As the men had gathered outside and the spectators took their seats, I assisted the captain to prepare for his challenge. He seemed calm, if not resigned to the fight. I remained concerned, but I hid my worries by ensuring that his sword was in good order and his uniform was spotless. If he was to represent the musketeers then I would not have him do so in a dusty uniform. Our pride and honour was at stake. Appearances were just as important as the outcome, I will not let it be said that Captain Treville looked anything less then absolutely dashing when he claimed victory.
He had been quiet all the while, but he nodded graciously when I offered him a small cup of watered wine to moisten his throat. "Thank you, little one." He spoke, his soft tone familiar and comforting to my ears.
"Is there anything else you require?"
"No, I think I am ready." I smiled to him.
"You will do wonderfully, captain. Do not tell the men I said so as they will be quite jealous, but you are by far my favourite amongst them." This at least rallied the captain a little, as he chuckled upon my words. Looking at me, I could feel the fondness of his thoughts as he considered me before him. His hand rested itself atop my head, tender and reassuring before he cuffed me lightly under the chin.
"Then I shall win this battle for you, dear one." Charmed, the captain brushed back my hair before we heard his name be called, summoning him to present himself. With a final breath, Treville stepped outside the tent where I followed a few moments later, watching him step onto the field as I halted at the edge of the arena between d'Artagnan and Porthos. The men all clapped and cheered for the captain, rallying themselves to support him despite their misgivings.
"And representing the Red Guard, their champion…Captain Labarge!" My mouth dropped in horror as the name was called, recognising it immediately. From the opposing tent, a brutish looking man whose sized rivalled that of Porthos emerged, and I took my first look upon the face who had destroyed d'Artagnan's farm and committed dozens of other atrocities in Gascony. Fearing d'Artagnan might sprint across the field in anger, my hand jumped to grasp his as he whispered.
"This is some sort of sick joke."
"Well, the captain isn't surprised," Aramis noted and I realised that he was correct. Treville gave no indication upon his expression that he was shocked to find Labarge as his opponent.
"He knew," stating what we were all realising, I felt Porthos shift himself towards me, naturally inclined to act as my shield as Labarge presented himself upon the field. I maintained a tight grip of d'Artagnan until I felt certain he was in no danger of rushing to face Labarge himself. Gradually I slackened my grip, feeling d'Artagnan glance in my direction before he exchanged our hands to hold mine, offering a reassuring and promising squeeze. I allowed myself to relax at his collected response. He seemed to be taking my brother's advice and keeping his temper contained.
"The shooting and wrestling rounds have been waived!" The arena master announced for the benefit of the spectators, his voice carrying to all. "The contest will be settled in favour of the superior swordsman!" Feeling my stomach contract with nervousness, I watched as Treville faced against Labarge. He displayed no fear, he was too seasoned a soldier for such things, but he was wary. The clashing of their blades made me jump even as I watched it happen, metal kissing metal in a fierce battle of superiority.
Determined by skill, Treville was the better swordsman. However, Labarge possessed a brutish strength and ruthlessness which allowed him to keep apace with Treville, even landing a blow against the captain with his fist. I whimpered unwittingly, a sound which was lost under the clashing of swords. Treville did not allow the blow to go unanswered, lashing back at Labarge in kind to strike him solidly in the jaw. My stomach continued to constrict as I watched the vicious and swift exchange of blows. Labarge was not a gentleman, little more than a beast with no honour and he held no qualms using any method at his disposal to claim victory in this fight. When he cracked his head against Treville's, a blow which would be considered unsavoury in an honourable duel, a strangled cry of anger sparked from my throat. Now it was d'Artagnan's turn to hold me back.
Despite the mannerless brute having no regard for cordiality, Treville rallied himself after recovering quickly from the blow to his head. He kept Labarge in front of him, parrying his blows in an expert manner I could not help but admire. Labarge was disarmed of his dagger when he foolishly flung it wildly at the captain, meaning he only had his sword left to hand. In quick succession, Treville slashed at Labarge and caught him with his blade. A collective murmur of approval rippled through the musketeers.
Stepping back to honourably allow Labarge to see to his wound, Treville turned with widespread arms towards the royal box where the king himself sat in attendance to observe the challenge, the cardinal at his side. Taking advantage of the captain's kindness, Labarge rushed to attack Treville, eventually hammering against him with the hilt of his sword in favour of brutish strength. Soon, Treville was losing his ground. I watched in horror as the captain took several unorthodox blows, eventually being forced to the ground whereby Labarge rammed a foot down directly at the joint of his shoulder.
