Thank God for swift horses. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly that I was in a whirl of motion before my mind could even catch up with my body. I returned with all haste to the palace to bring the news to the queen, who seemed to have been expecting such information by her lack of surprise. I suspect she and Treville had been in discreet contact with one another all along. Without hesitation, Anne rose to see for herself the cardinal's guilt. "Let us go, and see for ourselves the truth." Lifting her hand, Anne directly invited me to attend her.
Everything fell so smoothly into place that I almost could not believe our fortune. Aramis and Porthos were already present and awaiting us alongside Captain Treville, keeping themselves concealed until we were all prepared to move. As I expected, the queen's gaze strayed naturally towards Aramis, even as he bowed, her eyes followed his every movement with a soft endearing which felt palpable upon my tongue. "Once more I am in your debt, Aramis," Anne said gently as both he and Porthos rose from their bow. "Because of you, I shall finally hear the truth for myself."
"It is not only I who made this possible, your majesty. Truthfully, I had very little involvement, but I like to think it was a team effort," he responded. Anne smiled naturally, gazing at him a little wistfully until I cleared my throat. Conscious that there were two other ladies in waiting and the captain still present, I did not want Anne's sweet reunion with Aramis to be noted as inappropriately familiar. Flinching discreetly, Anne drew herself up.
"Very well then, let us go." Aramis and Porthos entered first, allowing us to follow at our own discretion. "Madeleine, take my hand." Immediately I stepped forwards and assisted Anne up the stairs, conscious of her delicate condition whilst Treville held the other. The other ladies in waiting also banded together, watching the queen like a hawk for we knew something that no one else in France yet knew. The secret boiled within me. It burned at my insides until it seemed like my own flesh was scalding itself from within.
My eyes strayed unintentionally towards the queen's stomach, where a child grew inside. Her child…and Aramis's. No one could ever know the truth who did not already know. Part of me prayed it would be a princess, because then perhaps I may be able to feign ignorance with dignity. If it proved to be a boy, however, then I would still maintain my silence, but it would eat away at my soul until I had nothing left to give. Shaking my head, I dispelled such thoughts. We were still months away from that, and at present there were more pressing matters to be concerned with.
From inside, I heard the resonant echo of Porthos' voice accusing d'Artagnan as a murderer as he and Aramis no doubt found their quarry awaiting them inside. The church carried their voices effortlessly, so we did not have to go far to be able to hear everything unfold as Aramis and Porthos began the final act, with the cardinal himself as the unwitting main character. "Entertaining as this is, perhaps we should get to business," the cardinal suggested keenly, no doubt wishing to end this threat to his reputation and position as swiftly as possible. "Just give me the letter, then you can do what you want with d'Artagnan.
"You'd murder the queen, just to see one of your favourites on the throne?" Listening to the low, rumbling tone of Porthos, I smiled to myself. It had always been a pleasant voice, one that could warm the heart as effortlessly as it could chill the blood, and right now it was caught somewhere between the two. Admittedly, it was a rather thrilling resonance which thrummed through me. "Haven't you got enough power already?"
"This was never about power," the cardinal insisted, where I presumed Aramis and Porthos were keeping the letter from his grasp to encourage him to keep talking.
"Of course it was. You simply wanted your own puppet at the king's right hand." Denying this, the cardinal continued to deny these claims as the queen listened in rapt attention. Seeing their opening, Porthos invited the cardinal to explain himself to them, only to be met with silence. From the echoes of the holy house, I heard the smirk in Aramis's reverberating tones. "He can't speak because he's too ashamed." Playing upon his vanity, I silently applauded Aramis for his quick wit, for it thoroughly did the trick.
"The queen is barren," the cardinal finally conceded. The insult made one of the ladies gasp but she hastily covered her mouth to stifle the sound as we all stood in simmering anger. How dare a man even such as the cardinal insult our queen? It was utterly intolerable. Had it not been the requirement of this entire charade to extract his full confession, I would have taken my glove and slapped it across the cardinal's face. "If the king dies without an heir, France will be plunged back into civil war. Is one woman's life worth sacrificing to avoid such a catastrophe?" The question hung in the air, raising itself all the way to the rafters. I looked at Anne. Eerily calm and composed, she listened silently as the cardinal continued his confession. "I think it is. I ordered her death because I alone will face the truths that no-one else can stomach." A hollow emptiness writhed in the pit of my belly. Odious man.
