Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,75

of his father, d'Aubremont had been called away by the family obligations that came with bearing a great and noble name. Twenty years later, however, the first of his sons, who had until then been a member of the King's Musketeers, was to follow Leprat and join the Blades. Endowed with an adventurous and rebellious spirit, the young man had grown distant from his father and adopted the name of a small holding belonging his mother, that of Bretteville.

And it was only after recruiting him that La Fargue learned that he was the eldest son of his old friend.

'Pardon my arrival in this fashion,' said d'Aubremont. 'But I could not set down in a letter what I am about to tell you . . .'

'What is it?' asked the captain of Blades in a worried tone.

'Could we speak inside, please?'

Exhausted after a particularly active and sleepless night, Agnes went upstairs to lie down in her bedchamber. She slipped between the fresh sheets with a shiver of delight and, already drowsy, vaguely heard the sound of a coach entering the courtyard. Then she closed her eyes and it seemed to her

that she had just dozed off when there was a knock at her door.

'Madame . . . Madame!'

It was Nais, whose voice reached her from the corridor, through the fog of her interrupted sleep.

Agnes muttered something into her pillow that very fortunately was transmuted into an indistinct groan, as her words were hardly polite and certainly unworthy of a baronne de Vaudreuil.

'Madame . . . Madame . . . You must come, madame . . .'

'Let me sleep, Nais . . .'

'You were sleeping?'

'Yes, by God!'

Timid NaTs must have hesitated, for there ensued a moment of silence during which Agnes nourished the hope of having prevailed.

'But monsieur de La Fargue is asking for you, madame! He's waiting for you. And he's not alone.'

'Is he with the king of France?'

'Uhh . . . no.'

'The Pope?'

'No.'

'The Great Turk?'

Not him, either, but—'

'Then I'm going back to sleep.'

Agnes turned over, hugged her pillow, gave a long sigh of contentment and let a faint smile appear on her lips as she once again abandoned herself to slumber.

But she heard NaTs announce in a small voice:

'He's with the marquis d'Aubremont, madame.'

La Fargue and d'Aubremont were in the captain's private office. Having finished tying back her heavy black mane of hair with a leather cord as she dashed down the stairs, Agnes hurried to join them. She granted herself a pause in front of the door, however, to briefly check her appearance and catch her breath. Then she knocked, entered, greeted the marquis with whom she was already acquainted, sat down at La Fargue's invitation and waited.

With a small nod of his head, the captain indicated to his friend that he could speak freely.

'Madame, I have come here today seeking advice and assistance from monsieur de La Fargue, who, after listening to me, thought that you might be able to help.'

'But of course, monsieur.'

Agnes had the deepest respect for this honest and upright gentleman, a father whom fate had struck all the more cruelly since his son had been killed before they had the chance to effect a reconciliation. Like all the Blades, she felt somewhat beholden to him because, of this.

'It's about my son . . .'

Agnes was surprised. Did the marquis mean Bretteville?'

'My younger son, I should say. Francois, the chevalier d'Ombreuse.

'Isn't he serving with the Black Guards?'

'Indeed, madame.'

The Black Guards were one of the kingdom's most prestigious light cavalry companies. The king financed them from his own private purse, although they did not belong to his military household, and he appointed their officers. These hand-picked gentlemen served the Sisters of Saint Georges, the famous Chatelaines. They formed the military guard for these nuns whose mysterious rituals, over the past two centuries, had been successful in defending France and her throne against the dragons. In their black uniforms, they protected the Sisters, escorted them and, occasionally, carried out perilous missions on their behalf.

'Here's how matters stand,' continued d'Aubremont. 'My son has disappeared and I do not know whether he is alive or dead.'

The young baronne de Vaudreuil addressed a concerned glance at La Fargue, who told her:

'Three weeks ago, the chevalier left on an expedition along with a few men from his company. It seems he was supposed

to make his way to Alsace, with a possible detour into the Rhineland.'

Alsace not being French territory, Agnes thought the expedition must have been either an escort mission or