The Second Time Travel Megapack: 23 Modern and Classic Stories Read online

  “Do you not wish to accompany us, Monsieur Clive?” he asked. “I’m sure M. de Treville will be disappointed if he does not have the opportunity of speaking with the man that brought us unscathed through a regiment of the cardinal’s best guards.”

  Clive felt his face flush. “I thought my uniform would start an investigation, and get you fellows in trouble,” he said.

  “Your foreign speech without the uniform would cause much more trouble,” said Athos, “but with M. de Treville’s protection the police will not dare to touch you in your foreign uniform.”

  “And in addition,” said Aramis, “we owe M. Clive a debt of gratitude which we can not allow to go unrepaid.”

  “One for all and all for one,” cried Porthos. “You are one of us now.”

  “Let us be off,” came the impatient voice of d’Artagnan who had gone outside, and could not understand the delay.

  This was all the urging Clive needed; he followed the others out the door, and arm-in-arm the five men marched musketeer-fashion toward the hotel of the captain of the musketeers.

  Needless to say, Clive attracted a great deal of attention along the route, but marching in the center of such an imposing array of musketeers no one dared question his presence. Other musketeers that were encountered, although displaying curiosity, boisterously called out the usual greetings to their four comrades. This curiosity was mirrored in the face of M. de Treville, who had been awaiting their arrival, and who escorted them immediately to his private chambers.

  “Your arrival seems always to be accompanied by some sort of a crisis,” he said in more of a paternal than critical manner. “I presume I am not far wrong in assuming you gentlemen to be the cause of the story of devils flying over the countryside on fiery dragons, that has Monsieur le Cardinal so upset this morning?”

  “You are correct, Monsieur, we were the cause of the excitement. We did not encourage the stories of the devils, however, and we didn’t have time to discourage them; so you see, we are innocent of the whole thing, although being the cause of it,” said Porthos.

  “Porthos, you talk in circles,” said d’Artagnan. “What you say is not important anyhow,” and then turning to Treville he continued: “We have come to speak to you of a matter of utmost importance to the queen and the state.” He opened his portmanteau and handed the contents to the captain. Treville’s eyes widened when he saw the picture, and read the inscription.

  “Does Monsieur le Cardinal know you have these things?” he asked.

  “Yes, Monsieur,” answered d’Artagnan, “but he hasn’t had time to receive word of our escape from his guards at Amiens, since we came by a much speedier method than horseback.” Then d’Artagnan described the manner in which they obtained the picture and documents, and how they had been waylaid in Amiens, and had escaped by riding into the cave, and of the unbelievable adventures that had befallen them in the strange new world. Treville listened attentively to this recital, not able to suppress expressions of incredulity, and frequently gazing wonderingly at Clive, his uniform, and the revolver strapped at his side. When d’Artagnan had finished his story, Treville turned to Clive.

  “I do not quite understand this story,” he said, “but M. d’Artagnan says you are a brave man, and I am grateful to you for bringing my musketeers through safely. It is small wonder His Eminence is upset about the flight of the devils last night,” he continued, now addressing the musketeers as well as Clive. “It will be well for me to see the king before M. le Cardinal receives word from Amiens. As for the message for the queen, I will allow you to handle that in your own manner, and will forget that I ever saw such a picture.” Then calling his valet de chambre, who always stood in a small adjoining room, he ordered his carriage. This order was immediately fulfilled, and soon the captain, his four musketeers, and the American were speeding through the streets of Paris toward the Louvre. The carriage was drawn by eight magnificent horses, and Clive could interpret from the attitudes of the people they passed, the respect that was held for the captain of the musketeers—the third man in the government.

  Before arriving at the Louvre the carriage stopped and discharged all its occupants except M. de Treville, who continued on to the main gate, while the other five made their way on foot to the small side door. D’Artagnan asked for M. Laporte, and soon the queen’s valet de chambre appeared, and recognizing his visitors led them to a small room having no windows, and only one door. The latter he bolted as soon as they were all inside. He cast a suspicious glance at Clive, but said nothing to him except to express his “pleasure” at meeting him.

  * * * *

  D’Artagnan repeated the story, just as he had told it to Treville, and Laporte listened attentively until the narrator arrived at the journey to the “new world,” and then a smile of incredulity crossed his face and remained throughout’ the narration of the remainder of the story. When d’Artagnan had finished he handed the picture to Laporte, and the smile vanished from the face of the latter.

  “You have served the queen well, Messieurs, in obtaining this picture, but since you are gentlemen of honor, and obviously have not been drinking, you have undoubtedly been bewitched, and your ‘friend,’ Monsieur Clive, is a sorcerer.” Laporte said this with a finality that was meant to allow no dispute, but anger immediately flashed in the eyes of the musketeers, while Clive was so amused that he could not prevent a chuckle from escaping him.

  “Do you believe that I have bewitched you while you were standing here with us?” Clive asked the queen’s advisor.

  “Of course not,” said Laporte, “you haven’t made a single motion with your hands, and your lips haven’t parted in any incantation since you have been here, for I have been watching you.”

