by Amy Wolof
“You both know,” I said, “what the captain would do. Did he not give guineas to soldiers whom Charles spat on? Risk his life to secure the Treaty? Set out for Somerset the minute he felt he had to?”
Aventis nodded slowly.
“Megs is right,” he said. “Jeffries gave his life in vain in an unwinnable war. Still, with his sense of honor, he would have attempted a rescue. And so we must in his name.”
“Aventis,” I said, “this time, we will all be united. James sought to spare his nephew, so we are on the same side. And, I think, after Sedgemoor, that Monmouth has learned his lesson.”
“Yes,” said Aventis. “He would be mad to rebel again.”
“Still, he must be watched,” said Carnatus. I could see his eyes shine at the thought of a new adventure. “After his release, I mean.”
I smiled broadly. We were all now fully on board!
“Now, we must resolve the key question,” I said.
“Where he is held,” said Aventis.
I nodded.
“Three people,” said Aventis, “besides James and Louis, know. There is the Palatine and that traitor Musketeer.”
“Who is the third?” I asked.
“Simple,” he said. “His gaoler.”
The Four Musketeers
Frances was inconsolable as our group—now numbering five—strode down the street toward Moll’s.
“I am coming!” she cried, with a stubbornness I could recognize.
“No,” I insisted. “You are not yet thirteen, and the peril is high.”
“Yet, Charles told me you were just a few years older when you began your career.”
Damn!
“That is so,” I said, “but I fled my ‘home’ for a reason. You have a safe place to stay where you are highly esteemed.”
As we entered Moll’s house in a body, Frances looked up at Aventis.
“Father?” she asked sweetly.
Ah ha! I might be an untutored parent, but this practice was known to me: the Roman divide and conquer!
“Aventis,” I said, my tone veiling an unspoken threat.
“Frances,” he said, bending down, “your mother and I are agreed. An adventure of this sort is no place for a young lady.”
“How about a young man?” asked Charles.
“Not on your life!” yelled Moll, giving his ear a tweak.
“Ow!”
“Both of you—” she ordered, taking on Jeffries’s strict air as she pointed at the two youngsters. “Into the kitchen, directly!”
Both marched off with long faces while our band prepared to depart. I turned to Moll.
“Please tell Frances that we love her,” I said, “and will be back before she knows it.”
“Of course,” said Moll. “Do not worry yourself, for Charles and I will protect her.”
I nodded, then turned to my friends.
“Shall we?” I asked.
Carnatus, Aventis, and I were soon on our horses, the Cleveland Bays nickering at their reunion. I shared their elation, for once we reached Shooter’s Hill, I felt all the joy I had missed while riding alone.
“We head to Dover, then?” I asked Aventis.
He nodded.
“Ah,” sighed Carnatus, at the sight of a rich coach, “now that we are together, I have a fancy to draw my pistol!”
Aventis smiled.
“I admit the urge is strong,” he said, “but we must recall our mission.”
“Spoken like Jeffries,” I said. “You are our leader now. Only you have the cunning to outwit our prisoner’s guards.”
“How hard can it be?” asked Carnatus. “They are French—give them some wine!”
Aventis and I laughed. We rode side-by-side in silence until Dover came into view. Our usual stables agreed to take the horses.
“It is nearly dawn,” said Aventis, as four peals rang out. “Shall we make for an inn or wait by the harbor?”
“I choose the latter,” I said, to Carnatus’s great annoyance. His hopes of a hearty breakfast evanesced like the fog. Instead, we tramped to the sliver of beach just below the castle, where he let out a deep sigh.
“I must say,” said Carnatus, “I miss our days as smugglers. Do you not, Megs?”
“As much as the Dover gaol,” I answered.
Carnatus laughed, then dropped like a huge lead ball to the beach’s hard shingle. Spreading out his scarlet coat, he was asleep in a minute.
“Same Carnatus,” I said to Aventis, as we watched the moon peek palely from behind a cloud.
“Whether a fowl or die, he will be on top of it.”
