Traitor's Chase

  “That doesn’t mean we can handle anything that comes our way,” Porthos shot back. “What if—”

  Athos suddenly raised a hand and signaled him to be quiet.

  Greg listened to the woods, which were surprisingly silent. Save for the faint chirr of an insect now and then, there was virtually no noise. It was so quiet, Greg could hear his own heart beating in his chest.

  And there, faintly in the distance, came the sound of hoofbeats.

  “Three horses,” Athos said. “Coming quickly. Take cover.”

  The boys quickly guided the horses off the narrow trail and into the darkness of the woods. Greg found himself gripped by fear.

  Athos took the point, watching the trail through a gap in the trees. Greg and the other boys were too far back in the thick underbrush to see anything.

  The thundering of hooves grew closer and closer, then suddenly stopped. Greg listened as hard as he could; he thought he could pick out the faint sound of the horses now proceeding slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible. Their pursuers must have realized something was wrong.

  Athos tensed in his saddle and tightened his grip on his blade.

  The sound of the approaching horses came closer and closer. Through a gap in the underbrush, Greg saw the other party emerge from behind a tree. There were two riders, both shrouded in heavy cloaks; one had a thin sword in hand, the other a loaded crossbow. The third horse was being used to haul gear.

  The riders suddenly went rigid, as though they had sensed the Musketeers’ presence. They spun toward the place where the boys were hidden, raising their weapons.

  But Athos had already sprung into action. His horse charged onto the road, and as it did, Athos leaped from the saddle. He knocked the first rider’s sword away as he flew through the air and slammed into the second. Both Musketeer and rider tumbled off the horse. The crossbow discharged. The bolt whistled above Greg’s head and embedded itself harmlessly in a tree.

  Athos and the rider crashed to the ground in a heap. The rider yelped in pain, then snapped, “Athos! Get off of me, you idiot!”

  Greg gasped, recognizing the voice.

  Athos scrambled away from his opponent, equally surprised.

  The rider stood and pulled back her cowl, revealing her face.

  Milady de Winter.

  NINE

  THE RIDER ACCOMPANYING MILADY DE WINTER WAS ALSO a girl. Her name was Catherine and she was thirteen, though like everyone else Greg had met in 1615, she seemed older. Catherine was in training to be a handmaiden to the future queen, and thus answered to Milady. She said little, allowing Milady to do most of the talking, although Greg perceived a great intelligence in her eyes; Milady wouldn’t have brought just any girl along with her on such a treacherous journey. And while Catherine wasn’t as blatantly gorgeous as Milady, who drew the eye of every man when she walked into a room, she was beautiful nonetheless. Hers was simply a more subtle beauty. Greg hadn’t really noticed her at first, but now, as everyone sat around a roaring campfire, Greg found himself stealing glances at Catherine whenever he could.

  The sun had set and they were all eating dinner, rabbits that Athos and Porthos had killed, skinned, and set on spits over the flames. Two months before, Greg would have found the idea of eating a rabbit nauseating. Now, famished after a long day on the road, he devoured his portion within minutes. The girls were even hungrier. They made a faint attempt at decorum when the food was served, then dug in ravenously.

  Porthos found this hilarious. “Whoa there!” he laughed. “Slow down, ladies. The food’s not going to hop away.”

  Catherine reddened, embarrassed, but Milady just said, “We haven’t had much time to eat over the last three days. We were trying to go as fast as possible to catch up to you. We figured you’d be trying to make good time yourselves.”

  “So … you left the day after us, then?” Greg asked.

  “Yes,” Milady said.

  “Why didn’t you just come with us?” Aramis asked.

  “Well, no one said you were leaving—or where you were going,” Milady replied. “You all simply disappeared, almost no one knew where or why, and those few who did were determined to keep it a secret.”

  “How’d you find out, then?” Porthos asked.

