Chapter 11
At the break of day they were still three or four leagues from the coast of England. The breeze had been light and they had made little progress. At ten o'clock the vessel cast anchor in the harbor of Dover and at half past the hour D'Artagnan placed his foot on English soil.
Immediately Picard and his master searched a livery, bought two horses and rode at a fast clip to London. D'Artagnan did not know the city and did not speak a word of English but he wrote the name of Buckingham on a piece of paper and everyone pointed the way to the Duke's hotel.
The Duke, he discovered, was hunting with the King and after much perspiring persuasion, the Duke's valet, Patrick, ordered two horses saddled so he might take the Musketeer to his master.
On their arrival at the castle they learned the two were hawking in the marshes. In twenty minutes they were at the spot named and Patrick went off ahead to announce his coming.
Excusing himself, the Duke took leave of the King and galloped to where the youth sat waiting.
"No misfortune has fallen the Queen?" he cried, the instant he came within sounding range.
"No misfortune. Nevertheless, she is in great peril."
"What is it?" the Duke cried, showing the love in his heart for the French Queen.
"Take this letter," D'Artagnan said.
"From her Majesty?" the Duke said, becoming so pale that D'Artagnan thought he might faint.
"What is this?" Buckingham asked, touching the tear that rent a hole in the Musketeer's doublet.
"A wound, sir."
The Duke opened the letter and read it quickly. "Patrick, remain here, or rather join the King and tell him I had to depart quickly, on a matter of life and death. Come, Monsieur, we must set off for the Capital at full gallop."
As they rode along the Duke attempted to learn all that had happened from D'Artagnan and while he listened to the recital he was able to judge what kind of a man he had to deal with.
The horses went like the wind and within minutes they were at the gates of London.
On entering the court of his hotel, Buckingham sprang from his horse and rushed for his lodgings. D'Artagnan followed in hot pursuit.
The Duke walked so quickly the youth had difficulty keeping up with him. He passed through several apartments of an elegance of which only the greatest of nobles could afford and arrived at length in a bed chamber which was the height of richness in taste. In the alcove of this chamber was a door concealed in the tapestry which the Duke opened with a little gold key which he wore suspended from his neck by a chain of the same metal. With discretion D'Artagnan remained behind but was at once beckoned to follow. "If you have the good fortune to see her Majesty, tell her what you have seen."
Over a marble alter and beneath a canopy of blue velvet, surmounted by white and red plumes, was a full length picture of the Queen. On the altar and beneath the portrait was the jewel case containing the diamond studs.
The Duke approached the altar, knelt as a priest might have and opened the case. "There," he said, drawing from within a large bow of blue ribbon all sparkling with diamonds. "There are the precious studs which I have taken an oath should be buried with me. The Queen gave them to me. The Queen requires them again. Her will shall be done."
He began to kiss, first one, then the other. "Dear friend, judge that before you stands a man unique in his love."
The youth somberly stood by as the Duke prepared to hand them to him.
"When is the ball to be?" he asked.
"Three nights away."
"And how shall you return?"
"I was counting on you for help. For certain the Cardinal will have men awaiting my arrival with the vessel."
"You must spend the night and in the early hours I will map your way," the Duke decided, leading the youth from the antechamber. "Now let us dine and talk for you must tell me all you know of the Queen."
D'Artagnan and the Duke had a pleasant conversation over a grand feast. The youth had never been entertained so royally. The food was superb and the wine the most perfect to any man's palate.
"I am tired, sir," D'Artagnan announced, after some more talk and two snifters of brandy. "By your leave, I should like to retire."
"All is ready for you. Patrick, show Monsieur to his room."
"Good night, sir," the youth said, bowing low.
The servant led him through a maze of rooms, more beautiful than the ones he had passed earlier. Opening one of the doors, Patrick instructed him to walk in. The room's opulence and splendor dwarfed the youth and for the first time in months he felt very much like a lad from Gascony. "If you need anything, sir ... please just ring."