  “Oh brother!” Clive exclaimed in English.

  “What was that?” asked the valet de chambre.

  “If I haven’t bewitched you, how do you explain this?” asked Clive, producing a small pocket flashlight, and flashing it in the eyes of the old man.

  “You have bewitched that piece of metal,” Laporte hedged.

  “Do you believe that any of these musketeers could do this?” Clive asked.

  “Certainly not!”

  The musketeers could see what Clive was driving at, and they each produced one of the lights with which he had supplied them, and flashed them in the direction of Clive’s accuser. To say that Laporte was chagrined would be an understatement, but since he was a gentleman he apologized — coolly — to the American, and asked if he could take one of the instruments to the queen, as he knew she would request to see one when she heard about it. Clive handed his light to the queen’s valet de chambre, who took the light and the picture and left the room after asking the others to wait.

  The darkness of the room seemed heightened by the flicker of a single candle on a table in the corner, and Clive thought the air very stale, although the others did not seem to show any discomfort. The five men sat in silence for nearly half an hour, when Laporte returned.

  “Will Monsieur Clive please accompany me?” he asked in a tone that expressed more a command than a request. The musketeers shot questioning looks at each other, and Athos was about to refuse to let him go alone, when Clive spoke.

  “I will be glad to go along if this is on the level,” he said.

  “On the level?” questioned Laporte.

  “I mean, if it isn’t a trap of some sort. I really wouldn’t like to be fed to the lions or burned at the stake, or whatever it is that you do to sorcerers and witches,” Clive explained.

  “If Monsieur Clive does riot return,” said Porthos, “you will account to us.”

  “Put yourselves at ease, Messieurs, no harm will come to Monsieur Clive,” Laporte assured them.

  Clive followed the old man out into the corridor, and up a seemingly endless circular stairway. He finally ent
ered a fairly small room, where he was again told to wait. The room was richly furnished and hung with silks and tapestries. Four large windows admitted adequate light, and one of them being open allowed a fresh stream of air to fill the room. The air was perfumed with the scent of flowers, and looking out the window Clive could see a beautiful garden in full bloom below him. This was a marked change from the filth and squalor he had seen in the streets of Paris. While he was thus absorbed in the view before him he heard the door open behind him, and turning he saw a young woman of such breathtaking beauty that he stood spellbound.

  As for the queen, for it was she who had entered the room, the smile of graciousness on her face immediately changed to an expression of astonishment when she saw Clive.

  “It is he!” she cried, and then realizing what she had said’ she blushed deeply and attempted to compose her features. This aroused Clive from the spell he was under, and he bowed low as he had seen courtiers do in the motion pictures.

  “I am highly flattered that you would recognize me, Madame, but I have been in your country for such a short time that I am curious to learn where you saw me before,” he said, intentionally omitting “your highness,” though he knew he was addressing the queen.

  “Even the voice is the same,” she said as though speaking to herself. “Perhaps it is possible—maybe it could be true.” A strange fire burned in her eyes as though her soul were probing into the limbo of misplaced memories. Seeing Clive’s increasing embarrassment she recovered her original poise. “You undoubtedly think it very stupid of me, but I have known you, however, for years from a dream in which you came from a distant country and age.” She walked toward Clive as though hypnotized.

  Clive’s mind was reeling, as the queen came toward him he knew that he had experienced this moment before.

  “Anne,” he whispered. “Anne dear, I have known you through eternity.”

  * * * *

  Treville had been granted an immediate audience with the king, who was preparing for a stag hunt, and was in a good humor notwithstanding the early hour.

  “What brings you here so early, my dear Treville, and with such a gloomy expression? Just to look at you might spoil my whole day. You should do as I do, and let the cares of the state fall upon the shoulders of our dear friend, Monsieur le Cardinal.” The king said this in a manner of mock seriousness, and burst into laughter when he had finished.

  “As a matter of fact,” said Treville, “it is about the cardinal, or I should say the cardinal’s guards, that I come to see you.”

  “What!” exclaimed the king. “Have they been stirring up any more duels with my musketeers?”

  “Worse than that, sire,” answered Treville.

  “How, worse than that?”

  Treville handed the documents which he had taken from d’Artagnan to the king. The latter glanced through the papers and recognized them as containing military information.

  “Four of your musketeers, with whom you are personally acquainted, discovered an English spy who had these papers in his possession. They removed the documents and attempted to bring them directly to you, sire; but when they reached Amiens they were ambushed by a company of His Eminence’s guards and were forced to take refuge in a cave. What occurred in the cave I will leave for them to relate, but if it had not been for the help of a foreigner, Monsieur Clive, they might now be bound and gagged in the stinking cellar of an inn in Amiens.”

  “And this foreigner, Monsieur Clive, how could he aid four musketeers in repelling successfully a whole company of His Eminence’s guards?” asked the king; more concerned over the details of the fight than by the fact that an act of treason had been committed.

  “He has a pistol that will fire six shots without reloading, and he has a two-wheeled vehicle that will travel as fast as the wind without the use of horses.”

  “Have you seen these things?” asked the king.

