“Actually, I haven’t, yet. But perhaps I should, when I get to Paris. Regardless, if the cardinal is at this monastery, he must still be alive. Blast Vendôme! He told me the order was given to kill everyone. How did the cardinal escape? And did anyone else escape with him?” He had been pacing back and forth as he spoke; now he turned to Victor and said, “Send some men up there to check this place out. I have plans to make.”
“Where is this place, Clairefontaine? I don’t know how good our maps of France are,” he protested.
“Oh, somewhere south of Paris, one direction or another. Someone along the way will know. Just send them!”
∞ ∞ ∞
Some days went by without anything untoward happening. The company had met few other people on the road, and the ones they passed seemed uncommunicative. They had found rooms at inns at every stop, and no one had challenged them. They were feeling too secure, and D’Artagnan was getting worried.
His three friends, the musketeers, were paying less attention to their surroundings, although their lack of attention was a very recent thing.
D’Artagnan beckoned to Athos to join him ahead of the others.
“Gerard, I think we are getting complacent. We have had no confrontations with others, not even conversations, in the last few days. I think we are becoming less attentive.”
Athos thought a moment, then said, “I think you may be right. What if someone attacked us? Would we be as quick as we usually are? I’m not sure. What should we do?”
“I don’t know. We could talk to Georges and Emile about it. We have to do something to keep alert.”
“I agree,” Athos said. “But should we call them ahead to join us or wait for them to catch up and speak with them all at the same time?”
“Well, I don’t want to embarrass them in front of the monks, but we need to discuss the problem with all of them. Why don’t you go back and send Georges and Emile to join me. I can speak to them and then we can all talk to the monks.”
“That sounds like a good idea. I’ll send them right up to talk to you.”
Athos turned his horse back toward the others but stopped with a loud gasp.
“What?” D’Artagnan asked as he also turned. “I didn’t think we had ridden so far ahead.” The road behind them was empty of cart and riders.
They kicked their horses into a gallop. “Maybe the cart broke down,” Athos said. “Or maybe Etienne is worse and they stopped because of that. Or maybe . . .”
“Stop,” D’Artagnan cried. “No more speculating. We need to find them.”
There was a bend in the road, with trees that blocked their view of the road beyond it. As they rounded that curve they saw no one.
“Where did they go?” Athos said, shaking his head. “I know they were right behind us.”
“Here,” they heard a feeble voice call. They looked around and saw Porthos trying to stand.
“What happened?” D’Artagnan called. “And where are the others?”
“We were attacked. Taken unawares. I’m afraid we weren’t paying as close attention as we should have been.” Porthos was searching around him. “I was clubbed from behind, as was Aramis, I mean Emile, I’m sure. My head still hurts. The attackers must have taken the cart with the monks in it. Not to mention our horses.”
Athos and D’Artagnan dismounted to help Porthos search for Aramis.
They didn’t find him on the side Porthos was on, but when they crossed to the other side they found him lying in the grass with his eyes closed.
D’Artagnan felt his arms and legs to make sure he hadn’t been injured when he was knocked off of his horse. He found no breaks, but other injuries would not be apparent until he regained consciousness.
“Did you see anything? Who attacked you?” Athos asked Porthos as D’Artagnan was examining Aramis.
“No. They attacked from behind, and they were so quiet as they approached that we heard nothing.” Porthos knelt beside D’Artagnan to see how was faring.
After a moment Aramis showed signs of life. The others began to help him to stand, but he held his head in his hands and said, “Oh, my head hurts! What happened?” as he carefully felt the back of his head.
“We were attacked from behind,” Porthos told him, then looked around. “Where is the cart and the monks?”
That question reminded D’Artagnan and Athos that they must search for them.
“The cart and the monks were kidnapped,” D’Artagnan told him. “Are you feeling well enough to ride?” D’Artagnan asked.
“I’ll live. But we must find the monks.” He looked around for his mount, not seeing his or Porthos’, “and our horses.” He gave a particular whistle, and Porthos did the same with a different one. They waited a moment, but no horses appeared.
“They must be too far away to hear their summons,” Porthos said. “They have been well trained to come when called, but if they are too far away to hear it . . .”
Athos and D’Artagnan each took one of the others up behind them, and they rode back the way they had come.
“How were your attackers able to get the drop on you?” D’Artagnan demanded. “Where were the two of you?”
“We were riding a few yards behind the cart. There had to have been at least two attackers. I think we must have been knocked off our horses at the same time, since I didn’t see, uh, Emile fall,” Porthos said.
“I didn’t see Georges fall, either, so he must be correct,” Aramis confirmed. “They must have been very quiet, or Brother Xavier would have heard it and sounded an alarm.”
“And they must have been very quiet when they attacked the cart, or you would have heard something,” Porthos added.
“Or they had help from someone. Perhaps someone in the cart. Perhaps the monk driving the cart,” D’Artagnan said.
“Brother Xavier? But he seems so . . .” Athos pointed out.
“Mild? Ineffectual? Not one to make trouble?” D’Artagnan said. “Remember the man who was following us a few days ago? What if he was trying to make contact with Brother Xavier? The young monk did beg to be allowed to go with us. Perhaps he is in league with our foes.”
