“But why is there a tunnel?” François asked. “And why has it been kept secret?” Jacques nodded.
“I can only assume. When the house and church were built, there was much fighting and looting in this area, and I suppose the priest used it to hide the church’s treasures, although they were not there when I discovered the tunnel. Regardless, it will be a safe place for us to hide. Go get the travelers and bring them in here.”
François and Jacques went to the bedroom door and knocked. There was no answer. After another futile knock, François opened the door to an empty room.
“Perhaps they have already joined the rest,” Jacques commented.
The two men searched the rest of the house to no avail. Then François said to Jacques, “It looks like they have left. Come outside with me.”
They went out the back door to the stable. “No cart in here. But look here; it looks like the floor has been disturbed.” He pointed to a place on the floor where the dirt was soft. “Do you think they buried something and then dug it up?”
“Could be. Or haven’t dug it up yet. Look around for their horses while I dig there in case they left something,” Jacques suggested.
There were footprints and cart-wheel tracks in the dirt in front of the stable. The men searched the area, but found no horses. Likewise, François found nothing, either.
“We must tell the pastor that they are gone. Then we should be able to go back to our homes,” said François.
“But the searchers have not come yet,” Jacques protested. “When we were warned of them and came to the Pastor’s house, the strangers hadn’t joined us yet. I don’t think it is safe to go back to our homes yet.”
“We’ll ask Pastor Alexandre.”
∞ ∞ ∞
D’Artagnan, who had been watching the house from the branch of a nearby tree, rejoined the rest of his group. “They have discovered we’re gone and gone back in to tell the pastor. I think it’s just as well we left before the household was up. I could hear through the door that some of them wanted to turn us over. I’m sure the men they were warned of are Gaston’s men, or, at least, César Vendôme’s. They would do anything to get ahold of the cardinal. I’m just glad that taking Brother Etienne out through the window didn’t hurt him.”
“But what do we do now?” asked Aramis. “We’re not sure what direction these men are coming from. If we continue the way we were going, we could run into them. If we go back the way we came, we could also run into them.”
“Then we hide in these woods. I would like to see them for myself, and perhaps get the jump on them, as well,” D’Artagnan stated. “The indication was that there were not many of them. There are four of us. I think we could take down eight of them.”
“Or ten or twelve, even,” put in Porthos. “Let’s wait around a bit. Maybe we could save other villages a bit of trouble.”
The four riders and the cart moved a little farther into the woods and found a spot where several trees grew together. They hid the cart there and left Athos to guard it, its passengers and all the horses while the other three spread out nearer to the wood’s edge, where they could keep an eye on the road.
They waited for some time, until another of the townsmen came running up to the house, declaring again that ‘they’ were coming. This time the warning was correct, for just minutes later hoof beats could be heard in the distance.
Each of the three watching the road had climbed a tree, hiding in the foliage. Porthos was closest and saw them first. “Twit tu whit” he whistled. It was a pre-arranged signal from years earlier, and told the other two to get ready.
∞ ∞ ∞
Six men rode into the village and spread out. Each went into a different building without even knocking. Homes and shops were treated equally. When all the buildings had been searched, they met not far from the tree Porthos was hiding in.
“I found no one,” stated one of them. “They must be hiding.”
The rest concurred. “If they haven’t run into the woods or somewhere else in the countryside, they’re probably hiding in the church,” another said. “Abelard, you and Bruno look in that direction.” He pointed to the north. “Felix and Eustice, look to the west. Henri and I will look to the south. Don’t go in until we are all together again. We will meet back here in ten minutes.”
“Yes, Frééric,” Abelard said, and they went their appointed ways.
Ten minutes later they got back together and headed for the church. Not being able to enter through the locked door, and not being able to get anyone to answer it, they tried to break the door down. Repeated pounding and battering failed to budge the door.
“We could break a window to get in,” suggested Felix, a pragmatist.
“No!” Frdric exclaimed. “We cannot break a stained-glass window in a church just to get in. It would be a sacrilege. Look all around to see if you can find a plain window to break, Felix. The rest of us will go to the priest’s house. If no one answers there, we will return to the church and will break whatever window you have found.”
By the time the men had ridden up to the church, all but a few of the townspeople had hidden in the tunnel, along with all the belongings they had with them. Only Pastor Alexandre, the blacksmith and the innkeeper were there to answer the door.
“We have been sent by the king,” Frdric told the men. “Who are you and where are the rest of the townspeople?”
“Why, I am Pastor Alexandre, and these men are the blacksmith and innkeeper of the village. As to where the rest of my people are, I can only describe the illness that has swept our village recently. Please come in and I will explain.”
He opened the door wide and ushered the king’s men in, watching two of them go upstairs.
Frédéric looked at the other men, then said, “We have heard of no illness. Where has everyone gone?”
Pastor Alexandre led the men into the main room of the house, sat down and started to tell them a story.
