Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,68
Claw by killing or capturing the Alchemist.'
'And it also risks compromising the fruits of some long, patient investigations into some of most eminent personages in the kingdom. All this may yet fail if you disturb the duchesse or her accomplices with your operations.'
'It is a question of neutralising the Alchemist, monseigneur. A similar opportunity may not present itself for a long time to come.'
'I am well aware of that. But you are hunting with hounds and have only just set off in your pursuit, whereas I have been laying my snares for some time now. Although you and I are not hunting exactly the same prey, you could very well end up frightening mine by tracking yours. And, to top it all, you may only be hunting a shadow.'
La Fargue was silent. What other argument could he make? Richelieu knew all the facts, all that was at stake, all the risks, all the secret realities which would lead him to take, alone, a decision that would no doubt have heavy consequences.
The cardinal granted himself another moment of reflection and then said:
'Very well, captain. Since the life of the king may depend on it, endeavour to foil this plot that threatens him. It may, possibly, lead you to the Alchemist, who is an enemy of France. If it does, you must neutralise him . . .'
The captain of the Blades wanted to thank him, but Richelieu raised his index finger to signal that he had not finished yet.
'However, I am aware that this enemy of France is also your own since the tragic events at La Rochelle. Do not let that obscure your judgement. Be prudent and discreet. Forbid yourself the slightest false step. Do not act lightly, and above all, do not commit some mistake that might irretrievably wreck the trials we are now preparing . . .'
La Fargue nodded. The cardinal, however, continued:
'That being said, I set two further conditions. The first is that you keep me informed of your projects, and of your successes as well as your failures.
'Certainly, monseigneur.'
'The second is that you transfer Saint-Lucq to my service.'
Although it left La Fargue unperturbed, this request — which was in fact an order — surprised Laincourt. But it confirmed in his mind the half-blood's unique status within the Blades. Did he really belong to them? The others seemed to consider him one of their best. However, where they willingly expressed their pride at serving under La Fargue, Saint-Lucq set himself apart and adopted the pose of an exceptional mercenary who remained with the Blades by choice, but who could leave tomorrow. Moreover, Laincourt knew that when the Blades had been disbanded, Saint-Lucq was the only member the cardinal had continued to employ on secret missions. That could not be insignificant.
'All of the Blades serve at Your Eminence's discretion, monseigneur,' said La Fargue.
'Good,' replied Richelieu, rising and accepting La Houdi-niere's aid in donning his cloak. 'I'm relying on you, La Fargue. But you should know that you don't have much time. The duchesse de Chevreuse will be hosting a great ball at Dampierre. The morning after this ball she shall be placed under arrest, as will all those who are implicated in her schemes, throughout France. The king desires this, so that her fall immediately follows her moment of triumph.'
The cardinal paused here, thinking to himself that this decision corresponded well with the character, at times cruel and devious, of Louis XIII. Calmly, he put on his gloves.
'One last thing, captain. The king is very attached to the success of this . . . Chevreuse affair. He has been following its slow development closely for several months now and is growing impatient. He will not tolerate seeing the duchesse
escape from the arm of his justice, even if it were to occur in the course of protecting His Majesty from a plot . . .'
Before putting on his hat, Richelieu fixed La Fargue with his steely gaze and added:
'Do you understand me, captain? And are you fully aware how ungrateful kings can be?'
'Merde!' Marciac snarled, seeing the runaway jump from one roof to another across an alleyway.
Not knowing whether Agnes was following him closely or not, he did not slow down, took the same leap in turn and, in the dark and the wet, landed as best he could on the other side.
He swore again as he almost lost his balance.
'Merde!'
And then he resumed the pursuit under the pouring rain . . .