The Cardinal's Red Lily

When d'Artagnan reacted to this with nothing but a blank face, Rochefort added, ʹThe husband of a niece of Cardinal Richelieu.ʹ

Hardly wiser than before, d'Artagnan frowned. A nephew by marriage who, for some reason, could afford not to kowtow to the prime minister. Probably la Nièvre himself was influential and powerful enough to do so, albeit on a different level than royal court politics. Family affairs, family quarrels. What was that to d'Artagnan? ʹHe is causing trouble?ʹ

ʹHis daughter is the trouble maker,ʹ Rochefort noted succinctly. ʹOdette de la Nièvre. She has disappeared. Having previously fled an arranged marriage into the

Palais Cardinal

 under the protection of her great-uncle Richelieu.ʹ

D'Artagnan felt a slight touch of headache. Apparently the nephew had fallen out with his uncle and was pursuing a marriage policy against Richelieu through his own daughter. ʹMonseigneur did not agree to this proposed marriage either, so he granted protection?ʹ

ʹAstutely detected.ʹ

ʹGet to the point!ʹ

Rochefort waited for the cardinal to give his approval, then finally declared, ʹYou shall find us the mademoiselle again.ʹ

ʹ...in the red guard.ʹ For a moment the musketeers' lieutenant saw the image of a girl dressed as a soldier. Before he could decide whether to find such a masquerade either ridiculous or brave, Rochefort again disturbed his thoughts. ʹThe mademoiselle has a mind of her own and no longer wanted to be a guest here. She was not abducted, we already know that much. No, she voluntarily went into hiding somewhere in Paris to escape all influence - both from her father and the cardinal. We suspect she was receiving help from the palace when she disappeared.ʹ

ʹI see.ʹ D'Artagnan could no longer refrain from a mocking smile. ʹThe master spy cannot find the spy among his own ranks.ʹ

The cardinal remained silent and Rochefort ignored the last remark. ʹThis is where you come in. His Eminence's guard is always present in the palace. The best excuse for you to be here and ask around.ʹ

It was a convincing argument, but d'Artagnan still doubted the plan. ʹWill it be sufficient to find the mademoiselle's friends? I would like to keep my stay in the guard and in the

Palais Cardinal

 as short as possible.ʹ

ʹIt will take as long as it takes.ʹ At last Richelieu spoke again, and despite his frail health, he did not lack authority. ʹYour reward will not be small.ʹ

ʹThe musketeers?ʹ

ʹYes.ʹ

ʹMe as their new captain-lieutenant?ʹ

ʹPossibly.ʹ

ʹMercy for Tréville?ʹ

ʹA good word with His Majesty.ʹ

D'Artagnan remained thoughtfully silent. The offer was good, very good indeed. It was more than he could have hoped for. Rochefort had not promised the moon in this respect. Finding a rebellious young woman again did not seem to be too difficult of a task. There must have had been a catch somewhere. One that he could not see at all.

The lieutenant's period of reflection seemed to have elapsed, as the prime minister was now calling for a decision. ʹWell?ʹ

ʹYes.ʹ D'Artagnan bowed his head resigned to fate and wondered for a moment that it had not been cut off right away. When he lifted his gaze again, his head still sat on his neck intactly, yet there was little benevolence in Richelieu's next words. ʹYou are hereby called up in my guard. You will assume the rank of common soldier.ʹ

ʹWhat...?ʹ Before d'Artagnan could fully comprehend this shocking opening, the prime minister continued harshly, ʹYou are demoted until I decide that you have proven your worth. No more pub brawls. You will learn discipline!ʹ

Rochefort suddenly found himself next to his friend and put a reassuring hand on his arm before d'Artagnan would have risked his head after all. ʹStart at the bottom and you will have more room for manoeuvre in your investigations than as an officer. Do you understand?ʹ

The question was asked so urgently that the degraded lieutenant slowly nodded without thinking. The cardinal had once given him the officer's licence, the cardinal had taken it away from him again. He listend to Richelieu's ʹReport to your superior officer for duty tomorrow morningʹ, as if frozen.

ʹYes, sir.ʹ D'Artagnan forgot the salute when he abruptly turned on his heel and marched out of the study without looking back.

