The cardinal's musketeer

by Mary Imlay Taylor

“I am Péron the musketeer,” replied Péron, coolly. “Were you a man I would beat you; but since you are a fool, sir, I will simply teach you to give place to your betters;” and with that he caught the courtier by the arm and made him spin around so suddenly that when he was released he fell in a little heap into the crowd which had closed up about the two. A glance at the faces which surrounded him, some curious, some amused, some angry, warned Péron that he might be disastrously delayed. Across the street was the Hôtel de Nançay, and in one of the windows he saw a woman’s face. A warning, at any instant, might defeat the cardinal’s plans. Péron drew his sword and glanced over his shoulder at his followers, who were laughing heartily at the Sieur de Vesson’s discomfiture.

“Close up,” shouted the young commander, “and advance in the king’s name.”

“Not so fast!” cried a man, who seemed to be a servant. “You have assaulted the nephew of M. de Nançay. Gentlemen, I beseech you, aid me in apprehending this insolent soldier.”

“Stand aside,” said Péron, harshly; “think twice before you offer an affront to Cardinal de Richelieu!”

Monsignor’s name had a magical effect. The crowd parted, and Péron led the way across the street toward the Hôtel de Nançay. But the musketeers were not free of their followers. The Sieur de Vesson was recovering from his fall, and his indignant exclamations urged on his friends to resent the treatment that he had received. There were angry mutterings against the soldiers, and those of the better sort, even, were annoyed at the affront to a gentleman. Péron, meanwhile, keenly regretted the unhappy episode, as it had drawn general attention to his movements and made it impossible to keep secret the intended raid on the house of the marquis. The crowd was at their heels as the musketeers came to the entrance of the hôtel. It was a large and imposing building, the main part being square and three stories high. It was flanked by two wings, however, of only two stories, which abutted on the garden in the rear. There was a flight of steps, four or five, up to the main entrance, which was arched and bore the arms of Nançay over the apex. The windows on the street, in the first story, were ironed, but those above were open. On the left side a lane ran down between this house and the next, and it was on this that the garden gate was situated.

Péron took in, at a glance, the possibilities for the escape of the inmates, and saw that he must divide his little party. It would take eight men to guard the points of possible egress; only four would be available to assist him in the search of the interior and to resist possible interference. The crowd grew noisy, and no time could be lost; he gave his orders rapidly but distinctly, and then ascended the steps to the door, all the while conscious that a pair of eyes watched him through the opening of the shutter overhead. He tried the latch, but finding it fastened, he struck the door with the hilt of his sword. He was on the topmost step, a conspicuous figure, and below him were the four men he had selected to accompany him; behind these, the bystanders and M. de Vesson’s friends had formed in a semicircle, held in check by curiosity and amazement, but ready enough for mischief. To Péron’s surprise, after a short delay, his summons brought the porter to the door. The fellow opened it and peered out with a frightened face. He had not intended to admit his visitors unquestioned, but he was not prepared for the result of his movement. Péron’s one wish and aim was to get into the house and secure it against the crowd while he executed the cardinal’s orders, and no sooner was the door open than he thrust his foot and shoulder into the space and threw the door back with such force that he upset the lackey, who had been holding it. The musketeers were quick to follow up this advantage, and in a moment all five stood within the hall.

“Close the door and bolt it,” ordered Péron; then stirring the frightened porter with his foot, he added, “Up, knave; you will get no harm if you attempt no mischief. Tell us how many men are in the house.”

The man had recognized the cardinal’s uniform, and being greatly alarmed at the unusual violence of the entrance, fancied that something evil had happened, and, like all such creatures, was eager enough to propitiate. He stumbled to his feet and stood rubbing his joints stupidly and staring at the soldiers.

“There are no men in the house, your excellency,” he said, “but the cook and the scullion. The others went out with M. de Nançay early this morning and have not returned. There are only women here.”

This was better than Péron had had reason to expect, and he was inclined to believe it, because of the ease with which he had obtained entrance. He ordered the porter to stay where he was with one of the men, who was to watch the door, and leaving the two to warm their hands over the charcoal-pan which the porter had been feeding, Péron despatched the other three by different directions to the kitchen to secure the cook and close the rear doors. This left the task of searching the house chiefly for his own portion, and after a hasty examination of the lower rooms, which were empty and evidently for more public use than those above, Péron turned to the main staircase. By this time the female inmates of the house had taken alarm, and more than one frightened face peeped at him from the gallery around the upper hall and commanding the stairs. These were broad and had two landings, for the ceilings were lofty and the flight was long. As Péron ascended, he heard a woman’s voice raised in a tone of angry excitement. The hall was dim, although it was still early in the afternoon, but the sudden opening of a door cast a broad stream of light across the space at the top. The musketeer had reached the third step from the last when he was confronted by a young woman, who checked his advance with an imperious gesture.