Time Rider Ch. 04

"You are Rebecca, oui?" the woman asked, her voice glorious in Becky's ears. She stopped in front her and smiled dazzlingly before returning the curtsey. "I am Alexandra D'assaut, one of her majesty's ladies. I am pleased to finally meet you."

"I... it is a pleasure to meet you, too, my lady." Becky said falteringly. This woman was more beautiful than she thought possible for someone of this era.

"I know you are new to the palace, and it is rumoured that the circumstances of your arrival were less than ideal," continued Alexandra. "You are even more beautiful than I have been told, Rebecca, and I sense a great sadness in you."

She stepped even closer to Becky, who bit her lip and swallowed slightly. Their breasts were almost touching, and she could feel her heart thumping in her chest.

"But I say to you now, my friend, despair not and take heart," Alexandra said in a voice barely above a whisper, as if what she was saying was a secret meant only for Rebecca. "The days to come will give you hope."

Becky didn't know what this woman meant, but she wanted to believe her. The ache in her heart lessened slightly. They stared into one another's blue eyes quietly, lost in what they saw.

And then Alexandra leaned in and pressed her lips to Becky's, kissing her gently. Becky did not retreat from the kiss, although it was a second or two before she could react. She then moaned slightly and returned the kiss. The two women moved closer, breasts pressing as they held one another by the arms and continued to kiss. Becky trembled, thrilling to the intimacy they shared.

Alexandra pulled back from the kiss, a tempting strand of desire hanging between their lips. They both breathed as they stared, but she finally smiled and delicately used her finger to wipe the strand from their lips.

"You will see me again soon, my friend," she cooed, her fingers gently caressing Becky's cheek. "I look forward to our reacquaintance."

She backed up two steps and curtseyed gracefully, compelling Becky to hastily do the same, before she turned and glided out of the room, like a vision. Becky unsteadily sat back in her chair and let out a heavy sigh. Her heart was still pounding, and for the first time in weeks, she felt something other than heartache.

Becky turned back to her bottle, trying to distract herself from the unexpected throb in her loins.

***

"Your majesty." Alexandra said reverently, her curtsey deep and formal. "I have come to speak with you about a matter of some concern."

Sitting in an ornate chair in the lavish boudoir, Anne of Austria, probably the most famous woman in Christendom, smiled at her trusted servant. "You have only just returned from Spain, my dearest Alexandra, and you have yet another matter to bring before me?"

Alexandra nodded humbly, her hands in her lap. "Yes, my queen. Though it pains me to do so, I must beg a boon and ask you to trust me."

"My trust in you is implicit, Alexandra D'Assaut, and needs no confirmation. Has it ever?" the queen intoned, gesturing for Alexandra to approach her, while waving for her attendants to live them alone. The two women curtseyed and exited quickly. Alexandra knelt in front of Anne and put her hand on the queen's knee in supplication, not looking up.

"Your majesty, a beautiful young woman has recently been added to your retinue, and is set to enter your service within the next few weeks."

Anne smiled and nodded. "I have not met her, but I am told she is quite possibly the only woman in France who rivals you in beauty. Her name is Rebecca, oui?"

"Just so, my queen." Alexandra confirmed.

"Do you wish for her to serve directly under you as a lady of the court?" Anne asked, knowing full well that Alexandra also enjoyed the company of woman, not merely men.

"She is indeed breathtaking to behold, my queen, but no, that is not my request of you. The girl, Rebecca, do you know how she was brought to Paris?"

Anne considered. "The rumour is that she was found by the Cardinal, who was convinced she would make a magnificent addition to my household. She did not come willingly, initially, and has proven somewhat intractable since."

Alexandra nodded. "It is as you say, your majesty. But I know something about this woman that not even the Cardinal knows or can begin to guess at."

The queen frowned slightly. "She is not a danger to us, is she?"

"Not as such, no," Alexandra admitted. "But please accept my word on faith that we have no right to her and must not keep her."

Anne tilted her head. "Is she secretly a member of a royal family?"

"Not at all, no, but her presence in Paris, in France, is a source of complication that even I could not save us from." Alexandra said, her voice betraying the seriousness of her words.