Left alone, the youth undressed and collapsed upon the bed. His body was drained but his mind seemed unable to shut. His thoughts immediately drifted to his three friends and a sudden overwhelming sadness shadowed his heart for he feared them dead.
"It is impossible," he muttered aloud, dismissing such a morbid thought. "At worst they are wounded."
A sudden reflected figure darted the room. The youth sprang from the bed and reached for his sword. "Who goes there?" he shouted.
"Please, sir...." a timid feminine voice responded.
"Come out," he commanded.
"The Duke insisted I stay with you," the lovely creature offered, stepping from behind the drapery.
D'Artagnan's eyes widened as he took in the voluptuously beautiful woman who stood before him naked.
"The Duke is indeed thoughtful," the youth smiled, laying down his arms. "Come here," he ordered, walking to the bed and waiting for the golden haired girl to follow.
D'Artagnan traced the full sweep of her breasts and the plump roundness of her hips. His eyes settled upon the golden short hair that curled about her pussy and he smiled broadly, enjoying the moist drop of dew that clung about her slit.
The youth reached out and took the girl into his arms. Her hands traveled into his hair as her lips hungrily kissed his. He toppled them to the bed and they went into a prolonged and passionate kissing. The young man's fingers immediately slipped to between her thighs and played about her clitoris. The girl responded with a groping for his cock that stood erect and beating. Teasing his testicles she inched to his nipples and ran her tongue about the half dollar size circles. D'Artagnan played about her bottom, poked his finger into her bun-hole and out again as the girl roamed lower and tongue bathed his groin. The young Gascon sighed deeply as he felt her lips about his root. With tender loving care she bathed his balls, snatched them into her mouth and wobbled them about, working her jaw in a most unorthodox manner, sending rich hot waves about his loins.
D'Artagnan bit into the mountain of flesh that comprised her arse, separated the cheeks and tongued her poop-hole. The girl's bottom wiggled and squirmed, receiving the pleasurable sensations. The two kept up their tonguing until the girl felt his cock grow to twice its size and ready to explode. Switching positions the youth buried his spear to the nut within her sheath and began with long powerful strokes that set the girl's body to shaking. In two or three seconds she was clawing his behind as she attempted to force him deeper. Her teeth sank into his shoulder and her bottom heaved violently against him. The scalding rush of sperm exploded from his tool as the torrential burst of goop shot from her ovaries. The two writhed and twisted in abandoned ecstasy.
The girl remained motionless as D'Artagnan started to pump again. Jabbing deep, the youth hardly moved. Calmly and sensibly he moved in and out of her vagina inch by inch. The girl began to perspire and pant as her hands once more opened his crack and searched his rectum.
Placing her finger in his bun-hole, she started to move his hips faster.
"Don't stop ... don't stop," she cried out, throwing her bottom into a twirling motion that forced the young man to pump more frantically. Her tunnel was gushing with juice and as he worked his tool in and out it sloshed and sizzled, sending the most exquisite noises about their ears.
Using both hands, she tugged on his cheeks, forcing his spear to the limit, thus causing his pouch to savagely pound against her bottom. Her climax came quite suddenly but this time, instead of writhing, she swelled open and merely poured down a copious discharge that ran the length of his shaft and saturated his balls. D'Artagnan, about to discharge, pulled his throbbing pole from her canal and fell heavily over her so that her belly was bathed in the quick and hot unloading of semen.
Taking her roughly by the shoulders, he threw her to her belly, mounted and ran his machine the length of her slit. The girl raised her bottom, reached around and spread her cheeks. The young man stooped over, licked about her arse hole, then bolted forward and lodged his nut. The girl quivered as she felt the swollen spear inch its way inside. Her bottom flexed until the curve of her cheek smashed solidly against his pouch and then began to oscillate in a most tempting fashion. D'Artagnan circled her waist, felt her heavy boobs graze his arms as he humped her violently. His member got bigger and harder with each thrust until finally he shook with delight as he saturated her walls with sauce.
