's Musketeers and all that it implies, I presume the same gaoler did not entertain the notion that we might burst in upon the prisoner and slay him on the spot.
Methinks something is amiss in the security arrangements at the Chatelet and I shall take great delight in reporting as such to Richelieu when next I see him.
"Good afternoon, Bircann," I say, refusing to take his bait. "I trust your new accommodation is to your liking."
He throws wide his arms to take in the room and flashes a broad grin. "As you can see, it is not of the same standard that I was enjoying in Paris up until yesterday, but it is only temporary and could have been a lot worse. My apologies, Tréville, for not providing you with similar surroundings when you were my guest." The joviality instantly evaporates to be replaced by dark malevolence. "However, it is not in my nature to pander to the comforts of my prisoners, as you learned to your cost, Tréville."
I take a deep breath and school my features into something that I can only hope is a vestige of nonchalance. Having ordered my men not to react to Bircann's goading and insults, I would do well to heed my own advice and thereby set an example. Plus, I am intrigued as to how Bircann will respond if he realises that he is not making any impression upon our outward appearance of calm. To let him know of our inner turmoil, the concern we have for our missing comrade would play into his hands. I refuse to give him such authority, and yet I must reluctantly acknowledge that he does have the upper hand. He knows what has happened to Athos and probably where he is at this very moment.
He lowers himself slowly and carefully onto the chair and arranges his limbs in a relaxed manner, as if he were receiving invited guests at a soiree rather than three, armed soldiers intent upon drawing valuable information from him, a prisoner charged with treason against King and country.
He looks up at me, his arrogance evident.
"You still haven't answered my question," he sneers. "Have you come to me because you have lost something?"
I glance around me, see a second chair placed against the wall and nod towards it. Aramis moves to get it and places it down beside me. With equal deliberation, I sit and I see Bircann immediately stiffen.
"I did not invite you to take a chair," he spits out. It is an unexpected and interesting reaction.
"I need neither your invitation nor your approbation to sit," I say firmly. "Surely I do not have to remind you that whatever your status and title were as a free man, you are now a prisoner held on grievous charges. I rather believe that you are being shown far more courtesy than you deserve so have a care."
As if to confirm his inferior position, Porthos and Aramis flank my chair, their proximity making them appear to tower over him and me. They seem to fill the room as they stand at ease, although I see that each has a hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword, the implied threat unmistakable. Their faces give nothing away, but I know that both of them, especially Porthos, want nothing more than for me to leave them alone with Bircann for a while and as much as I relish the thought, I cannot allow them that liberty.
The anger subsides as quickly as it erupted and Bircann shrugs as if he does not care. Instead, he eyes me with barely concealed amusement.
"You refuse to answer that question, Tréville, so let me ask another. Why have you come to see me? I do not think that France's great First Minister would have you as his vanguard seeking the names of my co-conspirators. What does bring you here?"
"You are impatient for my answer, Bircann, although I wonder that I should be expected to respond to what is so clearly a rhetorical question. You know why I am here."
He stands and saunters to the table beneath the high window, the only recourse to natural light in the room. With his back to me, he lets his fingers trace the engraved inscription on a leather-bound book that he has been allowed.
"Humour me, Tréville. Let us both pretend that I have no idea as to what lies behind your visit."
There is a low rumble to my left. Porthos' patience is wearing thin.
"Very well," I concede, trying to adopt a tone that suggests I was going to comply all along. "I will play your little game, Bircann. My lieutenant – you have met him by the way – he is the one responsible for disarming and arresting you yesterday morning. Anyway, he departed the garrison yesterday afternoon on a task for the Cardinal and he has not yet returned. Is my man still alive?"
I hope that my directness might catch him off guard, but he turns abruptly to face me, his eyes wide with jubilation. He has forced me to ask and sees it as a victory.
"My dear Captain," he begins, his manner oily and annoying. I would so love to forget my rank and trusted position with the King and wipe the expression from Bircann's face. "I have been locked up in here for over a day now and already it seems like a week. Whatever makes you think that I should know anything about him? Your man was very much in evidence when he deprived me of my freedom. How careless of you to lose him so quickly after our little altercation yesterday and him being so skilled with his sword, so young, so handsome … so full of life." He lets his voice trail off.
Porthos cannot help himself and takes a long stride forward, his fists clenching. "Stop playing your little games. Is he still alive?"
I reach for a handful of the back of his doublet and pull him. "Porthos!" There is no need to say anything else as he visibly relaxes and resumes his former position.
"Let me be plain," I continue, "Athos may not have returned yesterday but his horse did, as you very well know, for it carried the little missive you meant me to find. Very good of you, I must say, to reinforce your message about your long reach. It may not have been penned by you, but the meaning was yours. Where is he?"
Bircann has the temerity to laugh, but it has a mirthless quality to it. I have heard it before, many years ago, when it was directed at me and it still sends a shiver down my spine.
"Come now, Captain, you surely do not expect me to tell you that straight away. Where would be the fun in that? The sportsmanship?"
"Sportsmanship!" It's Aramis who erupts this time. "This is a man's life we're talking about; our brother."
Damn it! He has said too much, admitted that this is personal, that Athos means something to him and Porthos and - by association - me. That is what Bircann wants and he studies the three of us closely, as if weighing up how much to divulge to us and how much to withhold. A condescending smile creeps across his face.
"If you want reassurance that he is alive, then I have to disappoint you. As of this moment, I have no idea as to whether he still breathes, but I can tell you that the order was to take him alive and keep him that way for as long as possible. Of course, as a fully trained soldier and a demon with a sword in his hand, I have no way of knowing if he put up any resistance. Too much of that and the outcome may have been somewhat different. Let us presume that he is still alive … somewhere, and you are mistaken if you think that I am going to tell you where.
"You must search for your man, Tréville, and hurry up about it if you hope to find anything of the man you knew."
