“I will carry Brother Etienne up the back staircase to our room. Brother Xavier, would you join me and bring some of our possessions with you?” D’Artagnan asked. “Gerard, please see to the horse and cart. Our room is the third on the left upstairs.”
D’Artagnan carried the cardinal up the stairs and into the room, placing him on the bed farther away from the door, while Brother Xavier brought up their belongings and supplies.
“Brother Xavier, would you go back down and wait for supper to be ready?” D’Artagnan said. “When it is, please bring two plates up with you. I’ll go down to get the third.”
`“What about the car – Brother Etienne? Shouldn’t he have something to eat?”
“If he wakes enough, we can give him some of the food from our plates.”
With that, Brother Xavier returned to the first floor to wait on their meals as Athos was going up the stairs to join D’Artagnan in the room.
Moments later there was a knock at the door.
The two men looked at each other. “Are we expecting anyone other than Xavier returning with the food? Seems too soon for that, though,” said Athos.
D’Artagnan opened the door a sliver; outside stood the innkeeper. “Sir, might you be coming from Paris? And are you called Allais Dubois?”
“I am. What is this about?”
“A letter just arrived here for you. The seal is blank, but it was addressed to ‘Allais Dubois from Paris’. It must be important, for the messenger who brought it in was out of breath.”
D’Artagnan held out his hand for the letter, which the innkeeper placed in it, then closed the door behind him.
D’Artagnan stood behind the door and broke the seal. As he thought, it was from Cardinal Tremblay.
“I have sent your friends, Emile Gillette and Georges Moreau, after you. They will meet you at your next stop and ride with you thereafter. Take care,” he read to Athos. It was signed Pere’ Joseph.
“Emile and Georges, huh? I wonder which is which,” he said. “I guess we’ll find out when we see them.” He noticed that the cardinal’s eyes were open. “How are you feeling, Your Eminence?”
The cardinal breathed shallowly for a few moments, then said slowly, “I am very tired and my wound pains me, but I will not give in to it.” He breathed a few more moments, then went on. “Where am I?”
“Your Eminence, we are at an inn. We are taking you to someplace safe where your enemies will not be able to find you, where you will be able to recover your health.”
Then the cardinal nodded and closed his eyes again.
Soon they heard a sound like the door being kicked. “That must be Brother Xavier now.” D’Artagnan said, opening the door.
“Our suppers,” Brother Xavier said as he entered.
“Thank you, Brother. Please set the plates on the table by the window,” D’Artagnan said.
The noise of kicking the door, followed by the voices, woke the cardinal again. He looked at the young monk who was setting two plates of food on the table.
“Who is this?” the cardinal said, motioning to Brother Xavier.
D’Artagnan answered. “He is the young monk who will be driving the cart you ride in. His name is Brother Xavier.”
The cardinal looked at him more closely. “Do you trust him?” he said in a loud, if slow, whisper.
“We have questioned him and believe he is trustworthy,” D’Artagnan said, moving closer to the cardinal’s bed. “But we will keep a close eye on him, as well. Now why don’t you two go ahead and eat. I’ll go down and get the other plates and bring them up.”
D’Artagnan descended the stairs slowly, scanning the room for anything or anyone who might cause a danger to the cardinal or their mission. Then he collected the meals and returned to the room.
∞ ∞ ∞
Luc Boyea hadn’t gotten any sleep that night at the monastery, but he was able to ride several hours into the next day. He stopped midmorning for a quick meal at an inn before continuing his journey. He took his precious bundle into the inn with him. He didn't dare leave it tied to his saddle.
“Just passing through, monsieur, or do you want a room for the night? It is a little early for that, though,” the innkeeper said, chuckling. He saw the brown, cloth-wrapped bundle that his customer kept on his lap. “A present for someone, eh?” he said, pointing to it. “I’m sure she will be pleased, eh.” He winked.
“Yes, uh, I hope so,” Monsieur Boyea said. “I’m just passing through, but could I buy some bread and cheese and a bottle of small beer for the road?”