Exhausted from his journey and bout, the youth toppled over her back and fell soundly asleep, not moving until the early hours when Patrick entered and awakened him.
Dressed and refreshed, the youth prepared to receive the diamonds and take his leave.
"Go to the riverside, ask for the brig, "Sund" and give this letter to the captain. He will convey you to a little port where you shall be safe for it is only frequented by fishermen," the Duke stated, handing D'Artagnan the letter and diamonds.
"The name of the port?"
"St. Valary. When you arrive go to a tavern, without a name or sign ... a mere fisherman's hut."
"Afterwards?"
"You will ask for the host and repeat the word, 'forward. He will give you a horse, saddled, and point you on the road. You will find, in the same way, four relays that will eventually take you to Paris."
D'Artagnan bowed to the Duke, thanked him for his hospitality and made his way as quickly as possible to the channel. Opposite the Tower of London he found the vessel that the Duke had named. Delivering the letter to the captain, the old man made immediate preparations to leave.
The next day, about nine in the morning, he landed at St. Valary. Instantly he searched the inn and easily discovered it by the riotous noise which resounded from it. Advancing toward the owner, the youth pronounced the word, 'forward.' The host immediately made a sign for him to follow him as together they went out by a door which opened into a yard and led them to the stable. There a horse, saddled, awaited him.
"What route am I to follow?"
"Go hence to Blangy and from Blangy to Neufchatel. There go to the tavern of the Golden Harrow. Give the password to the landlord and you will find as you have found here."
"Have I anything to pay?" D'Artagnan asked.
"Everything is paid for ... and liberally. May God be your guide."
"Amen," D'Artagnan said, setting off at full gallop.
Four hours later he was in Neufchatel. Strictly following orders, he received a horse and instructions.
"Leave by way of the right. You must stop at the little village of Eccuis, in which there is one tavern ... The Shield of France. You will find a horse as good as this one," the inn keeper said.
"The same password?"
"Exactly."
D'Artagnan shook his head and set off at full speed. At Eccuis the exact scene was repeated. Now he set off for Pontoise and at Pontoise he changed horses for the last time and at nine o'clock sharp he galloped into the yard of Tre-ville's hotel.
M. de Treville received him as if he had seen him the same morning only, when pressing his hand, was a little warmer than usual. He suggested he rush straight for the Louvre this very minute.
Entering by way of the side the young man asked for Laporte. The elderly gentleman came quicky and received from D'Artagnan the precious stones.
"Wait," he said. "There is someone who wishes to thank you."
A young woman appeared before him veiled heavily in black. The youth's eyes lit up for he recognized the shape to be his beloved, Mme. Bonacieux. Taking his hand, she led him through a maze of corridors and as they became more deserted he desired desperately to take the woman within his arms. But, quick as a bird, she glided between his hands and when he wished to speak she placed her finger upon her mouth.
At length, after winding about, Madame opened a door of a closet which was entirely black and led D'Artagnan into it. There she made a fresh sign of silence and opened a second door, disclosing a brilliant light and then disappeared.
D'Artagnan remained motionless and soon the warm and perfurmed air of feminine company reached his nostrils. He heard the conversation of two or three ladies and the occasional mention of the word, Majesty.
After some time a hand and an arm surprisingly beautiful in form and whiteness glided through the tapestry. D'Artagnan at once comprehended that this was the Queen. He cast himself upon his knees, seized the hand, touched it respectfully with his lips.
"You shall be rewarded promptly," the Queen whispered, then withdrew her hand and the door immediately closed.
The door of the closet opened and Mme. Bonacieux entered.
"You, at last," D'Artagnan cried.
"Silence," the woman said, placing her hand over his mouth. "Go the same way you came."
"When shall I see you again?"
"Tonight. Late."
At these words she opened the door of the corridor and pushed D'Artagnan out of the room. The youth obeyed like a child, without the least resistance or objection, which proved to him he was truly in love.