"Come on, you're tired father. We should stop here," my brother said. I looked at him wide eyed from my position on my own horse.
"Paris is only a few hours away," my father argued. I winced, knowing the argument that was coming; we've had it during the whole trip from Gascony.
"Paris will still be there in the morning," D'Artagnan continued.
"Look, I could ride all night." My father began. "But if you're saying that you need to rest." I laughed at my brother's own discomfort, who began to chuckle as well. Within a few moments we made it to the small town, stopping outside of the inn. "D'Artagnan, take Selene with you to care for the horses."
"Father, maybe you should take her with you," my brother protested. "She has been subjected to the cold and wet long enough. Lene will take a chill." My brother missed nothing, especially not my violent shivers, even as I attempted to control them.
"Fine, but Selene, pray be silent," I nodded and followed my father into the inn. My father took off his water soaked hat, while I reveled in the warmth that was cocooning me. He rang the bell, and a man appeared from the inner rooms.
"Yes!" the man came down from the stairs that were located directly in front of the hallway.
"My sons and I need beds for the night. We've come a long way," My father stated as the inn owner began to help him take off his coat. I moved away from them and wandered into the little sitting room where I might be able to keep warm. I did not dare to remove my coat. It still wasn't safe enough for that.
"The Cardinal bleeds us dry! It never would have happened under the old king. He was a man of the peop - " the man who introduced himself as Michael Fournier cut himself off as the door opened. I slunk to the doorway and watched as masked, armed men filed in the doorway. I took in the fleur-de-lis on their hats, symbolizing that they were of the Kings Musketeers.
"My name is Athos, of the Kings Musketeers." They pulled out muskets out of their pockets and pointed them directly at my father. "Kindly empty your pockets of money and jewelry. If you want to live, do it now," The leader spoke. So I was right in my identification of these men. When my father did not comply they hit him. I gasped, looking at the scene with wide eyes. They began to take the money from everyone's pockets; I could only pray that my brother was alright.
"I was told that the Musketeers were honorable men. I see that I was misinformed," my father spoke up, making me close my eyes in fear of what they would do to my father.
"You think this is bad?" Athos snarled. I cringed in the sitting room, knowing that my father would not have wanted me to intervene. "I'm only just getting started." Then Michael Fournier pulled out a musket out of his pants, causing a huge gunfight. First they shot Michael, then they shot my father. I screamed, drawing attention to myself, but a gunshot from outside caused them to run.
"I couldn't stop them!" my brother said angrily, as I followed behind my father. I had attempted to fuss at him, but he stayed my hand. We reached my brother just as my father fell onto the ground.
"Father!" I shrieked, in the same time that my brother yelled as well.
"Athos!" my father managed, grabbing ahold of my hand. "Please, Athos." With that my father died. The rain was still pouring, making a large rose colored bloom onto the mud, as my tears were washed away with the downpour.
My brother and I finally made our way to Paris, the next day. We had to look for lodging, which wasn't easy as we had hardly any money. So we made our way through the poor side of Paris, I stuck close to my brother.
"Lene, we must keep this charade up," my brother said as he looked for an inn. I nodded, realizing that I was ten times safer in the mens clothing than I was dressed as a woman. "At least until we are able to reintroduce you to society as a woman of standing."
"I understand, D'Artagnan," I said, softly, so as to not be given away by my voice.
"And you are going to have to continue to be a mute. If one person hears your voice, it will be a dead giveaway for sure." I nodded my head. "And a new name. We could go with Sal or Leo." I thought long and hard.
"Leo," I said finally. He nodded.
"Very well, Leo. Welcome to the family." With that we walked into a rundown inn. It had a pig hanging from the awning.
"Twenty sou for the bed. Ten if you share." The woman who ran this place looked most severe. "Any lice or crabs?"
"No, thanks. Just bed and dinner," my brother spoke, giving me an indescribable look. I stifled a laugh as we followed her.
"This is a very clean house," she said, whilst smashing a bug under her foot.
"Hmm," my brother nodded, following her motions with an amused air.
"Monsieur - "
"D'Artagnan," He supplied. She nodded. "Son of the late Alexandre, of Lupiac in Gascony." She rolled her eyes as he spoke.
"Didn't ask for your life story." She snarked. "Dinner is extra."
"Clean water?" he shot back.
"Extra."
"Soap?" She made to speak but my brother put up his hand. "Don't tell me, I can guess." I put a hand on his arm.
"But use of the communal towel, is free." She huffed out of the room. I looked about as well as my brother as we began to pull off our belts.
