The Hunt for The Red Cardinal

by Bradley Sinor

“Would you like to see them first?” asked the innkeeper, Monsieur Lambert, a short, rotund man of middle age. “And dinner, I assume. I call my wife the best cook in Tremblay.”

  “If there are beds enough to sleep seven between the two rooms, there is no need to see them first. I’m sure they are clean,” suggested D’Artagnan.

  “Of course,” said the innkeeper.

  “And supper sounds delightful, whatever it is, as long as it is hot.”

  Aramis fetched the others while D’Artagnan stabled the horses and took their belongings up to the rooms.

  When all had arrived, Montaigne carried the cardinal upstairs.

  “Is the monk ill?” asked Monsieur Dubois. “Should I summon our healer?”

  “He is injured, not ill,” D’Artagnan explained.

  “And you are taking him somewhere to recover?” The innkeeper was trying to get a good view of the monk.

  “We are,” was all D’Artagnan would say as he entered one of the rooms behind the others and closed the door.

  “Well,” Porthos said. “It looks just like all the other inns we’ve stayed in for the last how many weeks.”

  The cardinal was tucked into one of the two larger beds in that room.

  “Where are we now?” he asked.

  “We are in a village called Tremblay. We’ll stay here for the night, then, if you are feeling well enough and the way is not too rough, we may arrive at our destination in two or three days,” D’Artagnan told him.

  “Two or three days,” he said to himself. “How long have we been traveling? I don’t remember all of the journey, of course, but it seems like a long time.”

  “It seems like that to all of us, as well.” D’Artagnan turned to the others. “Who would like to go down to collect our dinners, and who would like to eat down there?”

  “Why don’t we all, except for the brothers and one other, eat downstairs?” Athos suggested.

  Montaigne volunteered to stay in the room while the other four ate in the public room.

  “We’ll bring your meals up here first,” said Aramis. “I’m sure the car . . .Brother Etienne is very hungry, and Brother Xavier, too.”

  The meals were ordered and three plates were delivered to the room, along with two pitchers of the house wine.

  The four friends remaining downstairs took a table in a corner near the fireplace, in which a low fire was laid. There were few others inside, due to the early hour. That gave them a chance to talk without being overheard.

  “And you say we should arrive at – wherever we’re going – soon?” said Porthos. “I am very ready to be there. When may we know our ultimate destination?”

  “Later, but not down here,” D’Artagnan told him. “The walls have ears, even though we are sitting in the middle of the room. Ask again when we get back upstairs.”

  Soon, other patrons trickled in, chatting noisily and ordering wine, ale, and meals. The four men at the table concentrated on eating and listening to the chatter, hoping for fresh information.

  Unfortunately, all that the villagers talked about was their lives, their animals, and their crops.

  When they finished their meals and returned to the rooms, Porthos asked again where their journey would end.

  “Let us go out and check on our horses,” D’Artagnan suggested. “You, Emile, and Gerard come with me.”

  They made their way out to the stable, going in to see that their horses were being taken care of properly. Outside the building, they walked a bit away from it as though going for a stroll.

  “North of here we will find ourselves at the north coast of France. According to the cardinal of this village’s name, there is an island near the shore which houses a monastery. That is where we are going.”

  “I may have heard of this place before,” said Athos. “Will there be a boat to take us across?”

  “There is a causeway which is passable at low tide. We may have to wait to cross if the tide is in.”

  Porthos spoke up. “Will the monks, and the abbot, welcome us and our patient? What if we must quickly leave again?”

  “I was assured that we would be welcome there,” D’Artagnan told them.

  At that, they joined the others in their rooms for the night.

  The next morning they set out, again going north as best they could. There was a road of sorts, and they trusted it to lead them the way they needed to go.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “T

  he breakfast we bought from the innkeeper wasn’t much,” Porthos complained. “I hope we can find another source for our midday meal.”

  Athos and Aramis just looked at each other and then at Porthos.

  “If you hadn’t gobbled your portion so quickly you might have enough for lunch. Don’t ask any of us to share,” Athos instructed.

  D’Artagnan interrupted. “If we come across some place to replenish our stores, we’ll stop to do so. I’m sure that what the rest of us have left won’t be enough for the rest of our trip.”

  They rode in silence for a while, and then D’Artagnan rode up beside the cart to see to the cardinal.

  He had been asleep, but was starting to wake up as the guard neared.

  “Allais, good morning,” the cardinal said. “I’m feeling much better today, I think. Perhaps when we stop for a rest I will get out and walk around for a bit.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Brother Etienne, but we don’t want you to tax yourself. We may have some rough road ahead which could bounce the cart.”

  “Of course. I will be sure to take care. I don’t want my injury made worse.”

  They traveled on a ways before coming to a small village where they were able to buy food for their lunch, and, possibly, have enough left over for the evening.

  “Is there a town ahead which has an inn?” D’Artagnan asked one of the townspeople.

  “Well, there’s a town to the north, Pontorson, which is large enough to have an inn,” he was told.

  “Is it along this road to the north?”

  “It is. There’s not much beyond it, though, if you keep going north.”

