Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,113

sacrificed syle was not the only victim of this savage frenzy. Others, wounded in turn, were attacked and eaten by bigger and more ferocious individuals.

Leprat turned away from the carnage.

Sword in hand, he continued his exploration of the underground chambers of the black tower, chambers whose scale he was still attempting to grasp. They were vast, perhaps immense, in any case far bigger than the two or three cellars he had imagined he would find beneath the ruins of a mediaeval donjon. Most of the rooms had flagstone floors with short round pillars supporting low, vaulted ceilings. Standing empty and bare, haunted only by the furtive movements of the syles guarding them, and dotted with puddles that the musketeer disturbed with his tread, these chambers had survived the passing centuries down here in a dark, abysmal silence.

La Fargue managed to send a note to Treville and met him privately after the banquet. He informed him of the conversation Agnes had overheard between the queen and the duchesse de Chevreuse, affirmed that there was no longer any doubt that a plot was about to be sprung and insisted that the king's security be reinforced until morning. In vain.

'I will not increase the patrols or the number of sentries,' replied the captain of the Musketeers.

'The king's safety is under threat, monsieur.'

'Perhaps. But I cannot go against the will of His Majesty, who has demanded that my musketeers be as little visible as possible, in order to display his lack of concern over sleeping within these walls

—'

'—and thereby further relax the vigilance of those he will have arrested tomorrow,' deduced La Fargue.

'Precisely. On the other hand, if the castle, for whatever reason, should suddenly be swarming with blue capes . . .'

The old gentleman nodded in resignation.

His left hand on the pommel of the old Pappenheimer in his scabbard, the other? hand gripping the loop of his heavy belt, he turned to the window and lifted his eyes to the night sky.

'Besides,' added Treville, 'the ball is about to begin. The king will open it with the queen and then, as he said he would, he will retire for the night, on the pretext that that he needs his rest before the hunt the duc de Chevreuse has organised for him in the morning ... So the king will soon be in his apartments, with musketeers at his door and even in his antechamber.'

A musketeer entered and announced to his captain:

'A rider has just arrived. He claims to have urgent information concerning the safety of the king.'

'His name?'

'Laincourt. A former member of the Cardinal's Guards.'

La Fargue spun round.

After the ordeal of his long ride, Laincourt was trying to make himself presentable when Marciac found him in the stable courtyard. In his shirt sleeves, he was washing his face and neck with water from a bucket. Upon seeing the Gascon, he quickly dried himself with a towel and pulled on the freshly brushed doublet held out to him by a servant.

'I must speak to the captain,' he declared, giving a coin to the servant and accepting his hat in return.

'I will take you to him,' replied Marciac.

'Good.'

Grabbing his sword as he passed, Laincourt matched his stride to that of the Gascon, who asked him:

'Any news from Teyssier?'

'Yes. He finally recognised the pentacle.'

'So?'

'It is a pentacle of fecundity, employed in a ritual intended to make a barren womb fertile.'

'Are you sure of that?'

'No. But according to Ballardieu, His Eminence's magic master was positive. That's enough for me.'

They crossed the small drawbridge just as the first notes of music from the ball sounded within the castle.

As he continued exploring the ancient underground spaces beneath the black tower, sword in one hand and his lantern in the other, Leprat wondered who had built them and to what end.

They called to mind a sanctuary or refuge that might have once sheltered a community of sorcerers, or members of a heretical sect, or dragons. Who could say? The only thing for certain was that this place was no longer — if it had ever been — a peaceful haven. It was as if its walls were impregnated with an evil that weighed upon the soul. Its silence seemed haunted by painful echoes and its shadows hid lurking nightmares. And the air he breathed had . . .

Leprat suddenly realised his mind was starting to wander.

He shook his head and shoulders in an effort to gather his wits.

He could not allow these sinister chambers to take control of his thoughts.