Book 2: The Queen's Musketeers, #2

by R. A. Steffan

  Chapter IV: June 28th, 1631

  THE BUILDINGS OF THE ABBEY had been put to the torch. The granary west of the gate had collapsed in on itself, the grain within still smoldering who-knew-how-many-days later. The stones around every window in the larger edifice nearby were blackened with soot. And the basilica! The roof of the massive church with its attached dormitories and refectory was partly collapsed, and the remains of the bell tower lay across the road in front of them, where it had fallen.

  In a heartbeat, the sight and smell catapulted d'Artagnan back to Gascony—back to his burnt out farmhouse—and he swallowed convulsively to stop himself emptying his stomach on the spot. The four continued further into the grounds at a cautious pace, hands resting on weapons. As they skirted the debris in their path, a lone figure in monk's robes emerged from a partially burned building to their left. The young man was limping, and as he approached, d'Artagnan could see burns over half his face. When he spoke, however, his voice was strong.

  "We have nothing left worth stealing! The abbey has been destroyed, and we cannot offer you anything. Leave us in peace!"

  Athos urged his stallion forward a few steps. "We are here to rejoin the party of M. de Tréville and Her Royal Majesty, Queen Anne of Austria. Tell me what has happened, and where they are."

  D'Artagnan held his breath, and felt Aramis and Milady tense on either side of him.

  The monk seemed to slump a little bit. "I don't know where they are, monsieur," he said. "Men dressed in black came eleven days ago—dozens of them. They attacked the gates after dark. The Queen and her protectors fled into the orchards on horseback while they were still trying to get in. Brother Reynard led them to a damaged area in the outer wall. He said the big man—" Porthos, d'Artagnan thought, "—had the strength of a demon. He knocked a hole in the wall with a pickaxe. The four of them left the grounds and disappeared into the night."

  "They escaped, then?" Aramis asked, his voice tight. "You're certain of this?"

  "So far as I am aware. The men in black broke down the gate and forced their way inside, but there weren't enough of them to watch the whole perimeter closely. Most of the men were within the confines of the abbey. They searched the buildings and rounded all of us up into the basilica. Well, all of us except Brother Reynard—he hid in the trees near the south wall after leading the Queen's party away, and they did not find him, thank the Lord.

  "When the men couldn't locate the Queen, they started interrogating us, but no one would speak." The young man's eyes fell to the ground and a tremor entered his voice. "Eventually they locked us inside and set fire to the buildings. They killed anyone who tried to escape through the windows."

  Aramis spoke up, and d'Artagnan was struck by the cold anger in his demeanor. "How many survived this cowardly attack?"

  The monk raised haunted eyes to meet his. "Our order numbered two score. Now, five of us remain alive. Only Brother Reynard and I are well enough to walk, and care for the others."

  "What can we do to help you, Brother—?" Aramis asked, ignoring Athos' sharp glance.

  "Brother Christophe," said the monk. "We need medical supplies. The infirmary was badly damaged in the fire. Also, food. The entrance to the storage cellar is blocked with debris. The attackers trampled and destroyed many of the gardens, but some still contain healthy plants. However, with only two of us, and with the others' injuries being so severe, it's difficult to find the time to harvest the food and prepare it."

  Athos turned to the monk, his face stony. "Brother Christophe, we are deeply sorry for what has befallen your order. However, our first duty is to the Queen, and de Tréville. I'm afraid we must—"

  "Athos." Aramis' voice was sharp, and d'Artagnan watched with unease as the two men squared off. "The Queen is already eleven days ahead of us, and our help is needed here. The horses are exhausted. We can leave tomorrow."

  "There is also an important conversation that the four of us need to have first, Olivier," Milady added.

  D'Artagnan understood that she must be referring to the idea of a traitor within the Queen's party. Twice now attacks had been carried out on hiding places that should have been kept under the strictest secrecy.

  Athos sat tense in the saddle for several moments; then nodded once, tightly. "Very well. We will stay until tomorrow and offer what help we are able. You three assist the monks as best you can. I will ride out to barter for medical supplies. Brother Christophe—I will require a list of the things you need. Do you have any fresh horses?"