“Then we must find them quickly,” D’Artagnan said. “You two go that way,” he told Athos, pointing to the road that split off, making a fork. “We’ll go this way. If we haven’t seen them in thirty minutes, we should return to this place and regroup.”
The four men mounted the two horses and parted ways, riding faster.
D’Artagnan and Porthos took the left fork. The road was narrow, with trees overhanging on both sides. The ground, however, was sparsely covered, due to the lack of sunlight, so the men could see easily for a good distance.
“You look to the right, I’ll watch to the left,” D’Artagnan told Porthos. “If they came this way we should be able to spot them easily.”
“How far do you think they could have gotten?” he asked.
“Not too far. We discovered their disappearance quickly, within minutes, I think. We know they didn’t go forward or Athos and I would have seen them. There were no other roads branching off before the fork. They had to have gone this way or the other.”
“But what if they went across country?” Porthos asked.
“Then we’ll see them if they came this way. Be sure to look as far away as you can.”
“But if they went the other way? We don’t know what the terrain is like that way.”
“I should think it is much like this. Athos and Aramis should be able to see as well as we can. Try to keep track of the time so we’ll know when to turn around,” D’Artagnan said.
They rode on for a while, seeing nothing, before turning back to meet their friends at the fork. When they arrived the other party was not there.
“We’ll wait for a few minutes. If they’re not back shortly, we should go after them,” D’Artagnan said. “They may have caught up to the kidnappers.”
“In that case, shouldn’t we go after them now? We don’t know
how many kidnappers there are. Athos and Aramis may be outnumbered. And if Brother Xavier is in with the kidnappers, the cardinal will be alone and injured.”
“And in danger. You’re right. And it has been several minutes, anyway,” D’Artagnan said as he urged his horse onto the right fork. They rode for several more minutes before hearing a commotion at ahead.
“Hear that?” D’Artagnan asked, spurring his horse faster.
“Yes. We may have found them. I wonder who has disarmed more men, Aramis or Athos,” Porthos said.
“We shall soon see. Look up ahead,” D’Artagnan replied.
Some way ahead, the distance shortening every second, a battle was underway. They could see the cart at the side of the road, with Brother Xavier huddling protectively over the cardinal.
Athos and Aramis were fighting two other men with a third on the ground, bleeding. Then Aramis tripped and fell. The man he had been fighting was about to finish Aramis off when Porthos jumped from the horse he was riding and dashed to Aramis’ defense, his sword drawn. He engaged the other man and Aramis was able to get to his feet, adding his sword to Porthos’. D’Artagnan couldn’t bear to miss out on the fun and joined Athos in getting the better of his foe.
The four friends made short work of the two attackers, who soon lay dead on the ground near their injured comrade.
“Thank you for preventing my untimely demise,” Aramis said to Porthos. “I don’t know why I tripped. I’m usually very steady on my feet.”
“Perhaps you were still a little light-headed from the blow that knocked you unconscious,” Porthos replied. “No matter; you will be back to normal in no time.”
Two horses stood under a tree, but the third had vanished. Porthos’ and Aramis’ horses were nowhere to be seen. Fortunately, the cart horse was still attached to the cart.
D’Artagnan stood next to the injured man. “Should we kill him, too?” he asked Athos and Porthos. Aramis had gone to the cart to make sure the two monks had not been mistreated.
Before they could reply, they heard D’Artagnan saying to the prisoner, “You look familiar. Haven’t I seen you before?” He thought a moment. “Oh, yes. You were the one following us a few days ago. Let me see your arms.” The man gestured that his weapons had already been taken from him, but D’Artagnan grabbed the man and pulled his jacket and shirt off. Each arm had a slightly healed slash.
“Yes. I see you went back for reinforcements.” Noticing the blood on the ground, he continued. “Your blood?” he said, pointing to it.
“My leg,” the injured man said. D’Artagnan rolled him over and saw the tear in his breeches and the cut on his leg.
He motioned for Athos to follow him as he walked a short distance away. “Your thoughts on the prisoner’s disposition? Keep him or kill him?”
“Well, we might get information out of him, but he also might try, and succeed, to escape,” Athos said. “Although that is unlikely, with his new injury.”
“True. I’ll solicit a suggestion from Brother Etienne, if he is conscious. Also, Brother Xavier must be questioned. We are all in this together, and everyone should have a say. But I get the last word. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
They went to the cart holding the two monks. “How is Brother Etienne? I would like his opinion on the prisoner over there if he is able to speak with me.” D’Artagnan waved his hand at the man on the ground, who had started crawling as if trying to get away.
“Por…I mean, Georges, would you keep watch on him, please?” D’Artagnan asked. Porthos walked over and stared menacingly at the man.
“I’m afraid that he is unconscious again,” Brother Xavier said. “I hope he is just sleeping, but I’m not sure.”
“As you saw,” D’Artagnan continued, “his companions did not survive their encounter with Georges and Emile. We have been discussing what to do with him. Did they harm either of you when they abducted you?”
