The recent stories of flooding in Paris inspired this story. It is set in Season 3 but will contain no mention of Sylvie because I am trying to pretend she doesn't exist! This is also an effort to overcome writer's block. I have hit a brick wall with Through Darker Days.
Force of Nature
Chapter One
"When is this rain going to let up?" D'Artagnan untied his cloak and shook out the water. His hair was plastered to his head and water dripped steadily into his eyes.
Athos had to admit that the young man looked a pathetic sight. His cloak hadn't protected him from the torrential rain that had been battering the city for almost a week. He poured a glass of wine and pushed it towards his friend. "Drink this. It will warm you up."
The fire in the refectory was blazing but even so it couldn't compete with the damp cold which seemed to have permeated every corner of the room. The cadets sat huddled miserably around tables eating the chicken stew that Constance had served for their dinner.
Aramis rose from his chair and wandered over to the hearth where the stew pot sat to keep warm and ladled out a bowlful for the new arrival. D'Artagnan nodded his thanks when it was set in front of him.
"The streets are almost empty. Anyone with any sense is indoors," he reported. "I saw a few Red Guards. They looked miserable." A wicked smile lit up his face. "At least the weather is stopping them from terrorising innocent people."
"I bet Marcheaux wasn't among them," Porthos said. "That man has a knack for avoiding doing any hard work."
"I'm sure you're right, my friend. I've noticed how he manages to keep out of fights. He's always just skulking on the edges." Aramis tore off a piece of bread and mopped up the gravy from his dinner.
"The man's a disgrace but he seems to have found favour with Governor Feron." Athos moodily looked into his wine glass.
"Constance tells me they used to pick fights with the cadets until she and the Minister put a stop to it. They would come home all battered and bruised."
Athos looked around the room. "Then it appears our young charges need to either learn some common sense or improve their fighting skills. I won't have the regiment embarrassed, particularly in front of the Red Guard."
"Don't be too hard on them. They're only young."
"They're Musketeer cadets, Aramis. They need to learn to uphold the reputation of the regiment. Feron already looks down on us. You saw how he acted the day we returned to Paris."
"He isn't happy because he can't control us," Porthos said.
"That's true." D'Artagnan finished his meal and sat back with a contented sigh. Rain water still ran down the back of his neck but at least he was now warm and full. "In some ways I think he's worse than Rochefort and Richelieu combined."
"I don't disagree. At least the Cardinal had France's best interests at heart and Rochefort mostly left the ordinary people alone." Athos would never forget the disdain with which they were greeted by the Governor. The insinuation that they were too old and worn out to be of any use was a direct slap in the face after all they had endured for four years. He was still having a hard time coming to terms with the deterioration in the city under Feron's stewardship. Hunger and unrest were everywhere and the Red Guard were more vicious than they had ever been in the past. There had been numerous occasions over the past few weeks when the Musketeers had been forced to intervene on seeing acts of brutality from the very men who should have been keeping the people safe. Then there was Lucien Grimaud, a shadowy figure whose long reach seemed to touch every quarter of the city. All their efforts to find the man had been frustrated by fear and silence.
"You're broodin' again," Porthos said.
He raised his glass in acknowledgment. Athos knew that the others thought he had an unhealthy obsession with Grimaud but he couldn't shake the belief that there was something nefarious at work that had the potential to bring down the monarchy. Fortunately, Gaston was safely locked away thus neutralising one threat. If anything were to happen to the Dauphin, he would become heir to the throne and that was almost unthinkable. Louis might not be the most compassionate of rulers but Gaston had inherited his lust for power from his mother, Marie de Medici, and would make a terrible King.
The door opened and Brujon entered. He had been on sentry duty at the front gate so Athos sat up straighter, anticipating trouble.
"Captain." Brujon hurried over to the table. "Message from the Palace, Sir." He held out a letter which Athos took from him. "Thank you, Cadet. Return to your post."
Brujon drew himself up to attention before leaving them.
Athos studied the writing on the front of the letter. "It's from Treville." He turned it over and broke the seal, reading quickly. "He wants to see me."