“Of course, of course. I’ll see to that immediately.” The innkeeper returned within a few minutes with a small package. “Here you are, monsieur. Have a safe trip.”
Monsieur Boyea paid for his food and went on his way, this time tying the bundle in front of him, around his waist.
He made good time during the afternoon, stopping only a half our at a time, at some distance off the road, to rest his horse and himself. Several days later, as he was mounting his horse after a short rest, he saw two men on horseback approaching. He looked closely at them to see if he recognized them. No, they didn’t look familiar. He started along the road, hoping to just pass them, but kept one hand on the pistol he had stolen from the count's arsenal and the other on the reins and the bundle.
As he came abreast of the two men, he nodded, politely. “Bonjour,” he said, and rode on. A moment later the two riders wheeled around and caught up to him.
“Bonjour to you, monsieur,” one said, pointing a pistol at him. “Do please give us all your possessions.”
Monsieur Boyea looked as if he was about to comply, then spurred his horse and galloped on toward the bridge over a river. He heard shots from behind, which startled him and his horse, but none hit them as he rode. As he got close to the bridge, he spotted more men on the other side.
He assumed they were associates of the two men he was fleeing and turned off the road and toward the river, hoping to cross there.
The river bank was steep, but not dangerously so. Boyea turned his horse away from the bridge, going downstream, hoping to put more distance between himself and anyone who might shoot at him from the middle of the bridge. He hoped the current would wash him farther away from his pursuers.
Unfortunately, the water was deeper than he expected and the current swifter. His horse was less of a swimmer than he had thought, and foundered. As he was washed off, he grabbed for the saddle. His hand, however, missed and he was swept away. Although he tried to keep hold of the bundle, the string was not as strong as he had hoped, and the bundle broke free, floating out of reach, even though he tried to swim toward it.
He heard another shot and felt an impact near his shoulder. Looking back, he saw one of the highwaymen in the river on his own horse. That horse was able to swim, and its rider was able to get off the shot that hit him, then catch up to the foundering horse and grab its reins, pulling it toward the far shore.
Monsieur Boyea floated down the river, trailing a stream of blood behind him. Presently he fetched up against a dead tree that had fallen into the river and was caught. One of the robbers saw what happened.
“François, I will get him. He may have silver on him, or something else valuable,” the robber said. “Wait for me.”
When the robber had reunited with his fellows, Boyea’s body draped across his horse, they went through his clothing, first confirming that he was dead.
“Aha!” he exclaimed, pulling a small drawstring bag out of the man’s vest and shaking it. They heard jingling. “Do you think we could salvage his clothing?”
“Why bother? There isn’t much, but we can buy something new with his money,” another said. “Should we bury him?”
“No. just throw him back in the river. He’ll be long gone from here before anyone comes looking for him.”
Chapter Six
The next day the small group of Brother Xavier and the two guards were up early. The cardinal still slept, and they
all were loath to try to wake him.
“I’ll secure food for our breakfasts,” D’Artagnan told the others. “Gerard, if you will carry our patient down to the cart, and Brother Xavier, if you will gather all our belongings and follow Gerard, I will meet you there. First I will ask the stable master to bring the cart around to the front door.”
The innkeeper, seeing D’Artagnan standing by the bar, approached and asked, “How was your room, monsieur? Did you all sleep well?”
“Well enough, monsieur, well enough. Brother Etienne had some pain, due to his injury, but all-in-all, a pleasant night,” D’Artagnan told him. “We must leave now. Would you have our cart brought around to the front door so our patient doesn’t have to be carried as far? Then could you wrap the food for our breakfasts so we can take it with us? Thank you.”
“Of course. Enjoy your breakfast and have a pleasant journey.”