"And you feel I would be best off knowing what this danger is," mused the queen. "Do you need to kill her, Alexandra?"

Alexandra finally smiled and looked up at the queen. "No, your majesty. But I will tell you now, that I must spirit her away from Paris, and the Cardinal will not take kindly to this action. The next few nights in the palace may be... tumultuous."

Anne could not help but smirk. Though the Queen and Cardinal were both devoted servants of the king, they were not allies and frequently at odds. Few things brought Anne more joy than to cause consternation for Richelieu.

"Do what you must, by beautiful Alexa," she said finally. "As in all things, you have my trust and blessing."

"Your majesty, thank you..." Alexandra said, taking the queen's proffered hand and kissing it reverently.

"Go on, then, silly girl," Anne giggled. "We mustn't keep the good Cardinal waiting."

Alexandra stood and curtseyed deeply, before backing up and then turning and exiting the room. The queen sat quietly for some time, wondering what danger was posed by this girl her most trusted agent had mentioned. She was aware that Alexa knew things that few people alive were privy to, and for her to ask for total trust was no small thing.

"God bless you and protect you, Alexandra," she thought, sighing at how helpless she felt. "Where would I, where would France be, without you to defend it?"

***

"What you need to understand, Mark, is that Lisette and I will be aiding you in every way we can," Alexandra explained as she helped dress him in his attire meant to get him into the palace. "But we cannot be seen fighting for you under any circumstances. Not only would it jeopardize the queen, but it would not benefit your cause any, because the Cardinal, in his wrath, would call all of Paris down on our heads. Our one hope lies in misdirection and confusion."

Mark nodded, holding his arms out to the sides while his host and her servant fixed the ties on his sleeves in place. He had been relieved when Alexandra informed him that she'd found Becky and she was fine, if desperate to escape. "You're dressing me up as a musketeer? Aren't they a little too famous for me to pull this off?"

Alexandra smiled. "The history and propaganda of your own era seems to have idealised them beyond their actual station, my friend. The Musketeers, as you seem to know them, are a junior regiment in the king's service, known for their boisterousness and elan, but hardly socially prominent. No, the palace itself is watched by the Garde-du-Corps and the Cent Suisse. And trust me, Mark, you do not want to get on the wrong side of the Swiss Guard."

"So if I'm a nobody, how do I prevent any somebody from giving me a very thorough anal probe?" he asked, watching as they fixed a colourful sash around his waist, along with a baldric.

"You will be given two missives, one with the royal seal of the king, and another with the seal of the Cardinal," she explained. "If anyone stops you, do not speak, simply show them one letter or the other, depending on whom you are confronted by, and act impatient, as if they are holding up your mission. Let the seals do the work for you, Mark."

"Okay, that sounds good in theory, but..."

She nodded. "No battle plan survives contact with the enemy. If things 'go to Hell', to borrow a phrase from your time, I assure you, Lisette and I will be ready. I will teach you some helpful phrases, to be used if necessary. Your only goal at that point is to reach Rebecca, who will be in the room I have shown you on the map of the palace, and then to make it to the Cour Caree, where a non-descript carriage will be waiting to take you to a safe place of mine."

"Wait, what's gonna happen to you and Lisette?" he asked, clearly concerned as they fitted him with a belt now.

Alexandra smiled and touched his cheek with her hand. "You needn't worry, Mark. We have been in tighter fixes than this, I assure you. My determination to be free of Chester's debt is motivation enough to make sure this plan succeeds in a spectacular manner."

They had gone over the plan she'd devised, and she had made him memorize the route he would take through the palace, once he had been admitted. She had taught him some basic bur essential French phrases, making sure that he spoke them flawlessly, all on the hope he would never need to use them. So much of this depended on Mark's willingness to stick to the initial plan. Could this undisciplined boy from the future be trusted to do so?

Lastly, they fitted him with his tabard, the blue trimmed with white and the fleur-de-lis, indicating his membership in the Musketeers. She deemed it unlikely he would run into any actual Musketeers inside the palace, since their own headquarters was some blocks away on the Rue de Siene.

