The Cardinal's Blades

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 passing 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.”