Later that night we were down in the pub, drinking and awaiting our food. The ale was alright, though a bit weak and way too expensive. That was when two obviously, very out of place, people arrived. The woman was a lady, with her expensive red dress, while her companion was outfitted in black and silver.
"We will have your best room," the man said, with a Spanish accent. "And if the bed has fleas, you will be whipped."
"Draw me a bathe." The woman said haughtily. I rolled my eyes at her arrogance. "Be sure the water's clean. I don't want to bathe in someone else's scum." Over presumptuous much! What did you expect to take a room in a place like this.
"Clean water is extra madame," my foolish brother! I wanted to strangle him. "Don't even ask about the towel."
"Are you addressing me, sir?" the Spanish man came closer to our table. I raised an eyebrow at my brother, silently cursing him for getting into this position.
"Not unless your name is 'Madam'." My brother seemed amused.
"Forgive me, Milady, while I teach this oaf a lesson in manners," the Spanish man began to draw his sword. Turning around he was met with my brother's musket. I wanted to crawl under the table and hide, but I as well stood up and put my hand on my musket.
"Put it back, or I'll blow your head off," my brother warned, quite softly.
"You are not a gentleman," The Spanish man said. My brother seemed amused with the taunt.
"That stings."
"He's just some drunken thug, Mendoza," Milady said. "Put your sword away." I breathed a sigh of relief at her intervention. He did so, but not without fury.
"We will settle this at breakfast!" He warned my brother.
"I'll be in the courtyard at eight," my brother promised. He sat back down as the couple made to go up the stairs, keeping an eye on the Spanish man, Mendoza. I faced my brother, also putting my musket on the table. The woman put two bowls of stew in front of us. I was repulsed by what I saw.
"This looks like a badger's intestines," my brother stated.
"Specialty of the house," she turned back to face us. "Enjoy." Both my brother and I pushed the stew away.
"Don't worry, Lene, tomorrow I'll get us some real food." D'Artagnan promised softly, putting a hand on my hand.
We were walking up the stairs, just as Milady was coming out of her room. She walked close by my brother, as I shrank back, trying not to get too close to anyone for them to scrutinize me. She passed by, and my brother realized that he was missing a musket. Turning back around it was pointed at him.
"Missing something?" She taunted. "You still need that lesson in manners." She held him at gunpoint until they reached the door. Then she kissed him! I guess I was sleeping in the lobby tonight, and made my displeasure known as I stomped down the stairs. I spent the night cramped on a bench. Needless to say I didn't obtain much sleep that night.
Come dawn I was awake and walked up the stairs, just as a man walked past me to use the bathroom. I walked past him and went to D'Artagnan's room, going to knock just as a shout was heard. Whirling about I looked into the bathroom to see Mendoza, dead in the bathtub. A sick feeling overcame me, just as D'Artagnan opened the door with a small knife, covered in blood, in his hand.
He walked down the hall, past all the people, to investigate. I rolled my eyes and crept backwards into his room, making ready for the escape which we would surely have to make. The old woman, the inn keeper, accused my brother of murdering that man. D'Artagnan backed up, saying no, until he was able to slam his door shut.
He leant against it, still clutching the knife. I looked at him with wild eyes as I was unused to all this intrigue set in violence. He quickly threw the knife and knocked the wardrobe over in front of the door.
"Come Lene!" He leapt out of the window, I following until we hit the pavement. It hurt. I mean really hurt. I think I felt several of my ribs break.
"There he is!" the old woman yelled from the window, we just leapt out of, making us jump to our feet and begin to run.
"Great idea, D'Art!" I gasped as the running was jostling my ribs. He just sent me a wry smile and motioned for me to continue running. "I really hate you right now." We made it to the market place, D'Artagnan stopping behind a pillar, I continuing on, until I was able to crouch down acting as if I had lost a charm. The people were concerned more about my brother, so they didn't even know what I was wearing, they just barreled past.
"I can't believe that actually worked!" My brother sounded amazed, as I looked up to see him inches from a market girl. She kneed him. I giggled, soundlessly. I had been wanting to do that all day.
"Agh!" My brother looked like he was in pain, she armed herself with a knife from the table in front of them.
"Oh, you degenerate! Touch me again and I'll gut you like a fish!" I was amused by this scene. Finally, he got what was coming to him. "Do I look like a working girl?"
"Well, yeah," I shook my head wordlessly at my brother's stupidity. He could be so clueless.
"This is my best dress!" she sounded shocked. "How does this say prostitute to you?"
"My apologies mademoiselle." My brother looked like he was still reeling from all the events of the day. I walked over to stand beside him.
"It's Madame!" She seethed at him.
