Duel at Dawn

by Kevin Berry

  “So, my new lieutenant cadet, what brings you to my accommodation at this time?” the Musketeer captain says, twirling his moustache delicately.

  “Conspiracy, Captain. Against His Majesty and the chief minister!”

  “And how do you know of this? Where did you come by this intelligence?” He gestures you to sit.

  You sit on a couch and relay your story: how you came across Gaston d’Orléans, the king’s brother, while walking along the promenade; how you saved him from drowning; how he told you his distress at his impending marriage to the duchesse de Montpensier; and how he revealed that his friends had planned a way out that put them into great danger.

  “Go on,” Monsieur de Tréville says, captivated.

  You explain that Gaston dropped a list of names when he left you, how you then followed him to a house in the city, and all that happened after.

  “That is the situation,” you conclude.

  “Have you told anyone else?”

  “No, Captain. I came straight to you.”

  “And do you still possess this list of names?”

  “Alas, no, Captain. I lost it in my misadventures.”

  “That is unfortunate, but it cannot be helped.” De Tréville rises and straps on his sword. “Quickly! We must go to the palace and inform His Majesty.”

  “Even at this time of the night?” you ask.

  “Certainly. We cannot know when the conspirators will strike. We will go to His Majesty and not leave his side until this matter is resolved.”

  He strides out of the room and down the stairs, stopping only to order his servant to round up as many Musketeers as he can and direct them to the palace.

  “Did you ride here?” the captain asks you as soon as you are outside.

  “No, Captain.”

  “We’ll walk, then. Watch out for danger on the way.”

  You set off. Paris at night is dark, with little or no street lighting anywhere. Some roads are chained up to prevent carts and horses using them. However, taverns and cabarets are bursting with life, and you pass people on the streets in ones or twos, smiling and enjoying a night out, oblivious to all but their own joy.

  Moonlight and starlight glitter off the swirling waters of La Seine as you cross Pont Neuf, though you barely take time to glance down. Minutes later, you’re at the palace.

  The gates and outer perimeter of the royal palace are protected by the Swiss Guards, a highly-trained (and well-paid) group of professional soldiers. Monsieur de Tréville stops to speak briefly to one of them, smartly dressed in his blue-edged red uniform. You don’t hear their whispered words, but you’re quickly ushered inside by the Swiss Guard and one of his companions.

  A middle-aged servant appears almost instantly.

  “We must see the king immediately!” de Tréville declares.

  “His Majesty is already in bed for the night,” the servant replied, “but if it is a matter of urgency, I will wake him.”

  “It is!” you say, before the Musketeer captain silences you with a finger to his lips. “Say no more here,” he whispers.

  “Follow me. I will take you the shortest way.” The servant leads you away from the public areas of the palace to the servants’ passageways and staircases, cutting short much of the distance. The Swiss Guards follow. After a few minutes, the servant stops outside the private rooms of Louis XIII.

  “You must speak to Henri, the Head of the King’s Wardrobe, to gain access to His Majesty’s bedchamber at this time of night,” the servant said.

  “Wait!” you say. “The Head of the King’s Wardrobe is here? Now?” You’re surprised, because only an hour ago he’d been meeting with the other conspirators.

  “He’s just returned from an evening out,” the servant said, then added quietly, “somewhat red-faced.”

  Monsieur de Tréville shoots you a quick glance, as if asking if this could be trouble. You’d told him of Henri’s involvement.

  Instead of answering, you bend your head forward and pull your hat down at such an angle as to conceal your identity. Hopefully, to Henri, the compte de Chalais, you could be any Musketeer accompanying the captain.

  “Through here.” The servant opens the door, and you and your captain enter a luxurious waiting room. Gilt-framed portraits line the walls, and gilded furniture is scattered in the room. A fire burns brightly in a hearth.

  Henri rises from his seat on the side of the room opposite the fireplace. A quick glance reveals beads of sweat on his face and neck. “How may I help you both?” he asks.

