17:51 (Paris Time)
Saturday, April 15, 1651
Inn of ‘Le Lion Noir’, Paris
France
Getting off wearily from his horse in the courtyard of the inn, the rider gave the reins of his mount to the inn’s stable boy before shaking off some of the dust and dried mud covering his worn clothes and cape. Taking his saddle bags and his weapons with him, he then walked to the entrance of the establishment, careful in the growing darkness not to step on the horse droppings covering the cobblestones of the courtyard. Before entering the inn, though, he made sure that his sword was easily grabbed: in these turbulent times of the Paris ‘Fronde Uprising’, one had to be wary about who came your way, especially when you worked undercover for Cardinal Mazarin, who was widely hated by both the citizens of Paris and by the aristocratic class. The few confidential letters from Mazarin that he was carrying made him even more leery of strangers. Entering the poorly lit main hall of the inn, he quickly chose a vacant table in an obscure corner and sat facing the entrance: standing in the doorway of an inn was the best way to attract attention.
Scanning the small number of people present in the hall, he was relieved to see no militiamen or soldiers belonging to one of the rebel princes. Only a few bourgeois and travelers were having supper or were drinking wine, with the innkeeper and a young maid in attendance. He couldn’t help smile back at a teenage girl who was eating alongside another young woman. The latter was obviously an aristocrat, judging from the quality of her dress. Both of the girls were sitting at the table nearest to his and the smell of the roast meat they were eating was like torture to his empty stomach. Unfortunately, his purse was about as empty as his stomach and the other agent from Cardinal Mazarin who was supposed to give him funds for his stay in Paris and his return trip to Brühl, near Cologne, was not present in the hall. On his signal the innkeeper came to his table, bending down so that his customer could whisper to him: he was loyal to the Queen and the Cardinal and could be depended on to be discreet.
“Is Monsieur Bartet in his room?”
“Uh, no, monsieur. He is out doing some errands at the moment. I gather that you will be using his room tonight?”
“That’s correct.” Said the messenger, who then paused while twisting one tip of his moustache. “Innkeeper, could you advance me some credit until Monsieur Bartet returns, so that I can eat something.”
The innkeeper looked at him with embarrassment.
“I am sorry, monsieur, but Monsieur Bartet already owes me two weeks of lodging and meals and is still waiting himself for some funds from your employer. With your two other friends here in the same situation, I am about broke myself: this Fronde Uprising is not helping business at all.”
His Gascon temper nearly made the messenger explode in rage and frustration: Cardinal Mazarin may be the one hope for the salvation of the monarchy in France but he was one stingy employer. His only hope now was to see Abbot Basile Fouquet in the morning and ask him for some money. If Mazarin’s right hand man in Paris had something aplenty, it was money. Emptying with resignation his purse on the table, he looked sadly at the few small coins that fell out, all of it amounting to less than one Livre. The innkeeper quickly grabbed the coins and smiled.
“That will be enough for your night’s lodging and some bread and wine, monsieur. I won’t be long.”
Watching the innkeeper go into his kitchen, the messenger noticed that the girl who had previously smiled to him was looking at him with something approaching pity: she must have seen him empty his flat purse on the table. The girl, a very tall one with a very nice chest, green eyes and long black hair, was maybe fifteen or sixteen and was beautiful, making the messenger wish that he could spend a night with her. The girl then whispered in the ear of her mistress, who glanced at him and smiled before nodding her head. The young girl then rose from her bench and went to him, an engaging smile on her face. She was truly a tall one, towering over all but one of the men present in the hall. The deep cleavage of her dress, in line with the current fashion, made her charms even more evident. She positively looked like hell on wheels and her smile was mischievous. The messenger smiled as he imagined what kind of bed partner she could be. The girl made a quick curtsy before presenting herself in impeccable French.
“Good evening, monsieur. I am Lady Nancy Sommers, lady-in-waiting of Lady Lisbeth of Strathmore. Would you honor us by joining us at our table, monsieur?”
He smiled in anticipated pleasure at the girl: at least his luck had not totally run out.
“I would be delighted to accept the kind invitation of your mistress, mademoiselle.”