“Not long ago a stranger came into town. He claimed to be sent by our king to look for an enemy of the crown. I asked him who the enemy was, but he would not say. While he was here, he went to each house and shop to see who lived or worked there. I told him I had known all these people for many years and could vouch for their loyalty. Unfortunately, he became ill while he was here. We have no doctor, nor any other kind of healer, and offered to send someone to a larger town to ask for one. While our messenger was gone, the man died. Being fearful that the town would be contaminated, we had to burn his body. Afterwards, we buried his remains in a deep hole in the woods. Shortly after that, some of the townspeople fell ill as well. Several of our families who had not been infected went off to stay with relatives in other villages. The families of the ill ones stayed and fell ill themselves. To make a long story a bit shorter, these two men and I are the only ones left, and we’re not feeling so well, ourselves.”
The five men looked at each other and Frdric spoke up. “We don’t believe your story. Can you prove it?”
“Alas, no, for we had to burn all those bodies, too. They are also buried in the woods. But believe what you will; only we three are left in this village.”
“And why are you still here?”
“Where should we go? This is still our home, and some families will surely be coming back.”
Before the men had arrived, the pastor, the blacksmith and the innkeeper agreed on what to tell them. They couldn’t tell them the truth, of course. That would have been too dangerous for the rest of the townspeople. Pastor Alexandre said he was sure that the Lord would forgive them for the untruth.
While this conversation was going on, the musketeers and cardinal’s guard had sneaked back to the stable, and from there quietly drifted to several windows of the house. Aramis could see, through the window of the main living room, the pastor and two townsmen talking to three other men. He knew there should be six, but the other three were not visible. He signaled to D’Artagnan to join him.
“Wher
e do you think the other three are?”
D’Artagnan thought a moment. “We saw five enter the house. The sixth may still be at the church, looking for a way to get in. You go check around the church. Try to be quiet, but if challenged, do not lose.” He peeked back through the window and saw that two of the missing men had joined the others. “I’ll watch here to see what happens.”
The King’s man took a paper out of his vest. “This is a warrant for the arrest of the enemies of the crown we’re looking for.” He passed the warrant over to the pastor.
As Pastor Alexandre was reading the document, a faint noise was heard.
“Do you have an infant here,” Frdric asked, looking around.
“No, only who you see here with me. It is probably a cat,” the pastor replied.
They heard the cry again, which arose in a wail. Another cry accompanied it, and then another.
“Where are they?” demanded Frédéric. “I know you have people secreted here.” He rose and began searching for the sound.
As he walked along the walls, the crying got louder. When he got to the door to a bedroom, the sound seemed very close.
“Whose bedroom is this?” he demanded.
The Pastor told him, “It is my bedroom.”
Frdric looked around the room. I see no crucifix above the bed, he thought to himself. And no icons hanging on the walls. He looked closer at the man who called himself Pastor. And no crucifix around his neck. Before he challenged the man, he decided to investigate the noises that seemed to be coming from behind the wall, or from under the floor.
“Is there another room beyond this one?” he asked.
“No. You can see the window right there.”
“And underneath the room. Is there a cellar?”
“Of course. But the entrance is in another room.”
“Show me.”
The demand distressed the pastor, because the warrant described the enemies of the crown as being Protestants; heretics were what they were called by the Roman Catholic Church. He hoped that revealing the cellar would not also reveal the tunnel.
“Come this way.” He led the man, Frdric, to the kitchen, where there was a door almost hidden in a corner, which opened to descending stairs. Fréic started down, followed by Pastor Alexandre, who was clasping his hands in silent prayer for the safety of his parishioners
Th noises were louder in the cellar.
“Aha! You do have hidden townspeople.” He dashed back up the stairs, calling for the others. “I have found them. And more, I believe, this is the village of Huguenots for whom we are searching. Come with me.”
Listening at the door to the stairs, D’Artagnan heard what the man said. “Not us, at all,” he thought. He went outside the house, calling for his friends to join him.
When Aramis and Porthos arrived, D’Artagnan told them what he had heard. “They’re after Protestants, not the cardinal.”
“Then let’s go and leave the heretics to their fate,” Porthos said, ready to move on.
“That wouldn’t be right,” protested Aramis. “They gave us shelter without even asking us about our faith. They didn’t threaten us or deny us.”
“You forget that several of them wanted to turn us over to these men,” said D’Artagnan. “But you are right. Remember Christ’s teachings, that every man is our brother. Besides, I’m ready for a fight, and these men are asking for one.”
“There are only six of them, but Athos, I mean, Gerard, would be very upset if he were left out. I’ll dash back and get him. I’m sure the brothers will be all right for a short time.”
Aramis was back in moments with Athos. By then the King’s men had found the secret door to the tunnel, and were trying to get it open.
D’Artagnan, with his three friends, broke down the kitchen door, rushed down the stairs, and drew their swords.
Pastor Alexandre was standing out of the way with a terrified look on his face. When he saw the four men dashing down the stairs, he tried to conceal himself in fear they were coming to assist the other men in opening the door to the tunnel.