The innkeeper returned to the kitchen and pulled his wife aside. “The older man being carried had the hood of his robe almost pulled entirely over his head, but I’d swear, from what I could see of him, he looks remarkably like the Red Cardinal, Richelieu, whom I saw not long ago when I travelled to Paris. Go find your cousin, Jean, and have him follow the group, then report back to me. I know Monsieur and his brother, Vendôme, would reward anyone who could give them information on the whereabouts of the man. If we can secure him, or at least send word where he has been seen, we may be rewarded for it.” He rubbed his hands together. “Go.” Then he went out to the stable to fetch the cart and horses.
His wife rushed out of the inn to find her cousin with thoughts of silver running through her head.and her husband’s and her families had ties to Monsieur and would be glad to see him on the throne of France, instead of the childless Louis. No one knew whether the child of the queen was a male, or Louis’, or even if it lived.
∞ ∞ ∞
The small company had been on the road for several hours, and D’Artagnan and Athos had been riding behind to have a conversation, when D’Artagnan spotted a person riding some distance away but parallel to them. He had been scouting, watching for others on the road who might be agents of Monsieur Gaston looking for evidence of Cardinal Richelieu.
“I saw someone riding some yards over that way,” he said to Athos. “I’m going to try to find him. I should be back soon.”
He left, riding carefully and trying to not make noise. It had rained the night before and the trees were still dripping. The remaining clouds cast an eerie effect to the forest to either side of the road.
First D’Artagnan went to the opposite side of the road, circling around to the rear and then back across the road until he was a little farther into the woods and farther back than the rider was. After that, he rode forward again, intending to catch up with and challenge him.
The weather in early May was pleasant and the grass had begun to spring up, cushioning the ground. Dead leaves from the previous autumn had fallen apart and dead tree limbs had been broken by passing wildlife. The rain had added another layer to the silence of the forest, so his ride was fairly quiet.
Before long, he saw the rider in the near distance. He seemed to be trying to watch the group but not make contact. D’Artagnan spurred his horse, catching up to the rider within a few minutes.
“Hello, monsieur,” he called to the man. “Lovely morning, isn’t it? The sunlight, the fresh air, the smell of spring. You seem to be tracking my little group of travelers. I was just wondering why.”
The man looked around to see if anyone else was there to confront him. “Why would I be tracking you? You are of no consequence.”
D’Artagnan observed a frightened look in the man's eyes and a quaver in his voice, despite his seeming bravado.
“Eh, then why are you not riding on the road instead of through the countryside? It’s a much easier ride than having to dodge trees and bushes.”
“I ride where I wish. Leave me be or I will make you wish you had,” the man said.
“Indeed? Is that a challenge?” The rider said nothing. “Then I accept.” D’Artagnan drew his sword and rode closer, sitting easily on his horse.
The man drew his own sword and rushed at D’Artagnan, but he seemed an uneasy horseman and almost lost his seat. When he recovered it he had to move quickly away from D’Artagnan’s blade to avoid it. He then turned to face D’Artagnan and moved to strike him, but the guard’s arm was quick enough to parry the other man’s thrust. His sword connected with the attacker’s arm, leaving a slit in his sleeve and a nick in his arm and almost unseating him again. That caused the other man to try to regain control of his horse and switch hands.
He was not skilled with that hand either, and after a few moments he found himself wounded a second time and on his back on the ground.
He got to his feet, raising his sword in salute to D’Artagnan, then sheathed it, mounted his horse and spurred it back the way he had come.
D’Artagnan rode after him for a short while, then gave up the chase and rode back to the others. They had not stopped when D’Artagnan engaged the rider, but had traveled on.
“The man rode back with a good cut on each arm. I don’t think he will come after us again, but someone else might, so keep watch to the sides,” he said to Athos, quietly. “I will ride at a distance again to keep watch behind.”
“Do you think Monsieur knows where we are, or where Cardinal Richelieu is, in particular?” Athos asked in a soft voice.
