My duties kept me occupied, so much so that I did not have another chance to seek out Porthos to speak with him, to ask whether I had irreparably damaged our friendship. After the traumatic experience we had endured, the queen did not sleep peacefully for some time thereafter and neither did the king. He became disheartened and afraid, often refusing to step foot outside of his bedchamber. Anne rallied herself to attend to her own duties, but I heard her cry during the night, sometimes screaming from nightmares.
After the first time, I had rushed in with a knife drawn, expecting to face a shadowy assassin only to discover Anne thrashing within her coverings. Constance had swiftly followed and together we had soothed her. Thereafter, one or both of us slept beside Anne, for she did better with company. Constance did also. Although she had faced the peril bravely, it still haunted her in the darkness of night. I too did not escape unscathed, reliving the moment I had killed that man without so much as offering him the chance to defend himself. A cold, ruthless killing. It plagued my conscience, but there was nothing I could do now but pray for his soul.
All of us were affected, walking with haunted expressions and shadows beneath our eyes. At least one good thing had come of this nightmare. Milady was out of favour, and banished from the palace by the king. He viewed her abandonment of him a betrayal of his trust, despite the fact that she had ridden directly to retrieve help. The king did not see her actions in such a light, and dismissed her from court. I was pleased to know that she would no longer be a humiliation to the queen, nor indulging in the delights and pleasures of an easy life, but a small part of me pitied her. A very small part, but a part all the same.
She was perhaps the greatest conundrum which I could not understand. A thick convolution of contradictions that tormented my mind. Although she had murdered my brother Thomas, she had saved us. I do not doubt that her actions were primarily selfish ones, but Athos had told me that when she had rushed into the captain's office, the first words out of her mouth were not 'the king is in danger', but rather, 'Madeleine is in danger'. She had spoken of me first, as if I were her first and primary concern.
The reasonable part of my mind was almost convinced that she had only done so to capture Athos's attention, for he would have listened to anything she had to say if my safety was in question. Yet there was still a niggling doubt I could not silence, and so I continued to puzzle over the actions and intentions of Milady. At least with her gone from the palace, the trouble she caused would disappear with her. Now the greatest trouble which remained was the fact that the king had locked himself in his room and seem adamant never to leave it.
Anne went to him to try and coax him out, where we came upon a number of the court waiting outside of his rooms hoping for an audience. I stood beside Constance as we followed Anne, who glanced to the courtiers as they parted with deft bows and curtseys to make way for her. Without pause, Anne strode firmly to the bedchamber door and knocked firmly upon it, calling out to the king. "Sire?" Immediately Louis responded with a firm shout, ordering her to leave, stating that he wished to be left alone. I bit upon my lip in silent disapproval. The king always had a penchant to act impetuously, but this was taking things too far. Of course he was rattled after his experience, but that did not mean he stopped being the king, or his duties could be left unattended.
"The king is not receiving visitors," announcing himself upon arrival, Rochefort spoke simply, stating the obvious truth as I glanced to him with overwhelming disinterest in his presence.
"A visit from the queen will revive his spirits," Constance suggested, but Rochefort's face remained impassive, not even looking at Constance to acknowledge her but remained entirely focused upon Anne. I did not much care for how he looked at her, and I wanted nothing more than to cover his beady little eyes with my hand and bid him avert his impertinent stare.
"His mood is delicate. He's plagued with fears." Seeing that it was hopeless, Anne moved towards us and lowered her voice as the courtiers continued to observe with clamouring curiosity.
"Can't you do something, Rochefort?" She murmured, coming to stand beside me as I made way for her. "The king will listen to you."
"You are indeed a saviour in his majesty's eyes," I reasoned quietly, purposefully refusing to look upon Rochefort for sheer dislike. "If anyone can set the king's mind at ease and reassure him of his safety, it is the Comte de Rochefort." Pausing, I then added in an even quieter tone. "However undeserving of such praise he is." Only Anne heard this and she sent me a look, but I played innocent and made no further comment. Conceding to the queen's wish, Rochefort went to the door and knocked upon it, declaring himself to the king.
A few moments later, the door was unlocked and opened, revealing the underdressed form of the king still in his smallclothes. I averted my gaze swiftly, listening as Rochefort stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Such a sight I wish I had never seen. At least the king had made an appearance, no matter how slight, and perhaps Rochefort could indeed persuade Louis to return to his duties, even if gradually. "The king is unwell," Anne announced to the courtiers, turning to face them. "He will be himself again soon." Without further word, she walked away through the parted crowds, Constance and I following.
