“All right, I will give it into your safekeeping and pray that the Cardinal will be at home in the near future.” He would also pray that Pascal was indeed trustworthy.
Pascal escorted Father Matthias downstairs and back out through the servants’ entrance. When the priest was gone, he wrapped the package back the way it had been and took it to the cellar. There he pulled a cabinet away from the wall, then pulled four bricks out of the wall. He pushed the package into a recess behind the bricks and replaced them. Then he replaced the cabinet and returned upstairs. “It should be safe there,” he thought. Then he thought, “Perhaps I should go to Clairefontaine and talk to the abbot.” He didn’t know much about what had happened to Cardinal Richelieu, but he knew where he had been taken after the attack that killed the king.
“Audrey,” he called to the maid. “I need to be away for a while. I should be back by tomorrow night.”
“Sir? Is something wrong?” she asked him.
“No, no. I just need to talk to someone who lives a short distance away. I’m sure everything will be fine. Don’t worry.”
Then he went back to the cellar and got the bundle he had just hidden away. He put it in a traveling bag and went out to get his horse ready for the journey.
He arrived at Clairefontaine after a tiring ride for both him and his horse. The sun was just about to peek above the horizon when he knocked on the door of the monastery. The monks were at Morning Prayer when he was let in.
“I must speak to the abbot at once,” he said to the monk at the door.
“He is at prayer, but come in and join us. It won’t be but a moment until we have finished,” the monk told him. “I am Brother Paulo.”
Presently, the monks finished, rose from their kneeling positions, and filed back into the chapterhouse.
“Come eat with us,” Brother Paulo said to Pascal.
“Thank you, but I must speak with the abbot.”
“Of course. Come with me.”
Brother Paulo led him to the door of the abbot’s office. Knocking, he opened the door for Pascal to enter.
“Abbe’, I am Cardinal Tremblay’s secretary, Pascal. I have an item that I would like you to look at to verify its identity.” He pulled the bundle out of his bag and unwrapped it, spreading it out on the desk.
The abbot looked at it, then stroked it, smoothing the wrinkles.
“It is the cardinal’s robe which was stolen from us weeks ago.” He looked at Pascal. “Where did you find it?”
“A priest from a village near to Paris brought it to me. He said a parishioner had found it by a stream, as though it had been dropped accidentally and left there. That may or may not be true, but it doesn’t matter if it is really the Cardinal’s robe.”
“What does Cardinal Tremblay say about it?” the abbot asked.
Pascal hemmed and hawed for a moment before saying, “He wasn’t there when the priest brought it. I’m not sure when he will return, and I thought I should bring it to you just to be sure.”
“It has come back to us, then, where it was stolen. I wonder what happened to the man who stole it. That doesn’t matter, now. Will you take it back with you?”
“Perhaps I should leave it here. I’m sure you have a place it can be hidden in case someone comes asking about the cardinal.”
“We have already been questioned by one of King Gaston’s men about the cardinal’s whereabouts. He isn’t here, and hasn’t been for weeks. I don’t know where he has gone.”
“I see,” Pascal said. “I will leave it with you anyway. If Cardinal Tremblay, when he returns, wants to see it, I’ll return for it. Keep it safe.”
Pascal went to eat with the monks and then started his journey back to Paris, satisfied that the robe had returned to the right place.
Chapter Fifteen
Two old men sat in a tavern in Toulouse, drinking ale. One of them said, in a loud voice, “Wasn’t it that cardinal we saw yesterday at the inn? You know, King Louis’ minister, what was his name? I thought he was dead.”
“You mean Richelieu? No, I’m sure it wasn’t. I thought he was dead, too,” the other one said, equally as loud. “But maybe . . . do you think he survived and is hiding? It did look a lot like him.”
“I saw him many times when I lived in Paris. This man looked just like him. Why do you think he’s here?”
“Hiding out, like I said. I’ll bet he’s going to raise an army to overthrow King Gaston.”