“Or some poor woman,” I said, “to sire another child.”
We both shook our heads, my thoughts turning to our own daughter.
“What do you make of Frances?” I asked. “You have not seen her since she was a babe.”
“She is everything I hoped,” he said. “Stubborn like you, but with my education.”
“I thank you,” I said. “I think.”
“I meant it as praise,” he said, “for it is only your will which has kept you alive for so long. And, God willing, will do so for years to come.”
I rested my head on his shoulder.
“I am glad we have Frances,” I said.
“As am I.”
He gave me a loving look, then bent to kiss my cheek.
“Is that all?” I teased.
Taking my words to heart, he pushed off is hat, bent me back in his arms, and gave me such kisses on the lips that it aroused a passion I thought I could no longer feel.
“When our mission is done,” he whispered, “we will all be together. Not as robbers or fugitives, Papist or Protestant, but a real family. That is my vow to you.”
It sounded like a dream spun from the clouds above, but, for the moment, I wanted to believe.
Dropping my arms to the small of his back, I held him as close as I could. I believe we stayed that way until a feeble sun rose and lit the castle’s turrets. The white cliffs behind us shone like polished pearl.
Aventis pulled away first and prodded the snoring Carnatus with the hilt of his sword.
“Up, you,” he cried. “Or I fire a warning shot!”
“What’s for breakfast?” asked Carnatus, raising his bulk with effort.
“We must sup on ship’s biscuit and beer,” said Aventis.
“The beer I quite approve, but sailors’ hard biscuit . . .?” Carnatus looked distressed. “At least there is France,” he mumbled.
Aventis nodded while shifting his gaze to the tall masts in the harbor. He crunched across the beach and made for a tall, sturdy ship; then paid our passage as he motioned us onboard.
“Ah, the sea!” cried Carnatus as our vessel set out.
I hid a smile as I recalled his other crossings—spent leaning over the side.
“I suppose I don’t mind it,” I said, “so long as the weather is fair.”
“Amen!” cried Carnatus, causing Aventis to frown.
“None of your Papist glares, priest!”
Aventis just shrugged.
“While we are underway,” he said, “I shall think up a plan.”
Carnatus and I passed the time eating biscuits while he complained. Yet again, we arrived at Calais to walk on her crumbling pier.
“Where to?” I asked Aventis.
“Paris.”
I thought I had a notion of what he had in mind.
“Shall we ride or go by coach?” I asked.
“I opt for a meal nearby,” said Carnatus, “then hire a coach so we may travel in style.”
“Would we not have more liberty on horse?” I asked.
“Let us compromise,” said Aventis. “A light breakfast at an inn, then to the ostler for horses. Unsure where our trail may lead, we best traverse it alone.”
Carnatus nodded.
Of course, it was not practicable for him to have a “light” meal. The feasts at Versailles must have paled against the quantity of food he consum
ed. With a bottle or two of French wine, he declared himself satisfied.
“Your poor steed,” I told him, after we had secured our mounts.
“He will be fine,” said Carnatus, as we loped down the road. “He is big and fat like me!”
Like a well-drilled corps, we managed to put behind us some twenty leagues a day. After stopping at auberges (where Carnatus snored through the night), we came to Paris at midday. The magic of the buildings still held me, but Aventis, like Jeffries before him, would not permit any gawking.
“Where to now?” I asked, when we had halted our mounts before what looked like an old palace. “Saint-Cloud?”
The thought of accosting la Palatine somehow made me smile.
“We begin with lesser prey,” said Aventis as he urged his horse to walk. “If you were a Musketeer, what is the best place to find you?”
I spread my hands. To be honest, I knew nothing of these French guards.
“I should say—” said Carnatus, eyeing some pretty French women, “—their headquarters. I assume there is one in Paris.”
“Indeed,” said Aventis. “It is at 15 Rue du Bac, not far from the Seine. I asked our last kind innkeep while you two were dreaming upstairs.”
