Thank you to those who all who have read and commented upon the last chapter. I think I've beaten the jetlag but apologies if any errors have crept through.

Time marches on and Bircann reflects upon his situation whilst comparing his lot with the imprisoned Athos.

1 DAY EARLIER

BIRCANN

I am lying on the low cot that passes for my bed. Its straw-filled mattress – uncomfortable where the old straw has settled and formed clumps – is better than the floor and, as I lie here after this morning's bout of intensive questioning by Richelieu's men, I welcome anything that eases the aches and prolific bruising. Today, they have been more physical than in previous days, their questions punctuated by their punches, kicks and slaps. I presume that, after all this time, their patience and that of their illustrious employer is wearing a little thin.

It is like a relentless cycle: just the questions, then the beatings and then recourse to the more serious side of interrogation and Richelieu certainly has an impressive variety of torture methods and implements. Dare I say that even I – who considered myself a master of the art – have managed to learn a thing or two, especially about the pacing of the process. If only I had the opportunity to put a revised strategy into practice! Not that he has employed all of what is at his disposal upon me … as yet. I wonder what prevents him from doing so? Their current process gives me time to recover a little and the cycle begins again!

I have no idea if there is any part of me that does not hurt anymore; my whole body feels like one massive and relentless pain. I've lost some teeth, fingernails and toenails and have at least three broken fingers and a couple of cracked ribs at the last count. My vision is limited to one eye and even that is a mere slit at present, but it's far better than the other, which is swollen shut, glued and crusted with dried blood.

I don't know how many hours my inquisitors persisted, but they gained nothing more from me; it is as it has always been and I sense their mounting frustration.

At some point during proceedings, Richelieu put in an appearance, making sure that he positioned himself within my eyeline, lurking with his arms folded across his chest, an inscrutable expression on his face.

"Why do you persist in your silence, Bircann? It is a pointless exercise as we have Deauville in custody, and he will shortly be joined by d'Aubrey. If you think to spare them, then you are misguided."

I said nothing, although plenty flitted through my mind.

The Cardinal began a slow hand clap. "I applaud your resolve but there will be no-one to appreciate it. Just give us all the names of those you attracted to this failed scheme and all your pain and suffering will be over."

"Then you can kill me sooner!" I spat out, an unintended spray of bloody spittle flying from my mouth. Unfortunately, it did not reach far enough to find its mark.

"I thought we had established that you will die this time regardless," he said coldly. "You were incarcerated after your last plot against the King and though he was merciful – against my better judgement, I might add – you have dared to repeat it. Either you have a total disregard for the law of France, or a limitless arrogance that you did not learn your lesson the last time. If you thought His Majesty would merely pat you on the head and say, 'Now go back to your estate again, Bircann, and don't be such a naughty boy' for a second time, then you are sorely mistaken."

"You will not break me, Richelieu, as much as I know you desire it."

He moved in closer to where I was pinioned by my arms and ankles to a chair in the middle of a large and otherwise empty room.

"Why are you so determined to take the names of the other conspirators to the grave with you? Why should you be the only one to bear the punishment?"

"You said you had d'Aubrey and Deauville," I reminded him. "Do they not deserve equal punishment, or am I the only one destined for execution?"

Richelieu raised an eyebrow. "His Majesty is out of patience and wishes to send a clear and strong message to all dissenters. At some point, they will face the same as you. They will not be reprieved."

"Are we not to have a trial?" I asked.

He smiled but it stopped short of his nose as his eyes took on the nature of a dead fish. "It is purely academic, is it not? You committed treason and were arrested for that. You will die for your actions." He paused. "But perhaps some sort of trial might be amusing. I would love to hear the reasoning of you and your colleagues that you think justifies your actions. All the more imperative that you give me the names of the other participants then; I would hate for them to miss the entertainment. So, tell me, why are you so determined to protect the names of the others?"

"If you tell me why you are so determined to get the names from me." It was a ridiculous comment, I realised, and one that gave him some power over me so that I hurriedly sought to clarify things. "What makes you so certain that there were others?"

He barked a humourless laugh. "For the obvious reason that you, d'Aubrey and Deauville alone could not put together sufficient men and arms to carry out your insurrection. There are others and I will have their names."

"And if those others that you are so desperate to identify did nothing?"

"They may not have had the chance to act but they promised plenty, no doubt. Do you honestly think that they are exempt from any repercussions? Even with you, Deauville and d'Aubrey in prison and awaiting your sentence, those others will not escape. I will find them, all of them, with or without your help. It is only a matter of time."

"Yet it's been weeks since you captured me and where has it got you?" I said, unable to conceal the contempt in my voice.

"It has me Deauville for a start," and Richelieu leaned in even closer. If only I did not have broken fingers or damaged hands! "I am a determined man, Bircann, and when I want something, I always get it."

He straightened up at that point and turned to his men. £Take him back to his room and make sure he has water and a cloth with which to clean himself for he looks a fright. Make sure that he does it too. He has another visitor coming later."