  “How do you think?” Milady batted her eyes at him, showing off just the tiniest bit of the power her beauty had. “Most men are weak. They’ll tell you anything you need in return for a smile.”

  “Not me, sister,” Porthos said. “You want to learn anything from me, it’ll cost you at least a kiss.”

  Milady laughed—although Greg noticed that Athos and Aramis both looked annoyed at Porthos’s flirtation. Greg had hoped that the girls’ presence in camp might temper the antagonism between Athos and Aramis, but sadly, it had made things even worse. Both were constantly vying for Milady’s attention—and annoyed by any favoritism she showed the other.

  “Also, I didn’t think you’d agree to let us join you.” While Milady addressed the entire group at once, the comment obviously was directed at Athos, who’d been glowering at the girls ever since they’d arrived.

  “And for good reason,” Athos said. “Ladies have no place on a journey such as this. It’s far too dangerous, even with warriors like us along. Pursuing us on your own was pure foolishness. You’re lucky to be alive.”

  Catherine bristled at this, though Milady simply shrugged off Athos’s comment. “Oh, we can handle ourselves all right.”

  “You might have starved to death if you hadn’t caught up to us, though,” Athos said.

  “It’s not that hard to kill a rabbit if you have the time,” Catherine said testily. “We simply didn’t.” To Greg, Catherine didn’t look capable of killing a fly, but she spoke with such confidence that he wondered if he’d underestimated her.

  “Still, you did put yourselves at risk,” Aramis told the girls. “Why did you feel it was so necessary to join our mission?”

  “Because I’m in charge of anything that has to do with Anne of Austria,” Milady replied.

  “Once she becomes the queen,” Athos put in. “Until then, your allegiance is to France.”

  “I’m here because of my allegiance to France,” Milady said curtly. “This wedding has been arranged to broker peace between France, Spain, and the Habsburgs. And now, less than two months before that is to take place, Spanish assassins make an assault on you just outside of Paris. I also understand that the messenger Dominic Richelieu sent me to meet was a Spanish emissary.”

  “That’s correct,” Aramis said.

  “So if the Spanish are about to broker a peace, why are they infiltrating our country like this?” Milady asked.

  “That’s what the king sent us to find out,” Athos said pointedly.

  “Well, I’d like to know, too,” Milady stated.

  “Fine,” Athos said. “Then go back to Paris and we’ll tell you what’s going on when we find out.”

  Milady fixed him with a hard stare. “We’re not dead weight, you know. We can contribute as much to this mission as you do.”

  “Two girls?” Athos snorted. “Not a chance.”

  “Do any of you speak Spanish?” Milady asked.

  An uncomfortable silence fell over the Musketeers. “Do you?” Aramis asked.

  “I wasn’t given the job of handmaiden to the future queen simply for my charming personality,” Milady said curtly. “Anne doesn’t speak a word of French. Pero hablo bien el español.”

  “What’s that mean?” Athos asked.

  “That I’m going to be able to get along much better in Spain by knowing the language than you are by wielding a sword,” Milady replied. “What did you think you were going to do, barge around the country waving your weapons until everyone suddenly learned to speak French?”

  Even Aramis reddened at the insult to their plan. “We felt we could get by,” he explained. “I can speak Latin. Spanish derives from it, just as French does.”

  “Latin will serve you we
ll if you find yourselves in ancient Rome,” Milady said. “But you’re going to Spain. Catherine and I can both speak the language. You need us.”

  The Musketeers all looked from one to the other. Aramis was practically beaming with joy now that Milady had made her case for joining their mission—and Porthos was never one to turn down female companionship. As for Greg, he was pleased to have the girls along as well, and not merely because he found Catherine attractive; having two more people along made him feel safer.

  He glanced at Athos, who was frowning, the lone holdout. Greg knew Athos didn’t trust Milady. But even Athos seemed to recognize that Milady had made a solid argument for coming along—and that no one else would agree to send her home again. “Fine,” he said grudgingly. “But be warned, this isn’t going to be some fancy excursion.”