Rising to his feet, he eagerly followed the young Nancy to the next table, bowing and saluting with his large felt hat the pretty-looking young woman aristocrat.
“Good evening, milady! I am Charles Ogier de Batz de Castelmore, at your service. May I thank you for your most gracious invitation?”
The discreet but noticeable reaction of the two English women to his name didn’t escape Charles, who tensed up at once: somebody able to recognize his name in Paris could represent a potential threat to him. Lisbeth of Strathmore however quickly repressed her reaction and showed him the seat besides Nancy while speaking in good French with a definite English accent.
“You may by joining us for supper, monsieur.” Replied Lisbeth of Strathmore, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “It is too rare to have the company of a true gentleman instead of that of ruffians in these troubled times.”
‘’And how do you know that I am a gentleman, and not a ruffian, Lady Lisbeth?’’
Lisbeth, aka Elizabeth Windsor ‘B’, exchanged a knowing look with Nancy Laplante ‘B’ before replying to Charles, better known in history under the name ‘d’Artagnan’.
‘’First, your name is that of an aristocrat and you are wearing a sword. You are thus an aristocrat, probably of low lineage judging by your flat purse. Second, you haven’t yet tried to put your hand on the inviting butt of my lady-in-waiting. But please, sit down.’’
Despite his suspicions, Charles quickly sat opposite Lisbeth, who signaled the maid to approach.
“Mademoiselle, bring an extra cover and a pitcher of wine for our friend here.”
She then turned her attention back on Charles, who was hungrily eyeing the plates of food on the table.
“You look like you rode long and hard, monsieur. Are you on a business trip?”
“Not exactly, milady. I am in Paris to take care of some of my master’s affairs. May I ask what a gentle young lady of quality like you is doing in Paris? I believe from your accent that you are English, correct?”
“Scottish actually, Monsieur de Castelmore. I am from Angus, Scotland, and I came to Paris to escape for a while the depredations of the parliamentary armies. These are bleak times for the monarchy in England, what with the recent defeats suffered by young King Charles the Second in Scotland. Those damn Roundheads{6} are quite barbaric when it comes to dealing with the supporters of the King.”
Charles nodded his head in sympathy: the ferociousness and fanaticism of Oliver Cromwell’s army was well known and feared around Europe, especially after the way they had recently repressed a rebellion in Ireland in a monstrous bloodbath. If there was one thing that the monarchs of Europe agreed on, it was on their hatred of Cromwell and of his army of fanatical Puritan followers.
The innkeeper came in then with the bread and wine already paid by Charles and stood near their table, confused. Charles waived the man away with a smile.
“Keep both the food and the money, innkeeper. I have accepted the kind hospitality of the young lady here.”
Lisbeth shook her head in amusement as the innkeeper marched back into his kitchen.
“You are quite generous for a man who is broke, Monsieur de Castelmore.”
“Wealth comes from the heart as well as from the purse, milady.”
“Well said, monsieur! Ah, here is your plate and wine. Enjoy your supper.”
Charles went at the food with gusto: he had not eaten that well in a long time and was positively famished from his long, arduous trip from Germany. Both Lisbeth and Nancy politely kept silent, nibbling at their own plates while letting him have the best parts from the roast beef and stewed vegetables. He did however drink wine with moderation: he could not afford to get drunk with the precious letters he was carrying. He was halfway through his plate when the noise of a group of men entering the inn made him turn his head. Charles silently swore to himself when he recognized the newcomers as militiamen of the Parliament of Paris. The nine armed men in turn walked straight towards him after a short look around the room, probably because he was the only customer wearing a sword. The leader of the group, a mean-looking man with a pistol in his belt, stopped besides Charles and spoke to him in an arrogant tone.
“You! Who are you? What is your business in Paris?”
To everybody’s surprise, Lisbeth of Strathmore shot to her feet, addressing the militiaman with disdain.
“And who are you to disturb the supper of the daughter of the Earl of Strathmore? This man is in my service. If you have any questions, address them to me!”
Taken aback at first by her forcefulness, the militiaman then got angry and shot back.
“Mademoiselle, the good people of Paris have the last word here, not some foreign aristocratic woman with a fancy title. I will ask questions to whom I choose.”