That was about three hours ago and here I am, cleaned up a little on the Cardinal's instructions, but there is no hiding the cuts and bruises that I bear, and I cannot conceal the level of pain I am currently experiencing.

Why did I have to make myself more presentable? My 'room' may be larger and boasting a few more luxuries than afforded the other prisoners but it is, when all's said and done, a cell. I do not have the freedom to go beyond it of my own accord for it is firmly locked against me. I am considered fortunate to have a bucket in which to relieve myself and I must count myself lucky that it is emptied every day but, for all that, the room still smells and much of the odour, I fear, emanates from me.

I may be presented with food a little more appetising than that served to the average prisoner but, with broken and missing teeth, it is harder to eat sufficiently and more and more, I find myself abandoning what has been put before me. Cold, uneaten food develops an unpleasant stench all its own before the plate is collected.

Denied a servant in my imprisonment, my clothes are not laundered, and I was not permitted to send for any others. I have what I stand up in and I have long since given up being offended by my own rank odour.

My thoughts turn to the Musketeer held on my estate and amuse myself in comparing our predicaments. Given my title, my surroundings are more congenial than that experienced by a lowly soldier, no matter how damn good he is with a sword!

I have more space, the ability to move around, to lie down and sleep in relative comfort, with a pillow for my head and two blankets to ward off the cold, as well as a small fireplace and a meagre allotment of logs. Heaven forbids that I should die of a chill ahead of my execution and deny Richelieu his pleasure! I have a table and chair, reading and writing materials as well as tallow candles that diminish some of the shadows of the night. There is a window, barred and high on one wall, but if I stand on the chair, I can see the outside – the daylight, the sunshine and the stars in the night sky. I can see as well as hear the rain and observe some of the life of the Chatelet going on in the yard below; not that it is very enlightening.

I am brought two meals a day and more water than I need, and every second day, I am 'treated' to some watered ale or wine.

We may both be prisoners, this Athos and I, and death will come to us both in the end, but I believe that I am in the better situation, despite my treatment at the hands of the Cardinal.

I know only too well what has been created in the cellar of my manor house and I know what it can do to a man, for I have seen it more than once. Angry shouting giving way to terrified screaming and uncontrollable sobbing; the curses, bribes and the begging; the indecipherable ranting of the mad man and then the awful silence when it is all over. Of course, I deny most of my prisoners any food and water for I am helping them, starving them to a speedier death.

But I refuse to give the Musketeer that luxury. He is the reason that I am here in this place and so he has to be punished severely; given just enough food and water to keep him alive that little bit longer, let him learn and understand the full horror of the total darkness, the isolation, the sense of being forgotten as he descends into madness, abandoned by his Captain and his regiment. That realisation before he dies is what I pray will break him. It will serve him right for all the annoying brotherhood stories I have heard about the regiment. I am also well-informed as to how important he is to Tréville as his lieutenant. If I can't get to the Captain himself, then I have discovered this other way.

And I am staying well-informed. Richelieu thinks he has me under lock and key, away from informants, but he is misguided. I know all about the Musketeers' hunt for their missing man, Richelieu's orders about d'Aubrey and Deauville and where Marie de Medici is being held. The Cardinal thinks he has been so clever, but he is wrong if he believes he has her shut away for the foreseeable future.

I have my own informants everywhere, if only he realised it; people who have been in my pay for years and who remain loyal to me to this day. Not all my money has been confiscated. In anticipation of possible arrest, I secreted coin away to be accessed by a loyal friend when necessity arose and to maintain payments. I have infiltrated the King's council and, much to my delight, the Red Guard. My only regret is that I will not see the expression on Richelieu's face if he were ever to find out!

I tried so hard to do the same with the Musketeers but failed; their loyalty to their Captain and each other is legendary and impressive, as well as annoying and frustrating. I dare say that had I had more time, I would have succeeded in turning one of them in the end.

So I have been kept apprised of events even within these four walls and the last I heard two days ago was that the Musketeer prisoner was still alive, although his behaviour has seriously altered, enough that I wonder about his sanity now.

There is a part of me that wants him dead as retribution for what he has done to me, and I want to live long enough to hear it. I could easily change my orders as to his supposed 'care'. However, the most recent news suggests that he is on the brink of lunacy. He may have tipped over the edge by now if fortune is to be on my side.

Actually, I wonder if an existence with his mind gone is more of a punishment. He would no longer be able to serve as a Musketeer and it would be a salutary lesson to his Captain and his colleagues. It would necessitate his being locked up for ever in the Paris asylum.

It strikes me as being a better outcome; a long, lingering journey to death, merely existing, caught up in a living hell of my making.

All I need is for the Musketeers to locate him. They have been miserable in their attempts thus far so perhaps they need a little assistance. I have a strong feeling that my mysterious visitor this afternoon will be none other than Tréville for the King is hardly likely to grace me with his presence. It has been a while since the Captain last came to see me and I would hazard a guess that this call will be for the same reason as then – to gain information as to the whereabouts of his man.

I thought Tréville to be an intelligent man, but it seems that I must aid him more directly in his search.