“How many in your group?”
“There are seven, and one is ill. Is there a physician in this town to examine him?”
“Ill?” Boucher said in a voice bordering on panic.
“Actually, he is injured, not ill. I misspoke. He fell and hit his head.”
“Well,” the man replied, sounding relieved. “We do have a physician. I can have him sent for.”
“Do you have the rooms, preferably together or across the hall from each other?”
“I do. I have one room with two large beds and one next door with four beds, if those will do.”
“Those should do nicely,” D’Artagnan told him. “We’ll look at the rooms, and if they are suitable, my friend will go back for the others.”
Athos and D’Artagnan followed the innkeeper upstairs. It looked remarkably like the inn they had stayed in previously. “Very good,” D’Artagnan said. “Do you know where we could sell some horses and their tack?”
The innkeeper thought a moment and said, “We have a stable here, of course, but there is a general stable a couple of blocks farther west. The stable master might be interested. Other than that, I don’t know.”
“Thank you. I’ll try there.” He turned to Athos. “If you’ll go for the others, I’ll order meals.” He turned back to the innkeeper. “You said you have a stable here? And will it hold eight horses and a cart?”
“That’s quite a lot. I think we have room for two or three horses, but the cart won’t fit inside. It could be put around back, though, if that would be all right.”
“That will have to do. And the rest of the horses?”
“The general stable should have room for them,” the innkeeper told him. “How long will you be staying?”
“I’m not sure,” D’Artagnan answered. “It depends on when our companion regains consciousness. If he has no other injuries, we will be leaving immediately.”
“Very well.” The innkeeper handed D’Artagnan keys to the two rooms in exchange for payment for three days.
They went back down the front stairs and met the rest of the group coming in. Porthos carried Brother Etienne, while Aramis, Athos and Brother Xavier carried their belongings, and Montaigne stayed with the cart and all the horses.
“My friends,” D’Artagnan said. “We will have to stable several of the horses elsewhere. Let’s go up to the rooms and then I’ll check out the stable here and the other one. Oh,” he said, turning to the innkeeper. “Would you send for the physician as soon as possible? You can see the state of our companion.”
The innkeeper looked closely at the monk, trying to lift the hood of his habit get a better look.
D’Artagnan said, “Don’t remove the hood, please. He is sensitive to light and we don’t want to wake him.”
“Of course,” Monsieur Boucher said. “I’ll go send for the physician.”
Porthos carried Brother Etienne up the stairs and got him into bed quickly. Brother Xavier and Aramis stayed in the room awaiting the doctor, while the others stowed their belongings and went back down to join Montaigne and take care of the horses.
“The cart can be put behind the stable, and the cart horse and one or two others will fit inside,” D’Artagnan told them. “The rest, including the ones we want to sell, we’ll take to the other stable a little farther west.”
“I don’t like splitting up the horses like that,” Montaigne said as they took the cart and horses toward the back where the stable was.
“I don’t, either,” said D’Artagnan, “but we were told there wasn’t enough room in this stable for all of them. We’ll see soon enough.”
The inn’s stable was not overly large, but without the mounts of other guests of the inn, it still wouldn’t have held all of their horses, including the ones they wanted to sell. With those other mounts, there was room for only three.
“We should leave the cart horse here, I think, and two others. But we have to decide whose horse will stay,” D’Artagnan said.
“You are the leader, so I think it should be yours,” said Montaigne, and Athos nodded agreement.
“Very well, but the third should be yours.” D’Artagnan replied to Montaigne. He called for the stable master. “We have rooms at the inn and wish to leave these three horses here.” He pointed to them. “We will take the others to the stable the innkeeper recommended. He said to put the cart around back.”
After the cart and horses were secure, fed and watered, D’Artagnan and Montaigne took the other seven on down the street to the larger stable. It looked to be quite large, since it needed to house both the mounts of many of the town-dwellers and those of visitors.
D’Artagnan was able to sell the horses and their tack with some haggling for a good price.
When they returned to the inn, D’Artagnan said, “I’m sure you’re all getting hungry. I am, myself. But first we must check on our patient.”
They went up to their rooms as soon as they returned to the inn. The physician had arrived and was examining the monk.
“He is breathing sufficiently, seems to be comfortable, and his heartbeat sounds normal, but he is still unconscious. I can do nothing more until he awakens,” the physician said. “If, I mean, when he awakens, send for me. I have other patients to see today.” Then he left.
Before the physician left the inn, he conferred with the innkeeper in private. “Do you know who your new customers are?”
“I got only one name. Their leader or, at least, their spokesman, said his name is Allais Dubois. Why do you ask?”
“Their friend who is unconscious looks familiar, but I can’t think of who he might be. Oh, well. Dubois’ name isn’t familiar. I’ll think about what the patient’s name might be,” the doctor said as he left.
D’Artagnan said to the others after the physician left, “Well, there seems to be nothing to do except to watch over him. We can each take turns during the night so that everyone gets to sleep. It looks as if tonight will be a repeat of last night, except for keeping watch for trouble. I hope.”