"How long do you think he'll keep to his rooms?" Constance asked me quietly, keeping her voice low as to not let it carry.
"We all suffered a terrible shock, and from what you have told me, his majesty's mind was tormented by Marmion. Even if it takes a little time, we should not rush the king to return before he is ready." Once again I thought of the queen's own fears, how she thrashed and whimpered in the night, pale as chalk and covered in sweat from her terrors. Yet here she stood, radiant in the soft sunlight as she faced the day with courage and dedication to her duty. I could not readily admire a king like Louis, which was why I was so relieved to be able to serve a woman such as Queen Anne. I looked to Constance. "You have sent word to your husband?"
"Yes, he is coming here today. I want to get this over with sooner rather than later," Constance answered as I naturally scowled at the thought of Bonacieux. I was glad that she was finally ridding herself of him, but I was uneasy to think of what he might do when he hears of Constance's intention to leave him for d'Artagnan. "Don't make that face, Madeleine. You'll crease your brow."
"Are you certain you do not wish for me to go with you? Even if I stand out of sight,"
"He won't hurt me, and I must tell him myself. Alone," she emphasised, as if reading my thoughts. She nudged against my side playfully, looking perfectly at ease and happier than I had seen her in a long while. Love brought her a rosy glow, and a clear brightness had returned to her gaze, as if her clarity of mind had illuminated her pretty eyes. "He would be so ashamed were anyone else to witness this, I owe him a little dignity at least."
"All the same, I shall not let him off if he so much as lays a hand on you. Are you certain you do not want a dagger? At least take one, for my ease of mind if not yours." I pressed her until she giggled and swatted my arm, telling me that I was becoming too fond of knives, daggers and little crossbows of late. Her laughter eased my concerns, but I did not release them entirely.
"Madeleine, Constance?" Drawing our attention away from our conversation back to Anne, she smiled to us both with amusement dancing in her eyes. "Have you prepared the rooms for Princess Louise?"
"Yes, your majesty." I assured her, blushing slightly as I attempted to contain my giggle. "Shall I go and check on them?"
"You had better, she will be tired from such a long journey and will not be staying long. Make sure to attend to her every comfort, whatever she wishes for she shall have if we can provide it." Curtseying to Anne, I went after squeezing Constance's fingers to go to the guest room where the mysterious Princess Louise, cousin to the king, was going to stay. Rumours were already circulating of trouble upon the road for the princess, who was travelling from Mantua to Sweden for a marriage alliance to the crown prince there.
I hurried the maids to finish airing the room and ensured the linen sheets were clean and pressed, inspecting everything with a practiced eye and pointed to anything they had missed, such as patches of dust in the creases of furniture or a dissatisfactory table covering which bore faint wine stains. I had them exchange it for a new one immediately. Then I returned to Anne just before Princess Louise herself was presented. I stood myself beside Marguerite, who was also rather quiet of late.
This I contributed to the own terrors she had faced, and thought little of it, however I noted that she seemed paler than usual and had taken to wearing darker clothing of late. She appeared tense, on edge, and when I gently touched her hand she jumped violently and looked to me with alarm, only releasing her breath when she realised it was me. I frowned at her, but she pointedly turned away. Before I could ask any questions, Princess Louise was brought forwards and I hastily closed my mouth. "Your majesty," curtseying, I was astonished by just how beautiful Princess Louise was. A fair and ravishing woman with a natural smile and gentle eyes. Even my heart fluttered for a moment.
"Welcome, Princess Louise. We are so glad to have you here with us, safe and sound." Anne welcomed her, taking her hands as the two looked upon one another warmly. The Princess grasped Anne's hands in earnest.
"I owe my life to the diligence and bravery of your musketeers," she exclaimed with a touch of admiration to her voice. My eyes crossed to the corner of the room where d'Artagnan and Aramis stood, and together we three shared a secret smiled.
"We are all in their debt." Anne agreed, understanding better than anyone the feeling of being protected and rescued by the musketeers, and how deeply she appreciated their dedication to duty.
"A pity they could not prevent the archbishop's death." Of course Rochefort ruined the praise with his snide remark, one that made me want to throw something at his head. Odious man.
