Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,112

glass was passed from hand to hand, each person taking a small sip, until it reached the person to whom the toast was addressed. The recipient had no choice but to finish off the drink and, accompanied by cheers, eat the tostee, the piece of toasted bread that lay soaking at the bottom of the glass. These toasts went back and forth along the tables like playful challenges and provided an excellent pretext to become drunk. The selection of a new victim was greeted with expectant joy by all present and of course no one dreamed of declining.

Naturally the king and queen sat at the high table, in the company of the duc de Chevreuse, the duchesse and a few privileged individuals such as monsieur de Treville and the marquis de Chateauneuf, the kingdom's Keeper of the Seals. The atmosphere was a little more formal than at the longer tables, although Louis XIII did honour to all the dishes — as was usual for him, since he had the same solid appetite as his father, Henri IV. Still looking pale, Anne d'Autriche only picked at her plate. Her eyes were a little red, causing madame de Chevreuse to worry aloud, as if on cue.

The queen explained that she was suffering irritation from the heavy fragrance of a bouquet of flowers in her bedchamber. Did this little comedy fool anyone? It made the king smile, at any rate.

Retained by her duties as a lady-in-waiting, Agnes was unable to escape until halfway through the meal. Slipping out of the hall, she found La Fargue and Marciac in the dimness of an out-of-the-way antechamber. Almades closed the door behind her as soon as she arrived.

'Well?' demanded the Gascon.

Agnes recounted the conversation she had overheard between the queen and madame de Chevreuse.

'So La Chevreuse has indeed hatched a plot against the king,' concluded La Fargue. 'A plot that will unfold tonight. And the queen is an accomplice . . .'

'But what exactly is it all about?' asked Marciac. 'Are they going to make an attempt on His Majesty's life?'

'I don't know,' Agnes admitted.

'Was there any mention of the Alchemist?'

'No. But I think I know the queen's motives . . . After she and the duchesse left, I slipped into her bedchamber to look for whatever the duchesse gave her to read in order to persuade her. And I found it. It was the pamphlet that the queen mother's emissary was1 carrying hidden in the lining of his doublet.'

'The pamphlet that accuses the king of planning to repudiate the queen because she has not borne him an heir?' asked La Fargue.

'And claims that the king has begun negotiations with the Pope on the subject, yes.'

'So the queen has become involved in a plot against the king because she fears repudiation . . .'

'Well, yes . . .'

'But the king will never repudiate her!' exclaimed Marciac. 'Anne is the sister of the king of Spain.

It would be an insult! It would mean war!'

'It is enough that the queen believes it to be true,' Agnes pointed out. 'Or rather, it is enough that the duchesse has persuaded her that it is so . . .'

The captain of the Blades nodded.

'Very well,' he said. 'I must speak to Treville. Agnes, you must return to the queen and try not to let her out of your sight. The ball will begin soon.'

Leprat ran through a syle as it tried to scurry between his legs and, on the point of his sword, held it up to the light from his lantern. With thick red arabesque patterns running down its black back, the salamander was as long and as heavy as a

fair-sized rat. It squirmed on the sharp steel that was tormenting it, spitting and seeking to bite and claw at him rather than to work itself free.

Filthy creature, thought Leprat as he cleared his blade with a quick flick that sent the reptile flying.

The syle crashed into a wall, then fell to the ground with a soft thump. It was still alive, however. In the dark, forked tongues hissed. The sound preceded the massed rush that the musketeer was expecting. With claws clattering and bellies scraping against the stone, syles closed in from all directions to devour the injured member of their own kind. The excitement of combat and the scent of blood soon produced a predictable effect. The reptiles' scaly backs began to glow and their furious melee, invisible up until now, became wreathed in a faint halo. The