"Madame! I won't trouble you any further." He looked at me. "My apologies again." We began to walk away, but D'Artagnan's injuries were preventing rapid movement. He leant against the table.
"Are you alright?" she asked, lowering her knife. Wow, talk about mood swings.
"Do you know the way to the Musketeer's Garrison?" He asked her, instead of answering her question.
"Why do you want to know?" she asked, still a little leery of my brother and I.
"We have some business to settle on our father's behalf," D'Artagnan actually thought to include me. How sweet was he. He pushed himself off the table and straightened up.
"You really don't look well." He took a step and promptly fell over. I groaned, holding my own side before helping her lift him off the pavement.
"We must take him to my own house," she told him. I nodded, before motioning for her to lead the way. She did so, giving me a peculiar look. I followed, supporting my brother's large weight. God, did he need to start a diet. He was soo heavy. And you can bet the next chance I have to tell him that, I definitely would.
Between the two of us, we managed to get him to her house, up the stairs, and into a comfortable bed. I aided in taking off his jacket and undershirt. She began to heat water, and obtain gauze so that we might be able to wrap his ribs. My own were killing me but I said not a word.
"Where am I?" he said, finally awakening.
"My husband's house," Constance said from her perch sitting beside his bed. I turned from my position, looking out the window. She had been wiping his brow, I can only imagine what he did to make her sound so indignant.
"Oh," He tried to sit up, only to grab his forehead. "No I can't stay here." He stood up and began to put on his clothes. "We have an appointment with the – agh" My foolish brother, smacked his head off the chandelier. "Musketeer Athos."
"I know him. Is he a friend of yours?" She asked us, I went to my brother's side.
"Not exactly." D'Artagnan said, beginning to put on his jacket.
"You can barely walk," Constance said, getting up.
"That's my problem. Now can you tell me the way to the Musketeer's Garrison or not?" I really wanted to smack him. I truly did.
"You're in no shape to fight, if that's what you're thinking of," She stated. "I have three older brothers. I know that look in a man's eye."
"With respect, that's none of your business," my brother stated, pulling on his shoes. I heaved a sigh. I was going to get drug into this, I just knew it.
"You made it my business when you fell at my feet," she stated just as coldly. I winced, knowing just how my brother's pride would take that.
"You're a beautiful woman. I'm sure you're used to it." He got up to begin putting on his belt. I held it out for him.
"I should have just left you in the gutter!" she huffed. I winced, again.
"My apologies." He did sound sincere. "I'm not always so ill mannered." I looked up at him. "Might I inquire the name of my savior?"
"Bonacieux. Constance Bonacieux." She said.
"Athos killed our father, Constance. That's why I must face him. I'm D'Artagnan and this is my mute brother, Leo. Please think kindly of my name." We began to walk out. "If you think of it at all." With these last words we left the company of the kind Constance.
"You are so stupid!" I told my brother in an undertone as we began the trek to the garrison. "She was nice! You probably angered the one ally we have in Paris!" I kept my tone low.
"And I am sorry, Lene." He looped an arm over my neck. "But I must do this for father."
"Let me do this, D'Artagnan!" I said. "You mean more than me! You are the heir to the estate. It wouldn't mean anything if I were die in this duel. That would just mean that you could rest more easily without worrying about LeBarge coming to kill you for me!"
"NO!" D'Artagnan said. He leaned down closer to me. "LeBarge doesn't scare me, Lene. I will protect you, as best as I can! I promise."
"I'm looking for Athos!" my brother cried out as we walked through the hall that led to the courtyard of the garrison. There were three men located in the central section. The one about to go up the stairs turned around.
"You've found him." I looked at him. He wasn't anything like the one from the inn. This Athos had blue eyes, and a black beard. I pulled hard on D'Artagnan's sleeve. He looked down at me. I shook my head frantically. D'Artagnan just drew his musket and cocked it.
"My name is D'Artagnan and this is my brother Leo, of Lupiac in Gascony. Prepare to fight. One of us dies here." D'Artagnan put the pistol down and drew his sword.
"Now that's a way to make an entrance." The man with a plumed hat from behind this Athos stated. I looked up at him to find a man, one who was handsome and who knew it. I pressed closer to the cold stone of the courtyard, desperate to call out for my brother. This wasn't the right man! That much I knew. Athos drew his sword and began some complicated motions. My brother threw down his pouch and warmed up his arm. They squared off.
"Can I ask why?" Athos asked.
"You murdered our father." D'Artagnan said.
"You're mistaken. I'm not the man you're looking for." Creeping closer, I noticed his sincerity. It reached his eyes. If ever there was a doubt, I knew this was not the man.