“I don’t know how he could, but anything is possible. I think he’s sent agents to all parts of France, searching for the cardinal. His concern is to discover if the cardinal is dead or alive. If he is told that the cardinal is alive, he will move Heaven and Earth to change that. Our concern, besides getting Brother Etienne to safety, is to spread rumors that the cardinal is alive and has been seen everywhere in the country. Everywhere but with us.”
“I see. That way Monsieur will have many sleepless nights and headaches during the days,” Athos said.
“Exactly!”
∞ ∞ ∞
“Did you get a good look in the cart?” the innkeeper asked his wife’s cousin, Jean. “Was the one they’re looking for in it?”
They were standing in the inn’s kitchen after Jean had returned to the village.
“There was someone in the cart, I think. The back was piled with blankets, but I thought I saw a head wearing the hood of a monk’s habit. Also, the monk driving the cart kept looking back at whatever was in the bed. I couldn’t get close enough. One of his guards spotted me and confronted me. That’s how I got these gashes on my arms,” the young man replied. “Of course I fought back, but another guard joined him. They were both more skilled than I at swordplay, and it was all I could do to get away. The two guards are keeping close watch of their surroundings.”
“But you know what way they are headed?” The innkeeper seemed excited for the news.
“They were going in a somewhat westerly direction, but there are many ways they could go. I must return with more men.”
“I can send two more with you, but you must find them. You said that they have another monk with them? Did you see him?” the older man said.
“Yes, I saw a younger man driving the cart. I don’t know if he will be a problem or not.”
“Then take your two men and find out. When you know who is in the cart, send one back with the message. If they are not who we seek, keep looking.” With that, the innkeeper dismissed the young man and left to see if there were any new customers.
“Here, let me see to your cuts,” the innkeeper’s wife told her cousin, Jean. “They must be bandaged before you do anything else.”
Jean sat down while his cousin took care of him. Then she gave him some lunch. By the time the two other men arrived to accompany him, it was well after noon. Even riding at a moderately fast pace, the three men didn’t catch up that day with the party they were seeking.
∞ ∞ ∞
D’Artagnan and his small party
arrived without further trouble at their next stop, Epernon. It was a small village, too small to have an inn. But the church’s rectory had room for visitors who needed lodging.
The rectory had two stories, and was, of course, not far from the church. The front door opened into a small wood-paneled foyer, with several straight-backed chairs along the walls for visitors. Behind it was a sitting room with sofas and chairs. Other rooms were on either side.
“We are very grateful, Father, for taking us in,” said D’Artagnan as he and Athos entered. “My name is Allais Dubois and this is Gerard Le Roi. A young monk, Brother Xavier, is still in the cart watching over Brother Etienne, who has been injured and is not always conscious.”
“Not at all, my son. All travelers are welcome here. If you can bring your Brother Etienne inside, we can lay him on the settee in my study,” said Father Andreas.
Athos went back out to help carry Brother Etienne inside.
“Have you eaten?” Father Andreas said. “Dinner will be ready shortly. I hope you don’t mind simple food.”
“Thank you, Father. We are quite accustomed to simple food and are grateful for it,” D’Artagnan said.
“I will gladly stay by his side,” Brother Xavier said, looking at Brother Etienne, “while you eat, and take my meal later.”
“I can have a plate sent to you in the study. You need not wait,” the young priest said.
“Thank you, Father,” Brother Xavier replied.
“We have rooms available for your party. You two guards may share one and the monks, the other. My housekeeper will show you to them. I’m afraid that they are both on the second floor. Will you be able to carry Brother Etienne up the stairs?”
While D’Artagnan and Father Andreas were talking, Athos and Brother Xavier were bringing in their belongings. Athos overheard Father Andreas’ question, and said, “Brother Xavier and I can carry him up the stairs.”
“I have had some medical training, if you would like me to look at his wound,” Father Andreas said.
“We would be in your debt, Father. Brother Xavier has been tending Brother Etienne, but a fresh pair of eyes would be welcome,” D’Artagnan told him.
The Hunt for The Red Cardinal Page 10