It was over now, at least. He had confessed in a House of God, no less. Not only were these words heard by the queen, but God himself. There would be no escaping His judgement, and I trusted that the cardinal would one day be made to atone for all his sins, even if not on this mortal earth. He ordered the letter be handed over. Looking to my queen, I stepped quietly to her side and offered my hand. She took it with a squeeze and a small nod to signify that she was alright, allowing me to offer her solidarity and comfort before letting me go. I caught Treville's eye, and he looked to be relieved. Exhaustion plagued his features, but the peacefulness of success eased their presence as he looked at me with affectionate familiarity. I too was glad this was over, and now the cardinal finally came to realise that he was the butt of the very long, very elaborate joke which we had played upon him. "How very cunning. You tricked me."
"Into making a full confession, yes." It was rather amusing to hear just how smug Aramis sounded, whilst also somehow simultaneously sounding astonishingly polite.
"And what use is your confession," the cardinal reasoned, "the word of a lowly Musketeer against the First Minister of France?" Raising herself up, Anne made her way forwards. We followed behind her, but Treville kept closed to her shoulder with a steady eye focusing upon the cardinal's guards. "Who do you think the King will believe?" When she spoke, it was with a clear, crystal clarity which seemed to effortlessly ring throughout the church.
"The King might not believe their word, cardinal," stepping into view, we all followed our queen as she began to approach the man who had made himself her enemy, his eyes awash with an intense fear and resignation. "But he will most certainly believe mine." As we walked into view, I saw the cardinal drop the blank letter for which he had sacrificed everything he had painstakingly built. With one simple mistake, a small miscalculation, everything was over. Everyone bowed before their peerless queen, the cardinal sinking to the ground and hastily lowering his head. "Look into my face, cardinal…the face of the woman you tried to kill." He did so, slowly and hesitantly, gazing upon Anne with his wide, frightened eyes.
"Hail holy queen, mother of mercy." He praised, facing Anne without blinking. "What I did, I did solely for the interests of France."
"It is only because I believe you are sincere in your devotion to the country…that I have decided to spare your life." Upon hearing this, my eyes cast themselves towards Aramis and Porthos who both shared a disbelieving look with one another, before that same look was shared with me. Perhaps we might have preferred a more fitting ending for the cardinal, but the queen thought beyond that of personal vendettas. She saw the entire board, and knew how to move her pieces accordingly. "France needs you and the king loves you. Your treachery would break his heart." Allowing her words to sink in, Anne stepped a little closer, towering over the cardinal with an imperial might and grace. "If you ever fail in your duty again, I will not be so lenient. My influence with the King is stronger than you can possibly imagine." The dark words of threat lingered. "You have been warned…cardinal."
The moment Anne turned aside, it felt as if the air was finally once again breathable. She paused only to nod to me, indicating that I had her permission to remain as I wished, so I lowered my head as she passed me, stepping aside to make way for her to leave with all the power now settled firmly in her hand. The cardinal did not rise until Anne was gone from sight, exhaling a breath as he looked to be shaking from this unexpected ordeal. A hand touched my back, Treville's, and I took my place amongst my dear friends as d'Artagnan returned to our side.
Beaming, I took up his hand with a glowing delight to see him safe from harm, back where he belonged. He looked at me with an expression of disbelief, a noiseless stutter tarrying upon his lips until our attention was drawn to the cardinal, who had finally recovered his voice. "Athos was your friend. Are you so ready to forgive his murder?" He looked most accusingly at me, as if to say that I, as Athos's sister and last living relative, should be ashamed of myself for holding the hand of the man who had killed my brother.
"It's sad, but we can always find new friends." Porthos reasoned, carelessly dismissing Athos's loss as no great shame.
"And, to be honest, he was a little moody." To this we all hummed and nodded in agreement, even the captain.
"And he did always drink far too much," I added just for the sake of it. Well? It was true.
"One more thing," shifting the mood to one of more severity, d'Artagnan focused upon the cardinal who looked as if he were still coming to terms with his monumental misstep. "We want Milady."
"She too has to account for her crimes." Without hesitation, the cardinal gave up Milady without a second thought, citing that she was of no further use to him and therefore, expendable. It appeared his shock did not make him any less heartless, but I harboured no pity for the vile woman. She deserved everything that was coming to her. I will admit, I did relish in the thought that this time, I might finally get to see her hang.