The Cardinal's Red Lily

ʹTrouble?ʹ Bernajoux stood by his friend immediately to share Jussac's anger fairly among them. His crooked nose twitched in amusement.

ʹMaking trouble!ʹ Jussac paused and took a deep breath. Although Rochefort had called him away from the others, he had not confided a secret to him in the end. He was allowed to tell them. ʹRochefort wishes me to keep a watchful eye on a new recruit in our ranks.ʹ

ʹWhom?ʹ

ʹHe didn't say.ʹ

Bernajoux snorted. ʹHelpful.ʹ

ʹExtraordinary! We'll find out tomorrow who is foisted on us.ʹ Jussac caught himself clenching one hand in a fist. He eased his fingers without feeling much better.

Meanwhile, Biscarat rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ʹThat doesn't sound good. Nepotism? Someone who isn't cut out to be a guardsman and should learn under your wing? Someone who doesn't belong here?ʹ The spy in Biscarat suddenly seemed to continue this thought with a little too much enthusiasm. ʹOr he has a skeleton in his closet, he is someone under surveillance. Whose loyalty is not guaranteed. Possibly Rochefort is preparing a trap for him and-ʹ

Jussac had to put a stop at this point before the Gascon got bogged down in heated speculation. ʹHeavens, I do not know! As always, we are only vicarious agents, with no right to get any explanations!ʹ

Biscarat cleared his throat. ʹDid Rochefort mention nothing else?ʹ

ʹHe called him reservedly 'a friend'.ʹ

ʹThen he's definitely not one!ʹ said Biscarat gleefully and with his own logic. Bernajoux, on the other hand, took a more pragmatic approach and said, ʹWe'll help you.ʹ

Jussac achieved half a smile. Talking to his friends had dampened his anger. He could rely on their support. There has never been any talk of this task really was falling to the lieutenant alone. ʹRochefort will have six eyes at his service. He should be satisfied with that. Let's leave it by that for now. To duty, shirkers!ʹ

Bernajoux and Biscarat knew when the friend became the superior. They saluted obediently and then parted ways for today's guard duty and patrols or, in Jussac's case, for a consultation with the captain. The lieutenant of the guards doubted that Luchaire had learned more from Rochefort and indeed, an hour later, Jussac could be quite sure of it; The captain, too, had been given this new addition without prior discussion, and he was not exactly happy about it. Still no name, no background. Either Luchaire did not know or forgot to share his knowledge. Instead, he immediately passed the responsibility on to Jussac. The lieutenant concealed the fact that Rochefort had already given him this honourable task.

Later, Cahusac and Sorel told him that lieutenant d'Artagnan had paid an unexpected visit to the palace in the morning. For an interlocution with His Eminence in person! That troublesome musketeer - former musketeer! - of all things crawled out of the hole today that he had dug for himself! D'Artagnan was known to be constantly involved in royal court intrigues. What might it be this time? Jussac only hoped to remain unmolested and not to have to chase the bastard and arrest him. Not again.

The news was not more conducive to Jussac's mood, but at least it distracted him from brooding over Rochefort's unusual request. By evening, he had almost forgotten about the new recruit. He remembered just in time before official hours ended to instruct young Sorel to go to the cardinal's study tomorrow and to expect there... whomever. Jussac really had better things to do than personally pick up every insignificant foot soldier!

Exhausted from duty, Jussac finally left for home and promised himself a soothing bath in the tub to end the day in a halfway conciliatory manner.

VI - Council of War

ʹGo away!ʹ D'Artagnan lay on his bed, face turned to the wall, and rolled his eyes as the knocking on his door repeated insistently. His landlady was a great nuisance, he had no appetite - neither for her nor for her good stew.

He remained obstinately silent when there was a third knock on his bedroom door. He toyed with the idea of simply pulling the blanket over his head and sleeping through this terrible day. But the Chevrette didn't seem to want to let him do that. Broads! Behind Madeleine's beautiful deer-like eyes and bulging breasts was not much common sense to be found.

D'Artagnan did not move and for the next few moments it remained silent outside his bedroom. Then the handle was pushed and the door swung open. Angrily, d'Artagnan threw his pillow at the Chevrette, who really should have known better after all these years! He also struck superbly, right in the face.