"Cool, I get a rapier and a pistol?" he remarked in excitement as they slid the sword into its scabbard and a wheellock pistol into a holster.

"With any luck, you will not need to try and use them," she answered somewhat grimly. "Because I am willing to bet that even the most junior scullery maid in the royal kitchens would prove better with a blade than you, my friend."

Mark grunted and looked put off, but he needed to hear the truth. These were not meant to be weapons, except as a very last resort. They were props to get him to Rebecca.

"Now," Alexandra said, standing in front of him and smoothing any wrinkles out of his shirt. "What is your name?"

"Mark."

She closed her eyes for a moment before speaking again. "No. What is your name that I have given you for this little caper of ours?"

"Oh, uh... Benat."

"Yes," she confirmed, thankful that he had remembered at least that much. "You are Benat du Ferres, of Soule, from the south of the realm, near the Spanish border, which accounts from your almost incomprehensible accent when you speak. With any luck, it should annoy people you speak with so badly that they'll dismiss you quickly and send you on your way."

"Mademoiselle From Armentiers." Mark mused, smirking. Alexandra gave him a quizzical look. "Nothing, just a song from my own era."

"Wildly inaccurate, then, since I have been to Armentiers and there are no ladies to be found, I assure you." Alexandra sighed. "Anyhoo, we are about as ready as we can be without over-planning. I still have a few matters to prepare on my own behalf, so Lisette will see you down to the carriage that will take you to the palace."

She embraced him now, her arms holding him close and her mouth on his neck, giving him a kiss. Mark stiffened for a moment but then returned the hug.

"Have faith, Mark," she whispered. "All will be well. If I have my way, Lisette and I will see you and Becky before you return to your own time."

She released him and turned to walk into her study. Lisette put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at her and she smiled prettily.

"Let us go, young master," she said, tilting her head toward the wall where a secret door was already opened. "Adventure awaits us."

***

The non-descript carriage had indeed made its way through Paris' winding streets, taking well over an hour to finally stop in front of the palace and allowing Mark to get out of the cramped cab before it rattled off. The sun had set some time ago, and night hung over the city heavily, the cloying air of Paris carrying the city's growing pains to his ears. Even at night, the city was not silent.

Mark adjusted his outfit and marched toward the outermost gate of the vast palace, its arms spread wide and encompassing a massive courtyard. Two men wearing ornate red uniforms and holding pikes crossed their weapons at his approach, barring his entry. One of them gruffly asked him to state his business.

Trusting to the plan, Mark said nothing, but merely held out one of his sealed letters, this one bearing the emblem of Richelieu. The guard examined it for several seconds, consulting with the other guard before handing it back and then opening the gate. Mark shot them both a dirty look for holding him up in his errand and then swept inside, doing his best to look haughty and full of bravado, which is what the Musketeers were apparently renowned for.

He couldn't help but reflect that they seemed a lot less heroic than history let on and were more dickbags than anything else. Oh well. Faking being a dickbag was probably significantly easier than pretending to be a hero.

He passed through another gate that got him closer to the palace, this one also manned by the Swiss Guard. He arrogantly presented them with the Richelieu missive, which once again satisfied their scrutiny and he was allowed to pass. He forced himself to not look around in wonder at his surroundings, instead heading straight to the great doors that would give him admittance to the palace.

Alex once again presented his letter, but this time the guards squinted at him suspiciously. "Qui es tou?" demanded one of them.

His throat was dry, but he answered as readily as he could, trying to sound authoritative and even haughty. "J'mappelle Benat de Ferres, of Soule, Second Company of the King's Musketeers under Monsieur de Treville. Let me through."

"Fucking Basques and Gascons," muttered one of the guards in irritation. "Why would a musketeer be bringing a missive to his excellency, the Cardinal?" he demanded to know.

Mark concealed his anxiety by looking pissed and rattling off one of the phrases Alexandra had given him, hoping it had the desired effect. "I have an idea, why don't we all go ask the Cardinal and you can fucking explain to him why you held up his envoy on an important errand? Does that sound good to you?"

