Birds soared high in the sky, swooping to and fro among each other, their warbles ringing into the bustling city. The streetscape was lined with row after row of market stalls, all crying out their best deals.
"Bread, fresh bread fit for a king. Special price. Get 'em before they're gone" One girl cried out incessantly.
"Silk from the Far East" Another cried above the chatter.
Buyers scrambled with their money in their hands, leaning over their neighbours to buy spices, fabrics, foods and any other items that took their fancy. It was easy for the boy from the country to get lost taking in these sights, smells, and the very
atmosphere of Paris. He looked up at the women in the townhouses, fluttering their washing out the windows. The spray fell on his youthful face and onto his unruly mop of hair. He closed his eyes and let the water droplets cool his face on this hot
summer's day. He saw old men sitting outside whistling, playing the pipe or whittling, often with a small child watching attentively on their laps.
"René!" the young man jolted out of his reverie by the hand on his shoulder, pulling him back from a horseman galloping recklessly through the lane. René caught his breath as he felt the brush of the horse's tail just catch his face as it swayed with
the movement of the rider. The horseman's cloak flapped in the wind, leaving a trail of people shrieking and jumping out of his way. The smell of the horse wafted into his nostrils. The young man turned around to see his father raise an eyebrow at
him and clip him around the ear. He moved past him, giving his son a friendly nudge as he hauled his bag of goods to trade over his shoulder again. René rubbed his ear, but couldn't help smiling at his Father. He jogged to keep up with him.
"Stay by my side René" His father scolded him.
"Which side?" he replied slyly, a smile on his face, dodging between the marketers, trying his best to keep beside his father.
"Don't be childish René" The senior man sighed. While he might have needed some maturing, he was far from being a child. Even his Father had to admit that his son was a man now. That became clear as soon as he had to raise his eyes to look at his child.
He sighed again, a common routine when he was will his son.
"There are plenty of people wanting young able-bodied men. Willing to pluck them off the street for slaves, fighting rings and other even more unsavoury uses. I don't want you to be one of them, living in the Court of Miracles or some other den of filth"
Sensing that his father wasn't going to admit defeat, he used the opportunity to advance his own cause.
"Well maybe if you let Uncle Pierre teach me about swordsmanship, I could fight off these monsters and it wouldn't be an issue…" He said, nudging his Father. The older man simply rolled his eyes at his son and continued his trip.
"Well if you're a man now, you should start thinking about what you're going to do with your life... And don't say soldiering. Your mother would have a conniption. I brought you here to the market today so you know how to deal with the buyer, to continue
my trade. You could settle down, marry Isabelle and live a comfortable life. Or if you don't want that anymore, you could become a priest…" his father suggested.
"You know how I long for adventure father," René said, tipping his hat at a group of young girls, sending them into a giggling fit.
His father gave his signature sigh.
"Life is an adventure René, no matter how you live it. Do not take the life God has given you in vain. Don't waste it, rotting on a battlefield somewhere"
Once again René couldn't bring himself to fight with his father, so as usual, his Father won the argument by default.
After far longer than his father thought it should've been, they finally reached the entrance to one of the buyer's residences. René could not believe his eyes as they walked through the barracks of the famed Musketeer regiment, which his father had purposefully
been secretive about. Men laughed and chattered amongst themselves and the air was hot with the sweat of duelling men. He could not help but imagine him living here, fighting for justice, protecting the poor and charming the fair maiden.
"Is there a Treville here? The Musketeer Treville" his father called out among the barracks. This men stopped fighting and quieted, simultaneously turning their heads to a musketeer on the balustrade.A younger man descended the stairs from his quarters.
"Yes, I am Treville," he said in a gruff voice. René and his father bowed slightly.
"I have the hat you ordered Sir"
"Excellent, just what a balding musketeer needs" Treville quipped, though rather coldly.
René could not help letting out a chuckle to the Musketeer's witticism. Treville became more serious again however, and reached deep into a pouch on his side.
"I'm afraid this is all I have Monsieur" Treville confessed, placing two small coins into the René's father's hand. "Please accept this gift as recompense," he said, taking off his sword sheath.
"No, no I could not possib…" The older man began to protest.
"I insist there is much more where this one came from. I always repay a debt, besideswe may see this young man use it here one day" He nodded in René's direction.
Treville handed René the sword. René unsheathed it, admiring the craftsmanship and beauty of the weapon. The intricacy of the words "All for one" drawing him in. He lunged forward with it in his hands, turning it and slashing the air. Treville nodded
silently.
"Thankyou Monsieur Treville" René said, bowing his head. "I promise never to forget this gift"
"Don't be so quick to make promises, boy" he said distantly,
Suddenly the Captain of the Musketeers emerged with a letter in his hand. A man stood beside him, and René recognised him as the man on the horse earlier. He must have delivered important news.
"The Queen of France is arriving in Paris today. She is incognito, there is no escort. Please report to your positions around the city. Immediately." He shouted to the group of Musketeers below. Treville tipped his newly acquired hat and then ran briskly
to his comrades.
René and his father slowly walked away, turning their backs on the now bustling barracks.
"Now that is not a proper bartering technique" his father hissed under his breath. René laughed at his Father, taking a last long look at the barracks. There was now only one more client to visit and then the long trip back to their countryside village.