"Murderer!" my brother shouted, before running at him like a fool. They crossed swords. "Do you deny that you shot Alexandre D'Artagnan two days ago in cold blood?" I moved to stand in between the other two men. I just shook my head desperate for a sign that could change the outcome of this duel.
"I usually remember the men I kill." Athos said. "That name means nothing to me."
"Then you're a liar as well!" my brother's blood was boiling at this point. There was nothing that could stop him, save an elephant stepping on him. The duel began in earnest at this point. I guess calling Athos a liar would also make his blood boil.
"Remarkable. He's keeping up with Athos," the plumed man from before said with a Spanish accent.
"Rubbish. He just doesn't want to hurt the lunatic," the mixed man said. "No offense to you, lad." I just smiled and shook my head. Finally after a few more passes, Athos disarmed my brother. I was relieved, I'm not ashamed to say.
"That's enough!" he fairly roared, keeping his sword close to his neck. "That could have been your throat. Don't make me kill you over a mistake." He turned away. "I didn't kill your father and I don't want to kill you!" I watched in horror as my brother plucked the small hand knife out of the wood and threw it at Athos.
"ATHOS!" Aramis called out. Athos, quickly turned, just in time for the blade to miss him and instead strike the wood of another pole several inches away from Aramis' hand.
"And that could have been your back." My brother was getting too carried away. I was contemplating going over there and putting myself in between him and the adversary, but Aramis grabbed my arm. "Now fight me or die on your knees. I don't care which!" Everything was quiet for a moment. "NO?" He went to strike Athos, but Aramis let go of my arm and intervened.
"He said enough." Aramis said coolly, staying my brother's sword with his own. It was fluid, I didn't even see it.
"Very well. I'll fight both of you." I closed my eyes against my brother's stupid reckless behavior. I made a few hand motions, trying to capture his attention, but he just ignored me. The black man jumped into the fray.
"Three of us. Now, for God's sake, put up your sword." I was really hoping my brother did as he was told.
"You'll have to kill me for it!" my brother began the fight anew. I would say one thing about these musketeers was that they were waiting like gentlemen. Any of them could have killed my brother, yet they waited.
"Lively little bugger aren't ya?" the black man roared, just before they cornered my brother against the stairs.
"Stop fighting! All of you!" Constance's voice was a welcome surprise. "Is three against one fair?" Athos was the first to put up his sword.
"We weren't going to kill him." Athos said, turning away. The other two looked up.
"Weren't we? Next time let us know," the Spanish one said, before turning to lean against the table.
"Madame Bonacieux, what are you doing here?" Athos asked the woman.
"I followed him, because I knew he was going to do something stupid!" She marched over to my brother. I grinned at his chastisement.
"I don't need a woman to protect me!" He hissed at her, allowing his eyes to light upon me for a moment. I put my head down, coming to stand before the Spanish man.
"Don't say another word!" she hissed back, as he went to retrieve his sword. "If only men would think, instead of fight, there might be more good one's left!"
"Him, I'm sure about," The Spanish one said. "Them, I like." He pointed at Constance and then me.
Just then a group of men walked into the courtyard. There appeared to be Red Guards as well as Musketeers in this group. I was confused; I thought each party hated one another.
"What's going on?" the man in the front called out. "Never mind! Did you find Cornet?" The man dismissed the apparent duel in the courtyard with a wave of his hand. Whoever he was, he obviously commanded a lot of respect, for the three Musketeers immediately straightened up.
"He never made it to the monastery." Athos said, turning to look at their superior. "Give us 20 men, and we'll search the road to Chartres."
"Athos, I'm sorry." This man did indeed look sorry. "These men have come to arrest you. You're to appear before the King immediately, charged with robbery and murder." The two other men came to stand beside Athos, hands on their swords. "I promised them there'd be no trouble."
"I'm not the man you're looking for." Athos said, as he gave his sword to the man aforementioned.
"Why did my father name you before he died?" D'Artagnan demanded.
"I don't know!" Athos said, before walking out, followed by the guards. We ended up following them to the palace where he was put before the king.
"This man stands accused of highway robbery, assault, and murder!" the Cardinal shouted. He pointed at the man who came to arrest Athos. "While Captain Treville looks the other way, his men riot in the streets!" Wow, so that man was actually the captain of the Musketeers. The one my father was planning on putting my safety into the hands of.
"The charges are false, Your Majesty." He appealed to the King.
"There are witnesses," the Cardinal said. "YOU!" He pointed and waved over the inn owner. "Tell the King what happened."
