Authors note: This is a companion piece (for want of a better description) to 'Rings' which I wrote a while ago. It explains what happened before, during and after that. If you have not read 'Rings' wait until the end chapter four. I will remind you.

Power Hungry

Chapter One

'Please…I didn't know…it…it was only just over the border…'

'You were on my land, my property, you are ungrateful, I am your Lord.'

'Please, sir, we won't stray onto your property again.'

'Please…let us go.'

The Comte looked at the two young men before him, he nodded to the big man holding the older one. The man grinned and hauled the young man round and started moving his struggling captive forward.

The other one, his younger brother, was being held by another of the Comte's men. The young man, not much more than a boy, realised what was happening. He started screaming and shouting at the Comte, begging the nobleman to release them. The Comte did not react, he watched, impassively, as the older brother was forced towards his doom. The young man fought for all he was worth. But he was a peasant. He was scrawny and weak. They both were. He could not fight back against the Comte's man.

'Jean…' screamed the younger one, tears streaming down his face. The Comte wondered if the boy thought he might be next. Was his fear for his brother or himself?

The older one was still struggling, he was grabbing at the face of Gagnet, who shrugged off the pathetic attempt to escape his iron grip. There would be no chance of escape, Jean's fate was sealed. The Comte watched, without any thought for the pain he would be causing to the family who would soon be short a son.

They had strayed onto his land, they knew the rules. The tenants were strictly forbidden from entering his private estate. Now one of the two had to be punished. He would allow the younger one, Luc, to go. If the family lost two sons, they might not be able to work their small farm and raise money for their rent. That would be counterproductive. But killing one of them sent a message to all his tenants. He was not a land owner to be disobeyed.

'No…please…'

Gagnet had manoeuvred the young man to the edge of the slope now, a quick firm shove and the man slipped over. The Comte took a couple of steps forward. He watched as the man flailed around then lost his footing. He grabbed at the sloping sides but could not find a purchase, he slid down inexorably towards the hole. He screamed the whole way down scrabbling to stop his decent, his legs slipped through then his body and with a satisfying thud he hit the floor of the cell below, which would be his tomb.

No one had ever escaped the Comte's oubliette. He reserved it as a special punishment for people who particularly annoyed him. He enjoyed the build-up, watching the realisation on the face of the victim. All the tenants knew of its existence. The only downfall was that once the man was in the oubliette there was nothing else he could do to him. There were other punishments that he preferred, when he wanted to be entertained. But this one, this sent out the message that he wanted. The younger brother would go back to his family and the other tenants and they would all know that he, Comte Vietto, was not a man to be challenged. His word was final. He was the man at the top.

And he wanted more.

MMMM

'He should rest, but you may speak to him for a little while your Majesty,' said the doctor as he gathered his things together. With a reverent bow, the man retreated from the lavish guest room.

The King approached the bed quickly, Treville was surprised by his obvious concern for the man who lay on it. At his approached the man tried to sit up, to stand and bow.

'No Alain, you are too badly injured, there is nobody here to see etiquette ignored.'

Once Treville realised who the injured man was his surprise diminished.

'I am sorry,' the pale man on the bed said.

'Do not be,' said the King who had perched himself on the edge of the bed and taken the man's hand in his own. Baron Doubey was the same age as the King, and they had frequently spent time together in their childhood. Doubey was a good man, Treville had once seen him help an old peasant who had fallen in the street. He was kind hearted and pleasant to everyone he met. Although he had quite a different personality to the King the two had become firm friends.

The King turned to Treville and beckoned him over. Perhaps now he would find out why he had been summoned to the Palace with no explanation. He approached the bed and stopped a respectable few paces away. Close enough for a spoken conversation but not so close as to be disrespectful to the monarch.

'This is Treville, you probably remember him, he is the captain of my Musketeers. I trust him with my life. He is going to sort this out,' the King turned to Treville, 'Alain was attacked, it is disgusting. He was attacked by a neighbouring Comte.'

Treville was beginning to understand where this was going and what part he was to play in it. The King continued.

'Alain was telling me that, this Comte…Vietto,' he looked to Doubey who nodded, 'has been hiring thugs, he appears to be building a small army of mercenaries. It is clear this man wants more power than he has a right to.'

The young Baron continued, 'he is ruthless monsieur, I have seen what he has done to his tenants. He took out the eye of a pretty young girl because she happened to see him when he was assaulting one of his servants…he shot a poor farmers horse because it did not move out of his way quick enough…'

'How did you come to be attacked?' asked Treville taking another couple of steps forward.

