Morning, all. Thanks for reading and leaving comments. Apologies if I have not been diligent in the proof reading and allowed something to clip through.
In this chapter, the Captain is back at the palace and finding out that things have been happening without his knowledge.
CHAPTER 59
TREVILLE
"There is too much business to be done today, for us to be standing here," Richelieu announces irritably, his face thunderous. Strictly speaking, he is not merely standing but pacing about the room, incapable of standing still for the King is keeping us waiting. He has decided to be a late riser this morning and I actually sympathise with the Cardinal on this occasion as I stand here, refusing to waste my energy in irrelevant movement whilst awaiting our monarch's arrival.
Instead, I am worrying about the paperwork that is piled high on my desk. I try to tell myself that my concern is misplaced, the wretched pile will still be there on my return. Perhaps my recollection fails me and that when I walk back into my office, it will not be as daunting a stack after all.
Realistically, I know it that it will not have done itself and I sigh, thinking of the times when Athos has quietly entered the office whilst I am here at the palace for yet another interminable meeting, and deftly cleared some of the never-ending clamours for my attention. How I have missed his efficient support over the past few weeks! Claude has done his best but after the first time I sat desperately trying to decipher his near-illegible scrawl and dire spelling, I realised I had found someone whose writing was far worse than my own and, as a consequence, I have kept Claude and a quill pen as far away from each other as is possible without giving him a reason why. I think, however, that he is much relieved when I give him solely practical orders. It has made me appreciate Athos' penmanship and organised mind all the more.
The room designated for our meeting is adjacent to the library. Smaller in comparison, this one still boasts an impressive size emphasised by its high ceilings, pale blue walls with gold decorated moulding and massive artwork in heavy gilt frames. All bask in plenty of natural light streaming in through a series of tall, narrow windows, each boasting eight panes of square glass. I huff in frustration for I do not usually have any interest in the place's architectural features or adornments, at least not unless they directly impact upon my responsibilities in guarding the King. It is incumbent upon me – and my men – to know the general layout of the palace's floors, corridors and rooms so vast in number that no-one has ever been able to tell me how many exist. Then, just to complicate matters, there are the secret passages. Just when I think I know where one leads, I discover another. That is without any emanating from the Cardinal's suite, as evident following the incident in his office when Athos disappeared beyond the less-than-secret door in pursuit of an eavesdropper.
Then add to the problem the successive generations of monarchs all keen to stamp their mark on the Louvre with their massive alterations and additions. Louis' father, Henri IV, had certainly done that with his order to build the Grande Galerie, extending along the banks of the Seine and joining the Tuileries Palace to the Renaissance Louvre.
Not to be outdone, Louis has commissioned a new building to develop one wing and create another. Work came to a halt last year when the kingdom faced hardships, and the state coffers were severely depleted, due in no small part to the conflict with the Huguenots and the siege of La Rochelle. Reluctantly, Louis, fearful that unnecessary expenditure at the time would be severely frowned upon by his people, heeded his advisers and the work has only recently resumed, albeit at a slower pace.
I cross to an ornate table set between two of the windows and study an even more ostentatious monstrance clock. The brass is so heavily engraved that it takes me quite a while to read the time. It is after eleven and Richelieu and I have been here for over an hour already.
"Ugly thing!" I mutter viciously. If I cannot report my frustration regarding this tardiness to the King himself, I can at least insult his clock. I know nothing of the damned thing other than the fact that King Henri, the father, acquired it from Germany in the mid-1580s and I only know this because Louis, the son frequently tells me the details whenever we are in this room so that its brief history is seared into my brain!
"What did you say?" Richelieu, under the misapprehension that I am addressing him, pauses in his exasperated pacing.
I am saved from answering by the throwing open of the doors at one end of the room to admit the King. We bow deeply as he strides towards us.
"Gentlemen, a fine morning, is it not?" he greets us, grinning broadly, oblivious to the facts that the morning has very nearly passed by us all and we have been waiting for an interminable period when we are both busy men.
But, I remind myself, our positions demand that we are ready to wait upon His Majesty at any time … and that is what we have been doing.
Louis is regarding us critically.