“Yes. We know Queen Anne had a child awhile back. Suppose it was a boy? He would be the rightful heir, wouldn’t he?”
“He would. Maybe Richelieu is going to try to bring Queen Anne back as regent for the infant and will advise her.”
“Should we tell anyone?”
“Who would believe us? We’re just two old men. What do we know?”
∞ ∞ ∞
The companions’ travel was uneventful for the next few days, except for Porthos’ complaining of hunger.
Finally, after being questioned about their location and destination yet again, D’Artagnan took out his map, spreading it over his horse’s neck. He looked at it, tracing what he thought their route had been with a finger. “I think we’re about here.” He pointed to a location on the map. “We’re going – here – if we can find our way there.” He pointed to Renne. It was one of the towns pinpointed on the map. There were no roads drawn in, though, so finding their way there might not be direct.
“We should continue in a westerly direction, as best we can. With luck, we’ll find villages and towns on our way where we need them. I, also, have had enough of camping.”
“I thought we were going to Nantes,” said Athos.
“Yes, but Rennes is on our way, and closer.”
The seven men set out again. Eventually, the sky grew dark with clouds blocking out the sun.
Porthos had been watching the clouds grow darker toward the west. “I hope we reach a village soon. It looks as though it could rain at any time. I’ve had enough of being wet.”
“Well, if it does start raining, we will find a large tree and take shelter under it,” Athos told him. “I’m sure we will be fine.”
“I suppose so, but I wish we had something to cover ourselves with when it rains. All we have are a few blankets, which will soak through and be worse than useless in rain.”
“Well, think about it for a while. Maybe you will invent something.”
The cardinal was awake, and he and Montaigne were deep in conversation, when Aramis, who was in the lead, spotted buildings ahead.
“We may be coming to a village soon,” he called back to the others.
D’Artagnan rode up to join him. Pulling his hat down to shade his eyes, he said, “I hope you’re right. We need to replenish our stores, even with the provisions the good pastor gave us. We will need more, with the extra member of our group.”
“Do you think it was wise to allow Montaigne to join us?” Aramis asked.
“The cardinal wants him with us. We must take our cue from him. But you’re right that we must keep our guard up. It has been a while since you have seen him, but not as long for me. We worked together more recently in Italy.”
They were nearing the village and spotted what looked like a sign for an inn.
“The Spotted Cow,” D’Artagnan read as they got nearer. “We should stop there. It’s near time for dinner, so shall we stop for the night?”
“I like that idea. Let’s go back and tell the others,” Aramis said.
They turned and waited for the rest to catch up to them.
“We’ll stop here for the night,” D’Artagnan announced. “Stay at the edge of town while I inquire about accommodations. Monsieur Montaigne, would you come with me?”
“Certainly,” the new member of the group said, and the two men rode off.
They entered the inn and looked around. “This is better than the last inn we wanted to stay at,” D’Artagnan said.
Inside it was warm and noisy. There was a l
ow fire in the fireplace, and all the windows were open to let cooler air in. D’Artagnan went to the bar and asked about rooms.
“We’ll need at least two, if each has two large beds. If not, we will need three.”
“How many will be sleeping?” the innkeeper said.
“There are seven, all men.”
“That’s quite a few. Are you sent from the government to find a fugitive?” The innkeeper whispered behind his hand. He was a curious man; you could even call him nosy. You could definitely call him gossipy.
D’Artagnan stared at him for a moment before answering. “You could say that.”
“I’ll show you the rooms for your approval right away. Follow me.”
He took them up the stairs to the end of the hall. There was a stairway beyond that which led down past the kitchen and private quarters.
The room on the left had four narrow beds, and the one on the right had two beds wide enough for two to sleep in each.
“These will do nicely. We will go back and get the rest of our party. Do you have room in your stable for eight horses and a small cart?”
“I’m afraid not. But I have a fenced pasture with a pond behind the stable, if you would be willing to put the horses there. I could fit the cart in the stable if it is not too big.”
“Show us, please.”