  The monk shook his head. "The animals all perished when the stable burned. I will make the list. The closest town likely to have everything is Combres. It is less than an hour's ride."

  "Anne," Athos said, "your horse appears freshest."

  "Yes, take him," Milady said, sliding down from the saddle. "You should leave immediately. You'll be hard pressed to get back by dark, and there is no moon tonight."

  Brother Christophe disappeared into the small sacristy, which appeared to have fared better than most of the other buildings. Athos adjusted the stirrups and led the horse to the small pond behind the remains of the main building to drink. The monk returned a few minutes later with a scrap of paper. Athos looked it over and nodded his understanding before mounting.

  "I'll be as quick as I can," he said, wheeling Milady's gelding and heading for the gates at a brisk trot.

  "Right," Aramis said, dismounting—his own injuries seemingly forgotten in the face of the monks’ need. "Tell us what needs doing."

  After unsaddling the remaining horses and turning them out in the orchard to graze, Milady, Aramis, and d'Artagnan were shown into the cramped sacristy to meet Brother Reynard and see the state of the injured.

  Reynard was very young—younger than d'Artagnan by several years, from the look of it. His head snapped up in surprise and fear when the four entered the small building, but he relaxed when Brother Christophe introduced them and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The other three men were laid out on rough pallets. One was moaning deliriously; one, asleep or unconscious. The third watched them through quiet, pain-filled eyes.

  All were badly burned—far worse than Brother Christophe—and d'Artagnan felt his gorge rise at the sight and smell. Christophe introduced them as Brothers Denis, Amaury, and Roland. Milady looked as ill as d'Artagnan felt, but she joined Aramis in examining the men's wounds as Brother Christophe described what steps he and Brother Reynard had taken to try to make them comfortable. D'Artagnan forced himself to watch and listen as well, even though all he could think as the damaged flesh was revealed was that surely no man could sustain such injuries and live.

  "There is little more to be done without medical supplies," Aramis said after they had examined all the men. "Do you have any tincture of opium?"

  "It was destroyed when the fire took the infirmary, but it's on the list of supplies I made," Brother Cristophe said.

  Aramis nodded. "We must wait for Athos to return, then. In the mean time, show us the entrance to the cellar. Perhaps we can unblock it and gain access to the contents."

  "Brothers Christophe and Reynard can show d'Artagnan and myself, Aramis," Milady said firmly. "You should stay here and watch over the injured. Your own wound prevents you from lifting and moving collapsed stone and timbers."

  Aramis pressed his lips together before nodding reluctant agreement and waving the others out. D'Artagnan was struck once again by the depth of anger his friend seemed to be experiencing over the attack on the abbey, above and beyond the outrage one would normally feel over the death of strangers. He resolved to talk to the other man later, in hopes of discovering what troubled him so deeply.

  The entrance to the storage cellar had been at the base of the west wall of the horreum. The storehouse, unfortunately, had met the same fate as several of the other buildings when the roof collapsed, crushing much of the plaster and stonework as it went. That said, while the debris was obviously beyond the ability of an injured man and a youth to remove, the
four of them together worked steadily to shift the pile of stone and timber.

  By the time dusk began to fall, d'Artagnan's shoulder and side were aching miserably. When the charred length of plank he was tugging at slid away to reveal a corner of the cellar door, however, he could not repress a shout of triumph. They quickly pulled away the remaining debris and Milady tugged the door open with a screech of bent hinges. The light was fading, but enough illuminated the underground room to show the shelves and racks of food and wine, undamaged.

  "See, little Brother?" Brother Christophe asked, clasping Reynard's slender shoulder. "The Lord has not abandoned us completely."

  Reynard ducked his head, and d'Artagnan realized that the boy had not spoken once since their arrival. Events had obviously weighed heavily on his thin frame; perhaps all the more since he was the only one to escape uninjured. He was glad the boy had Brother Christophe for support; d'Artagnan knew first-hand the feeling of being the last one left whole, trying to care for the sick and dying unaided.