"You look tired and drawn, both of you. It is not becoming for my first minister and the Captain of the King's regiment to appear so …" and Louis waves a hand airily as he searches for an appropriate word. He finds one that is neither complimentary nor helpful. "Haggard," he finishes, delighted with his observation. "I suggest that you both have an early night tonight and upon waking, break your fast in bed and just rest. It will do you both the power of good."
The Cardinal's mouth drops open at the ridiculous suggestion and he looks aghast at me as if for support, but I cannot answer. Is Louis forgetting that we have spent the last few weeks foiling attempts to seize his throne, arresting the malcontents who include his mother, working on getting the names of all those involved so any potential insurrection can be squashed once and for all, and searching for a missing Musketeer? Or does he think that because we have been partially successful that it is all over?
I conclude that my second question is the correct one when he next speaks.
"I wish for my mother to be brought back to Paris immediately, Cardinal, so see to it, will you? I'm sure some of Tréville's men can escort her."
Richelieu and I exchange glances; he rolls his eyes and takes a deep breath.
"Sire, I would advise you to reconsider -"
"I know you would advise me, Cardinal," the King said, raising his voice, all semblance of good humour gone in an instant, "but in this matter, I do not require your advice. You will bring the dowager queen back to Paris where she belongs. With that man …" he still cannot bring himself to name Bircann, "in the Chatelet, she is free from any influences he might attempt to bring to bear upon her. I would have my mother back with me as soon as possible."
I look to Richelieu who is breathing hard, biding time as his mind races to formulate some sort of appropriate solution. We both know that Marie de Medici will not rest in her search for noblemen to replace Bircann in achieving her aims if given half the chance. There will always be those eager to find her favour and willing to do her bidding for their own advancement. She will not mend her ways and will always be a threat to her son, our King. It grieves me that Louis is prepared only to see her as he would want her to be, rather than for what she truly is. He is far too ready to forgive her.
"Tréville can send some men to collect her tomorrow," Richelieu says abruptly, looking directly at me and I catch the almost imperceptible dip of his head. He has already reached an alternative decision and I wonder when he will be able to let me in on his little plan.
"I will send a party under Béranger in the morning," I agree, knowing that Claude will be relieved at such a straightforward order. I offer a silent prayer heavenward that it will indeed be 'straightforward', devoid of any new problems that have plagued us of late.
Richelieu wears an impassive expression and I know his mind is racing with strategies to keep the dowager under control this time. It will, no doubt, involve a substantial number of guards - his and mine - and probably more than one of his spies and I suspect that he will not see fit to share finer details of the arrangements with me.
"Now you have all those involved in prison, Cardinal, I trust you have succeeded in making them give you the information you seek," the King says curtly.
My head jerks as I look at Richelieu in surprise. I seem to be ignorant of some important developments.
It's as if the man can read my mind. "You were distracted upon finding your missing Musketeer," he declares, managing to make it sound like an accusation, "and I did not want to burden you. With Deauville and d'Aubrey both in custody at last …"
"Thanks to my men arresting them," I interrupt churlishly.
The Cardinal's eyes narrow, but he dips his head in acknowledging them. "Indeed. Although d'Aubrey was a little more reluctant to talk than Deauville, he did eventually confirm the names of de Chiverny and Retel and my men picked them up yesterday."
"I thought you wanted Musketeers to go and get them?" I frown.
"As I said," Richelieu goes on dismissively, "you were all distracted." I cannot fail to notice the emphasis on 'all' and resent the implication that my men and I have not been doing our duty.
I am quietly seething that the First Minister thinks he can purloin my men whenever he wants and resort to his own when it suits him. Then I tell myself that he only uses his Red Guard when it is a relatively easy mission with a predicted favourable outcome; they may have the brawn, but I have long held the belief that they are limited in the brain.
"However, I am satisfied that they, like Deauville and d'Aubrey, know nothing more. If there were any other potential conspirators, Bircann has kept that information to himself. Perhaps he does not trust these men fully for them to be cognisant of all the facts and, as such, I am happy for that information to go to the grave with him."
"Perhaps I am not so happy though, Cardinal. You are not going to press him anymore?" Even Louis looks a little astonished at the declaration.