The pasture was as the innkeeper described. The fence seemed secure, the pond was fed by a stream, and the grass looked lush.
“This will do. Monsieur Montaigne, would you stay behind while I fetch the others?”
“Of course, Monsieur Dubois.” Montaigne walked back inside with the innkeeper.
D’Artagnan rode back to the edge of town, which was only a few buildings away.
“We have two rooms for ourselves and a fenced pasture for the horses. The cart will be put in the stable,” he said as he led them to the inn. “We will bring our supplies to our rooms. Brother Xavier, please drive the cart back to the stable. We can carry Brother Etienne up the back stairs, as our rooms are next to it on the second floor.”
They all proceeded to the back of the inn, where the stable master unharnessed the cart horse, then stowed the cart in the stable and removed saddles and bridles. After rubbing down the horses, he turned them into the pasture.
Porthos carried Brother Etienne through the back door and up the stairs while the others carried what supplies they had left.
Montaigne was waiting for them at the top. “I informed the innkeeper that one of our party is injured and requested that we take our meals in our rooms. He said he was short on staff and asked if we could bring them up ourselves.”
“That’s acceptable; we’ve done that before.” D’Artagnan opened the rooms’ doors. “We should decide who stays in which room.”
Athos spoke up. “The three of us could stay in that room.” He pointed to Porthos, Aramis and the room with four beds.
“Then Montaigne, Brother Etienne, Brother Xavier, and I would stay in this one.” He indicated the room with two beds. “Any other suggestions?”
They all looked at each other and shrugged.
“All right, then, let’s choose our beds. Gerard and I will go downstairs to see when the food will be ready and be back in a moment,” D’Artagnan told them.
The group dispersed to claim their beds and put their belongings on them.
“Would you and Georges eat down here to listen for gossip we should know about?” At Athos’ nod, he said, “I’ll send him down shortly.”
After notifying the innkeeper that they were waiting for the food to be ready, they sat at a table to watch the room. When the barmaid arrived, they ordered wine for themselves and two pitchers to take to the others.
“How much longer do you suppose our journey will take?” Athos asked.
“Hard to tell. How many more times will we be attacked? How many times will we have to change our route to avoid being captured? Or stop to help people in need? I would rather be doing other things, but taking an important man to safety is what we are needed for now.”
“Your plates are ready now, gentlemen,” the innkeeper said.
“Thank you. We’ll take two each, then come back for more. My friend, here, and another will eat down here.” D’Artagnan and Athos picked up the plates and went back to their rooms.
Everyone was waiting in the smaller room with the two beds. The cardinal was in one of the beds, propped up on pillows, with Brother Xavier sitting on the bed with him. The others were sitting or standing where they could find room.
“Georges, come down with me. We’ll eat downstairs,” Athos told his friend.
“I’ll go down with you to get my own plate,” D’Artagnan said. “And bring it up here with two pitchers of wine.”
They went downstairs, where Gerard and Georges found a table in the center of the room. They ordered wine to drink with their dinner and settled in to listen intently.
Back in the room, D’Artagnan sat on the second bed to eat while the rest, who had already finished eating, enjoyed their wine.
“How are you feeling, Your Eminence? Is your wound healing well?” All eyes were now on him.
“I think I’m doing well,” he replied, although his voice was still weak and breathy. “Brother Xavier has examined me and pronounced my wound to be healing properly. I should be stronger before we get to our destination. Where is it, anyway?”
D’Artagnan looked at him pointedly. “Nantes, as I have said several times. That belongs to your family, does it not?”
After a moment’s hesitation, the cardinal said, “Of course. My apologies for forgetting. With God’s help, we will arrive there soon.”
“Indeed.”
By that time, all had finished their dinners and were well into finishing the wine.
“I’ll take the dishes back downstairs and retrieve Gerard and Georges,” D’Artagnan said, gathering the empty plates in one hand and the cutlery in the other.
After turning the load over to a barmaid, he found his two friends at their table.
