Sarah D'Almeida - Dying by the Sword

“My edicts…” He opened his hands, in a show of helplessness. “I do what I can, Monsieur le Comte, for France. I would keep her young men alive. I would keep them from dying in senseless duels.”

“You would keep the young noblemen incapable of defending their own honor,” Athos countered, parrying expertly. “Till all they can do is put an end to their own lives.”

“On the contrary. Their lives will be better than ever. They are encouraged to come to court. The king’s palace shall be the most glittering gathering in the house.”

“To the court where they can be kept dangling, hoping for royal largesse. In other days they would have been supported by their own domains, and remained there, making sure their domains were taken care of as they should be.”

“Ah, you can’t blame me if not everyone’s mind is of a provincial turn.”

“I can blame you when everyone’s mind takes a mercantile tone.”

“Objections to wealth, Monsieur le Comte? Is it because you have none? Perhaps the cousin who has charge of your estates needs to be replaced by yourself? Perhaps it is time, enfin, to return home.”

“I will let you know when I feel such a desire,” Athos said. And managed a smile through his tight lips. “And until then, perhaps we can discuss Boniface?”

“Boniface?” Richelieu asked. And he’d got Athos angry enough that Athos enjoyed the shock and surprise behind the word.

“Certainly,” Athos said. “Porthos’s servant. Boniface is his given name, only changed to Mousqueton by Porthos, who thought Boniface didn’t quite fit such a belligerent master.”

“Indeed. Monsieur du Vallon and his reasoning are ever such a delight.”

“Indeed they are. He often sees through things other men take for granted. I would not disdain him.”

“Disdain him? Monsieur le Comte, you injure me. I’d never underestimate any of you.” He narrowed his eyes. “You are all such different temperaments and have such complementary abilities. And yet, you’re also versatile and so often exchange roles. Take you… I’d have said if you needed guile and planning, you’d have provided yourself with an escort more capable at such. Your friend Chevalier D’Herblay. Or perhaps that young cunning Gascon. So why alone?”

“Because, your eminence,” Athos said, inclining his head in a perfunctory bow and, tired of sitting while his foe stood, standing in turn, “I have not come with guile. Or with any complicated plan. I have, in fact, come to offer your eminence my services.”

“Your services?” Richelieu said, and now sounded completely shocked. He couldn’t have looked any more surprised had Athos grown a second head right there, in front of him. “Do you mean to tell me…” His hand reached for the chair opposite the one that Athos had just vacated, and held onto it, as if for support. “That you are ready to abandon Monsieur de Treville’s service, and you chose mine instead?” He looked up at Athos’s face with a speculative, evaluating look. “I’m honored beyond my deserts, but won’t your friends resent it? Won’t they think some pressure must have been brought on you to change allegiance so dramatically? Are you doing it for the freedom of this… what is his baptismal name? Ah, yes, Boniface? Because if you are, noble though it is, I must tell you, the exchange is a bit high, a count for a servant.”

Athos should have been offended. Athos was offended. That he would consider trading the allegiance to Monsieur de Treville, who guarded the King himself; that he would ever think of letting the Cardinal put his stamp on him. Richelieu must be mad. Only of course he wasn’t. What he was doing was trying to anger Athos, to see what lay behind the hand Athos clutched to his chest. And Athos, unlucky at cards though he might be, was not such a bad strategist. “No, your eminence. Considering all the good people in your service, Monsieur de Rochefort and all those fine sword fighters-what is the name of the one that D’Artagnan wounded two days ago? I can’t quite remember, but I hope he’s doing well. Has he recovered from his wound?”

The Cardinal’s face betrayed only the slightest hint of annoyance before closing into a placid look. “No. If you mean Herve, poor fellow, his Maker has called him home.”

“Oh. You have my sympathy. The poor man. And twice D’Artagnan’s age too. But at least he’ll be joining his comrade who helped him fight D’Artagnan and who died of his wounds at the scene of the duel.”

The Cardinal made a gesture of impatience, hastily suppressed. “But if you haven’t come to offer me your services, may I ask…”

“But I have come to offer you my services,” Athos said. “I said so.” He lifted a hand, as he saw Richelieu open his mouth. “No, pray, allow me to explain. I came to offer my services, but without leaving Monsieur de Treville’s service. No, before you seek to insult me by insinuating I am willing to spy for you, let me stop you. There are insults, your eminence, that will make me forget that you’ve given up your sword.”

“I trust your honor better than that, Monsieur le Comte. You would not kill an unarmed man.”

“I wouldn’t trust my honor, Monsieur le Cardinal. I am, in fact, human, and flesh and blood can only stand so much.”

The Cardinal inclined his head. “I won’t accuse you of wishing to play a double role, then,” he said. “At any rate, it is more likely that your friend Aramis or your friend D’Artagnan would succeed at such a game. But if you want to take up my service without giving up Monsieur de Treville’s, what else am I to understand? I have enough people to guard entrances and doors, and if you mean that you’ll stand such a sort of double shift, again, much as I regret to tell you, it is not the thing that is worth the life of a servant who murdered someone.”

Athos wasn’t about to argue that Mousqueton hadn’t murdered anyone. At any rate, he would bet that Richelieu knew that already. Instead, he inclined his head, and looked at the pattern of the carpet upon the floor for a while before speaking. “No, no. While I am a good guard, I claim no particular acuity. After all, it was past my guard that the Duchess de Dreux was murdered. Forbid the thought that your eminence should likewise succumb to murder while I guarded the entrance.”

Richelieu shuddered, the shudder unmistakable, then focused his gaze on Athos, with renewed sharpness. “So you know of the conspiracy to kill me. I assume Treville told you so. And Treville being Treville, and no more likely to understand conspiracy or plotting than you are, I presume he foolishly told you that I am holding Mous-ah, Boniface, to get the Queen to confess to her part in the conspiracy.” He raised eyebrows at Athos. “Do you play chess, Monsieur le Comte?”

“No, your eminence. My father did. You remind me a great deal of him.”

This got him a quizzical look. Then the Cardinal shrugged, minimally. “Ah? Very well. However, I am sure you know that a Queen is worth more than a pawn. The trade won’t be made.”

“I quite understand,” Athos said. He allowed his more typical smile, tinged with a good deal of bitterness to elongate his lips into a smile. “I am not one of those who reposes a great deal of belief in the natural benevolence of women.”

A long enquiring look back, and Richelieu opened his hands wide, not quite in a show of helplessness, but more as though he were laying out a hand of imaginary cards. “What, then, do you propose to do?” he asked. “I have something you want-that is your servant back. And you have, presumably, something to offer me in return, else your coming in like this and wishing to deal would seem even more foolish than it is.”

Athos allowed a dry chuckle to escape him, without betraying the slightest expression of amusement. “A good description of the situation, your eminence. And the only answer I can make is that I’ve come to strike a bargain with the devil.”