The Hunt for The Red Cardinal

by Bradley Sinor

  Brother Xavier helped him to sit up on the edge of the bed so he could check the man’s knee.

  “It isn’t as swollen as it was when we got here,” Brother Xavier said. “How does it feel, Eminence?”

  He moved his foot side to side, then front to back. “It still aches a little, but it is much better. I think I can travel without much pain now.”

  “But you still can’t remember anything from before your fall?” D’Artagnan asked.

  “No, but I’m getting used to that. Brother Xavier and I have been talking, and he’s told me some of the things I should know about my past.” He moved back around and lay back in his bed. “I will try to stand tomorrow to see if I’m able to walk. If I can walk, we can continue our journey.”

  “But what about the injury to your side?” D’Artagnan asked. “The doctor didn’t examine it because we didn’t want anyone else to know about it. Have you checked it, Brother Xavier?”

  “I have been checking it every day, and sometimes twice in one day. It seems to be healing, but I am still worried about it.”

  D’Artagnan thought about it for a moment, then consulted Montaigne. “Do you think you could find a healer that deals in herbs and things? Perhaps something like that would be more useful than what a physician could do.”

  “I’ll ask around tomorrow.”

  The next day, Montaigne returned in the afternoon with an ointment that he smeared on the cardinal’s wound.

  “What is that?” Brother Xavier asked him. “And where did you get it? I hope it was from a reputable healer. I have heard of people being poisoned by herbs used improperly.”

  “I assure you,” Montaigne replied, “that I was very careful to determine the safety and efficacy of this salve.”

  “Yes, yes, I’m sure you were,” the young monk assured him. “I just worry about his health at all times.” Then he went back to watching the cardinal sleep.

  That evening, D’Artagnan and Montaigne, and Athos and Aramis went out to eat.

  “If we leave tomorrow, we should bring enough food with us to get us to the next town,” D’Artagnan said to Montaigne.

  “What would that town be called,” asked Montaigne. “Will it be large enough to have an inn?”

  “I’ll have to look at my map, and I don’t know. This wasn’t the route we were supposed to take, and my map may not have anything marked the way we will be going.”

  “I can ask around later for the best route going . . Where are we headed?”

  D’Artagnan thought a moment. He had been sworn to secrecy by Cardinal Tremblay, but circumstances had changed since that time.

  In a very low voice, D’Artagnan said, “I have decided to trust you with the direction we need to go, despite my promise to tell no one before we leave. We’ll be going north to a location on the coast. We should aim for northeast. I think.”

  “I will find out which way to go and what towns are on the way. Also, how far apart they are. I know we can’t travel very fast with our injured passenger.” Montaigne took his leave, and D’Artagnan finished his dinner and also left.

  Athos and Aramis had returned by the time D’Artagnan got back.

  They pulled D’Artagnan to the side when he entered.

  “We heard something while we were eating,” Athos said. “It seemed to be just gossip, but it is information we should pay attention to.”

  Aramis took up the story. “A man at the next table mentioned Gaston by name. He said he had heard that his men had been seen in Laval and thought they would be coming here next.”

  D’Artagnan thought for a moment. “So our choices are to leave quickly or to stay well-hidden until they leave. And we don’t know how long they will stay here or which way they will go when they leave.”

  “Perhaps, then, we should stay where we are until then,” said Aramis.

  “But that could take another week or more,” Athos said.

  “That would be better than getting caught and taken back to Paris, or killed where we are,” said Porthos, who had joined the conversation. “Where is Montaigne?”

  “He has gone seeking information for us,” D’Artagnan told him.

  “Ah. His specialty. Shouldn’t we include them,” Porthos pointed to the monks, “in the discussion?”

  D’Artagnan looked thoughtful. “I suppose we should, but let’s wait until Montaigne returns. Did you bring food back with you? There wasn’t enough left for their dinner and our breakfasts.”

  “Yes, we brought more bread and cheese, two onions, and more wine,” Athos said.

  “I brought a joint of mutton, which should be eaten tonight.” D’Artagnan opened the cloth it was wrapped in.

  The four men took their bounty to Brother Xavier and Brother Etienne. Since Porthos had been the one to stay in, he joined the feast. They finished the mutton and part of the bread and cheese.

  Before too much longer, Montaigne returned. “I have news,” he told the rest. “Gaston’s men have been seen coming this way. I believe it is too late for us to get away safely before they get here since we will be traveling slowly.”

  “We were considering our choices before you returned,” D’Artagnan said. “We think that the others should be included in the decision.”

  “By all means,” said Montaigne, and started toward the bed, motioning the other to follow. “Brother Etienne, Brother Xavier, we need to discuss the current situation.”

  “Of course, my son. Please share with us what you know.” Brother Etienne seemed a bit stronger and more aware, perhaps ready to continue traveling.

  “I have found out that Gaston’s men are headed this way, and getting closer all the time. Since we don’t know when they will get here, which direction they will go from here, or how long they will stay in Rennes, the question is: do we stay or do we go?”

