As d'Artagnan picks his way down to the small, gently burbling brook, shaded by leafy green trees, he is completely oblivious to the quiet beauty of the scene. All he can think about is that once again, he is the one sent to collect sticks for the fire and to refill their flasks of water from the stream. Muttering to himself angrily, he decides to takes his time about the task on purpose. If they insist on making fun of him as the "youngest" and repeatedly beginning sentences with "if you want to be a good Musketeer when you grow up…", then he will make them wait as punishment. He kicks off his boots, rolls up his trouser legs and wades into the water, enjoying the cool feel of it on his skin. Maybe being the general dogsbody has some advantages, on second thoughts, he reflects.
Back at the small camp they have made in a clearing, Aramis has a good fire going from the sticks d'Artagnan collected earlier and is roasting a few rabbits caught by Porthos. Athos is asleep under a tree, hat pulled down over his eyes, while Porthos sits next to his friend, musket in his lap, just in case it should be needed.
Admittedly their guard is down a little more than usual. They have been on a mission of great state importance – returning some articles of clothing to the king's cousin in the south of France, undergarments that were somehow misplaced during her last trip to Paris were later discovered freshly laundered in the wrong room. Aramis swears that he had nothing to do with the removal of the items from the lady's person outside her own quarters, but Athos suspects that he is lying from the twinkle in his eyes. At any rate the lady in question is extremely attractive and the musketeer did not seem adverse to seeing her again to return the pieces of clothing. Normally they would have refused such a mission, but Aramis' enthusiasm combined with a general boredom of Paris during the hazy, hot and sleepy summer made them accept the task. And it hasn't been all that bad, riding through cool forests, swimming in streams, and generally enjoying themselves. On their way back to Paris, the most important thing they have to guard is the thank you gift given to them by the king's cousin, which doesn't amount to much split four ways. Although Porthos has a sneaking suspicion that Aramis might have received something extra, and a little more personal.
It's for this reason that none of them is particularly worried about an ambush or attack. They haven't seen many other people on their journey; even highwaymen and bandits seem to be staying home to avoid the hot roads. So when it comes, it is a total surprise.
Porthos is the first to react, firing his musket at one bandit and bringing him down. Athos rouses quickly, grabbing his sword and hurling himself into a fight with two men. Aramis, however, has laid down his arms out of reach, and in scrabbling to get to them finds a sword at his throat. The others, seeing this, stop immediately.
It appears that whoever is holding that sword is the leader of the bandits, because he takes control. "One more move and he dies!" Athos swallows and nods, as does Porthos, and before they know it blows to the head have sent both of them to the floor and into total darkness.
D'Artagnan, refreshed from his paddling, climbs back up the embankment towards the others, carrying four water flasks. He is humming quietly to himself as he goes, thinking about retorts to use on the others. However, as he approaches the clearing where he had left them, a flash of metal catches his eye. Instantly stepping back against a tree, he keeps watch and indeed, after a few moments, sees it again.
Inching closer, moving from the cover of tree to tree, he sees a strange man pacing, sword in hand. He looks like a bandit or robber from his dress. After a few moments another comes to join him and the two confer for a few moments.
Putting down the flasks, d'Artagnan skirts around the clearing in a large circle, careful to tread without making too much noise. He counts four men on guard, although he doesn't know how many more are in the clearing itself. He can't see that far. He can only presume that his friends are in trouble and now relying on him to save them.
When Athos comes back to consciousness, he finds himself tied up to a still unconscious Porthos, back to back. Aramis is a few steps away, tied up as well, but being questioned by the leader of the gang.
Aramis looks completely wretched and miserable, trying to explain to the man that yes, this really is all they have to offer. The highwayman doesn't seem very happy with this answer, punching Aramis in the face. He thinks the musketeer is holding out on him. Musketeers don't travel through forests with nothing of importance, he believes. They have money, or secrets, which can make him money. If only he knew this was about a lady's under garments, thinks Athos.
However Athos doesn't take too long to feel sorry for Aramis, realizing that d'Artagnan isn't with them. The continued goading of the boy and using him as their servant means he is out there in the forest alone, and may walk straight back into this trap and get himself killed. Athos begins to try and work at the binds on his hands, desperate to get himself out of this situation.
D'Artagnan has taken out the four guards posted around the clearing relatively easily and noiselessly. He is now able to get closer and sees another six men, as well as his friends, Aramis getting punched in the face, Athos and Porthos tied up on the floor. His first instinct is to rush in, musket at the ready, waving his sword, and take on all six men. But he remembers Athos' constant entreaties to cool his temper.
Thinking levelly, he looks around for inspiration. And suddenly a thought comes to him.
Just as he is about to punch Aramis again, the leader is bothered by one of his men. "Did you hear that boss?" he asks.
"No, I didn't hear anything."
They all wait quietly for a few minutes.
"There, I heard it again."
"Fine," the leader tells him, "go check. It's probably a deer or rabbit or some such."
D'Artagnan is ready and waiting when the man follows the noise he has made by throwing small stones in the direction of the clearing. As the man is looking around for the source of the noise, he comes up behind him and knocks him over the head. One down.
