Chapter Two

The King had behaved like an excited child as he inspected the invitation replies in the diplomatic pouch. Aramis and Porthos had watched with mild amusement as he clapped his hands in delight.

'They are all coming Cardinal no one has declined.' Richelieu raised his eyes to heaven before replying,

'That is most gratifying your highness.' As if there had ever been any doubt. He smirked slightly as he pictured the variety of responses to the Kings invitation. Some would be preening and preparing with relish; others would be griping at the short notice and horror of such a long and fraught journey. Let alone the extra expense. After all what kind of gift did one give a queen. An expensive one. The King suddenly remembered the two Musketeers standing patiently before him.

'And they will be greeted by my fine Musketeers in their dashing blue cloaks. Such a lovely colour, do you not think Cardinal? So much better than the red guards. Red is so aggressive.' Aramis and Porthos bowed partly to hide the twitch of their lips which threatened to turn into laughter.

'Indeed, your highness.' Replied Richelieu through gritted teeth. 'Aggressive soldiers what a concept.' The remark passed over the head of the Monarch who was far too wrapped up in his party to listen to his first minister.

'I'm sure you have urgent business elsewhere Musketeers. You may return to the garrison. Come Cardinal we have much to do.'

With one last glare at the two expressionless Musketeers Richelieu strode after the King as he trotted eagerly from the room. The two men straightened from their bow, Porthos let out a loud guffaw.

'You 'av to give it to the Cardinal, he does have a sense of humour.' Aramis grinned.

'But he was so right Mon Amie, red is so unsuitable for warfare, blue is so much more calming.' Both men laughed as they walked side by side out of the palace. Mounting their horses Aramis turned to his friend.

'The Captain did not say anything about drinking on the was back, The Wren?' Porthos grinned,

'Thought we might try the Red Barrel tonight.' Aramis didn't miss the innocent expression the big man was trying hard to maintain.

'The Red Barrel? Since when, did we patronise such an establishment?'

'Thought it 'ud make a change,' shrugged Porthos.

'Mmm, would there be a card game there this evening perchance?' Aramis enquired with a quirk of his elegant brow.

Porthos rolled his eyes dramatically, 'You wound me my friend. As the King's own regiment, it is our duty to patronise a variety of establishments no favouritism. Besides…' he added with a sly smile. 'I hear the landlord's daughta' is quite the beauty.'

Aramis fondled his beard and smiled. 'Well if you think we should. Let us bed down the horses and see where the night will take us. But the Red Barrel, it sounds so…aggressive.' Porthos clapped his friend on the back and they enjoying the joke as they steered their horses back to the garrison. Unaware of how fortuitous Aramis' words had been.

Athos had spent the afternoon in the depths of the less than honest establishment. He had only partially been aware of what was going on. He had made it a rule to sum up the people he was drinking amongst it had proven useful on a number of occasions. The landlord for example was selling suspicious items from beneath his counter, whether they were weapons or more likely stolen goods Athos could not tell. There had been a number of Red Guards in an out, surprising for such a run-down hovel. One in particular, had conversed for some time with the dubious Landlord before shaking his hand. Athos suspected money had changed hands, but it was none of his business, so he had simple poured himself another cup of wine. The fact that he was only at this point in the day finishing his third bottle was down to the poor quality of the beverage. The sour taste was a poor excuse for a wine and even Athos had to make an effort to keep the vile liquid down. And so, it was when Aramis and Porthos entered that evening, though he did not notice their arrival, he did notice the sudden lull in the conversation. He bought his weary head up and tried to focus on what might have discomfited his fellow drinkers. If the Red Guard had looked out of place, then the two Musketeers looked even worse. The big one forged a path to the bar whilst his friend headed toward the back and took the table next to Athos. Despite the warmth inside the bar Athos had removed his hat to replace it with the hood of his black cloak. In the dim light nothing could be seen apart from the occasional glint of his eyes.

Aramis glanced at the man but thought nothing of him apart from how warm he must be, the hood over his head earned him a second glance but the three empty bottles upon the table seemed adequate reason for the Musketeer. His attention was soon re directed to the lovely young lady who was making her way over to their table with a tray of ale.

'For you and your friend,' she said as she placed the tankards down. 'He's a big one, isn't he?' she giggled nodding her head as Porthos approached. She eyed the tall Musketeer with interest as he sat beside Aramis brushing against him as she laughed and returned to the bar.