He joined them and asked, “What have you learned from eavesdropping on this motley group?”
“Quite a bit,” said Athos. “But probably nothing very helpful. We now know a lot about daily life in this village, and something about the travelers passing through, but have heard nothing about what goes on in Paris currently.”
“Ah well. Perhaps the lack of news is itself good news. Come back upstairs. We should get an early start tomorrow.”
“A moment while we finish our drinks. We’ll join you shortly,” Athos said.
D’Artagnan went on, but before he reached the stairs, an obviously drunken man approached him, saying, “You look familiar. Don’t I know you from somewhere? Let me see . . .”
D’Artagnan recognized him right away as a former Cardinal’s Guard who had been dismissed due to his drunkenness. He turned away and said, “No, you don’t know me. I’ve never seen you before.”
“Oh, I’m sure I do. Now where were we?” He held his chin in his hand and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, D’Artagnan had dashed up the stairs. His eyes widened with the memory of the identity of the man he had spoken to.
Safe upstairs in the room with four beds, where Montaigne and Aramis were, D’Artagnan told them what had happened. Montaigne asked, “Do you know him?”
“Unfortunately. His name is Henri Lamar. He used to be a fellow guard, until his attitude and carelessness, and drunkenness, got him thrown out. He, of course, thought that was quite unfair, and vowed revenge.”
“Do you think he remembered you?” Porthos asked. “And if he did, what do you think he will do?”
“I wish I knew the answer to both those questions. But we must assume he will, and seek revenge on me. We must post watches in both rooms. He is bound to have a room on this floor.” D’Artagnan turned to Aramis. “Have the monks gone to sleep?”
“Yes. That is why we’re in this room.”
“Someone m
ust stay in the room with them at all times until we leave in the morning. Montaigne, would you go downstairs and watch the man until he comes up?” He described the man in question.
“Of course. You’ve always told me that I’m the perfect spy; no one ever remembers seeing me. When he comes to his room, I’ll join you in the other room. I’ll take the first watch. Then I’ll wake you for the next watch.”
Athos and Aramis passed Montaigne on the stairs as they went to rejoin their group. D’Artagnan was still in the room when they entered.
“Was that man a friend of yours?” Aramis asked. “Could he be a problem?”
D’Artagnan repeated what he had told Montaigne and Porthos. Then he said, “You three sleep in here and put the fourth bed across the door. Even so, one of you should be awake at all times.”
D’Artagnan went back across the hall to the other bedroom. Brother Xavier was asleep in the other bed, so he crawled in with him, but stayed awake. Although he depended on Montaigne to watch the former guardsman, he felt the need to keep watch in the room.
A little while later, D’Artagnan heard a knock on the door. It was one he recognized from years past, when Cardinal Richelieu had assigned him to travel with Montaigne.
The door opened enough for Montaigne to slip in.
“Your friend has gone into a room down the hall by the stairs. I bought him a few drinks and had practically had to carry him up the stairs. I don’t think he’ll be a problem for us tonight.”
D’Artagnan lay back with a sigh. “But even so, one of us needs to be on guard.”
“I’ll take the first shift, as I said. I only pretended to drink. I’ll wake you up in a few hours.” Then Montaigne moved one of the two chairs in the room against the door and sat down.
After Monsieur Lamar was deposited in his room and left alone, he quietly peeked through the door. The small man who had bought him drinks had disappeared. He slipped out of his room and down the stairs.
“Jules,” Lamar whispered to a man sitting at a back table, “I’ve found D’Artagnan.”
Jules looked up at his friend. “Excellent. He is staying here, I presume. Alone?”
“No. He was with two others. They went upstairs together. Moments later another man came down and engaged me in conversation. I continued to play drunk, and he bought me more drinks. Luckily I was able to dispose of most of them without his knowledge. He almost carried me up the stairs to the room! I believe he’s in with D’Artagnan and his friends.” By the time he finished speaking he sounded enraged.
The Hunt for The Red Cardinal Page 19