V - Comrades

Rochefort had to admit that d'Artagnan had surprised him. The Gascon had not only chosen the sensible way and agreed to the trade; no, not a single unseemly curse had passed his lips! Even Richelieu seemed to be surprised the outcome when he now turned to his stable master. ʹDeliver the papers to him belated!ʹ

Rochefort bowed and took the conscription order for d'Artagnan. As quickly as the former musketeer had stormed off after this conversation, he had left out the official part with sign and seal altogether. This gave Rochefort the opportunity to discuss some more details with the newest guardsman in private. ʹI shall give him a few hours to calm down.ʹ

ʹInform Captain Luchaire.ʹ The cardinal leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He did not allow himself any more rest then that. ʹOnly what is absolutely necessary. He is a good administrator and a brilliant strategist, but he does not need to know everything.ʹ

ʹUnderstood.ʹ Rochefort kept a furtive doubt about this instruction to himself. D'Artagnan was on his own in his investigation - and about to take his new place in the guard. ʹIs there a deadline for finding Mademoiselle de la Nièvre?ʹ

ʹHer father is aware of the situation.ʹ

Rochefort nodded. This probably meant that for the time being, the Duke of Nièvre was going to lay low and entrusted the search to the cardinal's men. Richelieu opened his eyes again, the short rest had let him at least gain some colour on his face. Rochefort's worried expression seemed to annoy him and he waved him out with a final command. ʹTell d'Artagnan about all details you consider to be important.ʹ

ʹMonseigneur.ʹ Rochefort confirmed the instructions and left the study. Outside the door, he paused to reflect. Details that he himself considered important? Richelieu seemed to want to give his stable master plenty of rope. Good. He could approach a first detail right here and now in the palace.

It was not far to the guardroom, and Rochefort did not even have to walk all the way to it; barely turned a few corners, he met Bernajoux, Biscarat and Jussac at the gallery level. These were exactly the men he had been looking for. Or at least one of them, the lieutenant. Normally, the three inseparable friends knew each other's whereabouts at all times, so Rochefort only had to find one of them at his post to ask about Jussac.

The three red guards stood by one of the columns and seemed to have a comradely conversation before they had to go off to their duties. Everyone could easily see that the men were very familiar with each other. Hardly a word, hardly a gesture was needed for them to understand each other. Just now, they were laughing together, patting each other on the back and seemed to take all the time in the world to themselves.

Rochefort watched the trio. Bernajoux was the most taciturn of them, who only interspersed single words to the conversation. He outdid his friends by almost a head and enjoyed the reputation of being a true wrangler. Whenever one had heard of a duel against musketeers, Bernajoux had certainly been there. The scuffles had left visible marks, which told more than any words. Biscarat often made fun of him, saying that if he was only half as dexterous in speech as he was with his blade, no dame could resist him. But with that scarred face, alas!, he would only be half a Lancelot, not yet disfigured enough to be fascinating to women.

Speaking of Biscarat! Like d'Artagnan, he, too, originated from Gascony. His Spanish mother had inherited not only particularly dark and beautiful eyes to him, but also a strict Catholicism in the land of the cathars and

fin'amor

. His knowledge of the Spanish language and customs often earned him important missions when Rochefort was absent. However, Biscarat was fully satisfied to be a guardsmen and only occasionally a spy, diplomat or simply an interpreter.

Jussac was very pleased with this attitude, as it meant that he did not lose one of his best men to Rochefort. The lieutenant proudly wore the uniform of the guards. It had become a second skin for him over the years, which he could not remove. He would not have wanted it either, the cardinal's guard was always on duty and vigilant. The commanders of other regiments often tried to poach Jussac, luring him with promotions and numerous privileges. Jussac always refused, his loyalty was to Richelieu, and the cardinal rewarded him with respect for his merits and an increase in pay. Jussac bore a lot of responsibility and frequently had a scowl on his face, especially when he saw His Eminence's stable master approaching. Like at that very moment.

ʹJussac!ʹ Rochefort ignored the barely restrained sighing of the lieutenant. It meant no disrespect to him, but was due to the experience that the stable master's appearance usually meant trouble for the guard.

