Trouble: Chapter 1

The marketplace was crowded and the man was distracted as he stood at the stall discussing fruit with the vendor. He didn't seem to mind or notice the two boys that hovered near him – there were always children running about the marketplace.

He didn't see the way their hands had twitched as he stowed his purse in the pocket of his doublet – the bag's mouth just visible. The younger boy, no more than nine tugged at his companion's sleeve. The other was tall, and about twelve. Both wore old tattered clothes that had been repeatedly repaired and both looked as though they could use a good bath and a few good meals.

The younger boy glanced around the market again and gave another tug to the sleeve of his companion. The older boy raised his hands. If they were to eat that night, he had to act. His hand reached forward, eyes focused on the purse.

"I wouldn't," said a soft voice as he felt a firm tug on his earlobe. He and his friend swung around at the slight pressure to face their captor.

The man too turned at the commotion and his jaw nearly fell open when he beheld his saviour. "Uh-oh," thought the man. "This could be trouble."

"You might want to watch your purse, sir," she said. "You nearly dropped it."

The woman was beautiful – very beautiful – and even the musketeer, who was well versed in beautiful women was struck by it as she led the two boys by the earlobes away from the stall. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her dark hair was pulled back loosely and elegantly from her shoulders. She wore a simple yet fashionable gown that was unadorned save for the delicate silver chain he had noticed around her neck. She must be an angel, he thought, because there was no way such beauty could be mortal.

He approached the trio as she crouched to speak to the boys, relinquishing their earlobes.

"Now," she said, "Tell me, boys, why were you about to rob that man?"

The boys exchanged wary glances before the younger one spoke. "We didn't want to," he said tearfully, "We were just hungry!"

"There are too many of us at the orphanage. Sometimes we need to fend for ourselves," defended the older one, a slight defiance in his voice.

Nodding she said, "It seems to me that good busy hands like yours would do better with a meal and a job, than with robbing musketeers. What are your names?" she asked, sternly, but kindly.

"Marcus," whispered the younger, his hand consoling his sore earlobe.

"Victor," said the elder.

"I'm very pleased to meet you," she said. "I'm newly arrived to Paris and I believe the household is in need of two strong stable boys. If you will work hard, I can promise you, your bellies will never be empty and you'll be paid a fair wage. What do you say?"

The boys looked at each other, eyes round. They looked back at the woman and both nodded slowly.

"Excellent," she said, beaming at them. "Go to 21 rue St. Germain, the one with the blue door and speak to Marcel at the stables. Tell him, honestly, everything that happened and he will see that you're fed…and maybe given a bath?" she said as they both grinned up at her.

"Th-thank you, Mademoiselle," stammered Victor as he pushed Marcus from the marketplace. Both boys were in awe and to be honest, so was the man who had witnessed the whole scene. It was rare that pickpockets in Paris were met with more than scorn, let alone understanding and an offer of a job.

The woman straightened the fold in her skirt, and catching the eye of the musketeer, she blushed.

"Please," she said, "I know it is your duty to report them, but they are so young, and they were just hungry…"

He stared into the eyes of the woman and smiled. Her eyes were that rare combination of grey tinged with blue that sparkled like opals. They reminded him of the sky before a storm at the coastal village where his mother had lived.

"It seems that you are not only my saviour this morning, but theirs as well," he said and smiled more broadly as she blushed a little deeper, but returned his smile.

"I didn't know that musketeers made it a habit of being so vulnerable in the marketplace," she challenged him, as she began to move among the stalls, the man following at her side.

Catching her eye he smirked. "I may know those boys…and I may have been aware of their presence. So I may not have been as careful when stowing my purse…" he said a little conspiratorially. They stopped at the flower stall where the woman examined some irises. He plucked one, passing a coin to the vendor.

"They are good boys," he said, presenting her with the flower. "This is the first time I have seen them tempted to steal. If Victor had acted on it, I would have stopped him…but luckily, as I said, I had a saviour present."

She smiled at the musketeer as she took the flower from him, a light of adventure in her eyes as they continued across the market.

"Tell me, monsieur musketeer, I am new to Paris and have been asked to pick up a dessert for a dinner party at the household. Could you recommend a good patisserie?" she asked.

He grinned again as he placed his hand on the small of her back and led her toward a curtain framed window. Neither commented on the buzz that echoed through their bodies at the touch.

"The gateau du chocolat from Madame La Crue is the best in all of Paris. I'm sure your dinner guests will love it," he said.

Laughing, she turned to face him. "Thank you, musketeer. I think that you have now saved me! I wonder," she said smiling at the handsome man before her, "as I am new here, I would appreciate a knowledgeable tour guide who could help me maybe get my bearings in the city. Would you be interested in filling the position?" she asked, knowing his answer.

"I would be honoured," he said, bowing to her slightly, his dark eyes fixed on her lighter ones from beneath the brim of his hat. She in return curtsied slightly, the heat on her cheeks and the tightness in her chest equal to the musketeer's. The sounds of the market disappeared around them for that moment as he tried to memorize the freckles that lightly dusted her cheeks. There could have been no one else on the planet in that moment as he bowed to her and she curtsied to him and both lost themselves in the eyes of a stranger.

"Miss…?" he asked softly, breaking the spell.

"You can call me Christine," she said, smiling.

"Christine," he said, savouring the taste of the word. "I'm Aramis."

oOo