  “No, I think we’ll be turning to the east at that point, thank you. But what’s farther north than, uh, Pontorson? Isn’t it getting close to the coast?”

  “It is. There’s only an island with a monastery on it that way.”

  “Oh, then we definitely want to go to the east there. Thank you for your help, my friend.” Then D’Artagnan went back to his friends and they went on their way.

  The sun was about to set as they passed a group of houses set back from the road, much like the small community where they had stayed a couple of days before.

  “I don’t want to camp again,” said Athos. “Let’s see if we can stay the night with those

  people.”

  “A good idea, I think,” added Porthos. “Even if we have to hand over our weapons for the night.”

  The group turned around and made their way along a dirt path toward the middle of several houses. As they got closer they could see men coming out with swords, as if to bar the way.

  “We come in peace,” D’Artagnan called out to them. “We are looking for a place to stay the night and will be leaving at first light.” He motioned for the others to hold up their empty hands.

  “Dismount and come here,” one of the men called out, motioning to a place a few feet from where they were standing. “Unarmed.”

  D’Artagnan did as he said and told the others to do so, except for the monks.

  When they all got to the place indicated, D’Artagnan said, “The two men in the cart are monks, one of them injured. They are not armed.”

  The man pointed for one of his friends to go to the cart to see.

  “Who are you and where are you going?” the spokesman asked.

  “We are mercenaries looking for work,” D’Artagnan told him. “My name is Allais Reynard. These men are Girard LeRoi, Emile Gillette and Georges Moreau. The monks are Brothers Etienne and Xavi
er.

  The man sent to check on the monks returned, saying, “They say their names are Brother Etienne and Brother Xavier. Brother Etienne is an older man lying in the back of the cart. He’s well covered with blankets and such, but I pulled everything back and found no weapons. Brother Xavier, sitting at the front, had none, either.”

  “Where are you men headed?” the first man repeated.

  “We are taking Brother Etienne somewhere to recover from his injury.” They were so close to their destination that D’Artagnan didn’t want to give any more information than he had to.

  The men from the houses got together to discuss what they should do. When the decision was made, the first man called everyone together.

  “You may stay the night, but you able-bodied men will sleep in the barn over there. The monks may stay with my family.”

  “We are grateful, monsieur. That is the same arrangement we had two nights ago and are satisfied with it,” D’Artagnan said. “And to show you that we really mean you no harm, we will hand over our weapons until we leave in the morning. And if you can spare a bit of food, we will pay you for it. Our stores are low and we are hungry.”

  “Of course,” the man said. “My name is Marcel Babineau and my friend, here, is Anton Rousseau.” The other men had returned to their homes. “Once the monks are settled at my home and you are settled in the barn, I will bring you your meals. Do you have your own plates? We do not have enough for all of you.”

  “Certainly.” D’Artagnan and the others fetched their packs and got out their plates, passing them on to Monsieur Babineau. “Our thanks.”

  They spent a peaceful night and woke to the first light of day, even though they couldn’t see it inside the barn. They collected their belongings and went out to fetch the monks.

  Before leaving, D’Artagnan spoke to the homeowner who had hosted the brothers.

  “Monsieur Babineau, could you tell us how close we are to the coast?”

  “Why, it is not many miles north of here. Where on the coast are you going?”

  D’Artagnan decided that, if they were that close, is wouldn’t hurt to name their destination.

  “We are accompanying the monks to Le Mont-Saint-Michel monastery.”

  “Then just go north, following this river, until you reach the sea. I have been there, myself, to visit my brother who is a resident monk. There is a causeway that is impassable when the tide is in, though. You may have to wait to cross.”

  “My . . . our thanks, Monsieur. It has been a long journey, and I’m sure the monks will be glad for it to end, as will the rest of us.”

  He called the others together to tell them. “Our journey is almost over, my friends. We should arrive later today.”

  There were cheers from the others, but he cautioned, “We aren’t there yet. Save your celebration until we are safely there.”

  “How do we know which way to go?” asked the cardinal when they were on their way.

  “Monsieur Babineau said to go north until we reach Pontorson, then go west until we get to the river Couesnon. Then we will follow it all the way.”

  The way wasn’t far, and they found themselves in the town of Pontorson before noon. After supplying themselves with food and drink, they turned west until they encountered the river they sought.

  They set out along the riverbank. It wasn’t very wide, and if needed, in places they could ford it. But before too long it widened and they had to move farther from the bank, following a road that went to the north. Eventually the road turned to the east and the party turned with it, but when it showed no sign of going north again, they departed from it and went to find the river again.

  “The way will be rougher now,” D’Artagnan told the monks, “but we are supposed to follow this course. It will lead us to our destination.”

  “But why are we going this way?” asked Brother Xavier. “Won’t it just lead to the ocean? Are we going to be boarding a ship to another country?”

  “Just wait,” said D’Artagnan. “You will discover the answers to your questions before the day is out, barring trouble.”

  Then D’Artagnan moved back to watch behind them, joined shortly by Montaigne.