  D’Artagnan replied, “I think we should stay and wait until we know in which direction they will go when they leave. Remember, we will be traveling much slower than they will. If they decided to go the same route we plan to, we would be discovered quickly.”

  “That will mean delaying our trip for an unknown length of time,” added Athos.

  “I am feeling much better,” Brother Etienne said, sitting up in his bed and turning to get up. “See, I can stand without much pain now.”

  “How long would you be able to stand?” asked D’Artagnan? “And I’m sure the road will be rough. Could you stand being bounced in the cart? It could be more than a week until we get to our destination.”

  “I feel well enough, I think, to ride a horse.” Brother Etienne was cheerful and sure he was almost completely recovered from the accident. Then his attitude changed. “Or maybe not. I think I should sleep now.” He was helped back into bed and was asleep before the bedclothes had been replaced over him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Several days after his previous guests had moved on, Monsieur Boucher, the innkeeper, looked up as several men entered the inn.

  “May I help you gentlemen? Would you like rooms or meals?”

  One of the men stepped to the counter and said, “Both, I think. Your establishment looks clean and well taken care of. What rooms do you have available?”

  “Just recently a group which had two rooms left to stay with a friend. Their rooms are still available. Are there just the three of you?”

  “There are two more of us. How many beds do the rooms have?” asked the man who seemed to be the leader of the group.

  “One has two beds, and the other has four. They are next door to each other,” the innkeeper told him.

  “Let me talk with the others and I’ll let you know. First, could we have a meal?” The man motioned to another to get the remaining men in their party.

  “Of course. Would you rather have wine or ale with that?”

  “Ale, I think. We’ll take that table over there.” He pointed to the large one in the far corner.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “By the way,” the man said, pulling
a sheet of paper from his pocket. “Do you recognize this man? I know it’s just a sketch, but it is a very good likeness.”

  The innkeeper looked closely at the drawing.

  “It looks a bit like the injured man in the group that left. I got only one good look at him, and he was asleep at that time, but it could be him.”

  “What was his name?” the other man asked.

  “Oh, I never heard his name. They took him up to the room and he didn’t come back down until they left. When they came in he was unconscious. I believe he’d fallen and hit his head. And when they left he was asleep because the fall had injured his knee.”

  “Do you know the names of his companions?”

  “I think they called each other by the names Gerard, Georges and Allais. Oh, and Montaigne. I never heard the names of the others. Who do think the man might be?” The innkeeper looked at the man expectantly.

  “It is not important. Do you know where they were going?”

  “Hm,” the innkeeper replied. “I think the name is Conard. I don’t know the family, though there is a chance my cousin does. His name is Anatole Boucher. He lives on the other side of town. We are not close; in fact, I don’t associate with him, so I can’t direct you exactly to his house. I’m sure if you ask around, someone will take you there.”

  By that time the rest of the party had arrived and were seated at the table.

  “I’ll get your drinks. Your meals should not take long.” The innkeeper bowed to the men and left for the kitchen.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  “But if we leave now, we may be caught up by Gaston’s men,” said Athos the next morning.

  “Have they arrived already?” Brother Etienne wondered.

  “I have not heard so, but they may have.” Montaigne turned to leave. “I’ll go out and see what I can find out.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Aramis told him. “Four eyes and ears are better than two.”

  “We won’t be long, and if we find out anything important, at least one of us will return.”

  “And you’ll bring something more for breakfast with you?” Porthos said.

  “Yes, pig, we’ll bring more breakfast,” Aramis told his cousin.

  Montaigne led the way out of the warehouse, and Porthos barred the door behind them.

  “Perhaps we should go two different ways,” said Montaigne.

  “That way we might get information faster,” agreed Aramis. “Although, would the men Gaston has sent recognize you?”

  “I don’t think so. I keep my head down and try not to be seen when I’m working. Do you have an idea who Gaston might have sent?”

  “No, but surely they will be his men who have been in exile with him.”

  “He did have his own sympathizers in France when he was exiled. Maybe he has sent some of them.”

  “Then we should both be very careful,” Aramis suggested.

  They had reached the next street by then and parted ways.

  “We should meet again at noon,” Montaigne told Aramis, indicating the warehouse.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Five men walked through the city of Renne, France, looking for two people.

  “If we can’t find this Conard person, we will have to locate the innkeeper’s cousin, Anatole Boucher,” one of the men said.

  “Where did the innkeeper say to look?” asked another.

  “Just across town. He claims that he and his cousin are not close, but, even so, I would think he would know where the man lived.”

  A third man pointed to a nearby shop, saying, “Why don’t we ask in there? The shopkeeper might know one of them.”

  The first man said, “I’ll go in; you wait out here.”

  Inside, the man approached the shopkeeper and asked, “Do you know where Anatole Boucher lives?”

  “Bah, that reprobate? I wouldn’t allow him or his cohorts in here if I saw them coming. Ask somewhere in the northern part of town.”

  “If not him, how about a man named Conard?”