However, one blink of an eye later, it was not his pretty landlady who stared at him flabbergasted, but the Comte de Rochefort. D'Artagnan stared back with the same expression and sat up. ʹWhat do you want now?ʹ

Without any further invitation, Rochefort stepped into the room and loosely threw the pillow back on the bed. ʹYou left something in the study.ʹ

ʹAnd that could not have waited until tomorrow?ʹ D'Artagnan watched the stable master discontentedly as he pulled up a chair. Apparently, he wanted to settle down here as if it were his own home. The former musketeer, and since a few hours also former lieutenant, remained seated on the edge of the bed and watched his visitor hostilely. Completely unimpressed by this, Rochefort presented a letter with the cardinal's seal. D'Artagnan glanced at it and immediately recognised an order to conscript. Along with the reference to his new rank as a common soldier.

Instead of accepting the documents, he snorted disparagingly. ʹYou really did not have to bring me this.ʹ

ʹBefore they fell into oblivion, I had to hand them over to you.ʹ

ʹAre you here just to verify if I am already packing my belongings and deserting?ʹ D'Artagnan made a sweeping arm movement that completely enclosed the room. ʹYou will not find any travel bundle. I will be on duty on time tomorrow. Adieu until then!ʹ

Rochefort deposited the letters on the clothes chest at the end of the bed and ignored the ejection. ʹI have no doubt about that. I find you here buried in sinister thoughts rather than in the nearest tavern. According to that you want to stay sober for tomorrow.ʹ

ʹRight! I just want to make the best impression on my new superiors and comrades. They will greatly appreciate me for facing them with a clear mind, without waver or babble.ʹ

ʹNot to mention that you are not going to smell of cheap alcohol,ʹ Rochefort added with such a serious nod that it was impossible to tell whether he had not at least considered the possibility.

ʹI can still afford the expensive wine, Monsieur! Hell, I could buy the whole Louvre! I accepted Richelieu's offer out of philanthropy and a sense of duty.ʹ

Rochefort waved off. ʹExpect no objection by me, at this late hour it is already too foggy in town for a duel.ʹ

ʹEven the weather is against me.ʹ D'Artagnan sighed. Instead of arguing further, he asked dejectedly, ʹDid you know I would be degraded?ʹ

ʹNoʹ, replied the stable master honestly and d'Artagnan believed him. They were friends despite everything, whom else should he have trusted more? Rochefort was obviously not only here for the documents, but also to offer help and advice in a bleak situation. ʹLike I said, it is a clever move. You can circulate freely in the palace between patrols and weapons exercises.ʹ

ʹI might as well do that as an officer and without having to account to the other guardsmen.ʹ

ʹDo not deceive yourself. You are going to have less obligations but more time and nobody will ask why you will be on guard duty in seemingly trivial places. That is what the benefit is all about.ʹ

ʹIf you say so...ʹ D'Artagnan would have liked to be convinced by Rochefort. But it still felt like a punishment, not a strategic advantage, especially since there was another problem besides his personal difficulties with the red guard. ʹThe cardinal seems to be seriously ill.ʹ

ʹIndeed. This time it is more than simple exhaustion or a cold.ʹ

ʹDo you fear the worst?ʹ

The stable master shook his head at a loss. ʹIt is hard to estimate.ʹ

ʹI see. That makes it difficult to judge when my deadline for this assignment is going to expire.ʹ D'Artagnan hesitated. ʹAnd whether our agreement dies with Richelieu.ʹ

ʹIt is in your papers.ʹ Rochefort pointed at the letter. With a frown, d'Artagnan took it and read it thoroughly. In the end, he found a sentence in such a roundabout way that its meaning was not immediately clear to him. After he had read it a few more times, trying not to silently move his lips while Rochefort was watching him, he looked up. ʹThe convocation already contains the promise of promotion?ʹ

ʹUnder special conditions and after a reasonable period of service.ʹ

ʹHa! Neither what is reasonable, nor what these special conditions are, is written down here.ʹ

ʹIt is for His Eminence to judge.ʹ

ʹThe dead make no more judgements.ʹ

ʹNo, but his successor will. You may assume that this man would also appreciate a loyal vassal.ʹ

D'Artagnan was not very satisfied with these uncertain prospects, even though he could always refer to Richelieu's letter and seal in the future. ʹIn fact, you are telling me I should better hurry.ʹ

ʹThat would be in everyone's best interests, no matter the health of His Eminence.ʹ

ʹBut not in the best interest of the sought-after Odette de la Nièvre,ʹ d'Artagnan mocked, and at the same time he was curious what exactly had happened. She seemed to be a headstrong, adventurous mademoiselle. Certainly she was confident enough to resist her own family. Courageous? D'Artagnan's thoughts wandered back to last night, back to the house they had climbed into on the run. Back to that young woman with the pistol. How determined she had encountered him. ʹDoes she happen to have copper-coloured hair and green eyes?ʹ