Charles rose in indignation at the insolence of the man, grabbing his sword and prompting the other militiamen to do the same. Lisbeth’s hand on his shoulder stopped him from drawing his blade, though.
“Do not dirty your sword on him, Charles. It will be the Duke of Orléans who will run him through once Queen Henriette tells him about this.”
The militiaman paled at once at that threat: Gaston D’Orléans, apart from being one of the leaders of the Parliament, was also the brother of Queen Henriette de France, widow of King Charles of England and presently in exile in Paris. With a curt nod, the militiaman turned around and quickly left the inn, followed by his men. A jubilant Charles looked respectfully at the young aristocrat, who still had fire in her eyes.
“Well done, milady! But why did you protect me like this?”
“Because I have no time for parliamentary soldiers, English or otherwise. Long live the King! Now, let’s finish our supper in peace.”
Resuming their supper, Charles spoke in a low voice to Lisbeth, resolved to get to know more about her.
‘’Earlier, when I presented myself, you and your lady-in-waiting reacted to my name, as if you already knew me.
Elizabeth thought for a moment about her answer. She and Nancy had not expected to meet face to face with an historic character as famous as d’Artagnan during their historical documentation mission, which was supposed to be done in the most discreet manner possible. However, she could possibly turn this fortuitous encounter into something that could help her mission.
‘’Monsieur de Castelmore, I will tell you a secret. Me and my lady-in-waiting are here in Paris to visit Queen Henriette and to bring her the latest news from England, which are unfortunately not good. We also brought with us some funds to help our queen subsist in Paris and will take any letter she wishes to send to her loyal followers in England. Others before us did the same and one of the letters received in England mentioned you by name as a loyal agent of Cardinal Mazarin and of Queen Anne. We thus are both royalists on a mission.’’
Charles nodded his head at that, now understanding how Lisbeth could have known his name. He had in fact brought twice letters from Queen Anne to Queen Henriette two years ago, when he had visited her in the palace of The Louvre.
‘’Then, I can only sympathize with your cause, Lady Lisbeth.’’
‘’And me with yours, Monsieur de Castelmore. Those civil wars spread chaos and death, weaken both of our countries and profit only the mercenaries who are looting systematically the countryside.’’
‘’Well said, Lady Lisbeth! And what is the official reason of your visit to Paris, if someone asks you?’’
“The same as that I gave you first: to escape the depredations of the armies of Cromwell, depredations that are unfortunately too real. Also, since I have lots of time and money in my hands, I thought that it would be a good occasion to finally go see the famous painter, Mathieu Le Nain, and have my portrait and that of Nancy done by him.”
“A good idea indeed, milady.” Replied Charles. “Monsieur Le Nain has done many great portraits for members of the Court, including Queen Anne and Cardinal Mazarin. I believe also that he is in somewhat of a slump right now, what with this Fronde Uprising.”
“Oh, really?” Said Lisbeth of Strathmore, obviously interested. “Then maybe Monsieur Le Nain will be able to start my portrait without delay.”
“Probably, milady.” Said Charles, who then hesitated before asking his next question, wanting to be as diplomatic as possible with his new benefactor.
“Milady, I don’t see any other members of your retinue here apart from young Nancy. Surely you are not traveling only the two of you in these troubled times.”
“Monsieur de Castelmore,” replied calmly Lisbeth while smiling, “Nancy is much more than a lady-in-waiting to me: she is also my friend and bodyguard. I am also quite capable of defending myself.”
“Your…bodyguard?” Said Charles, trying not to laugh in her face. “A teenage girl as an escort for a lady like you?”
“That’s right, monsieur! Who would pay attention to her, except to grab her ass? On the other hand, I would not advise you to try her on, with or without weapons. Her story is quite particular indeed.”
“If you say so, milady.”
“I do, Monsieur Charles. Now, what about yourself? Will you stay long in Paris?”
“Not long I’m afraid, milady. Maybe two days, then I have to ride out again. But if you are staying for a while in Paris, we will probably see each other again: I will have to ride back and forth quite often in the next few months. Will you stay in this inn all the time, milady?”
“We will, monsieur. Be certain that our table will always be open to you.”
