Thank you for your interest in this new story. I got knocked a little sideways this week so sorry for the update being slower than I hoped for.
Chapter Two
"He seemed fairly insistent."
Treville sat back in his chair and nodded slowly. D'Artagnan had reported early with information that he felt was important and Treville knew he had probably just confirmed a persistent, but unprovable rumour. It was not the first such report he had been given, but it was the first piece of information from a reliable source.
"Well, we know the Red Guards were basically left to their own devices for some time after the Cardinal's death and Rochefort had a difficult time bringing them into line under his command. There are a couple there who thought they would have been promoted instead, before he turned up."
"I wouldn't be surprised if he knew!" D'Artagnan clenched one hand into the other as he recalled the man's face when he ran from the alley, the night before.
"We have no proof that Rochefort knows anything. In fact, we have no proof there is even a problem with the guards and the locals." It didn't mean he didn't agree with the suggestion, but proof was sometimes a slippery thing.
"We also know that even under the Cardinal's control, his men were less than honourable in their dealings with others. And that leadership void certainly caused some of them to think they could do as they pleased. Or have you forgotten the Chatelet?"
Treville frowned as he tilted his head slightly.
D'Artagnan quickly held a hand up in apology as he realised what he had said. "I'm sorry, Captain. I meant no disrespect! It's just that … "
"It's just that you were on the receiving end of that rogue action. I have forgotten nothing."
D'Artagnan dropped his gaze to the floor, embarrassed at the accusation in his hasty words. It was Treville who had saved him from the Red Guards in the Chatelet, firstly by allowing Athos to stay behind overnight and secondly, by forcing the Governor to let them both go the next morning, when he was threatening to hang them for the death of a guard.
"I apologise. It just struck me that the man I met last night was not exaggerating his situation. I can't help but feel there is something going on that we should know about."
"I agree. It's not the first report of this issue that I have had. But I need to know a great deal more before I go accusing the King's guards of unlawful activities."
What he didn't state, but was understood anyway, was that Rochefort held great sway with the King and Treville was not held in the same esteem he once had been.
"Of course, Captain. I'll let you know if I find anything else."
As d'Artagnan descended the stairs from Treville's office, he was pleased to see Porthos and Athos in the courtyard below. As they waited for Aramis to arrive, d'Artagnan began to fill them in on his concerns. The Red Guards were up to something unsavoury and somehow the Musketeers had been lumped into the same pot by those affected. Somebody had sullied their reputation and the locals would never trust them enough to talk to them directly. Before he could suggest what he was thinking, Treville called for the men to muster and Aramis skidded into place beside his friends. His sheepish grin and shrug of his shoulders told them all they needed to know. He had obviously had a good night after he left the tavern and the morning cold had been an extra challenge to leaving a warm bed.
Albert was well into the early morning's trade before he noticed that something was wrong. The vendor who always set up his vegetable stall across the square from him was nowhere to be seen. The family business had been there for several years and Albert knew the husband and wife team very well. Their three children helped carry the produce to and from their stall each day. Even on the odd days where one of them was too sick to be there, the others were always around.
Albert finished stacking a supply of baguettes, fresh from the oven into a basket before hefting it onto a trestle. Customers wandered through the marketplace and after catching the waft of fresh bread, many of them headed his way. It was a while before the crowd thinned enough for him to pause again and he looked over to the vendor's closed stall. He scratched at the back of his neck and wondered what was so wrong that nobody had showed up to work for the day. It wasn't as if they could afford to miss a day's trade. Especially with the unseasonably early cold weather closing in, as produce supplies would dry up earlier than normal. Albert shook his head and went back to work. There was nothing he could do, but he hoped the man would be back in the morning.
The sun had barely filtered through the window, but she had been awake for some time. It was never a good idea to sleep past the time your prey slept and she had cultivated the habit of waking before the sun. Her dark hair spread out across his chest and she slowly ran a finger down the line of his bare ribs. The night before had been rather entertaining, as far as such things went. Of all the men she had seduced, this one was a step up on her usual conquest. Perhaps that was because she had spent the last month working on him and he no longer seemed worried that she would disappear on him. She allowed herself a small smile as she realised her finger had awoken the man sprawled underneath her. His fingers reached out and grasped at her hand before he shifted beneath her. She lifted her head and smiled her most seductive smile at him.
"You need to report for duty soon."
"We have time," he smirked at her as he pulled her towards him. He could not believe his luck that such a woman had taken an interest in him at all, let alone bringing him into her business interests. It definitely paid better than his meagre income as a Red Guard and working behind Rochefort's back gave a whole other level of job satisfaction that could not be measured. The cruel side to his nature did not seem to bother Milady in the slightest and he had quickly come to understand that she had her own dark side. It aroused an even greater passion in him when he considered how alike they were. Fortune had definitely smiled on him the day she bribed him to allow her entry to the palace. Of course, the view of her in her beautiful dress had been an added bonus, especially so when he was the one doing the removing of a similar dress.