I began to color but stopped myself and shrugged. Aventis was now in charge and had acted exactly right. Carnatus and I trailed him over a wide-spanning bridge which was not far from a second. He bade us halt before a rough wooden structure. Dismounting, we entered a sort of barracks. I noted that straw was everywhere, the air heavy with garlic.
“I don’t suppose that Frances caught that captain’s name?”
Aventis turned to me as we moved past Musketeers. They all wore the same blue tunic as la Palatine’s friend.
“Alas, no,” I said, tipping my hat to one of them, though I received no reply.
Dam’d arrogant Frenchmen, I thought. With my normal restraint, I wanted to run them through!
I saw Aventis address an older guard. As he discoursed in French, I turned to Carnatus.
“No luck,” he said. “This corporal does not know the fellow.”
“Odd,” I mumbled. How many Musketeers were there? Hundreds, at most? With how many captains among them?
Our band filed out, unsatisfied, though I was glad to be back in the light. How dreary those barracks were! While the king lived like a god at his ever-expanding Versailles.
“Soldiers always come last,” I said, thinking of Jeffries.
Aventis nodded.
“That is often the case.”
“Now what?” asked Carnatus as he rested against a post. “Shall we wait and see if our man enters or exits?”
Aventis shrugged.
“I can think of no other plan,” he said. “For now, we adopt the posture of naive English rustics.”
I had already played this role!
I, along with my friends, gaped at that old palace, then the bridge under construction; and, at the last, nearly fell over ourselves as we spied an ancient cathedral.
“Touristes!” sniffed a Musketeer, striding past with a sneer.
Carnatus reached for his sword but Aventis shook his head.
“Patience,” he said.
Though he rolled his eyes, Carnatus complied. We loitered before those barracks for the next four hours, and I confess that by late afternoon, I wished to abandon my post. Had we come all this way merely to bask in the French sun?
Just when I turned to Aventis, about to urge our departure, I saw four Musketeers slam their way out of their barracks. It was clear from their loud, slurred voices that they had been drinking—quite a bit. Since they walked close together, it took time from me to study them: No, not that one—too short; nor the fair one—too light. The third looked as big as Carnatus, and, by his side . . . I nudged Aventis.
“That is he,” I hissed. “The Musketeer of Saint-Cloud!”
Aventis approached the four in a friendly manner.
“Bonne soirée à vous messieurs,” he said with a bow. “Une bonne nuit, n'est-ce pas?”
“Étranger sale!” cried the short Musketeer. “Un de ces Protestants barbares!”
“He is not!” Carnatus roared, unsheathing his sword at last. “He’s as Catholic as you are, dotard!”
And so the battle began. We were at a slight disadvantage, but the Musketeers’ sodden state certainly did them no favors.
“Dam’d Frogs!” I cried, glad to be fighting again.
“Les rosbifs!” my foe taunted.
“That is what I shall turn you into,” I yelled, “and serve you with peas and carrots!” Remembering Aventis’s lessons, I leapt atop a hitching post and delivered a feint from above.
“Ah!” cried my fair Musketeer, scarlet staining his sleeve. “Je suis tué!”
“You are not!” said Carnatus as he took the hilt of his sword and tumbled the captain into a trough of water. That gentleman began to sputter.
“Two down; two to go!” I remarked, engaging the short one, who, to be just, had considerable skill with the blade. The clash of steel-on-steel rang onto the street as we carried our fight there. Yet, since we were of similar height, neither could gain the advantage.
“Take this!” I yelled, and, using that trough as a ballast, delivered such a strike that the Musketeer fell.
“Monsieur,” I called, bending over his prostrate form. “Monsieur, are you alive?”
To my relief, he groaned, but I was soon distracted by a mighty duel to my left. Aventis faced the huge Musketeer who was Carnatus’s equal. As I watched, out of breath, Aventis slashed with fury, nearly landing a blow on the giant’s broad chest. Yet, despite his size, this foe was damnably agile, and managed, each time Aventis stabbed, to dance away from his steel. Despite my friend’s great skill, his breath was becoming labored.