The Baron was very pale, his left arm had been placed in a sling and his face was covered with bruises. From what he had gathered from the doctor when he arrived, the man had been beaten with sticks. He had broken ribs and a badly broken arm that would probably never heal properly.

'I wanted to put a stop to what he was doing. I decided to report his wickedness to the King. But I thought it only right that I told Vietto what I was going to do…I hoped it might curb his ill will towards his tenants…' he trailed off for a few seconds, fatigue beginning to catch up with him, 'he had two of his men beat me. I honestly thought they were going to kill me…my man servant managed to get me away, we arrived at the palace a few hours ago.'

'And now you will rest. I will see to it that this is sorted out,' said the King firmly. He gently let go of the Baron's hands. Treville had rarely seen such tenderness from the man.

'Your Majesty,' said Treville, 'I will prepare my men and we will leave at first light.'

The King nodded his approval saying, 'thank you Treville, I can trust you to sort this out. I want this Comte arrested and returned to Paris. I want him to be punished correctly. It will send a message to any other lower nobles who think that they are above the law.'

Treville was impressed with the Kings maturity, it was clear he wanted the issues dealt with and dealt with swiftly. Treville bowed and left the room. He returned to the garrison as quickly as he could.

MMMM

Treville had given instructions that they were to leave at first light. The Musketeers were well trained and had no difficulty preparing themselves. Athos oversaw the organisation. Some men had added responsibilities, Athos watched as Aramis and Barbotin disappeared into the infirmary to pack medical supplies. D'Artagnan, who had a natural affinity with the horses was working with the stable boys, checking the tack and chivvying them along when the young lads began to flag.

Porthos had been sent out to round up any of the men who were not in the garrison. Athos knew Porthos could be persuasive, and would bring back any wayward men who thought that being off duty meant they could not be recalled if necessary.

Once the preparations were done they gathered together. Treville stood on the steps to address them. He explained the situation, and what they were to do. The men listened attentively, Athos glanced around and noted that all the men were present. He nodded to Porthos who smirked, Athos knew he had enjoyed collecting the missing men.

Treville concluded his instructions, 'we have a few hours before dawn, get some rest, we have a full day's ride ahead of us.'

As the men dispersed Athos approached Treville who held up his hand before Athos could speak, 'I know what you are going to say, some of the men are very fresh faced…but this is what the King wants and this is what we will do. They have their commissions and we would not have allowed them to become Musketeers if we didn't think them capable.'

Athos nodded, 'I am sure they will be fine, but I think we should try to keep the newly commissioned men under careful supervision.'

Treville nodded, 'I will make a Captain of you yet.'

MMMM

Thirty mounted Musketeers leaving the garrison at dawn caused a bit of a stir amongst the early rising Parisians. They moved out of the way quickly and gaped and stared at the men as they rode passed. D'Artagnan always felt a swell of pride when they were revered by the people of Paris. He could not help smiling as they rode out of the city.

'You do know we're going out to fight a bunch of mercenaries. It's not a parade,' said Porthos as they left the city and the attention of the locals.

'Yes, but it makes a change not to be looked at with suspicion or fear.'

'Good point,' conceded his friend.

They rode on for several hours. Only stopping when the horses needed to be rested. Each man leading his horse up to a shallow stream to allow the beast to drink its fill. As the horses cooled the men ate a simple meal. Each of the musketeers had been provided with provisions for the journey.

Once they reached a site to camp they would be able to enjoy a cooked meal. Although as Aramis had pointed out they would only enjoy the meal if the men preparing it knew what they were doing. It was well known amongst the men that some of their number were not as good at preparing food as others. Porthos had chuckled, knowing Aramis meant him and a couple of the others. One of the newly commissioned musketeers had looked at Aramis confused until Aramis had told him quietly that they were fairly sure it was a deliberate act to get out of preparing food. The new musketeer had looked shocked. Porthos had laughed out loud.

D'Artagnan noticed Athos and Treville talking at the edge of the group, they had finished eating and the horses were ready to continue. Athos walked over to him.

'We think it will be quite late when we arrive, we will need to set up camp quickly,' he said, 'can you see to the horses for the group, pick another couple of men to help you…ones that can deal with them quickly and calmly. There will be a lot of activity getting this many men settled and the more organised we are before we arrive the better.'

D'Artagnan nodded. When they resumed their journey, he approached one of the men, who like him, was used to dealing with livestock.

'Pierre,' he said getting the young man's attention, 'will you help with the horses when we make camp.'

