"I know because I think just like you. But I also know that Richelieu is seeking a rapprochement with Spain right now. France will soon be at war in Lorraine and possibly in the Holy Roman Empire. She cannot allow herself to come under threat from the Pyrenees border at the same time. The cardinal needs to please Spain and so he's offering her tokens of friendship."
Leprat sighed.
"Very well. But why us? Why recall the Blades? The cardinal does not lack for spies, as far as I know."
The captain didn't respond.
"The mission is delicate," Agnes began.
". . . and we are the best," added Marciac.
But as agreeable as this was to say and to hear, these explanations did not satisfy anyone.
It was a mystery which filled each of their minds.
The silence stretched out, until at last the Gascon said: "We don't even know this chevalier d'Ireban's real name and Spain is unlikely to tell us anything more about him. Suppose he lives. Suppose he is in hiding or being held prisoner. The fact remains that there are some five hundred thousand souls in Paris. Finding one, even a Spaniard, will not be easy."
"We have a trail to follow," announced La Fargue. "It is thin and no doubt cold, but it has the merit of existing."
"What is it?" Agnes asked.
"Ireban did not come to Paris alone. He has a companion in vice. A gentleman of means, also a Spaniard. An adventurous duellist when it suits him and a great connoisseur of Paris at night. The man goes by the name Castilla. We shall begin with him, Almades, Leprat, you'll come with me."
Those he'd named nodded.
"Marciac, stay here with Guibot and make an inventory of everything we're missing. Then this evening you will make the rounds of all the cabarets and gambling houses that Ireban and Castilla are likely to frequent."
"Understood. But there are a lot of them in Paris."
"You will do your best."
"And me?" asked the baronne de Vaudreuil.
La Fargue paused for a moment.
"You, Agnes, must pay a visit. See to it."
She already knew what he meant and exchanged a glance with Ballardieu.
Later, La Fargue went to see Leprat, who was saddling horses in the stable.
"I know what this costs you, Leprat. For the rest of us, a return to service with the Blades is a benefit. But for you . . ."
"For me?"
"Your career with the Musketeers is well established. Nothing forces you to give it up and if you want my advice ..."
The captain didn't finish.
The other man smiled warmly, obviously touched, and recalled what monsieur de Treville had said on relaying the orders for his new mission: "You are one of my best musketeers. I don't want to lose you, especially not if you wish to keep your cape. 1 will take your side. I will tell the king and
the cardinal that you are indispensable to me, which is the simple truth. You could stay. You have only to say the word."
But Leprat had not said the word.
"This mission does not inspire confidence in me," La Fargue continued. "Spain is not being frank with us in this business. I fear that she intends to use us for her benefit alone, and perhaps even at the expense of France. ... At best, we shall gain nothing. But you, you have a great deal to lose."
The former musketeer finished tightening a strap, and then patted his new mount on the rump. The animal was a beautiful chestnut, a gift from monsieur de Treville.
"May I speak freely, Etienne?" he demanded of La Fargue.
He only spoke to the captain so personally in private.
"Of course."
"I am a soldier: I serve where I'm told to serve. And, if that is not enough, I am a Blade."
11
For Ballardieu, the moment of his true reunion with Paris took place on the Pont Neuf. For if the market at Les Halles was the city's belly and the Louvre was its head, then the Pont Neuf was the heart of the capital. A heart that pumped blood, giving the city life and movement, animating the great populous flow that ran through its streets. Everyone, after all, used the Pont Neuf. For convenience, primarily, since it permitted people to travel directly from one bank to the other without passing through He de la Cite and its maze of mediaeval alleyways. But also for the sake of entertainment.
The bridge was originally intended to support houses, as was only to be expected in a city where the tiniest building space was already utilised. But this plan was abandoned to avoid spoiling the royal family's view of the Cite from the windows of the Louvre. Of this original plan only two wide platforms survived, both six steps high and running the entire length of the bridge, on either side of the paved roadway. These platforms became pavements, the first in Paris, from which it was possible to admire the Seine and enjoy the fresh air without fear of being run over by a coach or a horse rider. Parisians soon grew to like going for a stroll there. Street artists and traders set up shop along the parapets and in the half-moon-shaped lookout points, and the Pont Neuf soon became a permanent fair, filled with jostling crowds.