“Help him!” I cried to Carnatus. “You are a far better match!”
Carnatus stepped between the two combatants.
“Now, you will die,” he told his double, “for you are a Frogish dullard!”
What proceeded was a strange contest: like watching two mountains trade blows. Neither man would give way as they exchanged a flurry of hits. I saw Carnatus, rarely outmatched, actually tremble with rage. At that moment, I knew what I must do.
“Stop playing with him!” I yelled. “Carnatus, he is a commoner! Son of a servant, no doubt.”
Carnatus went red in the face. Sweeping aside his coat, he first sidestepped his foe, then delivered a stab to his side.
“Ahh!” the Musketeer cried, clutching his wound as he fell. All I saw was a whirl of blue and silver.
“Thanks to God,” said Aventis, his breath returned to normal. “Carnatus, what took you so long?”
“I was dunking the captain,” he said.
This became even clearer as I pulled the man from his trough. Every part of his body was soaked, along with the plumes of his hat. As he bent forward to cough, I hammered his back with my fists so he could spit out mouthfuls of liquid.
“M-merci,” he gasped, rising.
“Recovered?” I asked, none too gently. “Monsieur, if you please, we would like a word.”
With his companions strewn in the dirt, he could hardly dissent.
“Aventis,” I said. “Would you care to question the captain?”
“No need,” said the man haughtily. “I speak your rosbif tongue.”
“I’m about to cut yours off!” roared Carnatus.
I held him back with a hand. Motioning with my sword, I led the captain, Carnatus, and Aventis across the street from the barracks and away from Musketeer ears.
“What is your name?” I asked the captain.
“Leclerc.”
“We have met before, monsieur. Do you not recall?”
“No, I—” he slammed a hand on his dripping hat brim. “You! The Anglais! From the Princess’s garden.”
“In fact, it belongs to Monsieur,” I said. “But tell me, Captain Leclerc, what interest does the Duke of Monmouth hold
for your Palatine friend?”
He blanched, then walked a few steps before that ancient church.
“How did you . . .?” he started, then, seeing Carnatus pat his flintlock, made sure to answer. “She is a Catholic convert, and they are often more zealous than those born into the faith.”
“True,” said Aventis.
“She was shocked,” Leclerc went on, “by Monmouth’s rebellion and thought your king mad for sparing him. So she has decided—how do you say?—to see that justice is done.”
“Women,” growled Carnatus.
I gave him a glare.
“This one is worse than fifty,” said Leclerc. “Used to having her way. And she knows that Monsieur will never challenge his brother.”
“Hence, the Musketeers,” said Aventis.
We were heading toward the large bridge, its white stones as ancient as any in France. Aventis stopped before one end and addressed Leclerc.
“We will allow you to cross,” he said, “if you but obey two strictures.”
The captain’s moustache fell.
“First, you will reveal where Monmouth is being held. Second, you will swear as a Musketeer that neither you nor your fellows will take steps to impede us.”
Leclerc, still sopping, looked truly unhappy.
“But the-the princess,” he stammered, “her temper! She can spear a wild boar with but a single throw!”
“What is worse,” asked Aventis. “The wrath of a single woman, or of three . . . acclaimed high tobymen?”
“I-I see,” said the captain. “May I have a moment to think?”
“No!” roared Carnatus. “Or I shall cut you to pieces!”
His words were accompanied by the sound of unleashed steel.
“Very well,” said Leclerc. He gave us the name of the duke’s prison, which meant nothing to me. Then, he promised: “I swear upon my honor that I will not follow you.”
“And your friends?” prodded Aventis.
“They too will be bound by my word. I swear, Anglais, no Musketeer here will stand in your way.”
“We shall see,” said Aventis. “For now, you may be on your way.” Stepping aside from the bridge, he allowed Leclerc to pass. “Now,” he said, looking straight at me, “we must think of a way to reach Monmouth.”
“Well,” I sighed, “last time he hid in a pea field. This time should be easier—at least now, we know his location.”