  Victorious, the four returned to the sacristy bearing food and drink in abundance to find Aramis praying over Brother Amaury, his rosary clutched in his left hand. Making the sign of the cross, he straightened, his features softening when he saw the provisions.

  "Success, then?" he asked. "Well done. Now all we need is Athos back with the medical supplies."

  "It might be some time yet, I fear. My husband is, sadly, not the most efficient or gifted haggler," Milady said. "The negotiation for my dowry comes to mind."

  D'Artagnan's ears perked up at what sounded like a very interesting story, but Milady seemed disinclined to expand upon her statement. Instead, Aramis directed him to build a fire in the improvised brazier that the monks had placed under the burned out corner of the sacristy's roof. Forty-five minutes later, a cooking pot was boiling merrily over the flames, full of root vegetables and cured meat, when the clattering of hooves announced Athos' return. After dropping off the saddlebags of herbs, bandages and medicine, the older man disappeared back into the darkness to care for Milady's horse and put it with the others.

  After Aramis, Milady, and Brother Christophe had seen to the monks' burns and injuries as best they could by candlelight; after they had all partaken of the hearty stew and given broth to the two wounded men who could be roused to take it, Athos beckoned to Aramis, Milady, and d'Artagnan. The four excused themselves from the monks' presence, and took their bedrolls out of the cramped sacristy and into the clear, pleasant night outside.

  When they had started a small campfire with charred wood from the collapsed basilica and settled around it, d'Artagnan spoke.

  "Will they live?" he asked.

  It was Aramis who answered. "Brothers Denis and Amaury have no chance of survival. Brother Roland might live, but he will be badly scarred and probably never regain the use of his hands. Brother Christophe is neglecting his own injuries in favor of caring for the others, but he has been lucky so far and they are slowly healing on their own." He continued in a flat voice, staring into the fire. "Forty monks, engaged in peaceful study and research; only three of them will walk away from this place. And for what?"

  "They knew the dangers of supporting Queen Anne against Isabella of Savoy and her son," Athos said.

  Aramis clenched his fist so hard the knuckles turned white. "Damn it, Athos—you could at least pretend to be bothered by this!"

  Athos raised a quizzical eyebrow. "You think I am not?" he asked mildly.

  "Gentlemen," Milady interrupted. "At the moment, I'm more concerned with the question that everyone is thinking and no one is asking. Who has betrayed Ana María to her enemies? Until the spy is dealt with, we're all in peril."

  "We've been over this before," Aramis said, sounding profoundly weary. "None of us would betray Her Majesty."

  "And yet, we see before us once again the evidence that someone has," Athos drawled.

  D'Artagnan felt a nauseating sense of inevitability wash over him. Surely this would be the moment when the fragile new world he was building for himself crumbled to dust and ruin. He looked around the fire, but none of the others met his eyes.

  "Do you accuse me?" he asked Athos, thinking it best to take the bull by the horns, as it were.

  The older man looked up at him, his brows drawing together in a frown. "What?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

  "Oh, yes, of course," Milady said, her voice dripping sarcasm. "I can see it now. Clearly, you penned a message to your co-conspirators while you were delirious with wound fever, and snuck out of the castle under our very noses to deliver it."

  "Despite the fact that you could barely walk twenty feet without fainting," Athos put in.

  "And the fact that someone was sitting with us in the room practically around the clock," Aramis added.

  "I could have done it later," d'Artagnan said defensively, vaguely aware of the ridiculousness of trying to convince them of his own possible guilt. "The abbey was only attacked eleven days ago."

  Athos shook his head. "No. It takes time to deliver such a message. It was almost certainly sent to someone in Paris—Isabella of Savoy has little support outside of the capital. Then, more time to organize a raiding party and send it across country. Brother Christophe said 'dozens of men'. A force that large moves slowly. What do you think, Aramis?"

  "Five or six days to get the message to Paris. A day or two to organize the troops, and perhaps a week to move the forces to Thiron-Gardais," Aramis replied.

  "That would mean the message was sent on about the third or fourth of June," Milady said. "Which, probably by no coincidence, is about the time de Tréville and the others would have arrived here, give or take a day or two."