  “I have seen the pistols, and this morning I have heard nothing else but tales of the vehicles, and you shall hear these same tales before the day is over,” answered Treville.

  “And is M. Clive in Paris?” asked the king. “If so, I would like to see him.”

  “Yes, sire, he is in Paris. I will have him here at your convenience—after the hunt perhaps?”

  “Hunt!” cried the king. “There’ll be no hunt today. With my kingdom practically toppling about my ears, and M. le Cardinal placing his guards in the way of the loyal men who would try to prevent the collapse, I have more important business than hunting. Bring him this evening and have him bring the vehicle and the pistol to show me, for I am very curious about these wonders. And say, Treville, have Messieurs Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and d’Artagnan come also—they deserve my gratitude.”

  This was the very mood in which Treville wished to leave the king, so he took his leave and departed. As he was leaving he heard Louis XIII call his valet de chambre, La Chesnaye, and tell him to send for His Eminence, the cardinal. This command was unnecessary, however, for Treville met Monsieur le Cardinal on the stairs. The latter was in great haste, and was clouded up like a thunder storm—not speaking as he passed the captain of the musketeers.

  Armand Jean Duplessis, Cardinal de Richelieu, for one of the few times in his life found himself in a position so awkward that he could think of no way out. He could not give the real reason for the attack on the musketeers for he did not have the picture as proof, and he knew that he could not fabricate a story since M. de Treville had already seen the king. He decided then upon an attitude of hurt innocence, neither admitting or denying anything. He took his scolding from the king, therefore, which was really fairly light, since privately Louis XIII feared his minster.

  * * * *

  Clive and the musketeers had returned to the hotel of M. de Treville to await the return of that gentleman. They did not have long to wait for soon his carriage pulled into the courtyard and discharged its occupant. Treville went straight to his private chambers, and then sent his secretary out to look for the five men, whom he had passed in the corridor without noticing. When they entered the room they found the captain in a good humor, and the musketeers immediately realized that things had gone well at the Louvre.

  “Monsieur Clive,” said Treville, “the king-appears to have taken a special interest in you, he has granted you an audience this evening.” He then spoke to the others: “You gentlemen will accompany M. Clive, and you will take at least one, of your so-called ‘motorcycles,’ and your pistols, for the king is deeply interested in them.” The musketeers exchanged glances with Clive. “I hope,” continued Treville, “that you gentlemen have not reconsidered, and decided that this has all been a dream.”

  “I hope Monsieur does not doubt us,” said Athos.

  “Not if you affirm your story,” said Treville, “but you must admit that this story is almost unbelievable. In spite of the fact that I believe you gentlemen implicitly, I can not comprehend what you tell me. I can not understand how men can journey back and forth through time—that journey which has always been a one-way, one-speed journey from which there has been no return.” He paused, as though expecting an answer.

  “I’ll have to tell him about Einstein sometime,” thought Clive, but he said nothing, and as the others had nothing to say Treville continued:

  “Incidentally, I have not told the king your story, so you can make it as convincing as you care to.”

  The five companions thanked M. de Treville and left the room. Clive was deeply occupied, not so much over the thought of meeting the king, as over the chance that the queen might be nearby when he met the king. It had been hardly an hour since he had left the queen’s chambers, but it seemed like an eternity to him. He knew it was mad to even think of her, the way he thought of her, but he attempted to justify his stand by considering her situation. She was married, and to the king of France; but s
he was married in name only. The king, prompted by the cardinal, made life miserable for the queen by his petty suspicions and persecutions. The cardinal was in love with the queen, but was so incensed by her hatred for him that he never missed an opportunity to antagonize her, and bring discomfort and embarrassment to her. As for the queen, she had only known one love. True, she had been attracted by the Duke of Buckingham, due mostly to his kindness to her, and to the fact that he was an arch enemy of the cardinal—but her true love was a dream, and the dream was Clive.

  Clive was debating the advisability of telling the king about the cavern at Amiens, for this stood as the one means of escape if he could get the queen there on some pretense. But then, he reasoned, the musketeers were loyal to their king, and they would hardly stand by while the American kidnapped the queen. Being so absorbed, he did not notice Grimaud who had been waiting for his master in the corridor, and who showed obvious signs of excitement.

  “What is it, Grimaud?” asked Athos. “You may speak.”

  “They are searching the house,” answered the lackey.

  “Who?”

  “The cardinal’s guards.”

  “How many?”

  The lackey held up four fingers. “Well, what are we waiting for?” asked Clive. The five men left at full speed. It was but a short distance from the hotel of M. de Treville in the Rue du Vieux-Colombier to the modest quarters occupied by Athos in the Rue Ferou, and the five friends covered the distance very quickly. When they arrived at their destination they found a cart drawn up in front of the door, and one of the motorcycles was being loaded into it while the other one already reposed within. This work was being done by the peasant owners of the cart, who were being superintended by one of the cardinal’s guards. This man appeared vaguely familiar to Clive, who in casting about for his identity noticed the sword the guard was carrying—it was the sword he had picked up at the cavern, and this man was apparently du Bois, the man whose enmity he had unconsciously obtained.