The building was dark and smelled of animals and something else. Fear. The stench of fear clung to the walls and she could hear the sound of whimpers and sobbing in the darkness. The heavy chains around her wrists and ankles had cut deeply into the soft skin already and she felt the slow ooze of blood on her arm. The sleeve of her dress had soaked up some of it already and she lifted her arm to wipe away the tears forming on her face again. The shame of what had happened clung to her and she almost wanted to curl into the floor and die. Her husband could surely never look at her the same way again, once he knew what they had done to her.
It had happened so quickly and she had no hope of stopping them. Three men had appeared behind her and while one had wrapped an arm around her torso, another had grabbed for her son. Somehow he managed to wriggle free after biting the man on the arm and she had screamed at him to run. That had cost her a backhand across the face before another man grabbed hold of her legs. She had kicked and struggled, but was no match for three men. As they forced a rag into her mouth and dragged her from the street, she had half expected the next few minutes would be the end of her life. Her last conscious thought was relief that her son had escaped, before passing out in somebody's arms.
She had no idea of the passage of time, but it was clear that it was now dark outside. She dropped her head into her arms and felt her body shaking with fear.
As Robert skidded to a stop at his front door, he was already shouting for his father.
"Papa! Papa! Where are you?"
Jean heard his son's frantic shouting from the upper floor and stuck his head out the window. "I'm here! What's wrong?"
The fact his son had appeared without his mother answered the question for him. He had not been quick enough!
"Papa! They took Mama! Back there. She told me to run and I came for you!" The heaving breath told its own story and the boy stood in the street, trying desperately to hold back tears.
Jean was running for the stairs almost before he knew what he was doing. He called out to his daughters to stay put as he took the stairs two at a time. The only weapon he had was a dirk and he snatched at it from the kitchen on his way out of the house. Robert looked slightly shocked to see his father armed, but he pointed over his shoulder anyway.
"Down there! They took her that way."
Jean followed his son down several streets before Robert pulled up short. Tears streaked his face as he looked around. There was no sign his mother had even been there, let alone armed men.
"They were here. Papa, what would they want with her?"
Jean paced around the area, feeling like he was going to be sick. It was his fault. He had been too slow to find the money they demanded and now his wife would pay the price for his failure. He had tried to stall them by avoiding the marketplace for the day, but clearly his family had been watched. He hefted the dirk in his hand, as if looking for somebody to plunge it into. When he looked back at his son, he felt his stomach clench in fear and he rushed towards the boy. Robert almost stepped back at the frenzied look on his father's face, but allowed him to wrap his arms around his shoulders.
The ride back from the palace was like most other times. The four of them had completed the tasks Treville had sent them on for the day and it was time to report back and head for a hot meal.
Athos looked across to where d'Artagnan was riding silently beside him. It wasn't like his young friend to be so quiet unless something was troubling him. They had begun to discuss it prior to muster, but Treville had called them to attention and the moment had passed. The day had been busy with plans and preparations for the Dauphin's parade and Athos had his hands full trying to keep Aramis on track and acting as he should in his capacity as a musketeer.
"You began to share a concern with us this morning, but we did not get to finish the conversation. Perhaps now would be the time to continue it."
Aramis and Porthos both turned back in their saddles and waited. D'Artagnan looked as if he was not going to speak at first. When he did, it was not quite what any of them expected.
"Who would have the most to gain by discrediting the Red Guards and the Musketeers, simultaneously?"
"What do you mean?" Athos shifted slightly in the saddle as he considered the question. It was not unusual for the two groups to be pitted against each other and the bad blood had not gone away, even after the King's challenge had supposedly settled things. If anything, it had just created more animosity.
"Last night, I was on my way back to the garrison when I came across somebody who feared I was going to attack or rob him. I did nothing to make him think I would. When I assured him I was a musketeer and not a thief, he said it was the same thing." D'Artagnan looked at his friends as the comment registered with them.
"I know from Albert there have been rumours about Red Guards extorting money from businesses, although he doesn't know anyone personally affected and can't provide any proof. If the Musketeers are now being lumped in there as well, who would gain from that? I can't believe any of us would be involved in such a thing, so who would benefit from spreading that lie?"
The machinations of the court gave Athos a headache on the best of days. Politics and intrigue was the reason Treville had knocked back the King's request to lead the Red Guards. That decision had caused the Musketeers a world of grief, but Athos would not hold it against Treville. He completely understood the reasoning, if not totally agreeing with it. Surely it would have been better to have Treville there, in favour with the King, than Rochefort sniveling in his ear. Still, it was no use looking backwards.
"I have no idea. But we need to find out." The low growl in Athos voice betrayed his anger at the idea that anybody would besmirch his regiment in such a fashion.