D’Artagnan was the first one to reach the bottom of the stairs.
“Halt in the name of the king,” he said. That cry got their attention and they turned to see who made it.
By that time the three musketeers had joined D’Artagnan and all four stood, spread out with their swords pointing at the six men.
“We were sent by the king!” Frédéric said. “Stand away and let us finish routing these enemies of the true church.” He and his men turned back to their work.
“No, I think we will join you. Or perhaps separate was the word I was looking for.” D’Artagnan swung his sword, slashing the other man’s sword arm and pushing his sword out of the way. The man quickly recovered, though, switching hands and swinging again at D’Artagnan, slicing his sleeve.
Porthos took the next man and disarmed him by tripping him, causing him to fall to the floor. Aramis followed suit with the third man, pinning him to the wall.
Athos was about to follow the lead of the others, when a voice rang out. “May I join the party?”
Everyone turned to see a small, simply dressed fellow. D’Artagnan was the first to recognize him.
“Monsieur Montaigne. I haven’t seen you in quite a while. I’m sure you remember my friends, Gerard, Georges, and Emile. But we can catch up later. Are you here to help us or them?” He waved his sword at his opponents.
“Depends on the reason for the fighting. For instance, are these men looking for Huguenots in order to rid the country of them? Or are you the ones doing that?”
“Answer that questions for yourself. Then we will decide if you may help us stop these men from killing many innocent townspeople or kill you for helping them do the same.”
“That answers my question, so I will join you, although I think you don’t really need my help.” Montaigne drew his sword and lunged at the next in line.
During the conversation the men under attack had stopped trying to open the tunnel door. But at the resumption of the fight, they turned back to it.
As it was close quarters, and Frédéric and his men were backed against the door to the tunnel, the two at the back started trying to open the door again in order to escape.
Abelard finally discovered that the door slid to the side to open. He opened it just to discover that no one was there. He turned to the others and cried, “They’ve escaped to the church! Follow me!”
They rushed into the tunnel with Frédéric, at the back, going backwards to keep Porthos from killing him. Aramis followed Porthos through the tunnel while the other four, including Pastor Alexandre, dashed outside for the church. The pastor had the key out, ready to unlock the door which had held against pounding by two different groups.
“Follow me,” said the pastor as he led them to the back of the church where the tunnel ended. The townspeople had gotten in and were trying to hold the tunnel door closed against the others.
D’Artagnan indicated to them that they should back away and let the door be opened.
“The three of us will attack on this end while our friends will attack from behind,” he told Pastor Alexandre. “If you’ll have everyone leave the area . . ?”
The people started moving out, going to the sanctuary, and when the last of them was gone, D’Artagnan, Athos, and Montaigne, who had been holding the tunnel door shut, backed off themselves. The men in the tunnel burst out, only to face the weapons of three men in front and those of two others behind. The five men made short work of the five others, killing four of them and capturing the fifth.
D’Artagnan quietly asked Porthos to go and report to the brothers what had happened and to bring them back to the stable.
Then he said, “Pastor, we need to move the dead men out of the church. Could your people see to that? We’ll keep the other one for interrogation and deal with him later.”
“Of course, and you may have the church’s office to talk to this one. I’ll s
how you where it is.”
He asked the blacksmith and several other townsmen to dispose of the dead bodies and led the way to the office.
The pastor started to leave the office, closing the door behind him, when he heard “Pastor, you may stay to hear what is said.”
He looked back into the room, then went back in and closed the door.
D’Artagnan started to speak, but Montaigne held his hand up to stop him.
“I have been chasing after these men for over a week, watching them destroy homes and families in their search. I would like to ask the first question.” He turned to the leader, Frédéric, and asked, “Who sent you on this mission?”
Frédéric refused to answer, saying only, “We have a warrant.”
Then D’Artagnan asked, “Where is the other one of your people? We know there were six of you, but only five came out of the tunnel.”
Frédéric only shrugged.
“Emile, please try to find the other one,” D’Artagnan said. “You may bring him here or send him to join the others, whichever you want.” He turned back to the prisoner. “Now, where were we?”
Pastor Alexandre remembered that he still had the warrant, and handed it to D‘Artagnan.
“Ah,” he said as he read it. “A warrant for Protestants. And from the king. Well, everyone knows now that the king was murdered by outlaws, so who is this really from?”
Frédéric kept his mouth shut.
“I expect it was Gaston, the pretender,” Montaigne said. “He has always wanted to be king.”
“He is the rightful king,” shouted Frédéric. “He will rid this country of heretics. We will kill them all!”
“Ah, now he speaks. How many heretics have you killed so far? And how many of them have actually been good Catholics? And of those who weren't, how many had been good men, anyway?” Montaigne turned to D’Artagnan.
“Any more questions?”
“Yes. How many more of you are roaming the countryside, terrorizing the citizens?”
“Many,” Frédéric proclaimed.
The Hunt for The Red Cardinal Page 16