The two men looked at one another warily- the visitor was certainly obnoxious enough to be a Musketeer and a Gascon. Sighing and shaking his head in defeat, the one man handed the sealed letter back to Mark and they opened the doors, allowing him entrance. He swept by them, calling them shitheads in Spanish before the doors closed behind him.

He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help gawking as he stared at the palace around him- its splendour was beyond anything he had imagined. Walls of white plaster, carved in exquisite shapes and edged in royal purple, along with gold filigree, and incredible paintings and artifacts lined the walls. Endless numbers of servants scurried by, hardly noticing him. He shut his eyes for a moment and composed himself, remembering the details Alexandra had shown him, the way through the palace. He turned and began his search for his teacher.

***

Lisette walked primly through the halls of the palace, bowing her head deferentially to just about everyone who passed her. Wearing an elegant gown, she seemed to almost glide along the hallway, walking with a practiced ease that her mistress had taught her. She had, in three years, only been in the royal presence twice before, in attendance to Lady Alexandra. The king had barely noticed her, but Lisette didn't mind one bit, because this was far more of a life than she ever could have hoped for.

She had, of course, spent much more time in the presence of the queen, because her mistress served Anne directly. Anne of Austria seemed mostly amused by Lady Alexandra's quirky servant, but she was kind to Lisette, often sending her home with gifts of chocolate. Her devotion to the queen, while not equal to her fanatic love for Lady Alexandra, meant she would die in Anne's name if necessary. She hoped it wouldn't come to that tonight, but she had made her peace with God and the Lady Mary all the same.

Alexandra had set her with the task of removing or distracting every guard she could from the route Mark would take through the palace. She was not to kill anyone, nor was she to be seen in the mayhem, if at all possible. If things went wrong, she was to retreat to the queen's quarters and be seen protecting her. It was the best alibi she could hope for.

A guard up ahead. He was a sullen-looking brute, not carrying the long pikes of the gate guards, but a much more practical halberd, along with a short rapier on his belt. She knew he'd be trouble. She ducked into an alcove and pulled a small phial out of her cleavage, drinking the strong red wine from it and sloshing it around in her mouth, to make sure the aroma was on her breath. Replacing the phial, she lurched back out into the hallway and sauntered toward him lazily.

"Hello, beautiful," she said drunkenly, giving him a lopsided smile. "You mus' be off-duty by now."

"No, I am not," he grunted, not looking at her. "Go away, slut."

"C'mon," Lisette persisted, leering at him as she leaned against the wall to his left. "We could be having fun. Don' you like fun?"

"Duty is not meant to be fun."

"But these are fun," she drawled, as she stepped in front of him and leaned forward, using her hands to pull down the front of her bodice and exposing her perky breasts to the man, whose eyes went wide at the sight. "These are all the fun you'll need..."

He didn't stop her as she sidled up to him, stood on her tip-toes and put her arms around her neck. Her breath was sweet with wine, her dark eyes glassy with the lack of inhibition it brought on. Her breasts pressed to his chest, her hips flat to his crotch.

"Take me into that room and fuck me..." she breathed huskily, her lips no more than an inch from his. "I want to feel you inside me..."

The man was rather pale at her suggestion, but nodded readily and turned around to open the door. The parlour behind was empty, the perfect place for a rendezvous with this slattern. She took him by the hand and led him inside, closing the door behind them.

***

Mark walked down the hallway, trying to not look like he was hurrying, and staying alert. He was entering a difficult part of the operation, because he was no longer in an area of the palace that led to either the king's quarters or those of Cardinal Richelieu. If anyone stopped him now, he would probably be redirected rather forcefully, and he had precious little time to waste.

He walked by a door, from which he heard a moaning noise. Then he heard a familiar woman's voice, gasping and urging someone on. His translator bud wasn't close enough to hear what was being said, but he was fairly certain he knew what was happening. He subtly pushed the door open and peered inside.

Mark gaped as he watched Lisette, leaning over a small table, panting while a member of the House Guard fucked her from behind, her layered skirt bunched over her ass as he pushed in and out of her. The guard remained oblivious, but she noticed the door open and flicked a glance his way. She gave him an annoyed look and jerked her head, indicating that she had this covered and he needed to keep moving. He nodded and pulled the door shut quietly before heading down the hall again.