René did not know if he was relieved or saddened at that thought. No doubt his mother, siblings and Isabelle would be eagerly awaiting his return…
"Now you wait here, God only knows what you might come out with this time" his father grumbled as he meandered into the goods shop. René looked around to check there was no one in immediate danger if he took out his newly acquired sword.
The glint of his sword shone in the sunlight. A marauding band advanced toward him, screaming war cries of some sort. He ran towards them on his horse, feeling the power of its muscles as he leant into its neck. He was coming straight towards the pack of savages. All of a sudden he was among them, knocking them down with a slash of the blade. He rode through them, coming out the other side. He pulled up his horse and leapt from the saddle. The remaining villains came towards him, stunned but ready for battle. He pointed his sword at them as they charged at him. He prepared his stance and…
His foot caught on one of the few gutters in Paris and sent him tumbling into some poor victim. It was a petite figure in a long hooded cloak, not that he had much time to notice, as the momentum of the fall sent the cloaked figure tripping into the path
of a nearby carriage. The driver quickly heaved on the reins, pulling the horses into a neighing rear, their front hooves and legs flailing around, narrowly missing the figure's head. The carriage was still moving, however, the horses back legs continued
scraping along the cobblestones. The body moved to cover its head, before a hand grabbed the long sleeves of the robe, spinning the person out-of-the-way of the incoming horse's hooves and into the torso of a fearful René. He clung to the smaller
being, holding it close as the carriage barely missed grazing his face, and sending his hair into a different unruly position. The passenger waved his fists out the window and hurled various abuses at them in several languages.
Noticing the marketeers now staring at him, holding their hands over their mouths and whispering to each other, he quickly pulled the person into a nearby alcove in the streetscape. He bent down slightly to the eye level of his companion. He was surprised
to see the youthful face of a girl, only a year or two younger than himself, with brown hair framing her delicate features. It was obvious immediately that this was no street girl, but rather someone of a higher class. He noticed a few other women
gathered at a safe distance, also unusually wearing cloaks.
"My deepest apologies Mademoiselle," he said bowing his head and looking to make sure there were no obvious injuries.
"It is no matter," she said smiling, with her kind, yet still startled eyes. René heard the familiar Spanish lilt to her words "If it was not for you I'm afraid I would've met a rather painful end"
"No, no. It was entirely my fault. My clumsiness is renowned" He said a serious expression on his face. Silence fell among the two.
"I saw you were practising your sword fighting before. Are you a soldier in the making?" she asked, breaking the silence.
"No, no" he laughed, leaning against the wall of the alcove "I am destined for two things: a maker of fine hats or a priest... You have faith yourself, Mademoiselle?" he said, noticing the beautiful golden cross hanging from her neck.
"Of course, my faith is what makes me strong. I pray that God gives you luck in whatever course you choose" she smiled at him.
"One does crave the sense of adventure, though. The freedom, the thrill of being alive," he replied, resting his head back on the wall and closing his eyes.
"We are kindred spirits then Monsieur" she replied, an all too familiar pain in her voice.
René heard the tell-tale sound of his father's voice and the sound of a door opening. It wasn't long before his father was shouting out his name.
"I'm afraid I must go, Mademoiselle …." He paused to catch her name.
"Anne" she answered. He bowed again and escorted her onto the street.
"Are you alright to be travelling alone? As my Father reiterates as often as he can, there are many people who may wish to entrap us, youngsters"
"Perfectly alright Monsieur René. And I can assure you I am never alone," she replied, using the name his father had just called out.
"Watch out for more reckless swordsman won't you?" he joked.
"May God be with you René and may he grant you what you desire," Anne said.
"I hope our paths cross again one day Anne," he said politely kissing her hand.
"I'm afraid there will be no such time for friendship or freedom where I am going Monsieur René." She looked into his eyes and smiled before fixing her cloak and slowly disappearing into the crowd. The other cloaked women also followed, disappearing like
they were never there in the first place. René felt the easily recognisable hand of his father on his shoulder again.
"There you are René, what have I told you every day since your birth?" His father scolded. He turned his son in the opposite direction, walking against the crowds and with that the René of Paris was left behind.
Aramis knelt before the throne, his long hair dangling in front of his face. He hated to show it, but his hands were shaking with nerves. It was his first time in front of royalty. The King and Queen entered the room and sat on their thrones. That he
knew, but he kept his head down out of respect, not daring to look upon their faces. An attendant presented a sword in front of the King. He picked it up and placed it on his shoulders.
"I hereby commission you, Aramis, into my regiment of Musketeers" the king pronounced, placing the blade on each of his shoulders. Aramis smiled, his moustache rising. He looked up at the king's barely perceivable smile on his face. He turned around to
his new comrades in arms and saw their proud smiling faces. He saw the newly promoted Captain Treville, and bowed his hat towards him, remembering the vow he took towards him all those years ago. Treville returned the gesture, and he couldn't help
breaking his usually cold demeanour for a second. How Aramis wished his parents could have been here and Isabelle…
He shook that thought out of his head. Today was a happy day. He was Aramis the Musketeer now, not René from the country town.
His eyes finally came upon the Queen. There was something oddly familiar about her face. He noticed the chain around her neck and the golden cross dangling from it.
"Anne?" he whispered under his breath.
"René?" Came the reply that reached his ears alone.
Thanks for taking the time to read this. Have a beautiful day!
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Disclaimer: I don't own the Musketeers