Rochefort frowned, obviously confused by the very specific question. ʹNo.ʹ

ʹWould have been too easy anyway,ʹ d'Artagnan mumbled and changed hastily the subject when he noticed the other's doubtful gaze. ʹThen what does she look like?ʹ

Fortunately, Rochefort did not dig deeper. Instead, he reached into the inside pocket of his coat. D'Artagnan was given a miniature, the image of a young woman of perhaps twenty years of age. The artist had not wasted much effort on details and had chosen for the portrait the typical pose held sideways, with the head slightly turned towards the viewer, but her gaze still directed past him. Blonde hair was pinned into an elaborate braid, a curl fell over her bare shoulder of flawless alabaster skin. Her face was full, almost roundish, soft and feminine, her eyes of indeterminate colour with a shine that made her seem almost angelically removed from the world. The mademoiselle was, well... standard-pretty and characterless.

ʹIs it her, or one of the many other interchangeable court ladies, and you want to put me to the test?ʹ d'Artagnan asked while studying the miniature in detail and still could not discover any conspicuous features on the person herself. No beauty spots or other blemishes, nothing that would have made her naturally memorable. Instead she wore two gem-set signet rings on her delicate fingers. D'Artagnan could not make out more than blots of colour, but he suspected that these were the family crests and insignia of those of la Nièvre and du Plessis - if the portrait did indeed show him a daughter of these houses.

ʹThis is Mademoiselle de la Nièvre.ʹ

ʹShe seems to be... boring.ʹ

ʹMaybe that is why no one expected her to successfully run away twice.ʹ

D'Artagnan placed the portrait with the documents on the clothes chest. ʹIs that all you have for me? Tell me the whole story! You already said that she was not abducted. How can you be so sure about that?ʹ

ʹBecause her fiancé did indeed attempt a raptio and failed spectacularly.ʹ The incredulous expression on d'Artagnan's face almost made the stable master laugh. ʹYes, to climb into the cardinal's palace of all places, offended in one's own honour, in order to abduct an unwilling woman was at best ill-considered. It could have been an idea of yours.ʹ

ʹI asked for the story, not for your comments,ʹ d'Artagnan growled. ʹWho is this fiancé and what happened?ʹ

ʹFernand de Grinchamps.ʹ Rochefort watched his friend attentively, almost lurking. With irritation, d'Artagnan replied, ʹShould I know the name?ʹ

ʹObviously not.ʹ The stable master seemed strangely relieved for a brief moment, but d'Artagnan was unsure of his assessment, especially as Rochefort quickly added an explanation and distracted him. ʹHe is a young baron who thought he had to obtain justice by himself. The guardsmen foiled the abduction. A lackey and a friend of Grinchamps were arrested.ʹ

ʹHurray to my new comrades!ʹ

ʹUnfortunately, Grinchamps has escaped preliminary and gone into hiding himself.ʹ

ʹI take back all praise.ʹ

ʹWho is commenting now, d'Artagnan?ʹ

The former musketeer waved off. ʹSo Grinchamps failed, and yet Mademoiselle de la Nièvre has vanished.ʹ

ʹA few days after that incident, yes. Either she no longer felt safe enough in the palace or she realised that Richelieu had his own plans for her, too.ʹ

ʹI assume that His Eminence was now looking for a more agreeable marriage candidate than Grinchamps was.ʹ

ʹIt was an obvious decision. This family affair was becoming more than tiresome. Someone must have told Odette. Someone must have helped her to leave the palace unrecognised. But she is still in Paris.ʹ

ʹAre you also sure about that or just hoping that she has not left the town already?ʹ D'Artagnan did not expect an answer to that. Rochefort had his ways and means of investigating in the outskirts of Paris and so he continued, ʹI should search for that 'someone'.ʹ

ʹThis is part of your task, indeed. It should be easier for you if you can win the trust of the guardsmen.ʹ Rochefort raised a hand before the friend could react to it again with wicked sarcasm. ʹOne thing at a time. Rearrange your life, if you find out something useful incidentally, tell me about it.ʹ

D'Artagnan burst out laughing. ʹYou, of all people, talk about rearrangement although the cardinal's household is apparently in great disarray! Now, moreover, you are infiltrating red guard with a spy. I hope you are aware of what you are requesting.ʹ

ʹI know that I am not asking too much and that you secretly eager for this task, for new deeds.ʹ Rochefort rose and strolled to the door, followed by a sinister look from his friend. ʹSo do not expect me to visit you every day to pat your back soothingly.ʹ

The gesture that Rochefort thereupon received by d'Artagnan expressed more than any words of farewell.