  You keep your head bowed and stand so de Tréville blocks Henri’s view of you.

  “It is imperative that we speak to His Majesty,” de Tréville demands.

  “That is impossible.” Henri steps between de Tréville and the door to the king’s bedchamber, crossing his arms. You shift position yourself, moving towards the wall, out of his line of sight.

  De Tréville stretches to his full height and places his hand upon his sword hilt. “I am the captain of His Majesty’s Musketeers, and I demand to see him immediately on a matter of importance!”

  Henri puffs his chest out. “And I am the Head of His Majesty’s Wardrobe, and I tell you that you may not!”

  “Ha!” laughs de Tréville. “I and my Musketeers are charged with protecting His Majesty’s life. You are simply charged with minding his breeches.”

  “The insolence!” shouts Henri. “You and your Musketeer can go and—where is your Musketeer?”

  While they’ve been arguing, you took the opportunity to sneak up to the door of the king’s bedchamber. As Henri turns, you raise your hat, grin at him and enter the bedroom of Louis XIII. Behind you, de Tréville barges past the compte de Chalais and orders the Swiss Guards to seize him.

  The king is sitting in his large four-poster bed, reading and sipping hot chocolate. He looks up as you enter and bow.

  “Yes, young cadet? What’s your purpose—ah, de Tréville is here as well. You must tell us what this is about.”

  De Tréville says, gesturing to you, “My lieutenant cadet here has by chance learned of a conspiracy against Your Majesty and Cardinal Richelieu.”

  “A conspiracy?” The king addresses you. “Of what nature?”

  “A plot to overthrow Your Majesty and put Gaston d’Orléans on the throne.”

  Louis stares, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly before he finally manages to say, “My own brother is involved?”

  “Not only him, Your Majesty. I saw a list of names that fell from the pocket of your brother.”

  “And do you have this list in your possession?”

  “Unfortunately not, Your Majesty. But I remember the names, and I saw them in the act of conspiring against you.” You pause. “One of them was Her Majesty.”

  Louis XIII stares at you both, gaping, his hand running through his hair. On the sideboard his hot chocolate cools, forgotten.

  “And here’s another of the scoundrels,” motions de Tréville, signaling the Swiss Guards through the open doorway. They drag a tousled Henri into the king’s bedchamber.

  Louis XIII finally finds some words. “You too, Henri?”

  “It was the duchesse de Chevreuse, Your Majesty. She’s behind it all. I am … enamored with her … and she persuaded me.”

  “Take him to the Bastille,” the king orders the Swiss Guards.

  Congratulations, this part of your story is over. You’ve joined the King’s Musketeers with your friend Tempeste. At the end of your first day as a Musketeer cadet, you relaxed by taking a walk on the promenade—and came across the king’s brother, Gaston d’Orléans, upset about his upcoming arranged marriage. After you pull him from the river, he hints that his friends are plotting treason. You secretly follow him, then barely escape when they discover you spying on their meeting. You tell your captain and the king, who is grateful that he can stop the plot before the conspirators act, and promises you a royal favor when you need one. The queen and Gaston fall from royal favor, the d
uchesse de Chevreuse flees to England, the marquis de Montlaur is thrown in prison and the unfortunate favorite, Henri, the compte de Chalais, Head of the King’s Wardrobe, faces the executioner because he’s not important enough to be forgiven.

  But what might have happened if you’d chosen another path? Paris can be a dangerous place. What other adventures lie in store in this book?

  It’s time to make a decision. Would you like to:

  Go to the list of choices and start reading from another part of the story?

  Or

  Go back to the beginning of the story and try another path?

  Tell Cardinal Richelieu about the conspiracy

  You decide to go directly to Cardinal Richelieu. At this time of the night you’re unlikely to obtain an audience with the king, whereas the cardinal is known to be ever-alert and vigilant—you wonder if he ever sleeps. Besides, he’s a target of the conspirators too.