'Wha' was all tha' about?' Porthos asked with a frown on his face

'Oh, nothing Mon Amie, it seems the beautiful Landlord's daughter might be a bit touched in the head,' he tapped his temple and adopted a sorrowful expression. Porthos let out a large guffaw.

'You mean she wasn't interested, you must be losing your touch.' He continued to laugh as his friend looked at him with a glint in his eye.

'It seems she prefers her men more on the well-proportioned side,' he smirked winking at the man mountain. As Porthos glanced over to the bar, the girl smiled and waved at him. Porthos turned to Aramis with a grin on his face.

'I told ya' this place would make a change.' He downed his drink and gesticulated for another as Aramis settled, resting his long legs on the stool opposite smiling at his friend's delight.

Athos had not registered any of the two men's conversation. They were happy and laughing that was about all that had perforated his senses. Happy, how long had it been since he had been happy. His hand clenched the cup he was holding, had it been a glass it would have inevitably shattered. He could not remember laughing, he did not want to remember. He had laughed with her, she had made him laugh. She was always smiling, loving. Now she was gone. It had all been a lie. The laughter and the love. There would be no more. He contemplated another cup of wine and wondered what kind of head such substance would leave him with in the morning. Deciding he didn't really care he poured another to find it was the last in the bottle. He downed the foul liquid in one go feeling his stomach recoil in horror. Perhaps it was for the best he didn't think he could face a fourth bottle. Perhaps it was time to move on. As Athos contemplated his wine a shout went up from the other side of the bar. Voices were raised as bottles smashed and a table was over turned.

'You're a lyin cheat!' shouted a thin greasy haired Red Guard.

'' 'Onest I won fair and square.' Answered Porthos raising his hands in supplication. Aramis sighed heavily and rose to his feet. He picked up his extravagant plumed hat and adjusted it on his head.

'I think it is time to leave Mon Amie,' smiled Aramis trying to disarm the angry guard brandishing a broken bottle.

'But I didn't cheat Mis, not this time,' he added under his breath.

'Then all the more reason to leave do you not think.' Once more he gave the guard a disarming smile and man-handled his friend toward the door. He seemed lethargic and Aramis decided he had probably been too drunk to realise he had been cheating. Athos had watched the scene with interest. He recognised the guard making the accusation, he had been in the tavern earlier in the afternoon. He scanned the other tables and sure enough the Landlord was nodding to a guard in the corner, the one with whom Athos had assumed he had been transacting earlier. Now cheating was one thing, and a fair fight well deserved. However, he had watched the Landlord carry the drinks to the big Musketeers table, odd as he had not delivered any other drinks to any other customer. He had always placed the Musketeers drink down first and the man had nearly always grabbed it and drunk it greedily as though he was thirsty. Now he may just have a big thirst, he was after all a big man, but Athos doubted it to be the case. Casting off his hood and placing his hat over his eyes he stood up slowly. For a man who had drunk three bottles of wine he was remarkably steady, but then the wine had been particularly bad. He moved deliberately toward the door and headed out in to the cold. There was no sign of the Musketeers and he hoped for a moment his instincts had been wrong. He pulled his cloak closer and shivered in the sudden freezing air. Then just as he turned the corner into a narrow street, he saw what he had been expecting, though it looked slightly worse than he had anticipated. The big Musketeer was lying sprawled on his back not moving. His friend was standing over him brandishing his sword ready to take on the four Red Guard who were approaching, weapons drawn with condescending smirks upon their ugly faces.

'Now your cheatin' friend aint so cocky is e,' growled the greasy guard, who had been playing Porthos at cards.

'I think you and I both know he was not cheating. So, what is this all about?' Aramis tried to stall the men in the hope that Porthos would wake up. The man had gone down suddenly without warning and his head had bounced of the hard cobbles with a worrying smack. If he had only had chance to reach for his pistol, he might have evened his odds. Though he was fairly sure the Captain would have something to say about shooting a Red Guard. Duelling was bad enough but, that was simply letting off steam, shooting was not. As it was, he now faced down four men flourishing swords and even he doubted he would be able to hold them off for long. Just as the first ring of steel sounded in the stillness Aramis was aware of a figure by his side. He was just about to swing around and parry the man's sword when an arrogant voice said,

'I'm pointing my sword at them, that means I'm on your side.' With that he lunged at the four guards and bought one down before Aramis had even taken in what he had said. Without waiting further, he too sprang into the fray making sure that no guard came anywhere near Porthos. He noticed too that the stranger was also dancing around the prone figure keeping the attacking guards at bay.