Charles bowed to her, pleased by her generous offer.
“Milady is too generous with a lowly stranger like me.”
‘’It is a pleasure to be able to help you, Monsieur de Castelmore.’’
Elizabeth then took a few silver coins from her purse and gave them to Nancy.
“Nancy, go see the innkeeper and arrange for a room and ample meals for Monsieur de Castelmore for the rest of his stay.”
‘’Right away, Milady!’’
As Nancy was going to see the innkeeper, Charles started to protest to Lisbeth that she was doing too much, but was cut off politely.
“Monsieur de Castelmore, consider this as simple courtesy between fellow travelers. Maybe you’ll be able to repay me some day by showing me around Paris.”
“I will be delighted to oblige, milady.”
Nancy returned a few minutes later, a key in her hands. Bowing first to her mistress, she then smiled to Charles.
“If monsieur could follow me, I will show him his room.”
Charles quickly grabbed his saddlebags, which contained all that he possessed, then gallantly kissed Elizabeth’s hand before following the teenager up the wooden staircase that led upstairs to the rooms of the inn.
Charles soon saw with satisfaction that his assigned room was facing that of Isaac Bartet, the agent of Cardinal Mazarin that he wanted earlier on to find. Entering with Nancy a clean room with a comfortable-looking bed, Charles started putting his things away on the cupboard and inside the dresser of his room. He was however surprised when he saw the innkeeper and his maid bring in a wooden bathtub with some steaming water in it. Nancy smiled to him as the maid went back downstairs with her boss to fetch more water for the tub.
“I thought that it would be a good idea for you to have a hot bath after your long, dusty and muddy trip, monsieur.”
“A bath? Is it really necessary? Doctors say that water attract diseases.”
Nancy then gave him a dubious look.
“The bunch of ignorant twits that pass as doctors here may say that washing is actually bad for health and that body dirt protects from diseases but my common sense and my nose say otherwise. In New France{7}, I bathed every day, yet I am quite healthy, as you can see.”
“You visited New France?” Asked Charles, surprised.
‘’I was born there, monsieur.’’ Replied proudly Nancy. ‘’My father was a French fur trapper, while my mother was an English aristocrat of low lineage that had been captured and taken as a slave by the Hurons. My father bought her back from the Hurons, then married her. I can tell you a lot more, but I want first to see you in this bathtub as soon as the innkeeper will return with more water. If that can motivate you, I will be soaping and scrubbing you…everywhere.’’
That last sentence convinced Charles to stop objecting to a bath and he finished putting away his meager possessions, which consisted mostly in weapons. Charles waited for the innkeeper to return and finish filling the bathtub, then pushed the door’s bolt lock in place after he left. Going then to the dresser, he started to take off his clothes, dusting them off first before carefully folding them as he undressed.
“Nancy,” asked Charles while his back was turned to the teenager, “was your mistress serious when she said that you were her bodyguard?”
“Charles, look at me.” Said the girl calmly. He turned around just in time to hear and feel a thrown knife pass by his right ear and burrow itself in the dresser’s door with a thump. Jumping sideways, Charles looked first at the mean-looking blade still vibrating in the door, then at Nancy with both surprise and shock. She looked back somberly at him, standing with feet apart in a defiant stand.
“Charles, I would appreciate if you would take me seriously. I am much more than what I appear to be.”
She then started to take off her dress, soon revealing a pair of short knife scabbards strapped under her breasts, where she could easily grab the blades through her dress’ cleavage. Two more knife scabbards, one of them empty, were strapped to the outside of her upper legs. Charles also noticed how athletic and strong the girl was, with a sexy yet well balanced body that reminded him of a few circus acrobat girls he had seen in the past. While her deep skin tan contrasted with the milky skin that was considered a mark of beauty in France, it added to the impression of perfect health and fitness radiating from her. Her groin was also closely shaved, with the skin there nearly as tanned as on the rest of her body. Charles swallowed hard while eyeing her: compared to Nancy, the steamy women of the Fronde who thought of themselves as contemporary Amazons were pale imitations of female warriors. Walking calmly past him, Nancy retrieved her knife from the dresser’s door before taking gently Charles’ hand and guiding him towards the bathtub.