"I own an inn. The Musketeer Athos, and his men, robbed me and murdered two of my guests, Michael Fournier, and a Gascon named Alexandre D'Artagnan."
"I have never seen this man before in my life!" Athos protested his innocence. It sounded weak to my own ears. I looked up at D'Artagnan.
"You," the Cardinal brought forward a red-haired boy.
"I was driving my master and mistress home. We were attacked by a bandit. He said his name was Athos. He shot them both." I felt for the poor boy. I really did, though I didn't think that this was the same man. He looked different.
"Is this your assailant?" The cardinal pointed at Athos.
"Yes. I believe so." The boy said. "He wore the same uniform." I wanted to protest, it could have been anyone.
"Oh! This is a mockery of justice!" Captain Treville said.
"There is not a word of truth in this! These men are mistaken!" Athos declared.
"Musketeers are not above the law!" The cardinal implored to the King. "Remember Sire, the King's judgment is infallible."
"Quite right," the King stated to the Cardinal. "An example must be set. Take this Athos to the Chatelet. He will be executed at dawn." As he stood up, everyone bowed. I really wished to stand up and protest, but knew how my brother would take it. I watched as Captain Treville rushed out after the King.
We went back to Constance Bonacieux's house. Her husband was unfortunately home, and he was a tiresome bore. I felt my eyes rolling into the back of my head as soon as I took one look upon him.
"Jacques-Michel Bonacieux at your service. Merchant in fine quality cloths and linens to the nobility. Perhaps you've heard of me?" He asked, whilst his wife was tending my brother's poor, bruised side. I said nothing about my own, I had already attended to it in our room.
"I'm afraid not," My brother gritted out.
"So how did you come by these injuries?" He leaned against the mantel of the fire. I felt suspicious of him. Why would he care how my brother came by his injuries? Does it honestly matter?
"My injuries do not matter." My brother began on his self-pitying humor. "I've failed my father. I came to kill the man that murdered him, but all I;ve found are more questions." I put a hand on his shoulder. "I can't rest until I know the truth."
"That's lucky, because rest is out of the question." The two Musketeers from the courtyard walked in. My brother freaked out and drew his sword. The black man raised his hands soothingly.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa." He said. "We're not here to fight."
"Those Musketeers who attacked you, would you know any of them again?" My brother strategically put the table between us and them. He also placed himself in front of me. If that doesn't scream something is wrong, I don't know what would.
"They all wore masks," my brother said, completely sheathing his sword. The two looked disappointed. I lightly punched his shoulder. "I shot one of them! His body might still be there at the inn."
"All right, saddle up. We're leaving." The black man said, walking towards the door.
"This morning, you try and kill them, and now you're best friends?" Constance exclaimed.
"Athos' life is at stake. He's to be executed in the morning for crimes he didn't commit." The Spanish one told Constance. D'Artagnan led me out the door. I waved to Constance. "Forgive the intrusion, Monsieur." With that we left the Bonacieux's home. I mounted my poor bay horse. I rubbed her neck in forgiveness, before we all took off to the inn. On the road there was little talking but we were all properly introduced.
"I'm Charles D'Artagnan." My brother introduced himself. "This is my brother Leo."
"I'm Aramis." The Spanish one said.
"Porthos." The black man said. I grinned at them all.
"Doesn't say much does he?" Aramis looked up at my brother.
"Who? Leo? Oh, he's mute." D'Artagnan said. "Educated, just quiet. Best scout one could wish for though."
"Huh." Aramis looked at me, before looking away.
We reached the inn well after midday. Everything was deserted as it had been when we had been here at night. Relatively quiet, then again who would wish to come out in the cold and the snow. I know I was already regretting my choice to follow behind my brother, I had to ensure that he didn't do something foolish along the way. But my hands were like ice underneath the leather gloves, and I was shaking.
My brother sent me a sympathetic look, before he dismounted. Aramis and Porthos followed. Begrudgingly I did as well, though I kept close to my steed. She offered me worth, that I would be a fool to not take advantage of. D'Artagnan talked with the inn owner, through which we learned where the impostor was buried.
I groaned as I realized that we would have to unbury the man. I felt my toes curl, as my brother and the Musketeers went to gather shovels. I was handed one by Aramis, and even though I wanted to hurl I aided them as well. Finally he was uncovered, looked just as foul in real life as he did in death.
"He's no Musketeer." Porthos said glancing over the blue, and frozen body.
"Look at his clothes. There's two bullet holes," my brother suddenly pointed out.
"So?" Aramis asked, the two Musketeers and I turning to look at my brother as if he had grown two heads.