VII - Enemy contact

Sorel hurried along the gallery in great haste and evaded a door at the last moment. ʹPardon me!ʹ he called over his shoulder while the curses of a valet pursued him. How bloody huge the cardinal's palace was if one was in a hurry!

ʹWatch out!ʹ The warning cry was meant for a comrade who was about to turn the very same corner, which Sorel sprinted around. ʹGonna be late!ʹ he shouted apologetically and ran on. His footsteps echoed loudly through the corridors; in the early morning he was one of the few people who were already on their feet. He started to sweat gradually and had yet to cross another gallery to the cardinal's study.

Sorel blamed himself silently as he took the next staircase with verve. He had let himself be distracted by private affairs. Very engaging, pretty private affairs, with a charming smile and full lips, from which he had found it difficult to break loose. He had almost forgotten Jussac's order to pick up a new comrade. Just in time for the morning roll call he had remembered and now he had to hurry up.

On the last distance Sorel fell first into a relaxed trot and then back into normal marching to calm his quick breath. The newcomer did not need to know that he had almost been forgotten. At the double door to the antechamber Sorel nodded at the two comrades on duty, Meunier and Forgeron, and entered. A quick glance through the room showed the usual scene; a valuable, polished wooden floor, an elaborate tapestry on the right, glazed windows on the left, upholstered chairs for waiting guests. No one else was there.

ʹHuh?ʹ Confused, Sorel let his eyes wander once more, but the antechamber remained abandoned. Should he dare to enter the study itself? The young man hesitated. It would have been highly unusual for a new recruit to appear before the cardinal on his first day of service.

ʹI'm not the only one late, am I,ʹ Sorel murmured, half amused and half annoyed. He turned on his heel and stepped outside the door again. ʹMeunier! Has there been anyone wandering around here in the last few minutes who would have looked conspicuously nervous, lost, but insanely proud of himself at the same time?ʹ

The mentioned guardsman smiled leniently. ʹSorel! You mean just the way you looked like at your first day?ʹ It had long been known that a new recruit was to join their ranks today. Sorel pulled himself up to his full height and was still half a head smaller than his comrades. ʹI am justly proud of myself!ʹ

ʹWell, of course.ʹ Meunier shrugged. ʹNo, there was no one around.ʹ

ʹJussac will be overjoyed...ʹ Sorel did not need much of an imagination to presage the lieutenant's scowl. Not a good way for the new recruit to start.

ʹOver there.ʹ

Sorel turned to look into the direction that Forgeron suddenly pointed towards. In fact, a man marched up with a resolute step, he had pulled his feathered hat low over his forehead and looked utterly grim underneath. It took Sorel a moment to recognise him. ʹMonsieur d'Artagnan again?ʹ

Meunier snorted contemptuously and Forgeron watched the appearance of the former musketeer attentively. D'Artagnan approached them and seemed to have understood clearly what the guards were exchanging among themselves, for he showed a combatively expression. Perhaps it would have been more impressive if he had not still been adorned by a gradually fading black eye. Unconsciously, Sorel put a hand on the hilt of his sword.

D'Artagnan noticed this gesture and got a hold of himself. At the entrance to the palace, Cahusac had detained him once more. Rochefort had apparently again failed to announce that he could be admitted. After a brief exchange of words, the guardsman let him pass, today without an escort. Small wonder, since his nanny was already waiting at the study's double doors and eyed him curiously. ʹSorel.ʹ D'Artagnan greeted him with a neutral face and glanced at the other two guardsmen. Complete distrust was evident from their attitude. Great, that was how he had imagined his future life at the red guard. The next weeks would be full of serenity and pure joy for sure!

ʹMonsieur le lieutenant,ʹ Sorel replied politely, and d'Artagnan was taken aback. Lieutenant? Did they not know that from now on he had to serve as the least of them? For the moment he left it at that and asked, ʹWhere is your superior officer to find?ʹ

Sorel continued to watch him carefully. He seemed to be more shrewd than his comrades, who were stubbornly silent. Sorel, on the other hand, was able to put two and two together. ʹUnless you mean Captain Luchaire, then Jussac is in the guardroom.ʹ

D'Artagnan nodded and returned a half-hearted ʹMy thanksʹ. Yes, he meant Jussac. The cardinal's guard numbered several hundred, almost a thousand men on horseback or on foot, plus ensigns and lieutenants. But the hand-picked palace troop of 60 guardsmen, who were always present, was primarily under Jussac's command. Right after the captain, of course. ...and where was this guardroom located?