Pierre nodded, d'Artagnan noticed the young man looked apprehensive. His pauldron was still shining and had no marks on it. The young man was one of their newest commissioned Musketeers. D'Artagnan smiled to himself remembering the mixture of pride and fear he had dealt with when he had been commissioned. It had felt like a sudden weight of responsibility, but it was a weight he was pleased to bear.

'You'll be fine. There are lots of us here. Just remember your training and follow orders,' said d'Artagnan, who thought it odd that he was giving advice to a man who was probably only a few months younger than himself.

Pierre nodded and smiled, some relief showing on his face.

They rode through Baron Doubey's estate and found a suitable spot to camp on the border between the Baron and Comte's land. It was wooded, and therefore secluded with a clearing big enough to build a fire and enough space between the nearby trees for the musketeers to set out their bedrolls and another couple of smaller fires. Some areas of the surrounding woodland were thick, with bushes and trees growing closely together.

D'Artagnan watched as Athos approached Aramis and Porthos, he spoke to them for a few minutes. Porthos made a few dramatic gestures and Aramis laughed at him. They gathered their weapons and wandered off out of the camp. Athos watching them go as d'Artagnan walked up to him.

'What was that about?'

'I just sent them off on the first watch for sentry duty. Porthos was pretending it was unfair…although I think he was just pleased he was not being steered towards the camp fire and the cooking.'

D'Artagnan laughed, 'who has second watch, I'm happy to do it?'

'Barbotin volunteered with Hamon…although, again, I think it was to get out of the cooking.'

MMMM

They walked away from the camp amiably. It was a cool evening, not cold, but cool enough that they were glad to be active. It was also pleasant to stretch their legs after a long day in the saddle. As seasoned soldiers, they were used to the activity that went on and the apprehension the younger men would be feeling. Porthos was glad to be away from all the organised chaos for a few hours. They would patrol for four or five hours before heading back in to awaken Barbotin and Hamon.

As they left the noise of the camp behind they found a pathway, probably created by locals that roughly skirted the camp, it made sense to follow it round, rather than having to pick their way through the undergrowth of the thicker parts of the wood.

Aramis was a few paces ahead of Porthos when he tripped over. He went down hard, but Porthos did not have time to react. Two men had grabbed him, one on either side. They were big, strong men. One of them was taller than Porthos, the other was as broad as a tree and despite his best efforts he could not shake them off. He was about to shout but a third man pushed a rag into his mouth and tied it firmly in place, muffling any noise he could make.

He looked down at Aramis and was shocked to see his friend still flat on the ground with two more big men holding him there, one was kneeling across his back. Porthos knew the marksman would be struggling to breathe with the weight on his back. Aramis was trying to move but his attempts were ineffectual.

The man who had gagged Porthos was now behind him and dragging his arms back and efficiently binding them. The rope used was tied firmly. His weapons belt was removed. Porthos continued to pull against his captors.

A stout older man stepped into Porthos' view. He said quietly, 'I want your comrade to deliver a message to your Captain…he does not have to be alive to do so. If you do not stop your pathetic struggle I will kill him…painfully…I can kill him in such a way that it will take him hours to die. Do you understand me?'

Porthos stilled, the man in front of him smirked. He turned to the men holding Aramis and nodded. With renewed force, they grabbed the now weakly struggling man's arms and pulled them back, binding them in much the same way as Porthos had been. They also put ropes around his knees and ankles. His weapons belt was undone and forcefully pulled away from him. He was pulled over onto his side. Porthos watched as Aramis tried to take the first full breath he had been allowed in a few minutes only to be gagged as he opened his mouth. The men then dragged Aramis a couple of meters towards the exposed root of a big tree. They tied him to it, firmly, and left him lying on his side still struggling for breath.

Porthos managed to make eye contact with Aramis, who, despite his own predicament looked concerned. When Aramis saw Porthos he started pulling at his restraints and tried to shout through the gag. The man who had spoken to Porthos crouched down next to Aramis and said something to him, Porthos did not know what. But Aramis became quiet. The man tucked a sealed letter into Aramis' doublet. As this was being done the man who had gagged and restrained Porthos was hanging both of their weapons belts up on a tree branch near where Aramis lay.

Porthos was pulled around and forced to walk away, he managed to glance behind and saw Aramis watching him, his shoulders still heaving as has he tried to get his breath back.

MMMM

Authors note: I hope you enjoyed the start. The next chapter will go up tomorrow, probably a bit later as I out in the morning (UK time) running (that's a joke!) the Winchester Half Marathon.