An outburst of disbelief arose from the spectators, the musketeers bellowing in outrage as I screeched with my hands jumping to cover the sound. "He'll kill him…" d'Artagnan whispered, reaching for his blade and stepping forwards. "Labarge!" My brother and the others dispelled of their cloaks, making to follow after d'Artagnan to defend our captain. I lingered for a moment, glancing to their backs before darting into the arena and skirting around them all as Treville struggled to raise his head.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
"Saving your life!" Other red guards also stepped into the arena, tensions rising until with an almighty roar, the two forces clashed together. I dropped to Treville's side and quickly helped him to sit upright, making to tend to his shoulder and feel if it was broken or merely dislocated.
"Madeleine! It is not safe, get away from here!"
"Forgive me, captain, but my hearing is not very good today. I do believe you just ordered me to stay and tend to your injury," quipping at him nonchalantly, I focused on his shoulder to assess the damage before moving to his other side. Drawing his arm over my neck, I helped Treville to his feet, allowing him to lean against me as he grimaced in pain. Around us the fighting was growing vicious and out of hand, until the king's voice rose above the clashing blades to order everyone be still. They obeyed seamlessly. We all turned to look upon him.
"Your man broke the rules, cardinal." The king finally announced, looking exceedingly displeased. "Captain Treville may nominate another champion, if he wishes." Gasping softly, I gripped at Treville's hand to look at him imploringly, knowing that this may well be d'Artagnan's chance to prove himself before the king. Treville looked at me, glanced at the others, then finally conceded.
"I nominate d'Artagnan to take my place." Unable to help myself, I beamed with glee. Even as Labarge burst into scornful laughter I looked at d'Artagnan confidently, helping the captain to remove himself from the field as we all cleared the way for d'Artagnan to make his mark. Passing Treville to Athos, I sidestepped towards d'Artagnan.
"Let him have it," my quiet instruction twisted d'Artagnan's mouth into a smirk, whereby he nodded in acknowledgement before I too left the field to continue tending to the captain's injury. Thankfully it was only dislocated, and being the most practiced in resetting dislocations, I effortlessly put the shoulder back into place then put Treville's arm into a sling to keep him from extending it, supporting the weight so that his shoulder could heal. I gave him whiskey to dull the pain.
I will not delve into semantics, or deliver a thorough account of d'Artagnan's battle against Labarge, for it is quite unnecessary. He was magnificent, even against Labarge's taunting, proving his skill with the blade was not just superficial, but a core element of his being. All of us watched in confident silence, my fingers gripping into my brother's sleeve so tightly I near enough ripped it at the seams. Speaking of ripped seams, I noticed a gaping hole in d'Artagnan's jacket which I would have to sew later.
Clearly recognising that his opponent was no weakling, Labarge had made several cruel and taunting jests, trying to rattle d'Artagnan's confidence, but our friend was unmoved. He parried, cleanly slashing through Labarge's defence and with a final strike, pierced him directly all the way to the hilt. Admittedly I felt a little nauseous to see someone be killed before my very eyes, but I could not bring myself to pity Labarge. He had brought his fate upon himself, and now the people of Gascony could finally rest at ease.
Relieved it was over, I went to d'Artagnan with a whisper of congratulations as the others joined me, clapping him upon the back and beaming proudly. "Bravo, d'Artagnan." Speaking once more, the king called us all to his attention, looking upon d'Artagnan with a vague interest. "I hereby declare the Musketeer regiment the winners." Leading everyone into a polite applause, the spectators followed their king's example. "Ah yes, now the prize money is forfeit to the Treasury. After all, the rules were broken," the king decided, muttering something afterwards as he left his observation box and I felt certain I heard something about taxes. "It's two thousand livres I think you said, cardinal." I felt I was not alone in revelling in the displeased expression the cardinal wore.
When the king approached us the men all bowed as I dropped into a polite curtsey, averting my gaze as his royal person came before d'Artagnan to speak to him directly. "You defended your captain with great heroism today," the king admired and I held my breath in anticipation. "I admire loyalty more than any other virtue. Please kneel." For a moment, d'Artagnan seemed too shocked to comply.
"Get on your knees before he changes his mind," my brother advised so I stifled a giggle, instead turning my gaze to watch as d'Artagnan knelt to receive which was long overdue to him. Drawing his sword with a flourish, the king stood before d'Artagnan and touched the blade to his shoulders, invoking him into the service of his personal soldiers.