  “Sorry, I’ve never heard of anyone by that name, but if he is a friend of Boucher’s, I wouldn’t. I don’t do business with men who deal with merchandise which doesn’t belong to them.” The shopkeeper said. “However, I do know of a man who Boucher knows. His name is LeBeq, and his business is somewhere in the northern part of the city.” Then he turned away to tend to a customer, dismissing the other man, who went back outside to report to the others.

  “The shopkeeper didn’t know of anyone named Conard, but he mentioned one named LeBeq who the innkeeper’s cousin knows. Apparently they both are unsavory characters,” said the group’s leader when he returned. “Just the men we need to talk to.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Monsieur LeBeq looked up as the door to his shop opened.

  “Ah, Anatole. What are you doing here?”

  “I need to talk to you, François. There are men looking for you, King Gaston’s men.”

  “Looking for me? Why? What would they want with me? What did you tell them?”

  “Nothing, but someone told them that you might know something about some men they are looking for. That person also told them that I could lead them to you.”

  “Did you?” LeBeq cried. “Are they outside right now?”

  “No. I put them off by sending them back to my cousin, Jacques. He’s the one who sent them to me. Do you know who they are asking about?”

  Monsieur LeBeq thought quickly. “I don’t know what they’re talking about, or who they’re looking for. Please do not tell them how to find me.”

  “They may find you by asking someone else,” Anatole pointed out. “You can’t blame me for that.”

  “No, of course not. But do try to keep them away from here if you can. Please!” LeBeq tried to keep from appearing nervous. “Don’t come back here while they are in town. I don’t need to be questioned by anyone with ties to Gaston. I have no love for our new king.”

  Anatole left after assuring his friend that he would do as asked.

  Minutes later another of LeBeq’s acquaintances entered the shop.

  “Good morning, François,” he said.

  “Father Jean,” LeBeq exclaimed to the small man who was the priest of his church. “How may I help you today?”

  “François, I have a problem.”

  “What can I do to help, Father?”

  “Our church is being threatened by those who say they will destroy it if they are not paid a tithe of their own. Do you know of someone who I could hire to protect us?”

  Monsieur LeBeq thought for a moment. This could be the way out of the danger Anatole told me of, but I must hurry.

  “Father, I do. But I must talk to them first. And if they agree to it, they will have to hide in the church until their task is completed.”

  “They? How many are there? There are accommodations for only a few.”

  “Just let me take care of it. I will let you know when I have talked to them. Don’t worry, Father. It will be all right.”

  Monsieur LeBeq had been keeping an eye on the goings and comings of the people staying in the warehouse, but it had been difficult since they had been using the door on the opposite side from his shop. After his conversations with his friend, Anatole, and his priest, Father Jean, he thought he knew how to solve his dilemma. Since no one was using the door closer to his shop, he felt confident enough to listen at the door for anything he could hear, any information he could get about who was inside. He knew his–friend–Montaigne was with a group of travelers who needed to hide from someone. He just didn’t know who they were. However, knowing that King Gaston’s men were searching the city for someone, he had a better idea of who they were hiding from.

  Through the narrow gap between the double doors he could see the underside and wheels of what must be their cart, but by kneeling on the ground and looking to the side he could see the legs of the men staying in his warehouse.

  Ah, there’s Montaigne, he thought. And who else is with him? Four young
men. They seem strong. But why would they need the cart if no one was ill or injured? Or in custody? That might be it; they are taking a wanted man somewhere. But who would the man be wanted by, if they are hiding from King Gaston’s men? He tried to see more in the room, but the corners at that side of the building were out of sight. Then he heard a voice.

  “Eminence, how are you feeling tonight?” an apparently young man asked.

  A reply followed. “I am feeling much better. I’m sure I can walk a short distance, but certainly not very quickly. And about riding a horse, I’m thinking better of it. I’m sure I couldn’t ride for long, either.”

  A different voice spoke. “That’s good, Eminence. It will be better to wait here until Gaston’s men have left the city.”

  So, LeBeq continued to himself. A cardinal is injured and running from the king. I think I know a way.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  The next morning when Montaigne left the warehouse to search for information, LeBeq was waiting for him.

  “Monsieur Montaigne, may I have a word?”

  “Ah, LeBeq. Spying on me?” Montaigne was not happy to see the man.

  “No, no. Not spying, but I do know you are traveling with some men and trying to avoid someone. Would that be men sent by King Gaston to find people not loyal to him?” He paused, then continued. “I, myself, am not a lover of the man. Some of my family have been treated badly by him. But I will not do anything to advertise that fact. I do understand your predicament. King Gaston’s men are here, looking for you. You have someone with you who must not fall into his hands.” He looked directly at Montaigne. “The priest of my church is in need of protection, too, but from those who are demanding money, and will destroy the church, they say, if they don’t receive enough.” He shook his head. “I have been informed that these men of Gaston’s have been given my name as someone who might know the whereabouts of men trying to avoid them. Namely, I think, you and your friends.”

  “Are you trying to blackmail me, LeBeq? You should know better that to try something like that,” Montaigne calmly stated.

  “No. I am trying to tell you that there is a better place for you to hide until the king’s men leave to torment another town. I can lead you all to the church safely, where you can hide until you can leave. But you must promise to defend the church while you stay there.”