"Does he say why?" d'Artagnan asked.
"No. Only that it's urgent." He stood up, regretting the summons and the fact that he'd have to venture out into the wild weather. "I will be back as soon as I can."
"Do you want company?" Aramis asked.
Athos shook his head and smiled wryly. "I think one of use drowning in this rain is enough."
He returned to his quarters to retrieve his weapons, cloak and hat before making his way to the stables. The wind snatched at his cloak, swirling it around his body. He was soaked before he had crossed the yard, the rain blowing violently into his face.
It was an uncomfortable ride to the palace, with his horse shying away from the wind and rain and the streets running with water. When he arrived he handed his horse over to a groom and ducked inside, removing his hat to shake off the water. The palace corridors were unusually busy with servants scurrying around carrying boxes and baskets. He stood for a moment watching the barely controlled chaos and frowning.
When he reached the Minister's office he found Treville packing up rolls of parchment. The shelves where they were usually stored looking surprisingly bare.
"What's happening?"
"Ah, Athos, good. We're getting ready to evacuate the Louvre."
"Why?"
"Have you looked at the Seine recently?"
"The Seine?" Comprehension followed quickly. "Flooding."
"Yes. It is cresting and likely to burst its banks. The palace is no longer safe. Everything is being moved from the cellars to higher ground but there is a real possibility that water will invade the main floor. We are moving the Royal family to Fontainebleau until it is safe to return."
"You want us to escort the King and Queen?"
"No. I want you to guard the palace while we're gone. The people are starving and a heartbeat away from rioting. If they find out the palace has been abandoned who knows what they might do."
"Wouldn't it be better to leave the Red Guard here?"
"Unfortunately the Marquis de Feron is in charge and he has decreed that the Musketeers are to remain here."
"I don't like this."
"Neither do I," Treville admitted. "However, there is nothing we can do. The King listens to Feron."
"Very well. I'll gather the cadets. When does the King leave?"
"First thing tomorrow. Be here at dawn. The river is due to reach its peak tomorrow night."
"We'll be here. Is that all?"
"Be careful, Athos. I have a bad feeling about this. The city is on the verge of insurrection and the garrison is stretched thin."
"You can rely on us, Minister." As Athos made his way back to his horse he wondered how he was going to keep his word to Treville. With four experienced Musketeers and a handful of cadets they would be hard pressed to guard all the entrances to the Louvre and, if they were attacked, it would be nearly impossible to protect themselves and the palace.
TMTMTM
"The King's leaving Paris." Feron began to relax as the opium did its works. His chambers were in chaos as servants hurried to pack his trunks ready for the exodus.
"Running away from his responsibilities again," Grimaud said. He stood in the shadows by the window watching the rain hammering on the glass.
"Giving you an opportunity." Feron gestured to the servants to leave, waiting until the door closed behind them. "There are many priceless objects in the Louvre which could be sold to finance our venture."
Grimaud walked forward into the circle of light cast by the candles. "The palace won't be left unprotected."
"No. However, I am feeling generous and have arranged a gift for you."
"What are you talking about?" Grimaud had no patience for Feron's obliqueness. He was a plain spoken man who preferred to get to the point quickly.
"The Musketeers are to stay in Paris and guard the palace. This is your chance to rid us of Athos, Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan. Oh, and a few of those pesky cadets as well. They're becoming as troublesome as their masters."
Grimaud bared his teeth in an unpleasant smile. "They won't see us coming. Finally, it will be their day to die and we'll have free rein again."
"They won't be easily overcome," Feron warned. "They are war heroes after all." His tone dripped with sarcasm.
"Aramis isn't. He was hidden in a monastery for four years. He's their weak link."
"Don't underestimate him. He was a soldier for many years before he became a monk. Instincts like that don't disappear."
"Maybe not, but he isn't as quick as he used to be. Besides, we'll overwhelm them with numbers. When does the King leave?"
"Tomorrow morning. I suggest you wait until nightfall to attack."
"Leave it to me. By the time you return to Paris Athos and his friends will be dead."
Tbc