"I only fired once." My brother said. I groaned as I realized that meant someone had to undress the body. Thankfully Porthos volunteered himself for that job.
"This is the shot that killed him," He showed the wound on his left side. "And this hole, doesn't match any wound." Porthos double checked just to be sure. Aramis looked like he just had an idea.
"It means he wasn't wearing the uniform when it was fired."
"But someone else was," Porthos finished, sitting back.
"Cornet," Aramis said, the realization hitting him hard.
"Those Musketeers didn't just disappear," Porthos said, taking Aramis' proffered hand, getting out of the grave.
"They were attacked," my brother realized the graveness of the situation. I dug my hand into his shoulder. Quickly he placed his hand atop it, in a silent communication of reassurance.
We took to the road again, this time sure of the events that had occurred. I held on tightly to my reins, the ice in my veins overcome by anxiety and nervousness. I mean what if the bandits were still out there? I was in front when Porthos began to speak.
"If I was planning an ambush, I'd do it here," looking around I realized why. It was a place where I would never have seen anyone coming.
"Plenty of cover, good sightlines," Aramis looked around as well.
"Cornet wouldn't have suspected a thing." Porthos said.
"Over there," Aramis said, dismounting and grabbing his musket. We found the bodies after climbing the hill. I was sickened by the sight. How many bodies was I going to see while in the company of the Musketeers?
"Cornet," Aramis breathed after he removed his hat in respect for his Musketeer.
"They shot them like animals and then stripped them of their uniforms!" Porthos said angrily.
"D'Artagnan the men who did this killed your father as well." Aramis said. He looked over at me too. "If you want justice, help us find them and clear Athos' name!" I walked over to Porthos, who was throwing his coat over the saddle. I noticed a glint on the dirt and knelt down. I handed it to Porthos who took it frowning.
"Was Cornet carrying Spanish gold?" He asked Aramis. "You could go a year in Paris without seeing a Spanish doubloon, and that makes two in a week."
"Where'd you get that?" D'Artagnan asked, nodding towards the two pieces of gold.
"I won it, in a card game, with a Red Guard," we all mounted our horses, in an attempt to reach Paris as soon as possible. Then we waited outside the pub, in which Porthos went in order to capture Dujon, the Red Guard.
Then we escorted the Red Guard to a building on the outskirts of Paris. He was tied and a bag was put around his head. I didn't like this and chose to stand looking out the door holes. My brother patted me slightly on the back. I was fine with a pistol and put me in a swordfight, but the deliberate harm of another. I guess that was my womanly gentle disposition.
"Time to pay the reckoning for Cornet," Aramis said, his musket resting on his shoulder. I turned around then and watched the man. He was extraordinarily graceful as well as handsome.
"And I bet he's going to say, 'I have no idea what you're talking about.'" Porthos mocked. Dujon kind of nodded his head at that one.
"And then we'll have to hurt him." Aramis said with a sadistic smirk.
"At which point, he'll suddenly remember he killed him." Porthos bantered back.
"Uh," Dujon disagreed.
"Why wait?" Porthos asked his fellow Musketeer. "Let's just hurt him now." They both smiled at the frightened man.
"It could go like that. Or we can just skip to the confession part. It would save us time, and you pain." Aramis bent down so he could be closer to Dujon. "A lot of pain."
"I was just following orders." Dujon managed. I was surprised he hadn't peed his pants yet.
"He was just following orders." Porthos mocked.
"We'd better let him go, then." Aramis said, before Porthos picked him up and began to shake the man.
"I I can't tell you! They'll kill me!" Dujon said. The two let him go. I breathed a sigh of relief, only to realize that his punishment was going to be worse.
"No need for that." Aramis said looking at Porthos. "We're not brutes. We'll just shoot him."
"What? No, listen, you can't, please," Dujon pleaded. Porthos pushed him until he was supported by the pillar.
"You know people say I'm quite good with these." Aramis held up his musket.
"Good? He's the best. He's so modest." Porthos began to chuckle. I mentally winced and began to pray for the man's soul. My brother and I moved, so that we were standing next to Aramis, who was standing in front of the Red Guard.
"But the musket isn't the most reliable weapon. From 100 yards, I'll probably miss as often as I hit.
From 50, well, I rarely miss. But from ten? It's just a matter of, which vital organ do I choose to hit first?" Aramis said, whilst he loaded his weapon.
"No, no, no, please, listen, listen," Dujon begged.
"Heart?" Porthos asked his fellow friend and Musketeer.
