FORTY SOLDIERS ARMED WITH MUSKETS SWEPT TOWARD the boat as the boys and Greg’s parents clambered onto dry land. There was no point in trying to escape. There would be no getting past them. Richelieu appeared in the middle of their ranks, perched atop a black horse. Greg knew it was the younger man: He wore no gloves, revealing two hands of flesh and blood. Besides, Dinicoeur had been blown into the river.
“These people are criminals, all guilty of treason against the Crown,” he shouted at the troops. “Fire at will!”
“You will do no such thing!” The voice rang out through the night.
The eyes of each soldier went wide at the sound of it, though no one was more surprised than Richelieu. He spun around to see two more figures on horseback emerge from the night. Aramis . . . and King Louis XIII.
Greg turned to his parents. Their jaws hung wide. But for the first time that night, he saw a twinkle in their fatigued eyes.
“No one shall be condemned to death unless by the order of the king,” Louis stated, tugging on his reins and pulling his horse up short. “That is the law, is it not?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Richelieu bowed respectfully from his horse. “I apologize if I overstepped my bounds, but I did so only for your protection. These people have committed treason. And for that, the penalty is death.”
“Then I’d worry about my own neck if I were you,” Athos said. “You’ve committed far worse treason than any of us.”
Richelieu snorted. “You have just laid siege to a royal prison! I have done nothing but serve my king!”
“So . . . he knows about the letter you sent Milady de Winter off with last night?” Porthos asked.
Richelieu gasped in astonishment. “I did no such thing.”
“Oh, no?” Greg demanded. “Because I saw you do it. And then I followed Milady to Saint-Germain-des-Prés. I’m sure either she or the monks there would reveal the truth if His Majesty the king asked them. Or perhaps the envoy from another country she met at the inn could help us—”
“All right!” Richelieu shouted. “I sent out a letter!”
“Then why was I not told of it?” Louis demanded. Greg was impressed; the boy’s voice was full of calm authority, unlike how he’d sounded back at the palace.
“It didn’t seem worth troubling you over, Your Highness.” Richelieu forced a fake smile. “It was just an unimportant missive.”
“Sent out under the cover of night?” Louis asked. “And delivered by a handmaiden? It appears you’ve been doing quite a lot behind my back lately.”
“If I have offended you, I beg your forgiveness once again,” Richelieu said. “I have done nothing but serve my king and France, while these boys have destroyed a prison to free two people who planned to assassinate you!”
“Indeed. My friend Aramis here says these prisoners were condemned to death for their acts. Is that true?” Louis asked.
“That’s correct,” Richelieu replied.
“I don’t recall issuing that decree, either,” Louis snapped. “Did you?”
“Er, yes, but . . . ,” Richelieu stammered. “But it was in your best interests! They infiltrated the palace three nights ago with intent to kill you!”
Louis fixed Richelieu with a harsh stare. “So you say. Although I’ve noticed that what you say isn’t always the truth.”
“This time it is, sire,” Richelieu mewled. “I assure you.”
“Well, I suppose we could investigate that,” the king said. “And while we’re at it, we might want to talk to some of the other prisoners in La Mort and see if they really did what they’re in there for . . . or if they’ve only been put away because you ordered it.”
Richelieu swallowed hard. “Why would you say that, Your Majesty?”
“Aramis and I had a very enlightening discussion on the way here,” Louis said. “It seems many of the prisoners in that jail are there only because you sent them there.”
“It is true, I have sentenced some,” Richelieu admitted. “But never an innocent party. Everyone I’ve condemned has been guilty!” His voice rose, as if he were forgetting himself. “I have the authority, do I not, to mete out punishment? If I have the intelligence to perceive someone is a criminal, then shouldn’t I, as a member of the government, be able to mete out punishment?”
“So by that logic,” said Louis, “I should be able to do the same?”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Richelieu replied.
Louis turned to the soldiers. “Take Monsieur Richelieu prisoner at once. I perceive he is a criminal.”
The soldiers seemed surprised, but none hesitated. They’d probably never received a direct order from the king himself. They turned their muskets on Richelieu, who went white with shock.
“Your Majesty! You can’t do this!”
“I can do anything I want.” Louis smiled. “I’m the king, remember?”
The soldiers quickly closed in on Richelieu. “Where should we take him, sire?” asked a captain.
Louis looked across the river to where La Mort was still burning. “I’m afraid La Mort is no longer an option. I believe there’s a dungeon in the Bastille. Lock him up there. That should require only a few men. The rest of you, take some boats out to the island, put out that fire, and attend to the prisoners.”
“And what are we to do about these boys?” the captain asked.
Louis studied the four boys one by one: Greg, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”
“Sire? I must protest—,” the captain began.
“I’ll be all right,” Louis said. “Now get that fire out. That’s an order.”
The soldiers scurried off. Once they were gone, Aramis turned to Louis. “Thank you, Your Majesty. . . .”
“No, I should be thanking you. This has been a fascinating night.” Louis looked up at the stars. “Is it always this beautiful out here?”
“Well, there are usually fewer prison fires, Your Highness,” Porthos said. “But otherwise, yes.”
“I’d forgotten.” Louis sighed. “I haven’t been outside the palace alone at night since . . . Well, I can’t remember. Since before my father was killed, I’ll bet. Richelieu has always insisted I stay inside for my safety. But it seems there are many ways of making someone a prisoner.” Louis turned to Greg and his parents. “So, you’re all deadly assassins, are you?”
Greg’s parents knelt reverently. “No, My Lord,” said Dad.
“I think he was being sarcastic,” Greg whispered.
“Your Majesty.” Athos stepped forward. “While you’re putting criminals away, there’s another you should know about. Richelieu’s twin brother. Last we saw him, he was out in the river somewhere.”
“Oh?” Louis scanned the choppy water and shrugged.
“You don’t seem very surprised about that,” Greg said.
“Aramis told me about him as well,” Louis replied. “Like I said, it’s been fascinating. I knew people were plotting against me, but I never suspected it was the head of my own guard and his evil twin. And if his twin is still alive, he probably won’t last long. Not in that water, and not with my soldiers combing the riverbanks. I suppose, with both gone, I’ll probably need someone else in charge of security.”
“I’d say so,” Porthos agreed. “Someone trustworthy this time.”
Louis regarded the four boys and smiled. “I don’t suppose you’d all be interested?”
In the woods nearby, Milady de Winter watched the king and the boys from atop her horse. She was too far away to clearly hear all that was said, but she could tell what had happened. Richelieu had been revealed as a traitor and taken prisoner.
Milady smiled. Everything had worked out so much better than she could have possibly hoped. For months, she’d been looking for a way to unseat Richelieu. Now these peculiar boys had come along and played right into her hands. With Richelieu out of the way, she was now free to enact the plans she’d devised long ago. She snapped on the reins, ready to ride. . . .
But a few words from the king drifted to her through the night. Milady reined in her horse before it could go far. Had she heard correctly? Had the king just asked the boys to be his private security force? Interesting . . . and a surprise.
Although not one she couldn’t handle. Milady knew Athos was suspicious of her . . . while Aramis trusted her wholeheartedly. She could use both their feelings to her advantage. After all, they were just boys.
It wouldn’t be hard to manipulate them.
It fact, it might even be fun.
Milady laughed to herself, then spurred her horse and galloped away.