The Cardinal's Blades Part 27

The problem was that Ballardieu was nowhere to be found and she could not imagine herself trailing Castilla around Paris at night in her slippers and evening gown. If only Marciac deigned to reappear!

Agnes cursed silently.

"Is there a problem?" madame de Sovange asked her.

"No, madame. None at all.... Isn't that monsieur Castilla who is just leaving?"

"Yes, indeed it is. Do you know him?"

"Would you happen to know where the marquis is?"

"No."

Masking her anxiety, the young woman returned to the salon, ignoring Chauvigny, who smiled at her from afar, searching for Marciac. She pa.s.sed before a window and caught sight of Castilla, crossing the porch. At least he was on foot....

The Gascon, finally, appeared at a door.

Given the circ.u.mstances, Agnes paid no heed to the grave expression on his face.

She caught him by an elbow.

"Good grief, Marciac! Where have you been?"

"Me ... ? I-"

"Castilla was here. He just left!"

"Castilla?" replied Marciac as if hearing the name for the first time.

"Yes, Castilla! d.a.m.n it, Marciac, pay attention!"

Eyes closed, the Gascon took a deep breath.

"All right," he finally replied. "What do you wish from me?"

"He left the mansion on foot. If no one is waiting for him in the street with a carriage or a horse, you can still catch him. He was dressed as a cavalier with a red plume on his hat. See where he goes. And don't let him get away!"

"Understood."

Marciac headed off, watched from behind by Agnes.

The young baronne remained pensive for a moment. Then, seized by a doubt, she pushed open the door through which the Gascon had just emerged. It led to a windowless antechamber, lit by a few candles.

Busy nibbling from a plate of almond paste sweets, La Rabier greeted Agnes with a polite, reserved nod of her head.

21.

The same night, Saint-Lucq saw Rochefort in an antechamber within the Palais-Cardinal. They exchanged a brief nod of the head, each taking note of the other's presence without further ado. It was a salute between two professionals who knew one another but were otherwise indifferent to each other.

"He's waiting for you," said the cardinal's henchman. "Don't bother to knock."

He seemed to be in a hurry, no doubt on his way to another errand. The half-blood stepped past him, but waited until he was alone to remove his red spectacles, adjust his attire, and open the door before him.

He entered.

The room was high-ceilinged, long, silent, sumptuous, and almost completely plunged into shadow. At the far end of the vast study lined with precious books, beyond the chairs, desks, and other furniture whose shapes and lacquered surfaces could barely be discerned, the candles of two silver candelabras cast an ochre light over the worktable at which Richelieu was sitting, his back to a splendid tapestry.

"Come closer, monsieur de Saint-Lucq. Come closer."

Saint-Lucq obeyed, crossing the hall to reach the light.

"It has been a while since we last saw one another, has it not?"

"Yes, monseigneur."

"Monsieur Gaget is a very capable intermediary. What do you make of him?"

"He is both discreet and competent."

"Would you say he is loyal?"

"Most men are loyal for as long as they have no interest in betrayal, monseigneur."

Richelieu smiled briefly.

"Inform me, then, of the progress of your mission, monsieur de Saint-Lucq. The comte de Rochefort is concerned that the days are pa.s.sing by. Days which, according to him, are running short for us...."

"Here," said the half-blood, holding out the page torn long ago from an old register of baptisms.

The cardinal took it, unfolded it, drew it closer to a candle in order to decipher the faded ink, and then carefully placed it in a leather satchel.

"Have you read it?"

"No."

"You have succeeded in just three days when I believed the task impossible. Please accept my congratulations."

"Thank you, monseigneur."

"How did you manage it?"

"Does Your Eminence wish to know the details?"

"Just the essentials."

"The Grand Coesre told me where and by whom the notary Bailleux was being held captive. I freed him and led him to believe we were being hunted by those who had ordered his abduction."

"Which was, strictly speaking, only the truth...."

"Yes. But the riders who were searching the countryside in our vicinity and who constantly seemed to be on the verge of catching us, those riders were solely intended to intimidate Bailleux to the point of losing his better judgment."

"So that was the purpose of the men you requested from Rochefort."

"Indeed, monseigneur."

"And the notary?"

"He won't talk."

On that point, the cardinal demanded no further explanation.

For a moment, he looked at his little dragonnet, which, inside its large wrought-iron cage, was gnawing at a thick bone.

Then he sighed and said: "I shall miss you, monsieur de Saint-Lucq."

"I beg your pardon, monseigneur?"

"I made a promise that I must keep. To my great regret, believe me ..."

Entering discreetly, a secretary interrupted them to whisper a few words into the ear of his master.