"Too swift." Aramis disagreed. "The liver, perhaps. Oh Or a stomach shot. Death is inevitable, but you'll bleed for hours first." He continued to load his weapon.
"You can't. This is murder." Dujon sounded less sure of himself as he watched the proceedings. I as well was feeling a sort of misgiving, falling into these men's company.
"We won't tell, if you won't." Porthos chuckled. I winced and closed my eyes. I didn't wish to see bits of a man going flying to tell you the truth. Then I winced as I heard Aramis take aim. I heard a clicking noise and looked up to see nothing. "Bang!" Porthos cackled madly to the stricken Red Guard. I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Oh I forgot the ball! This time," Aramis promised darkly. I looked to see that my brother seemed as relieved as I was that there was no bloody murder.
"It was Captain Gaudet!" Dujon finally broke as he watched Aramis go to put the ball into the musket.
"Of the Red Guards?" Porthos asked.
"He told us to do it. He said he wanted a few men for a special mission. Something unofficial. An ambush to steal the King's letters. But Gaudet went mad. He killed them all. None of us knew it would be murder." Dujon admitted.
"You took this from Cornet." Porthos held up the gold doubloon in front of Dujon.
"His saddle bags were full of Spanish gold. Gaudet said we could share it between us. I just - " He was nodding wildly when my brother stepped towards him.
"Who murdered my father? Who?!" My brother grabbed Dujon by the coat collar. I stepped forward as well, ready to step in between them if D'Artagnan got out of hand.
"Gaudet. It was Gaudet." The Red Guard seemed fearful for his life. Which he should, as my brother would kill the man who killed Father. Porthos pulled my brother off the guard. "He did it to blacken Athos's name. I'm not like him. I'm not a killer. I'm a soldier, like you." Porthos grabbed him by the throat. I stayed behind by D'Artagnan, with a hand on his arm in a placating manner.
"Where is Gaudet now?" Aramis asked, serious.
"He's camped in the old ruins, outside the city gates. I'll show you where Just don't kill me." I was surprised he managed to wheeze anything out of his lungs with the grip Porthos had on his throat.
"There, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?" Aramis asked as Porthos let him go.
That night we reached the old ruins, under the stealth of night. I was cold, and kept close to my brother and Aramis for warmth. Aramis pulled out the eye scope he had and began to survey how many were on guard.
"Gaudet keeps his camp well guarded." Aramis surmised from his survey.
"You'll never surprise him." Dujon said.
"Shut up!" Porthos hit him hard in the ribs. I nearly laughed, but remembered just in time.
"The bridge is the only way in and out. There's too many of them for a frontal assault." Aramis said. "I could take a couple of them out from here." He gathered.
"No, by the time you've reloaded, the rest will be long gone." Porthos disagreed. I agreed with Porthos. "Now, if we're going to capture Gaudet alive and get back those uniforms, it'll have to be by stealth. We need a distraction, something they'd never expect." I agreed, nodding my head.
"I know something that might work." My brother unexpectedly stated. I could only shake my head. He never thought up anything good.
His brilliant plan involved Constance. He made her dress up like a prostitute, while we stood nearby. I could have killed him. She was a respectable woman!
"What do you want?" The guard asked. She attempted to act like a prostitute. I rolled my eyes, then I cuffed my brother in the back of his head. He gave a small ow and turned to glare at me.
"Fifty sous and I'll take you to heaven."
"Are you one of those religious nutcases?" The guard was so clueless. I stifled my laughter.
"It was a metaphor," she said, loosing the sultry tone. He looked clueless and shrugged. "Nevermind. You can do whatever you like. I'm all yours. Clear enough?" He started looking her over.
"Yeah Five sous?" He said. I snorted, then turned my head into D'Artagnan's shoulder. He just shook his head.
"Five?!" She sounded outraged, even though she wasn't a prostitute.
"All right, ten. But that's it." He said with a finality to his tone.
"Fine!" Constance agreed, just as Porthos throttled the man. Then another guard came up, and he let the man rest upon Constance.
"Oh Oi, my turn next!" Constance made the guard do some hand signals.
"Excuse me!" Porthos said as he took the weight of the man.
"Ten sous? Shame on you." Aramis said as he came onto the bridge next.
"I'm in your debt." My brother said.
"I'm doing this for Athos." She said flipping her skirts. I just pressed her hand with my own gloved hand. "Stop looking at me like that." She said to my captivated brother, who was staring at her chest. I rolled my eyes.
"Stay over there and you'll be safe, OK? If you're in any danger, use this." My brother pointed to a remote place on the horizon. He handed her a musket. We went in silently, guns drawn and awaiting to see Gaudet. My brother tried to keep me safe, but knew that it would look suspicious if he sent me to wait with Constance.