“I will go down to inquire about our meals,” said Athos. “Who would rather eat up here and who would like to eat downstairs?”
Brother Xavier spoke first. “I will take my supper watching over the cardinal and will stay with him.”
“I will stay with the good brother, as well” said Montaigne. “Why don’t the rest of you eat downstairs? That way there will be many ears to listen for information.”
“Done,” D’Artagnan replied. He and the musketeers left, saying that plates would be brought up to the others.
As there was no available space at the boards that would seat the four of them far enough away from other ears, they found separate space in different areas of the room.
“That way we can overhear twice as much,” D’Artagnan explained.
Just then their plates were brought, with two extra for the others. Athos and Porthos volunteered to take the meals, along with a pitcher of house wine, upstairs and then returned to eat their own meals.
During the time downstairs, they spoke little and listened intently, but heard nothing of interest until another traveler entered with news.
The traveler went to the bar and ordered wine. Speaking loudly, he told the innkeeper, “I hear a rumor that the king has sent men riding to all parts of the country, searching for citizens who are still loyal to the late king and his wife, the former queen.” He turned around speaking to all the customers in the inn. “Now, I know everyone here is a supporter of King Gaston, so I’m sure no one is in danger. I just thought I should mention it.”
The four friends looked at each other from across the room. How were they to get Brother Etienne to safety without endangering him? Where could they hide him?
“Do you think any of these men would know who we are?” asked Athos.
“I think any men that Gaston sent to search for us or for anyone who doesn’t support him would be his own men and wouldn’t recognize us.” D’Artagnan said. “He said
it was a rumor, but I doubt that it was unfounded, and I think we should look for a safer place to hide until Brother Etienne is well enough to travel again.”
“I suppose there must be some safe place in this city, but how will we find it?” said Athos.
“Montaigne. He knows many people, but not so many know him,” D’Artagnan said, looking around to see if anyone was close enough to hear. “He is the perfect spy. If anyone can find a safe place to stay, it will be him.”
They finished eating, bought another pitcher of wine, and went upstairs to their rooms. There had been no change in the patient, but at least he hadn’t gotten worse. Montaigne and Brother Xavier had finished their dinners and were drinking from the pitcher that had accompanied the meals. D’Artagnan pulled Montaigne into the other room.
He told Montaigne about the announcement, mentioning that it was a rumor, but that they should take it seriously, anyway.
“I concur,” said Montaigne. “I never treat rumors lightly. There is always a grain of truth in them, unless they are spread maliciously and are totally untrue. And I don’t think this one is.”
“Then we need a safe place to stay until our friend has recovered. This inn is unsuitable, and we know no one here. I’m asking you to walk the streets to see if anyone you know and trust is here and knows of a safe place to stay.”
“Of course. As you always say, no one recognizes me,” Montaigne said.
“But you recognize everybody,” D’Artagnan finished with him. “Excellent. It’s late, so you should get a good night’s sleep and start tomorrow morning.”
∞ ∞ ∞
The next day Montaigne was up and out early. The patient was showing signs of movement, with small jerks of his hands and head. His eyelids occasionally fluttered, as if he was trying to wake up.
“Should we call the physician back?” asked Brother Xavier. “I have never had experience with this sort of injury.”
“It might be a good idea. I’ll have the innkeeper send for him when I go down to order our breakfasts,” said D’Artagnan. “I’ll bring yours up with mine, but the others should eat downstairs.”
They all went down for breakfast except for Aramis, who would join the rest when D’Artagnan returned to the room.
“Where is Montaigne this morning?” asked Porthos as they descended the stairs.
“I asked him to look for a better place for us to stay,” said D’Artagnan. “He’s looking for anyone he knows and trusts who might be here in Rennes. As you know, he knows a lot of people.”
The room was not full. Two tables were occupied, and the musketeers chose one in a corner where they couldn’t be overheard easily. When the meals were served, D’Artagnan took two plates up to the room and sent Aramis down for his.
“We may have a problem, with Brother Etienne’s condition being what it is,” Athos said to the others.
“I think you’re right,” replied Aramis. “If he doesn’t get well enough to travel, and Montaigne can’t find us another, safer, place to stay, this whole mission could be jeopardized.”
“What should we do about it,” asked Porthos after swallowing a bite of bread.
“Perhaps we should be out looking for a new location, as well.” Athos ate a bite of fairly good cheese. “If we stay here and those men come to Rennes searching for us, we might not be able to escape.”
“After we finish eating, let’s go up and check on the patient. He might be awake and able to travel again.” Porthos hurried to finish his meal.
When they got back upstairs, the doctor was there examining the monk, who had opened his eyes, but seemed to not know where he was.
“I won’t know if there’s any damage to his mind until he’s fully awake and talking. I have other patients to visit, so I must leave. I’ll be back this afternoon.”
He left as the musketeers were returning. Porthos, seeing that the cardinal was awake, said, “Brother Etienne, I’m so glad you’re awake again. How are you feeling?”
The monk looked at him, then looked at the other men standing around him. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He coughed and tried again.
