Blood Royal by Alexandre Dumas

Author:Alexandre Dumas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Published: 2020-11-03T00:00:00+00:00

XXVI The Masked Man

Though it was only four o’clock in the afternoon, it was dark as night, the snow falling thick and damp. Aramis made his way to the inn where he found Athos, though not unconscious, thoroughly dazed. But at his friend’s first words, the count emerged from the stunned lethargy into which he’d fallen.

“Outdone!” said Aramis. “Vanquished by fate.”

“Defeated!” said Athos. “That noble and unhappy king!”

“Are you wounded?” asked Aramis.

“No, the blood is his.” The count wiped his forehead.

“Where were you?”

“Where you left me, under the scaffold.”

“And you saw it all?”

“No, but I heard everything. God defend me from another hour like the one I’ve just passed. Has my hair turned white?”

“Then you were aware I never left him?”

“I heard your voice up until the final moment.”

“Here is the plaque he gave me,” said Aramis, “and here the cross I took from his hand. He asked that they be returned to the queen.”

“And here is a handkerchief to wrap around them,” said Athos. And he drew from his pocket the handkerchief he’d soaked in the king’s blood. “Now,” he asked, “what has become of his poor cadaver?”

“By Cromwell’s order, it’s to be rendered royal honors. We put the body in a leaden coffin; the doctors are busy embalming the remains, and when they’re done, the body will be taken to a chapel to lie in state.”

“A mockery!” Athos muttered darkly. “Paying royal honors to one they assassinated!”

“It proves that though the king may die, royalty lives on.”

“Alas!” said Athos. “It may be that the last king of ancient chivalry has passed from the world.”

“Come, don’t despair, Count,” said a loud voice from the stairway, above the heavy footsteps of Porthos. “We’re all but mortal, my poor friends.”

“You’re late, my dear Porthos,” said the Comte de La Fère.

“Yes,” said Porthos, “there were some people along my way who delayed me. They were dancing, the wretches! I took one by the neck and choked him a bit. Just then the Watch arrived. Fortunately, the one I’d been toying with wasn’t able to speak for several minutes, and I took advantage of that to dash up a back street. The back street led to an alley, and that to another, and soon I was lost. I don’t know London, I don’t speak English, and I thought I’d never see you again—but here I am.”

“But d’Artagnan,” said Aramis, “what of him? Have you seen him?”

“We got separated in the crush, and I lost track of him,” said Porthos.

“Oh,” said Athos bitterly, “I saw him! He was in the front row of the crowd, admirably situated so he’d miss nothing. And as the spectacle was curious, no doubt he stayed to see the end.”

“What? Now, Monsieur de La Fère,” said a voice, calm but breathing hard from exertion, “is it like you to slander the absent?”

This reproach struck Athos to the quick. But the sight of d’Artagnan at the front of the crowd had hit him hard, so he replied, “I don’t slander you, my friend.

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