One of the men is rifling through the saddle bags. Athos wonders how long it will take these men to realize there are four horses and three of them.
"Desjeux's not come back yet!" one man shouts out.
"Probably gone to take a piss," says another.
"Go look for him. He's always getting himself lost!" instructs the boss.
This one is more alert, and slightly more difficult to take out. A fight ensues, although d'Artagnan doesn't want to use weapons, worried about the noise of clashing metal. Instead he uses moves Porthos has taught him, and when the man goes to cry out, clamps a hand over his mouth to silence him. They roll through the undergrowth, each trying to get the upper hand. D'Artagnan finds himself in a stranglehold, arms around his neck from behind, but using his strength and tipping himself forward, manages to pull the other man over his head and hurtle him to the ground. While the bandit lies gasping in pain, he knocks him out.
"Oy boss!" calls out one of the men.
"What now?"
"It's just, well…. there's four horses."
"Yes, good, and…?" the leader is getting frustrated.
"Well there's three of them boss!"
The leader turns back to Aramis. "Where's the fourth man?"
"There is no fourth man," Aramis says, feeling that it isn't really a lie. D'Artagnan isn't much more than a boy, after all.
The man is losing patience fast. Aramis gets a punch in the stomach for his trouble.
"We're delivering that one to a noble. Present from the king." He hopes that might be more believable.
"No way, it's all saddled up and someone's been riding it."
"Well yes, we take turns, to give ours a rest!" drawls Athos from behind them. Until now, he has remained silent, but he sees that Aramis is flagging slightly.
"You presume to ride on a horse gifted to someone by the king?" the robber asks, amused.
"No one'll ever know. We'll let it rest before we get there. We're not amateurs you know," Athos replies, working harder on his binds.
Four left. D'Artagnan wonders if he can go in now, but figures he needs to take down at least one more before he makes his entrance.
After a few minutes of contemplation, d'Artagnan decides to put his childhood hobby of tree climbing, which had gotten him scolded often enough, to good use in order to get a better look at the situation. He scales one of the old trees that surround the clearing, moving agilely from branch to branch, until he is high enough to get a bird's eye view of the scene below. He doesn't like what he sees happening to his friends, and since their hands are bound they won't be much help to him in a fight.
He wonders if there is a way to attract their attention, to let them know he's up there, but figures it best not to take the risk. Instead, he thinks that he could shoot one of the bandits from his vantage point. Although doing so would immediately give away his position and he wouldn't have time to refill his pistol before getting shot himself.
After a few minutes he comes to a decision. He eases himself down the tree trunk and fills his pockets with largeish stones. He then climbs up again and very carefully crawls out onto one of the trees longer branches, heavily covered in foliage, until he is almost directly above one of the men. Holding onto the branch with one arm, he withdraws a stone and throws it at the man's head. It finds its mark and the man collapses into a heap. D'Artagnan flattens himself to the branch, hoping not to be spotted.
Athos doesn't see the stone fall on the man's head, just that he suddenly crumples into a heap. Understanding that d'Artagnan has a plan, but not where he is or what he is up to, the need to get his hands free becomes more urgent.
He watches as one of the men crosses to see what has happened to his companion at the commander's order. As the man bends over, he sees something fall on his head, knocking him out too. However, everyone else has also seen this, and the other bandits take out their guns and shoot blindly into the branches of the tree above.
Athos is panicking at the thought of d'Artagnan, getting shot, falling from a high branch and breaking his neck and turns his head over his shoulder to try and get a look at the ropes binding him when starts to feel it come free. A sharp intake of breath from Porthos' face causes him to look back at the tree and what he sees amazes him. D'Artagnan swings from branch to branch until he is low enough to jump down, landing squarely on the bandit commander, who was in the midst of refilling his pistol in order to shoot upwards. They roll over a few times, struggling, before d'Artagnan is on top and able to jump up and withdraw his sword.
Meanwhile, Aramis has run at the last man, head straight into his stomach. Athos, finally free of the bonds, rushes to his aid, and although unarmed, between the two of them, they are able to take him down. Then Porthos, who has gotten out of his bonds, joins them and knocks him out with one punch to the face.
Breathing heavily, Athos calls out to d'Artagnan, engaged in a sword fight, "Need any help over there?"
"No, thanks, you sit and relax, just make me do the hard work, as per usual," the younger man calls back with a chuckle, before disarming his opponent and driving him up against a tree, sword to his throat.
It's only when all the bandits have been tied up and gagged that they sit down around the embers of the fire and burnt rabbit to tend to each other's wounds, exhausted but exhilarated.
"I just can't leave you alone for five minutes?" asks d'Artagnan, laughing, as Aramis patches up his arm where a bullet grazed it.
"You can't leave us alone? We taught you everything you know!" Porthos retorts.
"Nah! I knew how to climb trees and throw rocks long before I met you! Got my behind smacked for both enough times. Never knew they were such useful skills."
"Where are the water flasks? I need some clean water to wash this wound," asks Aramis.
"Oh, I may have dropped them on the way to saving you…." D'Artagnan admits, "Sorry….".
"Never mind," says Athos, rising slowly, "I think what you did was a little more important. I'll take water duty this time."