“Come on, Charles, finish undressing: I already saw many naked men in my life.”
‘’And how old are you to supposedly have so much experience with men, Nancy?’’
Her answer shocked him.
‘’I am thirteen, Charles. Know that the fur trappers and the Amerindians in New France are much less puritanical than the people of Europe, since they live with nature.’’
‘’Only thirteen? But, you are taller than me!’’
‘’So what? The Amerindians of New France are solidly built people and my paternal grandmother was from the Huron tribe. Fresh air, constant exercise and a balanced diet do marvels for one’s health.’’
‘’Decidedly, your story keeps interesting me more and more, Nancy.’’
Stepping close to Charles to remove his shirt, Nancy sniffed and frowned in disapproval when Charles raised his arms to help her, exposing his armpits.
‘’Ooof! A bath will definitely not be a luxury: you sweated a lot during your trip. Okay, step in the bathtub and sit!’’
‘’And you, Nancy? You are not taking a bath with me?’’ Asked Charles with a wink, making the teenager smile.
‘’Not with the same bath water as yours, Charles: I’m afraid that it will take a few repeated cycles of soaping and rinsing before you pass muster with me. But I still can scrub your back.’’
Using a sponge and pouring some lukewarm water on the back and shoulders of Charles, Nancy started scrubbing him vigorously while speaking.
‘’So, Charles, what do you want to know exactly about me?’’
‘’Everything!’’ Replied Charles while admiring her breasts, so close and so tempting. ‘’How did you become the lady-in-waiting of Lady Lisbeth, if you were in New France?’’
‘’I actually left New France at the age of ten, after the death of my father. My mother wanted to bring me to England, where she was hoping to claim back her nobility titles. Unfortunately, she died of a fever during our sea trip and I landed in England alone, where I learned that my mother’s family had been dispossessed for cause of debts. I then had my first piece of luck and met Lady Lisbeth, who took me in her service and helped me continue my education. I already had learned to read, write and count in New France, with my mother educating me as best she could, including about proper manners for a lady. I was thus able to adapt quickly to my new life in Scotland, but I still continued to train hard physically to stay fit and I roamed the local forests to exercise my talents. Unfortunately, the civil war raging in England and the roaming bands of soldiers and mercenaries gave me many occasions to fight and protect Lady Lisbeth.’’
Charles nodded his head, suitably impressed.
‘’Quite an extraordinary story that you have, Nancy. Which weapons are you familiar with?’’
‘’All of them!’’ Replied without hesitation the teenager, catching Charles off guard. ‘’Lady Lisbeth, who is a true expert with a rapier, taught me fencing, while I already knew how to shoot pistols and muskets, thanks to my father, who also showed me how to throw knives. His hunting partner, an Algonquin, taught me how to shoot a bow and how to fight with a knife and an axe. I also know how to hunt, fish, skin and butcher carcasses and to survive Winter in the woods. And you, Charles?’’
‘’Uh, I can say without bragging that I am an expert fencer and a good shooter. I also am an expert rider. We will have one day to do some practice fencing together: I would like to assess your degree of expertise in it.’’
‘’Soon, maybe. Well, get up now, so that I can scrub your bum.’’
Nancy giggled when she saw that Charles had definitely reacted to her nudity.
‘’It’s always good to a girl’s ego to see that men react to them. Let’s clean that little bird first.’’
Charles soon found out that cleaning up was half the fun, especially with a girl with the expertise that Nancy demonstrated then with her fingers and tongue.
07:01 (Paris Time)
Sunday, April 16, 1651
Inn of ‘Le Lion Noir’
Paris, France
Charles sat up in bed at the sound of resounding knocks on his door. Glancing quickly at Nancy, he saw that she had already rolled out of bed and was on one knee while holding one of her throwing knives.
“Charles, open up! It’s Isaac!” Shouted somebody in the hallway.
“One moment!” Shouted back Charles before looking at the teenage girl, smiling reassuringly. “Don’t worry: he’s a good friend of mine.”