ʹI will lead you.ʹ Sorel noticed the surprised looks by his comrades and smiled apologetically. ʹEn route I might meet someone who has lost his way.ʹ

Meunier frowned, but did not comment. Forgeron also seemed to agree with Sorel's assumption that the new recruit was wandering around somewhere in the palace and had not asked his way to the meeting place. D'Artagnan waited until Sorel had taken the lead and followed half a step behind him. The young man smiled amusedly, self-confident and proud. He seemed to be at peace with the world and himself. Unlike his companion, who did not want to be reminded of whom he had been himself many, many years ago and grumpy demanded, ʹJust tell me where I have to go. I will find the guardroom on my own.ʹ

ʹCertainly, monsieur le lieutenant, you would, but I am bound by Jussac's orders.ʹ

ʹWhat orders?ʹ

ʹTo take the new recruit to him.ʹ

D'Artagnan silently congratulated himself on his reckon up of Sorel's character. The lad was a real clever. When would his shrewdness become his downfall? ʹYou will keep your mouth shut until I have spoken to Jussac!ʹ

ʹUnderstood!ʹ Sorel replied blithely. He shot the supposed lieutenant a curious side glance. D'Artagnan looked back so grimly that the young guard quickly swallowed all questions and concentrated only on the way ahead.

The guardroom also seemed to be an arsenal. While the guards carried a pistol discreetly hidden under the tunic during duty, muskets were stored in the room in case of an attack. A tiled fireplace dominated the rear wall and provided warmth, in front of it were rows of wooden tables and benches. D'Artagnan noticed that on one of the tables there lay a deck of cards, on another one a game of dice. Meals seemed to be handed out here, as a few bowls and cups left behind showed.

At the moment there was nobody on call here. Maybe the change of guards just started or the guardsmen were assembling in the yard for morning roll call. The only person sitting at one of the rear tables, close to the fireplace, absorbed in a narrow book, was the lieutenant of the regiment. D'Artagnan mutely told Sorel that he could manage the last steps without his company. The young guardsman withdrew immediately and without contradiction, apparently he still believed in the higher rank of the other.

D'Artagnan waited until the door closed behind him before stepping deeper into the lion's den. Jussac did not make a move to indicate whether he had noticed the presence of the other man. He seemed completely absorbed in his reading and did not look up even when d'Artagnan remained standing only two steps away from him.

Moments passed when the former musketeer wondered whether he should either brazenly draw attention to himself or continue to disparage himself by waiting for a sign from the gracious lieutenant. Jussac, however, only turned the page. D'Artagnan could not read the title of the book, but now he spotted a page with the anatomical drawing of a dog and some explanations. The text seemed to have been written in Latin and immediately d'Artagnan's interest hit rock bottom. He cleared his throat.

ʹHeaven forbid, who-ʹ Jussac snorted over the book, but he finished the question in disbelief, ʹ-you?!ʹ when he recognised the disturber.

D'Artagnan could not blame him. Nor was he pleased to be here, standing at attention and getting it over and done with in one quick and painless sentence. ʹReportingforduty, sir.ʹ

Jussac's look on his face was almost worth it. Consternation was too mild an expression for what spoke from his gaze. The lieutenant blinked several times and seemed to find out whether he had just understood correctly. D'Artagnan remained silent and examined a point just past the left earlobe of his new superior. A tile by the fireplace had a crack. No one moved.

Finally, Jussac very slowly put the book on the table and said with severe self-control, ʹIf this is supposed to be a joke, you are showing a very bad sense of humour, and if it is not a joke, God hates me enough by now to send you to me as a permanent nuisance.ʹ When d'Artagnan did not reply, Jussac stood up and stepped close to the other officer. ʹTell me this is a joke!ʹ

It was not the threatening undertone that kept d'Artagnan silent. Rather, there was nothing to say, the forced eye contact was enough to make Jussac understand. ʹYou have been announced by Rochefort.ʹ Without waiting for confirmation, the lieutenant brusquely turned towards the fireplace, grabbed the poker and poked into the embers. For the sake of his own health, d'Artagnan did not comment on this either. It would have been an inglorious end to be killed with a poker on the very first day. Or, in self-defence, to run a sword through his superior who now asked with gritted teeth, ʹWhat rank?ʹ