“Who are you? And why am I here? I can’t remember who I am,” he spoke slowly, wheezing a little.
D’Artagnan was about to tell him, since he seemed to have lost his memory, that he was Brother Etienne, to make sure he didn’t slip up and say who he really was, but Brother Xavier was quicker, saying, “You are Cardinal Richelieu, Your Eminence. You have been injured and have been unconscious.”
The cardinal looked around the room. “Then what am I doing in this room?”
D‘Artagnan took up the story. “You were gravely injured weeks ago when King Louis was killed.”
The cardinal tried to shout in alarm, but it sounded as though he was croaking. “The king? He’s dead?” he finally managed to say. He struggled to sit up, but fell back, exhausted.
“I’m afraid so, Your Eminence. You were attacked at the same time. His brother, Gaston, has taken the throne and is searching for you, and we are taking you to safety.”
“And I’ve been injured? Oh, my head hurts and I can’t remember things. And I feel so tired. Why is Gaston searching for me?”
“You exiled him, Eminence. You sent him away, and he hates you for it, remember?”
“I did? Oh, yes. I think I remember now. Who are these other people?”
D’Artagnan thought fast, deciding to use their assumed identities. “I am Allais, a former Cardinal’s Guard, and these three, Gerard, Georges and Emile, are former King’s Guards. We are posing as mercenaries escorting you to your family estates to recover.” He pointed to the young monk. “He is Brother Xavier, a monk with medical training who offered to come along to care for you.” He looked at the others, warning them with his look to not contradict him.
“I thank you for that, but what happened to make me unconscious? And to not remember things.”
“You were knocked out of the cart you were riding in and hit your head on a rock. We were attacked by two men who were looking for me and one of them rode his horse into the cart while you were lying in it. Those men won’t bother us again, but we have heard that the new king has sent men to search for you. We are at an inn now, but need to find a safer place to stay until you are well enough to travel.”
Cardinal Richelieu had been lying quietly until then. “I feel well, except that my head hurts, as does my side, right here.” Pointing at the place he was shot, he started to sit up again and winced. “I think something else has been injured. When I moved just now my knee pained me very much.”
“Which knee?” D’Artagnan asked, looking concerned. “Someone go down and send for the doctor again. May I look at your knee?”
“This one,” the cardinal said, pointing to his right knee.
At the cardinal’s nod, D’Artagnan sat on the edge of the bed and turned the blanket back to reveal the knee. It looked swollen and red, and when he touched it, the cardinal winced. “You may have broken it in the fall. Since you were unconscious until now, no one knew of the injury.” He pulled the blanket back over the cardinal’s legs.
“There’s something I need to explain to you, Eminence. Because of the danger from Gaston, we decided to call you by an alias. It would be a bad idea to let the public know where you are, so we decided to call you Brother Etienne in order to conceal your true identity.”
The cardinal looked exhausted, terrified, and curious. “Tell me what has happened since the attack you told me of. Where was it?”
“You were on your way to visit Queen Anne. She was about to give birth to the heir, and King Louis decided to go with you dressed as one of your guards. You were part of the way there when your company was attacked. They killed everyone except for your secretary and a young guard, who were able to get you to a nearby monastery. You had been the victim of a gunshot wound, and the brothers there took care of you until you were able to travel.”
“So much has happened that I don’t remem
ber. Where are we now? And where are we going?”
“We are currently in Rennes,” D‘Artagnan told him. “And we are headed to a safe place. It was suggested by your friend, Cardinal Tremblay, who asked that I not reveal it to anyone. I must abide by his instructions.”
“You can tell no one? But what if we are attacked again and you are injured, or killed? How will your friends know where to take me?”
“If something happens to me, the information is hidden among my possessions. My friends will be able to keep you safe.”
The patient had been looking very tired for a few minutes, and now his eyes were closing. “I think I must sleep now.”
D’Artagnan motioned for the others to follow him into the other room, with the exception of Brother Xavier, who stayed to keep watch.
“We must try to keep him calm,” D’Artagnan told them. “It’s bad enough that he can’t remember anything, but a despondent or hysterical cardinal could be dangerous, for us and for him. We must keep his spirits up, the optimism that he will recover fully and that we will get him to safety.”
The door to the room opened and Montaigne walked in. “I have found a place for Brother Etienne,” he said. “Is he awake yet?”
“He is,” D’Artagnan said. “But there is a problem.”
Montaigne sat on his bed and pulled his bag out from under it. “What problem?”
“He has lost his memory. And his right knee has been injured, as well.” D’Artagnan sat on another bed. “If it was just his memory, we could go on. But now, we must stay until his knee has healed.”
“You have called the doctor, I assume. Has he arrived yet?”
“He was here earlier, before Brother Etienne woke. He said he would be back this afternoon. We didn’t know about his knee until a few minutes ago, and Emile went to send for him again. Another thing: he knows who he is and what has happened. I told him what name we call him, and why. Now he is asleep with Xavier sitting with him. Tell us about the place you found.”
The Hunt for The Red Cardinal Page 21