  “I’d already figured that out.” Milady waved toward the roasted rabbits as evidence.

  “Well, this is downright cushy compared to how things are going to be,” Athos cautioned. “I suspect you know that René Valois is linked to those assassins who came after us the other day?”

  Milady nodded, taking another bite of the rabbit.

  “Well, Valois still has friends in Paris. If you could figure out where we’ve gone, Valois will figure it out, too. Which means we could have those assassins on our tail soon, if they aren’t already.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Milady said coolly.

  “That’s not all,” Athos went on. “The closer we get to Spain, the more dangerous it becomes—whether you know the language or not. I can’t afford to have anyone slowing us down. The purpose of this mission is to serve the king. Whoever jeopardizes it gets left behind.”

  Milady tossed a well-gnawed bone aside. “Whatever happened to ‘All for one and one for all’?”

  “That applies to the Musketeers, not hangers-on,” Athos replied. “The members of our team have all proven themselves in battle.”

  Milady held his stare across the flames for a long moment. It was challenging, but Greg thought he might have noticed a glimmer of respect in it as well. “Fine,” she said. “Understood.”

  Athos shifted his gaze to Catherine.

  “Understood,” she repeated.

  Neither she nor Milady seemed fazed by the idea of danger, which surprised Greg. Athos’s speech, which was meant to frighten the girls, had done the job on him instead. He still feared that he might turn out to be dead weight. What if he jeopardized the mission? Would the Musketeers actually leave him behind—or was that just a bluff?

  The meal was done now, and Athos and Porthos set off into the woods to bury the rabbit bones so the smell wouldn’t attract wolves to the campsite. Aramis went to check the supplies, leaving Greg with the girls.

  It was his first chance to see Milady alone since she’d told him she needed to speak to him.

  “Milady, I was wondering if we might speak privately.” Greg looked at Catherine warily, and Milady nodded to dismiss her. Once she was out of earshot, Greg continued. “When I saw you in the throne room the other day, you said you had found something of Dominic’s that you wanted to show me....”

  “Yes, I apologize for not finding you sooner. I do have something to show you … although there’s something I wanted to talk to you about first. I’m very interested in your connection to Dominic Richelieu.”

  Greg felt a slight chill go through him. “What do you mean?”

  Milady finally turned to face him, her eyes glowing in the firelight. “Do you think that, just because I’m a lady, I’m a fool?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Then don’t treat me like one. I have great loyalty to the king and future queen, and therefore I make it my business to stay abreast of anything suspicious that may be of danger to them. And you and your family are very suspicious. You arrived suddenly in the palace just over two months ago. To this day, no one knows how you got in. And then, at the very same time, Dominic began to act very differently.”

  “How do you mean?” Greg asked.

  “For one thing, there were suddenly two of him,” Milady said.

  Greg let the statement hang there for a moment, unsure what his response ought to be. “That’s his twin brother,” he said finally.

  “I never heard of Dominic having a twin before he suddenly showed up,” Milady said.

  “That doesn’t mean it isn’t possible,” Greg said.

  “No,” Milady admitted. “But there’s something strange about this twin, wouldn’t you say?” She looked Greg directly in the eye, challenging him.

  “Yes, there is something strange about Dominic’s twin,” Greg agreed. “But I don’t know what it is.”

  “That’s very disappointing,” Milady said. She took a few steps toward Greg, keeping her eyes locked on his, until they were less than a foot apart. “I was hoping you’d be of more help. You’re not the only one here charged with protecting the royal family, you know. But rest assured, I intend to find out what is going on with Dominic—and what your family’s connection is to all of it.”

  Staring into Milady’s eyes, Greg suddenly felt himself wanting to tell her everything. Why was it so important to keep everything a secret? he wondered. It’d feel good to get it all out in the open. And yet, he had this nagging feeling that, for some reason, he shouldn’t trust her....