Richelieu listened, nodded, and said: "Monsieur de Saint-Lucq, if you would wait next door for a few moments, please."

The half-blood bowed, and by means of a concealed door, departed in the wake of the secretary. Shortly after, La Fargue appeared, in a manner suggesting that he was responding to an urgent summons. Left hand on the pommel of his sword, he saluted by removing his hat.

"Monseigneur."

"Good evening, monsieur de La Fargue. How does your mission fare?

"It is too soon to say, monseigneur. But we are following a trail. We have learned that the chevalier d'Ireban and one of his close friends frequented madame de Sovange's establishment. At this very moment, two of my Blades are there incognito, gathering information."

"Very good.... And what can you tell me about your prisoner?"

La Fargue twitched.

"My prisoner?"

"Today you captured a certain Malencontre with whom monsieur Leprat had a dispute recently. I want this man to be released to my custody."

"Monseigneur! Malencontre has still not even regained his senses! He has not spoken a word and-"

"Anything this man could tell you would be of no consequence to your business."

"But how can we be sure? The coincidence would be enormous if-"

The cardinal imposed silence by lifting his hand.

His sentence allowed no appeal, as the ageing captain, with clenched teeth and a furious look in his eye, was finally forced to admit.

"At your command, monseigneur."

"You are about to discover, however, that I am not a man who takes without giving in return," Richelieu murmured.

And in a voice loud enough to be heard in the adjoining room, he ordered: "Ask monsieur de Saint-Lucq to come in."

22.

Castilla led Marciac through dark deserted streets to the nearby faubourg Saint-Victor. They crossed rue Mouffetard and proceeded up rue d'Orleans, pa.s.sing the rue de la Clef where the Spaniard had so recently been a lodger, before finally turning into the small rue de la Fontaine. There, after glancing around without spotting the Gascon, Castilla knocked three times on the door of a particular house. It opened almost at once, and as the man entered, Marciac caught a glimpse of a female silhouette.

The Gascon waited for a moment, and then crept forward. He approached the windows, but with the curtains closed all he could see was that there were lights burning within. He went up the alley to one side of the house and noticed a small window too high and too narrow to warrant such protection. He jumped up, gripped the sill, and lifted himself by his arms until he could rest his chin on the stone. While he was unable to hear what they were saying, he could see Castilla and a young woman speaking in a clean and tidy room. The unknown woman was a slender, pretty brunette, wearing her hair in a simple chignon, with soft curls gracing her temples. She wore a rather ordinary dress, of the kind the daughter of a modest craftsman might own.

Castilla and the young woman embraced in such a way that Marciac was unable to decide if they were friends, lovers, or brother and sister. His arms torturing him, he had to finally let go and landed nimbly. He heard a door open on the garden side of the house and then other hinges squeaked. A horse snorted and, moments later, the Spaniard came riding down the alley at a slow trot. Marciac was obliged to flatten himself in a recess to avoid being seen or run over. He then dashed out after Castilla, but his quarry was already disappearing around the corner of rue de la Fontaine.

The Gascon bit back on an oath. He knew that it would be futile to try and follow a man on horseback.

So now, what should he do? he asked himself.

Standing guard here all night would probably serve no useful purpose and, besides, sooner or later he would need to report back to the Hotel de l'epervier. It would be better to find the other Blades now in order to organise a continual watch on the house and its charming occupant. In any case, La Fargue would decide.

Marciac was about to leave when he detected suspect noises coming from the direction of rue du Puits-l'Hermite. He hesitated, turned back in his tracks, and risked taking a peek around the corner of a house. A little further down the street a group of hired thugs had gathered around a rider dressed in black leather and wearing a patch with silver studs over his left eye.

These devils are up to some mischief, Marciac thought to himself.

He wasn't close enough to hear them and he sought in vain a means of approaching them discreetly at street level. He spied a balcony, climbed to it, and then up onto the roofs and then, silently, his left hand holding the scabbard of his sword so it would not knock into anything, he pa.s.sed from one house to another. His movements were fluid and a.s.sured. The gaps that he sometimes had to stride across did not frighten him. He crouched down and finally crawled forward before completing his journey at the tiled roof edge.

"It's on rue de la Fontaine," the one-eyed man with a Spanish accent was saying. "You'll recognise the house, won't you ... ? The girl is alone, so you won't run into any problems. And don't forget that we need her alive."

"You're not coming, Savelda?" asked one of the thugs.

"No. I have better things to do. Don't fail me."

Without waiting for a reply, the man in black spurred his horse and left, while Marciac, still undetected, abandoned his observation post.