  “I think I know where we’re going,” Montaigne said to D’Artagnan. “To Le Mont-Saint-Michel.”

  D’Artagnan nodded. “You know the place?”

  “I do. I have been there. Are you certain it is safe?”

  “I certainly hope so. I have heard of it, of course, but never been there.” D’Artagnan paused. “What if they are not friendly? What if they turn us away? But Cardinal Tremblay chose this place to bring him, so it must be safe.”

  “No one but you should know, to be most safe. Are you sure no one else knows?”

  “Well, I told Brother Etienne where we were going, but didn’t name the place. I did ask the man who hosted the monks last night how far it was. He didn’t seem suspicious of their identities.”

  “Never-the-less, we should be watchful.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Monsieur Babineau, when the group rode away, was visited by his neighbors, Monsieur Rousseau. “Marcel, I think that monk, the one in the cart called Brother Etienne, may be the Red Cardinal, Richelieu.”

  “Why do you think that, Anton?” Monsieur Babineau asked. “Have you ever seen him?”

  “I have, many years ago. When I was a boy, my family lived much closer to Paris. We once went to visit relatives who lived there. One day we were walking near the palace when he rode by us. I remember well, even though I was young. My cousin ran in front of his horse and the cardinal yelled at him and tried to run him over. Fortunately, we were able to pull my cousin away before he was hurt. We made haste to leave the area and the cardinal rode on. I have always thought of him as a cruel man.”

  “What a terrible thing to happen!” Monsieur Babineau exclaimed. “But he seemed like a very kind man when they were here. Are you sure it is he?”

  “Yes. He did seem kind, but if he is traveling under a pseudonym to hide from the king, his manner would be much different.”

  Monsieur Babineau thought a moment. “The leader said they were going to Mont-St-Michel. Get our sons. They can ride after them. Tell them to keep their distance, but watch them. I will join them when I can.”

  “I will come with you,” Anton said, and went to find the two boys.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Presently, D’Artagnan and his friends found the river.

  “Monsieur Babineau said to follow the river, and it will lead us where we’re going,” said Brother Etienne. “It’s good that we have found it.”

  “The land is rather rough along the bank,” Brother Xavier pointed out. “Will we be able to get through it?”

  “We will have to go around it, but as long as we go north, I’m sure we will get to where we are going,” D’Artagnan assured him.

  Before long they did need to leave the riverbank. The woods that grew beside the river stood in their way, and there looked to be no easy way to pull the cart through it. Going east again, they found a rough road that led to the north, around the woods. They made good time on the road, which continued on past the woods, but to the northeast.

  “Since the road is going the wrong way, we’ll have to travel overland again,” D’Artagnan told the others. “It looks smooth enough for the cart.”

  They left the road and turned back towards the river, going as close to it as they could. Ahead was another wood, but the trees were more widely spaced, and the ground seemed clear of undergrowth and rocks.

  “Let’s go through, rather than around it,” Montaigne suggested. “I don’t expect anyone to be following us, but the woods will give us some cover and may slow down pursuers.”

  “It will slow us down, too,” said Porthos.

  “But not that much. I’ve been watching behind us, and I’ve seen no one,” Montaigne said.

  “And the day is getting hot,” said Athos. “The shade would be welcome.”

  They e
ntered as close to the river as they could, as the bank sloped sharply and was rocky. The horses had no trouble picking their way between the trees, and the cart didn’t bounce and sway as much as it could have. Before long the land dipped and they came to a shallow stream. It fed the river, which had gotten broader as they went north.

  “We can stop to water the horses here,” D’Artagnan told the rest. “If we’re careful and quiet, we won’t be seen from the south.”

  The cart was pulled close to the water, and the monks got out to stretch their legs; the rest of them dismounted, as well.

  “I think walking will help me,” Brother Etienne said. “Riding in the back of the cart has made my back stiff.” He then went off to find a likely tree, helped by Brother Xavier and followed by the others in turn.

  After the horses finished drinking and other necessary tasks had been completed, D’Artagnan got into their stores and passed around bits of bread and cheese.

  “I know we’re getting close and all of you are excited to come to the end of the journey. We must still be vigilant, though. Montaigne has crept to the edge of the wood to watch for others traveling this way. Since we’re off the road, there should be no one. If all is well when he returns, we will be on our way.”

  After a few minutes, Montaigne returned.

  “I saw no one, but we should leave now anyway. We’ll all feel safer when we are in the monastery.”

  Across the stream, which they had no trouble fording, the land rose again. In the distance they could see the edge of the wood. They traveled quietly, except for the sounds of the horses’ hooves and the cart's wheels. A short way from open ground, D’Artagnan called a halt.

  “Would you go forward to watch for others?” he asked Montaigne. “We will watch for your signal that all is clear.”

  Montaigne did as requested, leaving his horse with the others. He silently made his way from tree to tree, watching for anyone coming around from the side. He was about to signal the others to come ahead, when he heard hoof beats. From behind a large tree, Montaigne saw two young men riding north. He caught a glimpse of a face and recognized the boy as the son of the man who had sheltered the monks the night before. He quickly returned to tell the others.