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  Greg turned and found Aramis standing close by. He was staring at the two of them, trying to be casual about finding them so close together, but obviously quite jealous.

  “No!” Greg scrambled to come up with a suitable lie. “We were just talking about, uh …”

  “This.” Milady produced a folded piece of parchment from her clothes. “I was about to call you over to discuss it as well.” She lied with such ease that Greg almost believed her himself.

  “What is it?” Aramis came and took the parchment.

  “It belonged to Dominic, I believe,” Milady replied.

  Aramis and Greg examined the parchment in the firelight. It was a rough map of Paris: only the outline of the city wall was drawn on it, along with some wavy lines to represent the Seine and a small oval for the Île de la Cité. There were several strange marks on it, however. Three random points on the wall were indicated with arrows. And beneath the Île de la Cité was an odd collection of symbols:

  To στέμμα της Mινέρβας

  “Where did you find this?” Aramis asked. “We searched Dominic’s office and living quarters a dozen times over after he was imprisoned.”

  “Not well enough, apparently,” Milady said. “Although I’m not the one who found it.” She pointed across the campfire to Catherine, who had wandered close again. “She is.”

  Greg and Aramis shifted their gaze to Catherine, who shrank, as though uncomfortable being the center of attention. “A few days ago, I was told to clean out Dominic’s office,” she explained. “It’s being given to someone else. And while I was cleaning, I noticed a loose stone in the wall. When I pressed on it, it slid aside, revealing a secret compartment. This was inside. I thought it might be important, so I took it to Milady.”

  “And that’s when I contacted you, D’Artagnan,” Milady said.

  Aramis turned on Greg, suspicious. “You never said Milady had approached you.”

  “I didn’t realize she wanted to talk to all of us,” Greg explained. “The entire exchange lasted only a second.”

  Aramis frowned, as though he didn’t necessarily believe that, then returned his attention to the map. “What is this?” he asked, pointing to the strange inscription beneath the Île de la Cité.

  “I have no idea,” Milady admitted. “I was hoping you’d know.”

  Aramis frowned at the marks and shook his head. “No. They merely look like mystic runes to me.” He turned to Greg hopefully. “Any ideas?”

  Greg shook his head sadly. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It looks a tiny bit like hieroglyphics....”

  “Th
e language of the Egyptians?” Aramis asked, intrigued.

  “Yes, but as far as I know, that’s all actual symbols, like birds and eyeballs and things,” Greg told the others. “I don’t know what these are.”

  “Another code, perhaps,” Aramis said with a sigh.

  Another code? Greg thought, remembering how much the one in his great-grandfather’s diary had stymied him. Why can’t anyone just write down what they actually mean and make life easy for once?

  “And what do you think these indicate?” Catherine asked. She pointed to one of the three small arrows marking spots on the city wall.

  “They’re secret passages into the city,” Athos said.

  Everyone jumped, startled. They wheeled around to find that Athos had come silently up behind them. Now he regarded the others coldly, as though annoyed they’d convened without alerting him.

  “Secret passages?” Aramis was stunned. “I’ve never heard of any secret passages into the city.”

  “That’s what makes them secret,” Athos chided. “They’re only known by certain members of the military.”

  “Why would anyone build secret passages into Paris?” Greg asked.

  “In case the city was ever conquered,” Athos explained. “If an enemy took Paris, they would only defend the gates. But if there’s a way around the gates, a liberating force could sneak back inside and take the enemy by surprise.”

  “But our army only defends the gates,” Aramis protested. “If an enemy knew about these entrances, they could sneak into the city as well.”

  “That’s why they’re supposed to be secret,” Athos explained. “I only knew about the location of this one.” He pointed to the arrow on the southern side of the city. “Dominic Richelieu obviously knows of two more.”

  “And now he’s allying himself with Spain,” Aramis said.

  Silence descended as everyone grasped what this meant. Finally, Milady voiced what they were all thinking. “He’s going to help Spain invade Paris.”