"No one could have done so," rallying to her defenders' defence, Princess Louise looked upon Rochefort unflinchingly, with a bearing that made me admire her all the more. "You were not present, my dear Comte, so you cannot know the circumstances." Gratitude flowed through me, and I silently sang in gladness to see Rochefort so chastised before us. Not many had the power to do so, nor the gall. It was settled. I liked and approved of this princess.
"Rochefort, the king was most anxious that we should present the princess with his marriage gift." Moving the conversation onwards in order to not dwell upon the air of tension, Anne looked expectantly upon Rochefort, who informed her nonchalantly that it had not yet been collected owing to the commotion of the princess's arrival and the two assassination attempts that had been made upon her. I noticed Anne's figure tense unhappily. "See to it."
"Might I suggest Captain Treville should have the honour?" Continuing his drawling tone, Rochefort offered up the captain, former or no, to fetch the gift which had originally been Rochefort's own task. I bristled silently at this offence to the captain's dignity. Reduced to a mere errand boy. I could not comprehend it. "Despite his unfortunate fall from grace, there is no more reliable man in the king's service." Seeing no way in which to refuse, Anne allowed it.
Bowing to leave, Anne waited until Rochefort had gone before she turned and brought Princess Louise before myself and Marguerite to introduce us. We curtseyed upon their approach. "May I introduce to you Comtesse Madeleine de la Fère and Lady Marguerite of my personal attendants?" She inclined to us each in turn, allowing us to rise when our names were spoken. "Both are good, honest ladies and have served me well. They shall see to your comforts whilst you are here, princess."
"Thank you, your majesty. I am certain we shall all get along very well." Smiling to us both, Anne allowed me to step forwards to escort Princess Louise to her rooms. I fell into a calm mannered demeanour, attending to my duty with professional courtesy and attention, however when we left the room and the door opened to reveal Constance waiting for us, my sight immediately dropped to the bright line of scarlet upon her lower lip.
"This way, madame." She spoke to the princess, but I had faltered in my step. A roar of rage and fury overcame me, so much so that I was momentarily deafened by its bellow. He had hurt her. That arrogant, self-important, odious little pig of a man had hurt her. My initial reaction was swiftly quelled and I strode forwards, returning to the princess's side whilst seething within. My mouth was set into a hard line, jaw locked tightly as I stared at Constance's back. She opened the door to the princess's rooms to allow her inside.
I passed her, giving a sharp look to the wound upon her lip and would have demanded her to explain had it not been for the fact I knew d'Artagnan was directly behind me. This was between them, and so I said nothing, only brushed my hand against Constance's to offer her comfort, then followed the princess. Through the open door, however, their voices carried. D'Artagnan was quiet but commanding, asking a tirade of questions all at once as he pulled Constance aside. "What happened? Who did this to you? Tell me the truth," it was a marvel he did not explode with anger which I knew he must be feeling, but remained calm and soft, not wishing to unleash his rage upon Constance. "Tell me the truth."
"My husband…I told him." A breath.
"I'll kill him." Understanding the sentiment, I busied myself with opening the princess's luggage to shake out her dresses and air them, the musty smell beginning to permeate the fabric from where they had been shut away for so long. Constance's desperate cry followed us and I saw the princess was listening with intrigue as my friend rushed to keep d'Artagnan from acting rashly, reasoning that her husband was merely upset as he knew that she was now lost to him. "He hurt you!" The sharp shout was swiftly softened, d'Artagnan no doubt fighting to keep himself under control before his lady love. "He hurt you."
"No. He can never hurt me again." Hearing this I had looked up to see Princess Louise looking through the open doorway. I heard d'Artagnan speak, telling Constance to wait before I heard his familiar footfalls approaching. Setting down the gown I had just shaken, I moved swiftly to pass him, my hand gripping his arm in a firm, understanding grasp. We did not pause or speak, but a silent commune of agreement passed between us. Bonacieux would not get away with this. As d'Artagnan went to attend to the princess, I went to Constance.
Without a word I wrapped my arms around her as she sank her face into my shoulder, gripping onto me tightly as she trembled until gradually, her shaking faded away. "Never again," I swore fervently to her, stroking at her hair as I glared furiously against the wall, not daring to move lest I charge directly to Bonacieux's house and unleash my wrath upon him. One cut upon Constance was worth a thousand in repayment, in my mind. "He will never touch you again, Constance. It is ended, and I shall never allow him to approach you. It is over…" I pressed a loving kiss to her cheek. "Never again."