Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,71

Pontevedra.'

The captain of the Blades nodded gravely before adding:

'That same night, the dike gave way. Soon English supplies and relief forces arrived in La Rochelle by sea. The king realised that he could no longer win by force of arms alone, not without beggaring the kingdom, and he commanded the cardinal to open negotiations. Richelieu disavowed us to avoid having to justify our activities during the siege; he affirmed that we were acting without orders and that he was not even aware of our existence. For the Blades, it meant disgrace. And soon the end, since the cardinal dismissed us from his service.'

'Until recently.'

'Yes. Until recently.'

La Fargue fell silent.

Laincourt followed suit, but one question continued to haunt him. A question he did not dare to ask, but which the captain of the Blades was able to guess:

'Ask it.'

'I beg your pardon, captain?'

'Your question. Go ahead, ask it.'

The young man hesitated, and then:

'How can we ever know for sure?' he heard himself wonder aloud. 'How can we know if you're pursuing this mission to avenge yourself upon the Alchemist or not? How can we know if you prefer seeking justice for yourself to serving the king and France?'

Behind them, Almades pricked up an ear.

La Fargue smiled sadly.

'You can't,' he replied.

In the faubourg Saint-Jacques, Agnes was making her way back towards the hostelry under the continuing downpour, through deserted streets sporadically lit by flashes of lightning. The young baronne, soaked and furious, walked briskly, a curl of hair dangling in front of one eye.

She soon met up with Marciac and Ballardieu. They were going in the same direction, the old soldier supporting the limping Gascon.

Ballardieu lowered his eyes upon seeing Agnes.

'Well?' she asked, directing her words at Marciac.

'Sprained ankle. Very painful . . . And the other man? Did you lose him?'

'Dead.'

'You killed—?'

'No! He fell and broke his skull.'

'So we have a problem.'

'As you say.'

The young woman turned to Ballardieu and told him in a frosty tone where he could find the body.

Then she ordered:

'Dump it in the Seine. But strip it first and make sure it's unrecognisable. And keep all the clothing.'

'Yes, Agnes.'

The old soldier went about his tasks without further ado.

Taking his place, Agnes propped Marciac up and slowly, because the Gascon was heavy and could only hobble, they made their way back to the inn.

'He may not be to blame,' said Marciac.

Agnes knew he was referring to Ballardieu and replied:

'He should have warned us the man was coming. That was his job. And I'm convinced he's been drinking . . .'

The Gascon could find nothing to say in response to this.

But after a few more metres in the rain, he said:

'La Fargue isn't going to be happy, is he?'

'Not in the least bit.'

They had just lost the only lead likely to take them to the duchesse de Chevreuse, to the Alchemist and to the plot against the king.

2

The rain continued after the storm and did not cease until dawn. Paris woke fresh and reinvigorated.

To say that the capital was clean would have been an exaggeration; it would have required a deluge of biblical proportions to carry away the filth accumulated on its streets and to remove the foul muck clinging to its pavements. But the worst had been washed away and Parisians, upon rising from their beds, were grateful to have finally been relieved of the dust and stink of recent days. It even seemed that the cocks crowed more valiantly and the bells rang more clearly this morning, while the city glistened beneath the sun's first rays.

'Dead,' repeated La Fargue in a tone which did not bode well. 'Gueret ... is dead.'

The garden still being soaked, they had gathered in the large fencing room inside the Hotel de l'Epervier. The atmosphere was tense. Even those Blades who were not involved in the previous evening's fiasco were keeping their heads down. Only Almades, who had stationed himself slightly apart from the others to guard the door, seemed completely aloof.

'Yes, captain,' Agnes confirmed.

She, Marciac and Ballardieu had not had time to change from the night before. Their clothing had dried on their backs and left them looking bedraggled, not to mention their tousled hair, weary faces and obvious chagrin. Ballardieu in particular wore a hangdog look.

'How?' La Fargue demanded.

'Gueret surprised us while we were in his room,' Marciac explained.

He was sitting down with one bare foot resting on a stool.

'And killing him seemed like a good idea to you?'

'No!' the Gascon defended himself. 'He fled over the rooftops. We pursued