"I hereby commission you into my regiment of Musketeers." Having already been prepared for this, a new arm guard denoting the uniform of a musketeer had been made ready for d'Artagnan. It was polished to perfection yours truly, the proud emblem of the order proudly resting upon the leather. D'Artagnan breathed with what I imagined was untold happiness, finally attaining the dream he had so long sought after and fought so hard to achieve. I was proud of him. "May you serve it always with the same distinction that I witnessed today." After this, d'Artagnan remained spellbound.
He thanked Treville for giving him this chance, and embraced each of us in turn, even placing a brotherly kiss upon my temple as I congratulated him in his new office, telling him how handsome he looked in uniform. That night we celebrated, but amidst the revelry and the wine, I noted how d'Artagnan was not as engaged as I might have expected. He laughed and participated, drinking heavily with the others, but there was still something a little…off. I could not put my finger upon it, and he would not tell me. It only became clear when I made mention of Constance.
Pouring another glass of wine for him, I had lost count of how many he had already drunk, I smiled to him. "How does Constance feel about your commission? I expect she was happy for you. Will you stay with her as a lodger?" The moment Constance's name left my lips, a dark and dour expression arose in d'Artagnan's face. He all but drowned himself in the wine then lifted his cup for another.
"How should I know? She is your friend, not mine." His response utterly shocked me. For a man to speak in such a manner of the woman he loved, I could not comprehend it. D'Artagnan had admitted to me that he and Constance had become lovers after the incident involving Ninon, had told me of his love for her and how happy he was. Constance had said much the same, talking to me in confidence of how d'Artagnan made her feel. Like a woman. A desired woman. She loved him.
Choosing to say nothing more, I replenished d'Artagnan's drink then slipped away. The men were deep enough in their cups that they would not notice my absence, and I had somewhere else to be. I went directly to Constance. If there had been an argument between them, then perhaps I could help to rectify it. If nothing else and they had quarrelled, I expected Constance would like someone to talk to and vent her frustrations. To my surprise, it was Bonacieux who answered the door after I knocked. "What mannerless urchin would call upon civilised folk at such an ungodly hour?" He hissed at me, eyes narrowing in displeasure. "Begone with you, you are no longer welcome here, your services are no longer required." I gaped at him.
"Services? I am not your chambermaid! Our business arrangement is purely practical and mutually beneficial, I do not answer to you!"
"All the same, I have no more need of you or your silly needlepoint. Get away before I summon the guards!" Sparks of anger at his insults flared in my chest but I held my temper in check.
"Where is Constance? I would speak to her." Bonacieux glared at me, looking upon me like I were something disgusting upon his shoe. I thought he might try and refuse to allow me to see Constance out of spite, but he stepped aside and called for Constance to come to the door. After a few moments she appeared. Immediately I looked her over, attempting to see if there was any evidence of injury. "Constance, what is going on? I was worried for you when I heard…"
"Please leave," my mouth clamped itself shut as my tongue seized up. Constance looked at me passively, with no emotion or feeling. "It is better for all of us if we part ways. We live very different lives, it is time to let go of silly excitements." What on earth was she saying? This was not like Constance at all. It was her body, but it seemed as if some foreign apparition had possessed her. Reaching for her hands, I held them tightly with a fierce concern.
"Has he hurt you? What has happened, Constance? Tell me and I shall protect you, do not be afraid." Her face contorted, grimacing deeply before all at once she ripped her hands free and pushed me away from her home.
"I am finished indulging you, Madeleine! You do not belong here, and our friendship is no longer beneficial to us," she stepped closer to her husband, who was smirking with a cold satisfaction. "Do not come back here. You are not wanted." Stepping back into her home, Constance closed the door and I heard it lock firmly, barring me completely. In utter astonishment, I stood for a long time simply staring at that door.
Stunned, I could not make sense of anything Constance had said. Even if she had argued with d'Artagnan, it gave her no reason to suddenly turn upon me. I thought of Bonacieux and his sadistic enjoyment of Constance's rejection of me. He had to be responsible for this. I knew Constance, and our friendship was not so fragile that a few words could break it so easily. For now, I resolved to retreat. Clearly she was afraid of something, and until I had the answers I would not press her.
I walked away in a daze, reflecting upon her words and attempting to make sense of them or hear an underlying message of any kind, a plea for help, perhaps. I heard nothing of the sort, and remained just as puzzled when I returned home as I had leaving Constance. It tortured me throughout the night, at a time when I should have celebrated. Instead I sat alone in the dark, restless and sensing underhanded schemes at play.