"If more were approached, Sire," Richelieu patiently explains, "then they have demonstrated their disinclination to be involved in the plot by their inactivity. Of course, it would have been better had they informed me that a conspiracy had been broached with them. I have suspicions as to those whom Bircann may have reached out to and who may not be wholeheartedly supportive of Your Majesty but, I fear, there will always be people like them. That is why you have me, Sire, and my network of intelligencers. We have kept you safe thus far and will continue to do so."
Louis is easily appeased and his face breaks into a child-like smile of total trust. "Of course you do, my dear Armand, and then I have the Captain and my wonderful Musketeers to round up such evil persons. By the way, Tréville, how fares the Musketeer Athos?"
"His fever has broken and has begun to take a little water and broth, but he remains very weak and sleeps much of the time. Thank you for asking, Sire. I will make sure that I tell him when he is fully aware of things that you have inquired after him." Somehow, I doubt that such an inquiry will hasten Athos' recovery but at least the thought is there.
"Do so, Captain. I want my Musketeers to know that I am interested in their welfare."
I refrain from responding for, in my mind, the King is very selective about when he is concerned regarding the men of his regiment, and so I merely dip my head acknowledging the comment.
"I do have some additional news," Richelieu begins, and he has my immediate interest, although he looks a little uncomfortable by what he is about to share. "I also had Ferel taken into custody the night before last."
"And?" I demand, wondering if this is about to lead us to the traitor on the council.
"My man who infiltrated the Chatelet staff witnessed Ferel receiving a missive late in the afternoon. Once read, Ferel immediately destroyed it in the fire, unaware that his moves were under scrutiny. Once he was sure that it was completely incinerated, Ferel then went to Bircann's room. My man checked the fire but there was nothing left to retrieve so he set off after Ferel who remained with the prisoner for a long time, far longer than a mere check would warrant. When Ferel left, he paused and blatantly patted his pocket, unaware that his behaviour had been observed.
"My man followed him to a nearby tavern when he left the Chatelet and there he met briefly with a man who went out of his way not to be identifiable. He was sitting in a darkened corner and wore a long, heavy, dark cloak, a wide-brimmed hat that he pulled low over his eyes and kept his head down, even in the crowded tap room. Ferel was seen removing something from that same pocket and passing it to the stranger; it could easily have been a carefully folded note from the prisoner."
"Did your man arrest them on the spot?" Louis demanded eagerly.
"It would not have been a prudent move, Sire," Richelieu went on. "It was not something my agent could have done alone, being one against two in a busy room, and there was the added danger that the drunken clients of the tavern, without being privy to the details, could take against my man to prevent any arrests on the flimsiest of reasons. Ferel left first and, as we know where he lives, my agent opted to wait and went after the stranger."
"Was it the traitor?" The King sounded angry now, but the Cardinal shook his head.
"Highly unlikely for, in the poorly lit tavern, when he moved and his cloak opened, the clothing beneath was dark, plain and reasonable in quality but not ostentatious. Nor was it any identifiable livery that a servant would wear."
"Well? What happened?" Louis is growing impatient.
Richelieu hesitates and I am convinced I am not going to like what he says next.
"Unfortunately, Sire, my man lost him in a maze of narrow alleyways."
"What you're really saying, Cardinal, is that your man was incompetent."
"I would not go that far, Your Majesty."
"Wouldn't you, Richelieu? To me, competence means that the fiasco would have ended with an arrest, his compliance when questioned and the subsequent revelation as to the identity of the traitor who dares to sit on my council."
It may seem perverse, but I almost feel sorry for Richelieu right now.
"Has Ferel named the person to whom he passes these missives? I presume he also takes information back to Bircann." Louis is not about to give up yet; he is the proverbial terrier who will not let anything go once he has a mind to it.
"Sadly, no. He was arrested a little while later and collapsed at the mere thought of being questioned, sobbing hysterically about his family needing him. He had no resolve whatsoever and told his interrogators everything he knew, which wasn't very much at all. He has no idea who the man is that he has been meeting and certainly does not know for whom he works."
"This messenger is the key, so what are you going to do next?" Louis demands.
Meanwhile, my mind has been racing and I clear my throat to draw their attention.
"I think I may have a plan."