"There he is. That's Gaudet over there." We all pressed close together to get a good look at the camp.
"He thinks no-one can touch him." Porthos muttered. I had to agree with that one.
"Wait for my signal." Aramis commanded. I guess he was second-in-command with Athos gone. "Surprise is everything."
"Gaudet!" Aramis did not think about the temper that a Gascon has, especially when they have been wronged. "Surprise would have been everything!" Aramis said as the shots began to ring out. We were immediately in the middle of a battlefield. I fired my musket and a man went down. At least I knew that I was a true shot as well. I watched as my brother went after Gaudet.
"What's your problem, boy?!" Gaudet spat as my brother went after him.
"You will pay for murdering my father." He said, as I crouched behind a wagon in order to reload my pistol. I shot another man. This kill would belong to D'Artagnan. He was the heir to the estate after all. Finally, after my musket had been spent it was time for sword play. I grinned a little too evilly. This was where I excelled after all.
"D'Artagnan! We need him alive!" Aramis cried out as we defeated the ones left. The battle was too swift in my opinion. But oh, well.
"Death in combat is too honourable for you. I'd rather see you hang." My brother said, before he put up his swords.
"D'Artagnan!" Aramis cried out, after I clutched his arm. He turned just in time to shout out a warning, as Gaudet was prepared to stab my brother in the back. D'Artagnan stabbed him with his sword.
"The stolen uniforms. They're all here." Porthos said after giving a quick whistle. We all made our way towards him.
"With Dujon's confession, that's all the proof we need." Aramis said. I nodded my head as well. I looked up in time to see my brother put his cloak upon Constance's bare shoulders.
"I killed him." She was a woman who had never seen battle nor been trained for it.
"You saved my life." My brother attempted to make her see the sense in her taking a life. He put his gloved hand on her cheek, but she brushed it off.
"Take me home. My husband will be back soon." She turned away.
The next day dawned, with the four of us getting a release for Athos' execution. The King and the Cardinal were both not in a good mood, after being woken up early. But they soon saw all the evidence and the King quickly signed the release for Athos. I was glad. He didn't seem like a man who deserved to die, at least not this early and not unjustly.
"Come on, shoot, damn you!" We arrived just in time to hear Athos roar. I knew he was an honorable man. Not afraid to face death, even when he was innocent.
"Hold your fire! If I were you, I wouldn't be in such a hurry to die." Aramis said, strutting down the stairs with Porthos, D'Artagnan and I trailing behind them in all their Musketeer glory. "Your release. Signed by the King. Get these chains off him." Athos was leaning against the wall, in relief.
"I thought I'd finally shaken you two off." Athos joked, as he was unchained from the wall.
"Believe me, there are easier ways." Porthos said as they began to lead him back up the stairs, where my brother and I were leaning. He nodded to us in appreciation. I smiled, as we followed the three wherever, they might lead us.
"You come to Paris to kill Athos and end up saving his life." Aramis stated as we joined them in a pub. I began to drink my wine. This was way better than that wayward inn's ill wine. "After a few drinks, I'm sure he'll appreciate the irony." Aramis stayed my brother's hand as he began to pour him more wine.
"What's wrong with him, anyway?" We looked over to see Athos in a corner, drinking by himself.
"Oh, woman trouble." Porthos griped.
"There was someone special once. She died. That's all he ever said." Aramis leaned in close to the two of us.
"I'd better stay behind. He'll need someone to carry him home." Porthos said, self-sacrificing as he drank more wine. My shoulders shook with laughter. Porthos fixed me with a dark glare.
"Do you need somewhere to stay?" Aramis was always so nice to the both of us.
"No, we have a place." My brother said.
"In the arms of Madame Bonacieux?"
"She's a married woman." My brother was scandalized.
"You really are from Gascony, aren't you?" Aramis began to put on his gloves with an amused air.
"Besides, there's someone else." My brother admitted. I rolled my eyes. His lady. I would have rather forgotten her. I mean she did get him accused of murder! "A woman I've only met once. The most beautiful I've ever seen. We have unfinished business."
"She sounds lively." Porthos said before both Musketeers began to chuckle.
"You have no idea." I nodded my head. They really had no idea what this woman was capable of.
"Athos" Aramis said on his way out of the pub.
"Game of cards? First king wins." Porthos said to my brother and I. I shook my head and went to sit with Athos at his little table. He began to play with a locket as he drank more and more. I felt sorry for this man. I could only hope that one day I might uncover what secrets he had hidden deep within his closet.