CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

D'ARTAGNAN SHOWS A CLEAN PAIR OF HEELS

Early next morning Louis XIII held his review of the troops chosen to attack the port of Rochelle.

The people had been troublesome and a source of some anxiety to the Cardinal for some years. The disloyalty of the inhabitants, and their intrigues against the royalists, had attracted to the town large numbers of sympathizers, adventurers and soldiers of fortune of all nationalities. The enemies of France found a ready welcome and a safe refuge within the city's walls. Moreover, Rochelle was the last port to remain open to the English, whom the French at that time considered their natural enemies.

In order to help them resist any attack by the royalist forces, the people of Rochelle had been promised aid by the English, or to be more exact, the Duke of Buckingham, the Cardinal's most hated enemy. And when Louis XIII learnt that Buckingham had already sent a force of ninety ships with an army of twenty thousand men, and had actually landed on the Isle of Ré just off the besieged fort of Rochelle, he no longer doubted the Cardinal's word that there was a real danger to the kingdom of France. He therefore decided to send an army of chosen men to subdue once and for all the rebellious people, and he himself, aided by the Cardinal, would direct the attack.

Nevertheless he did not leave Paris with the main body of his troops, and so his bodyguard, that is to say the Musketeers, had to remain behind with him, to the great annoyance of the four friends.

Directly the review was over the troops, led by the regiment of the King's Guards to which D'Artagnan belonged, set out on their march to the west coast.

The young Gascon, riding proudly with his company, was fully occupied, and so he failed to notice Milady. Mounted on a fine chestnut horse, she had so stationed herself as to have a clear view of the troops when they passed. Near her were two men, also well-mounted, to whom she nodded slightly when one indicated D'Artagnan. Sure that the two men would not fail to recognize D'Artagnan again, she gave them certain instructions in a quiet but determined voice. The two men then rode off, taking the same direction as the troops.

Within sight of Rochelle, the troops halted and made camp to await the arrival of the King.

Now that D'Artagnan was separated from his three friends he had plenty of time for quiet thought. Since his arrival in Paris he had gained much experience and had made four loyal friends. He naturally counted M. de Tréville as a friend.

But when he came to consider his future he had nothing except gloomy thoughts. So far as he could see, unimportant as he was, he had made an enemy of the Cardinal, that is to say, of a man before whom trembled the greatest men of the kingdom. The Cardinal could crush him, and yet, for some hidden reason, he had not chosen to do so.

His other enemy—Milady—was less to be feared; nevertheless he felt that she was not an enemy to be despised.

Turning over these thoughts to himself, D'Artagnan walked slowly along the road leading from the camp to a little neighbouring village, in the cool of the late afternoon.

Some distance from the camp his attention was attracted by the slight movement of something at the side of the road a little way ahead. This something glittered in the rays of the setting sun and he thought he saw the barrel of a musket.

D'Artagnan possessed both quickness of eye and understanding. It was clear that the musket had not come there alone, and the person who held it had not hidden himself behind a hedge with friendly intentions. Almost at the same instant he saw another musket barrel being pushed out from behind a rock on the other side of the road.

This was clearly a trap.

Glancing again at the first musket, he saw it being slowly pointed at him. As soon as he saw it become motionless he threw himself to the ground. An instant later the musket was fired and a shot passed over his head.

Not a moment was to be lost. D'Artagnan sprang to his feet and jumped to one side. Almost immediately the second musket was fired and a ball struck the ground where he had been lying.

D'Artagnan was a Gascon. He did not seek a ridiculous death so that it might be said he never retreated a single step. Besides, courage here was out of the question.

He therefore took to his heels and made for the camp as fast as his legs could carry him. Nevertheless the first one who had fired soon reloaded his musket. This time his aim was better and the ball struck D'Artagnan's hat, carrying it several paces from him. Having only one hat, D'Artagnan risked stopping to pick it up, but, to his great relief, no other shot was fired.

He arrived at the camp pale and breathless. He went straight to his tent without saying a word to anyone. Seated alone, he took his hat and examined carefully the hole made by the shot. The hole had not been made by a military shot. It was therefore not a trap by the enemy, and he refused to believe that the Cardinal would use such a doubtful measure to get rid of him or any other enemy.

Most likely Milady had hired these scoundrels to do her bidding at the first favourable opportunity. He tried to recall their appearances or dress, but he made off so rapidly that he had failed to take any notice.

That night he ordered his tent to be guarded and he remained inside, giving the excuse that he was over-tired and required rest and quiet.