Bad Boy Musketeers

All members of The King's Musketeers lined up in the garrison courtyard and waited for Capt. Treville to put in an appearance. The garrison's gates were open, and the attention of the musketeers was drawn to the shouts and laughter of children chasing each other and rolling hoops just outside the gates. D'Artagnan watched them playing, a smile on his face. "It seems as if it was only yesterday that I was playing like them."

"That's because it was only yesterday," Aramis smirked.

D'Artagnan gave him a pained look, and then using his sleeve, polished his pauldron for the third time since lining up.

"If your pauldron gets any shinier, you're going to blind Treville when he looks at it," Athos gibed.

D'Artagnan fidgeted restlessly. "I have to do something. It's boring standing here and waiting." He watched the children for a little longer and then added, "I ran across Monsieur Bonacieux yesterday."

"What 'appened," Porthos asked.

"He noticed my pauldron and said it was disgusting that the musketeers would accept someone like me. Then he said that I was lucky I had a uniform to wear since I couldn't afford anything else and reminded me of how late I had been in paying my rent when I was staying at his house. The man is such a weasel. Just thinking about him makes me want to vomit."

"Not on my boots, you don't," warned Aramis, who stood next to D'Artagnan.

"I didn't mean that literally."

"You can hardly blame the man for being peevish, given that you've been playing fast and loose with his wife," commented Athos.

"There are times when you should resist temptation," said Aramis, with an air of piety.

Porthos snorted. "You're a good one to talk. You was probably flirtin' with girls as soon as you found out they was made different from you."

Aramis smiled and shook his head. "You couldn't be more wrong. I wanted nothing to do with girls when I was growing up."

His three friends gave him incredulous looks.

It's true. I considered them to be silly, useless, annoying creatures. Unlike my brothers and me, they didn't want to get dirty, climb trees or play soldier. They screamed when I put bugs in their hair. The worst thing of all was that when I was seven, there were two girls who chased me and tried to kiss me. Once, they ambushed me and actually succeeded. It was the most disgusting thing I could imagine."

Athos laughed. "So you couldn't defend yourself against two little girls? What a shameful admission."

"I didn't dare try to fight back since they were girls. Such behavior wouldn't have been tolerated by my parents. I knew from past experience that my father would've taken a strap to my tail for conduct unbecoming a nobleman's son."

"How old was you before you changed your mind about girls," Porthos asked.

"Just before my fourteenth birthday, one of the upstairs maids took me in hand and showed me what I was missing." He grinned. "I've never resisted the fairer sex since that day."

"I didn't know a great deal about women before I met my wife," Athos admitted.

"We figured as much," Porthos said.

"A few visits to Madame Angell's will fill in any gaps in your knowledge," said Aramis.

"There are no gaps in my knowledge."

"Athos, you couldn't flirt with a woman if your life depended on it," Aramis scoffed. "If you can't get the best of her with your sword - I'm referring to a sword of the metal variety - then you don't know what to do with her."

Porthos and D'Artagnan laughed and Athos glared at them.

Aramis looked at Athos curiously. "How long has it been anyway since you fu—"

"Quiet! Here comes Treville," Porthos warned.

Treville strolled up and down in front of his musketeers, hands clasped behind his back. "Gentlemen, as you know these last few weeks have been slow and quiet. When there aren't enough assignments to keep us busy, foolishness tends to occur here in the garrison. In regard to such foolishness, I have several incidents to bring up."

"To begin with, will the person or persons responsible for removing Musketeer Pepin's underwear from his trunk and replacing it with ladies' pink undergarments, please return his rightful underwear. No questions will be asked."

"Musketeer Barthelemy would like it known that despite having grown up around sheep, he has never possessed intimate knowledge of any sheep and would like rumors to the contrary to cease immediately." Snickers were heard among the ranks.

"If anyone has knowledge of what went with a bottle of very expensive wine belonging to Musketeer Tissot, please see me privately."

Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan glanced over at Athos. He responded to their raised eyebrows with a wounded look.

"Serge has vowed retaliation of an unspecified nature against the musketeer whose horse has been sneaking into the storage area and demolishing the supply of apples. Any man who does not wish to see horsemeat stew on the menu should keep an eye on his horse's whereabouts."

"I have one further point to bring up. Construction on the garrison bathhouse is nearly complete. Their majesties have graciously provided for twelve bath tubs to be delivered by the end of next week. Their majesties have also requested that weekly baths be required of all musketeers on assignment here in Paris. Only for those on extended missions in the countryside will this requirement be waived." Several groans emerged from the ranks of musketeers. Treville's tone was dry. "I presume that there will be no fighting over opportunities to take a bath, but a schedule will be posted, should it become necessary. This matter is not up for debate, but I realize that frequent baths are an unpopular and unorthodox idea, so I will allow comments or questions this one time only."

A musketeer with a disgruntled expression spoke up. "Begging your pardon, Captain, but this seems like nonsense. Once a year or so should be good enough." There were murmurs of agreement.

"Everybody knows that too many baths are unhealthy," said another musketeer.

"Everybody doesn't include the royal physicians or our own doctor here at the garrison," responded Treville.

"We'll catch our deaths," complained a third musketeer.

"None of you are fragile flowers. You are all strong enough to survive weekly baths. Although the bathhouse will not be heated, you will be supplied with hot water." Treville paused for a moment to determine if there were any further comments, but only a few muted grumbles could be heard. "This concludes our discussion, Gentlemen," he finished.

Treville walked down towards the end of the line and stopped in front of Athos. "A word to the wise, Athos. A horse matching the description of yours was seen lurking about the storage area where the apples are kept. I suggest that you keep a watchful eye on him."

"Yes, Captain."

Treville's next stop was in front of Porthos. "How did you get that black eye, Porthos?"

"I was accused of cheatin' in a card game, Captain."

"And were you cheating?"

"No, sir, Captain! I hadn't been in the game long enough to figure out 'ow I was goin' to cheat."

Treville assumed a long-suffering expression. "I could say something, but I believe that I will let it pass."

Treville moved on to Aramis. "Take off your hat."

Rather slowly, Aramis removed his hat.

"I believe I told you that you needed a haircut."

"You did, Captain. I haven't had time to take care of it yet."

"Make time! That thatch of yours could provide a nest for a bird. Get that haircut without further delay!"

"Yes, Captain."

Treville made his final stop in front of D'Artagnan. "What is that on your face?"

"I, I don't know what you mean, Sir," D'Artagnan stammered.

"It appears that you have been attempting to grow a beard and mustache with mediocre results. A well-groomed beard and mustache can make a man look distinguished … if he is old enough. You are not. You merely look messy with that fuzz on your face. Get rid of it."

"Yes, Sir."

Treville strode back to the center of the line. "You are all dismissed, and I'm going back to my office to pour myself a well-deserved drink."

End