  Watchfully, you make your way through the city streets, keeping out of the rare islands of light from occasional lanterns just in case Henri or Jean-Baptiste are still out looking for you. If they are, you don’t see them.

  Paris at night is dark and dangerous to travel alone. Some roads are chained up to prevent carts and horses using them. However, taverns and cabarets are bursting with life, and you pass people on the streets in ones or twos, smiling and enjoying a night out, oblivious to all but their own joy.

  Moonlight and starlight glitter off the swirling waters of La Seine as you cross Pont Neuf, though you barely take time to glance down. Minutes later, at about ten o’clock, you’re at the palace.

  The gates and outer perimeter of the royal palace are guarded by the Swiss Guards, a highly-trained (and well-paid) group of professional soldiers. You explain to one of them that you must speak with Cardinal Richelieu urgently. She quirks an eyebrow, possibly thinking it odd that a Musketeer would want to see the cardinal, but she lets you pass.

  Inside, a servant quickly appears and guides you through the palace to the private rooms of Cardinal Richelieu. She stops outside the door to his apartment.

  “I won’t take you any further. You need to go through there.” She hurries back the way you came.

  Should you knock or just go straight in? The hairs on the back of your neck rise, and you shiver. Cardinal Richelieu gives you the creeps.

  Before you can decide whether to knock or simply enter, the door opens, seemingly of its own accord, into a vast office. At the opposite side, with a fire burning brightly in an enormous fireplace behind him, Cardinal Richelieu sits at a massive oak desk, quill in hand. One by one, papers float up from a pile on his right-hand side, pausing in mid-air for him to sign them, before they settle in a pile on the other side of the desk.

  “Come in, cadet,” he says, without glancing at you.

  You enter. A raven stares at you from its perch on the back of a heavy oak chair beside the desk.

  The papers stop moving. Richelieu looks up. “What a surprise, a visit from a Musketeer. How can I help you, Lieutenant cadet?”

  “Your Eminence, I bring news of a plot against His Majesty and Yourself.”

  The cardinal tilts his head. So does the raven. “How do you know this?”

  “One of the conspirators hinted at it in an emotional moment.”

  “And you have proof?”

  “Only my own testimony, Your Eminence. I saw them plotting with my own eyes.”

  “Right, then. My own sources have hinted at something like this. Please, tell me everything.”

  You explain all you know, which is not a lot, but it’s enough to confirm to the cardinal that there is a conspiracy to subvert his own power and influence, and to replace Louis XIII with his brother.

  Bristling with anger, Cardinal Richelieu stands. He strides around the desk, the raven leaping to perch on his shoulder as he passes you. Turning, you see two of his Guards framing the doorway. How long they’ve been there, you don’t know.

  “Find and arrest Gaston d’Orléans and bring him to me. Take two other Guards with you. He may not be alone. Hurry! This is urgent.”

  The raven caws and the two Cardinal’s Guards leave quickly. The cardinal turns to you. Is he smirking, or is it just your imagination?

  “I must thank you, young Musketeer, for bringing this information straight to me. You could well have disrupted a plot that might have changed the course of the future of France. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “I considered it my duty, Your Eminence.”

  “I will be sure to inform Monsieur de Tréville how helpful you’ve been, and how you came straight to me with this information.” He grins even wider. “Fancy that, a Musketeer reporting to the cardinal. I hope he appreciates the irony.”

  The raven’s caw sounds like laughter.

  I’m sorry (yes, really!), this part of your story is over. You’ve had a rather short career as a Musketeer cadet. You uncovered a plot involving those closest to the king conspiring to replace him, but instead of taking this information to your commander, the captain of the King’s Musketeers, you chose instead to inform Cardinal Richelieu. Monsieur de Tréville never heard the end of it, and he did not forgive you for what he saw as a personal betrayal of loyalty. You’re dismissed from the King’s Musketeers the next morning. The Cardinal will not take you into the Cardinal’s Guards because of your questionable allegiance. You end your days as a corporal in a frontier regiment not long afterwards.