  "What are you suggesting, Anne?" Athos asked in a tired voice.

  "I'm suggesting that it's Grimaud, my love," Milady said. "Obviously."

  "Grimaud has been in my service for more than a decade," Athos replied.

  "Well, it's certainly not de Tréville," Milady said. "He'd rather gouge out his other eye than see harm come to Ana. And Porthos would die before he'd betray you and Aramis in such a way. That leaves Grimaud."

  "What possible motivation would he have?" Athos said, still sounding completely unconvinced.

  "I don't know, Olivier," she said. "Does being a miserable bastard constitute motivation?"

  "He's deeply religious. A devout Catholic," Aramis said quietly. "And the Bourbons do have a history of religious liberalism and tolerance for Protestants. I suppose it could be a sort of motive."

  "Have you forgotten that when the King's worthless brother marched on Paris, he had two thousand English Protestants under Walter Montagu supporting him?" Athos asked derisively.

  "Yes, but Gaston broke with the English afterwards to marry Isabella and forge an alliance with Spain. Now that he is dead, Isabella sits on the throne as Queen Regent to her young son—and she's a granddaughter of Philip II of Spain. You don't get much more Catholic than that," Aramis said philosophically.

  "Also, Gaston was killed by Spanish assassins, so even if Grimaud disapproved of his alliance with the English, he might still support Isabella and her child," d'Artagnan said, not wanting the others to think he was completely uneducated in matters of politics. Even as a youth, he had been fascinated by the glittering, faraway world of power and governance, though he would never have guessed he could find himself personally embroiled in it as he was now.

  Aramis nodded. "Half of Europe was scrambling to fill the power vacuum that Monsieur Le Prince opened when he deposed his brother, but it was always going to be England or Spain in the end. Perhaps Grimaud wanted to help ensure that it was Spain."

  "Perhaps he did, but I feel we are straying somewhat from the point," Milady said. "What are we to do about him?"

  "If Grimaud has betrayed us—and I am not saying I'm convinced—then there is nothing we can do from here," Athos said. "We have little choice but to ride for La Croix-du-Perche and try to meet up with de Tréville at his friend's chateau."
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  "Won't Grimaud—or whoever it is—" d'Artagnan added hastily when Athos' eyes fell heavily on him, "won't they have passed on the details of the backup plan to their contact as well?"

  "Oh yes—almost certainly," said Aramis. "There's nothing else for it, though. If they aren't in La Croix-du-Perche, we have no other way of finding them at present."

  "Agreed," Athos said. "We'll leave in the morning. Assuming no one has any objections?" He looked at Aramis, who frowned.

  Milady stepped in before the two could start arguing about the injured monks. "We should stop at the nearest church and acquire proper assistance for the survivors. They need help that we can't provide—to recover the bodies in the basilica and send a message to the Congregation of St. Maur letting them know what has befallen their abbey."

  "Yes," Aramis said after a moment. "You're right, of course."

  Athos seemed to relax marginally. "Indeed. We will do so at the first opportunity. I know this strikes close to your heart, my friend."

  Aramis nodded briefly in acknowledgement before turning his gaze back to the fire.

  "Is there a church that's still active between here and La Croix-du-Perche?" Milady asked.

  "Not that I'm aware," Aramis said softly, not looking up. "There used to be one in Chassant, but Chassant is a village of ghosts now."

  D'Artagnan shivered, though the night air was still balmy. Eager to distract himself from the image, he thought back to the maps he had studied before they left Blois. "La Croix-du-Perche is but half a day's ride from here, is it not?"

  "Yes," Athos said. "De Tréville says the town has fared relatively well, according to M. Rougeux. We will gain help for the Brothers there. In the mean time, we should get some rest. Aramis, you take the first watch. D'Artagnan can have the second, I will take the third, and Anne, the last."

  The others nodded, and Athos, Milady, and d'Artagnan went about setting up bedrolls for the night. D'Artagnan settled close to Aramis on one side of the fire, giving Milady and her husband as much privacy as was possible out in the open expanse of grass and rock.