ʹRochefort!ʹ Jussac called back in an enthusiastic tone, as if he had stood at attention at every ʹJump to it!ʹ This could have been interpreted as pomposity, but Jussac was purely and simply not under Rochefort's command; every now and then he had to remind the stable master of this.

Rochefort passed the group and briefly waved at Jussac to accompany him. Questioning looks were exchanged behind his back. Bernajoux and Biscarat seemed to suspect that Rochefort seriously meant business if he did not respond to the usual teasing between Jussac and himself. The lieutenant told the two friends to wait for him and then followed the stable master to a servants' entrance. There he asked, ʹWhat is so urgent?ʹ

However, Rochefort did not immediately give an explanation and Jussac frowned. He felt mocked, especially since Rochefort now exaggeratedly peered in all directions to see if they were alone. Of course they were not. In this palace, there was always someone around and gossiped later. Very in control, the lieutenant said, ʹThe change of guard is waiting.ʹ

Rochefort finally relaxed and thus, Jussac got even more annoyed. The matter could not be that important and serious after all, if the stable master had time for unnecessary secrecy. As usual, Rochefort did not get to the point immediately, but vaguely beat about the bush. ʹI have an important request to you.ʹ

ʹA... request?ʹ That sounded personal. Jussac looked at his vis-à-vis with new attention. Rochefort seemed calm, but the lieutenant had known him for too many years not to be sceptical. ʹNot an order? Really?ʹ

ʹYes. I have a favour to ask you.ʹ

ʹWhat, me?ʹ Jussac made no secret of his astonishment and improved himself; it had to be very important to Rochefort when he asked him a

favour

. ʹFor you?ʹ

ʹFor me.ʹ

Silence fell after this. For long moments, the men stared at each other observantly. When Jussac finally realised that no further explanation would follow, he threw his hands up and exclaimed, ʹYes, heavens! So if it lies within my powers, I will do you a favour! Without knowing beforehand what it is about.ʹ

ʹTrust me, it is in your power.ʹ The stable master smiled a touch too smug. ʹEspecially in yours,

monsieur le lieutenant

.ʹ

ʹNow tell me, what is this all about?ʹ the said lieutenant snorted and was secretly relieved to be mucked around with by Rochefort as usual. This probably meant that the cardinal had not yet met his God and would have left his pitiful creatures to their own devices.

ʹStarting from tomorrow, the guard will have a new man in its ranks.ʹ

Such announcements were usually not delivered by Rochefort. There had to be more to it than that. ʹSomeone you know?ʹ

ʹA... friend.ʹ Rochefort outweighed the clear hesitation in his words by quickly adding, ʹI ask you to keep an eye on him.ʹ

Jussac nodded slowly. ʹAs a commanding officer? I can do that.ʹ He had a watchful eye on each of his men anyway, like the mother hen on her chicks. In these matters, he was in no way inferior to a Captain Tréville, and one more guardsman would be of no consequence. But Jussac suspected that he would soon be in trouble because Rochefort suddenly turned an otherwise self-evident task in a personal favour.

ʹThank you. I am in your debt.ʹ The stable master indeed bowed his head gratefully and unusually relieved, which made Jussac not one bit wiser than before, but all the more angry. ʹYes, damn it! You

are

 in my debt and not for the first time! But far too often I forgot to make you pay. One of these days, Rochefort!ʹ

ʹI will keep that in mind. Maybe.ʹ Before Jussac could get angry again, Rochefort turned to leave, but not without dropping a final remark. ʹYou can meet our newest guardsman tomorrow by His Eminence's study before roll call.ʹ

ʹMe personally?!ʹ

ʹPart of the favour!ʹ threw Rochefort back over his shoulder before he left behind a lieutenant who was as baffled as he was annoyed. It was only after he had blinked vigorously that Jussac came up with an appropriate response to this insolence. The stable master had long been gone by then, and so Bernajoux and Biscarat got the whole whim of their superior when he stomped back to them, muttering curses.

ʹRochefort?ʹ asked Bernajoux in his usual short manner and Jussac growled between his teeth, ʹCertainly, Rochefort.ʹ

ʹWhat did he want this time?ʹ Biscarat found more words, even if that made him the target of Jussac's wrath. ʹYou've to ask that?!ʹ

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

ʹWh