“No, but they did threaten us,” Brother Xavier said. “One of them knocked me from my seat and took the reins. I fell backwards but didn’t fall onto Brother Etienne, which, considering the size of the cart, was indeed fortunate. One of the others rode behind us and the third rode in front. They didn’t say where they were taking us. I am very grateful that you found us.”
“Thank you,” D’Artagnan said. “We will be leaving soon. Brother Xavier, would you step aside with me for a word?”
“Of course,” he replied, doing so.
“Brother, how did you happen to request that you accompany us on this journey?”
“W-Well,” he stuttered. “I was talking with a visitor at the monastery who had heard that Cardinal Richelieu was there. I said I would like to learn from him, but that I had heard he would be leaving soon. The man suggested I ask to go with him, so I did.”
“And why would the man make such a suggestion? Did he suggest anything else?”
The monk thought for a moment. “Yes. He asked if I would write him about what I learn from the cardinal. He gave me the address of his sister, so that I could write him there.”
“And have you written him any letters?”
“No.” He hung his head. “I knew this trip was to be in secret, and was afraid to do so openly. And I had not brought anything to write with or on. And I had no money for a messenger to take a letter.” He looked up at D’Artagnan with hope.
“It is well for you that you couldn’t send a message. Before we left, the abbot told me of the visitor, and that he sneaked away during the night, most probably taking the cardinal's torn and bloodied robe and biretta with him. I suspect he may be aligned with Monsieur Gaston and his quest for the crown of France.” D’Artagnan looked at the monk pointedly. “See that you don’t do anything suspicious in the future.”
“Of course, sir. I will do nothing to endanger this mission.”
D’Artagnan just smiled.
Porthos tied their prisoner’s hands and feet after tying a cloth around the cut on his leg. He asked one of the others to catch the dead men’s horses and attached their reins to the wagon.
“Help me transfer some of these bundles to the extra horses,” he asked Aramis. “The prisoner can ride in the wagon where Brother Xavier can keep an eye on him.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Aramis replied. “He could easily injure Brother Etienne further, perhaps cause his death. It is a very small cart.”
“You’re right. But what can we do with him?”
Aramis thought for a moment. “I suggest we make sure his hands and feet are tied securely and throw him across the bare back of one of the extra horses. Then tie his hands and feet together underneath. If he slides to the side, we’ll know and can try a different way of tying him on the horse.”
“What about the dead men?” Athos asked. “Shouldn’t we bury them?”
D’Artagnan had just joined them and heard the question. He thought for a moment and said, “Digging graves would take much too long. We don’t know that there aren’t others following. But we certainly shouldn’t leave them where they are.”
“Why not?” asked Porthos. “If any are following, they will see the dead men and know their plot was foiled. Perhaps we should move them to the edge of the road, though. We should take their weapons and any money they have on them. They’re useless to them, anyway.”
When the supplies were redistributed and the prisoner was attached to his horse, D’Artagnan asked Athos to ride with him at the head of the company. Porthos and Aramis would ride at the back on either side of the prisoner and Brother Xavier would periodically look behind and warn them if anyone was approaching from the rear.
Porthos and Aramis each whistled for their horses, who soon came trotting back to their masters, seemingly pleased to see them.
In this manner they rode back to the point of the attack and then rode farther. By that time it was nearing late afternoon.
“I don’t know how far the next village is, but I don’t think we should ride an
y farther. We all have had a hard day and need a good night’s rest,” D’Artagnan told the group. “We have food and drink with us that should be enough for tonight. Let’s find a place off the road to camp.”
The others agreed and started looking for a good place which would be shielded from the road. About half a mile off the road they found a clean stream with a stand of trees a short distance from it, toward the road. By the stream was a small grassy clearing.
They tied the horses close enough to the stream that they could drink, but in the clearing so they could graze. Since the ground sloped toward the stream, D’Artagnan decided to build a fire, trusting that it couldn’t be seen from the road. The cardinal would remain in the cart, but the rest of them would sleep on the ground around the fire.
After preparing a simple meal out of the provisions they had been carrying with them, D’Artagnan motioned for his friends to follow him a few feet away. In a low voice, he said, “That little slip from Xavier means that we must be sure the prisoner doesn’t escape. We must question him now.”
The others nodded in agreement, and Porthos went to get him.
They took him to a flat place beside the stream where they could sit. Then they sat him down and tied him to a tree.
“If you answer our questions truthfully, we will be lenient with you,” D’Artagnan began. “We want to know who you are and why you and your fellows attacked our party.”
“My name is Jean DuPont. You must release me at once or suffer the consequences,” he said, defiantly.
“Well, Monsieur DuPont. You must answer our questions first. Why did you attack us?”
“I believe you are harboring a fugitive. You must release me and hand him over.”
The others laughed quietly for a moment.
“I don’t believe you understand your situation, monsieur,” Athos said. “You are our prisoner, not our guest. Who do you work for?”
“I work for the rightful king. That man in your cart is an enemy of the crown.”
“That man? Why, he is nothing but a young monk travelling on a pilgrimage,” D’Artagnan replied.
The Hunt for The Red Cardinal Page 12