Walking quickly to the door after putting on his shirt, he pushed open the bolt lock and cracked the door open, a loaded pistol at the ready in his hand in case it was a trap. He saw with relief that his friend and comrade in arm was indeed alone. Quickly letting him in, he closed and locked the door behind him before going to the dresser to put his clothes on. Isaac Bartet looked with delighted surprise at the beautiful naked teenage girl who was now gathering her clothes before speaking to Charles.
“How did an old man like you end up with a young prize like her?”
“What do you mean, an old man?” Protested Charles. “I’m only 38 years old!”
“That’s what I meant, old man!”
“Never mind! Where the hell were you last night? If not for the generosity of her mistress, I would have spent the night with an empty stomach.”
“I was trying to find a safe way to contact the Queen, that’s what! Spies and sympathizers of the princes are watching her very closely these days: they must be suspecting that she is still corresponding with the Cardinal. Unfortunately, those sympathizers also happen to know both of us. Oh, by the way, I have some money for you.”
“Not too early!” Grumbled Charles, taking the purse presented by Isaac and checking quickly its content. “That’s it?”
“Hey, you know our employer. Don’t expect to feast at his expense.”
Charles sighed with discouragement then. Apart from being dangerous, his job had done nothing to help him fill his purse. His loyalty was not for sale, however. Whatever happened, he would cling with the Cardinal, unlike too many fair weather supporters who had switched sides or conveniently disappeared during the last months.
“It’s a good thing that I met this young English aristocrat and her servant. Without her generosity I…”
An idea suddenly flashed in his mind, making him pause.
“You what?” Wondered Isaac. Charles lowered his voice and got closer to him.
“I think that I found a way to communicate safely with the Queen.” He then whispered in Isaac’s ear for a minute, getting a skeptical look from him at the end.
“Should we really put so much confidence in two strangers?”
“Look, Isaac, they already helped me out once yesterday. That Lady Lisbeth of Strathmore is a staunch monarchist and hates that parliamentary rabble. She would make a perfect messenger between us and the Queen. Who would suspect a total stranger like her?”
“I don’t know, Charles. Those letters are our responsibility. If they get lost or stolen…”
“We can escort them as far as we dare and then watch from a distance.” Proposed Charles. “Do you have a better idea anyway?”
“I guess not.” Answered Isaac, still looking unconvinced. Charles patted his shoulder in encouragement.
“Well, let me dress and we will go down to have breakfast: we think better on a full stomach.”
Isaac took hold of his arm as he was turning towards the dresser and whispered in Charles’ ear.
“How was your young friend?”
“Like a dream. She is half savage, half noble, half English and half French, with a bit of native blood from the Americas in her veins.” Whispered back Charles, a wide smile on his face. “She was right about saying that she is much more than what she appears to be. But enough said about her: let’s go have breakfast.”
Charles and Isaac found Lady Lisbeth having a breakfast of bread and cheese at a table in the inn’s main hall. The young aristocrat woman waved at them to come to her table, greeting both with a smile as Nancy sat beside her and cut a piece of cheese for herself. Charles presented his friend then, who bowed and waved his hat in salute.
“I hear that you helped out my friend Charles yesterday, milady. I must thank you both for your courage and for your generosity.”
“That was nothing, Monsieur Bartet, I assure you. On the other hand, I was hoping that Monsieur de Castelmore would escort me and my friend around Paris when he will be free to do so.”
Lisbeth then smiled maliciously at Charles.
“I am ready to pay well for his services, in money that is.”
That made young Nancy giggle. The mention of money did get Charles’ attention though, even if he protested it.
“Milady, you do not need to pay me after showing so much generosity already.”
“I insist, monsieur!”
“Well, if you really do, could I ask of you a service instead of money, milady?”
“What kind of service, monsieur?”
Charles hesitated for a moment, attracting a knowing smile from Lisbeth.
“Monsieur Charles de Batz de Castelmore, or should I say Monsieur D’Artagnan, you don’t need to hide things from me. I am a friend, not a spy or an agent of the princes. Part of the reason I am here is to see if the King and Queen of France will be able to subdue this Fronde Uprising. If they do, then maybe the English monarchy could hope for support from France in its fight against this dastardly Cromwell. I can see things around me, monsieur, and so can my friend Nancy. You arrive from a long trip, then tell me that you must depart soon, to return here o