  But what would have happened if you’d gone to Monsieur de Tréville instead? Luckily for you, with a You Say Which Way adventure you can change your decision and change your fate.

  It’s time to make a decision. You have three choices. Would you like to:

  Change your last choice and go to Monsieur de Tréville instead?

  Or

  Go to the list of choices and start reading from another part of the story?

  Or

  Go back to the beginning of the story and try another path?

  Join the Cardinal’s Guards

  You’ve decided to join the Cardinal’s Guards. Sadly, you say goodbye to Tempeste. The Cardinal’s Guards and the King’s Musketeers are rivals, you won’t be able to keep up your friendship.

  It’s early afternoon, and you and Hubert decide to walk, rather than hire a fiacre, a public coach, to take you to your destination. It’s possible to walk across Paris in half an hour in good conditions if you walk quickly. However, last night’s rain has left the narrow streets muddy. The five-story tenement buildings where the poor live tower above you, leaving the way shadowy even in the afternoon. The twisted streets are also crowded, though most people step aside for you both when they see your expensive clothes and plumed hats. There are no sidewalks anywhere.

  Fifteen minutes later you arrive at Le Louvre, the royal palace. Cardinal Richelieu has offices here, being the first minister of the crown, Louis XIII’s closest advisor. The cardinal chooses the officers in his Guards carefully. He’ll have high expectations of you.

  Following instructions you received at L’Academie, you both collect your uniforms, which are fanciful. The main part of the outfit is a short, sleeveless coat made up of four separate pieces of fabric, fastened together at the neck, and hanging down the front, back and sides. These are striking in red, with white borders and a white Greek cross on each piece. Topping it off is a wide-brimmed hat with a white feather. Your trusty rapier hangs by your side.

  A servant approaches. “The cardinal will see you now. Follow me.”

  You follow her to what appears to be the offices of the cardinal. The servant takes you through a room furnished with many chairs and sofas, but little else—perhaps a waiting room of some kind. At a door on the other side, she pauses.

  “Through there,” she says.

  “Aren’t you going to announce us?” you ask.

  She shakes her head. It looks more like a shiver. “Not on my life.” She scurries away.

  Hubert gives you a questioning look, and you shrug. You
have to go inside, so you open the door and step into a richly-furnished room decorated with fine paintings, luxurious chairs and a broad oak desk.

  Cardinal Richelieu turns to face you as you enter. He is dressed the same as you are, but has a presence about him suggesting power, confidence, authority. Even the raven perched on his shoulder does not detract from that impression. The raven peers at you both and caws.

  “Ah!” he says with a twinkle in his eye. “Two cadets. I expected only one. Well, you are both now Subaltern cadets in the Cardinal’s Guards. Welcome.”

  “Thank you, Your Eminence,” you say. Hubert says nothing. Perhaps he’s still upset at his drafting into the Guards.

  Richelieu strokes his short beard. “You take orders only from me, or from a superior officer in the Guards. Understood?”

  You both nod.

  “Your duty is to serve me. When the king is ill, I control France. When the king is not ill, I still mostly control France. I’m a problem solver. There’s no problem so big that I can’t solve it somehow. Or make it go away. The Bastille prison is an excellent place for problems to go. As my new officers, you will help me solve problems. Understood?”

  “Yes, Your Eminence.” It’s irritating how he keeps saying ‘understood’. You’re not dumb.

  “Excellent. Now, there is a little ritual I like to perform with my new officers. One at a time, please. If you would kindly go and wait in the adjoining room…?” He gestures sweepingly at you.

  You oblige by going into the waiting room, wondering what the little ritual is. You pass the time by looking at portraits and paintings on the wall. Some of them are disconcerting. The eyes of one portrait seem to follow you around the room. Another painting of a violinist looks so real you at first thought it was odd that you couldn’t hear any music.

  After a few minutes, Hubert comes out. He looks strange. For a moment you can’t see what causes you to think that, but then you see that his eyes are glazed over, as if he’s looking into the far distance, unfocused, unseeing.