Two of the guards now lay groaning upon the floor. Athos was fending of the remaining two and from what Aramis could see he seemed to be enjoying it. In fact, he would have said the man was simply playing with them. Perhaps the three bottles upon the table had not been his after all. No drunk could use a sword the way this man did. He was almost sorry he could not watch but Porthos had still not moved and he needed to see how badly his friend was hurt. Kneeling by the man's side and shook his shoulder gently.

'Porthos my friend, wake up. Come on Mon Amie, this is no time to sleep.' Just then he heard the sound of booted feet and groaned once more. He turned around just in time to see Athos slash one of the two guards across the thigh. Three more guards had arrived but instead of unsheathing their weapons they grabbed an injured soldier and made to take them away. As Athos stood his ground the one, he had seen talking to the Landlord spoke.

'This is not over Musketeer. You prancing peacocks need to be taught a lesson.' He turned to Athos. 'And you my friend have just made a huge mistake.' Athos simply quirked a brow and replied.

'I shall endeavour to get over it, in the meantime I will be at your disposal.' He stared at the guard and held his eyes until the man blinked and looked away.

'Bloody Musketeers. I'll see you in hell.' He helped his injured colleague around the corner and Aramis let out a breath he hadn't even realised he had been holding. Just at that Porthos gave a low groan and began to move. Aramis turned to his side once more.

'Keep still Mon Amie, you have had a nasty bump to the head.' He ran his hands through the mans thick curls to feel a large lump on the back of his skull.'

'Ouch that 'urts,' moaned the man.

'I know my friend, we need to get you back to the garrison. How many fingers am I holding up?'

' Are yer sure those are fingers, they look mighty thick for fingers to me Mis.' Aramis had forgotten about the stranger until he spoke making him flinch in surprise.

'I think your friend may have been drugged, add to that this twine stretched across the road and I assume he went down heavily.' The words were delivered slowly and succinctly. There was something in the deliberate clipped speech which held Aramis' attention.

'Forgive me my friend I had forgotten you were there. I thank you for your assistance. I am Aramis of the King's Musketeers and this here is Porthos.' Porthos tried to lift a hand but failed miserably.

'It would seem you are in need of further assistance if you want to get your friend home safely before any more ill luck befalls you.' At this he glanced over his shoulder as if he half expected a hoard of Red Guard to come tearing around the corner. 'It seems you are not popular with the Cardinals guards.' Aramis grinned.

'That Mon Amie is a definite understatement.' The two men managed to drag Porthos to his feet and with his arms draped over their shoulders they began to make slow progress back toward the garrison.

'Tell me Mon Amie, how many of those bottles upon your table belonged to you, if you don't my asking.' He looked at Athos with genuine interest.

'All of them.' Replied the stranger offering no further explanation.

Aramis whistled through his teeth. 'Then you are a fine swordsman, I only wish I could have watched in comfort. I would like to see what you can do when you are sober.'

Athos simply arched a brow, 'I like to keep in practise.' The musketeer laughed at the man's curt reply. They were almost at the garrison gates and Aramis was glad. Porthos was not the best man to carry through the streets of Paris when he was half insensible. Aramis puffed in the frigid air,

'I love you Mon Amie but at the moment I wish you were not so big.' The stranger stared straight ahead before he replied,

'Perhaps next time you could offer to reverse the roles.' Aramis grinned widely at the quip.

'I'm afraid angry husbands are more likely to wish me harm than card playing Red Guards, but I will give it some thought.' Just then they reached the arch that led to the Garrison courtyard.

'Phillipe, Andre, give me a hand. Porthos is hurt.' The two men dashed to their aid and helped take Porthos from the men's shoulders. 'Take him into the infirmary,' Aramis turned to thank the stranger and ask his name. But when he looked, he had disappeared. Melted soundlessly into the shadows as though he had never been there. Just his own breath billowing grey mist in the frigid night. He scanned the area once more before shivering and hurrying after Porthos. Perhaps they would find their guardian angel tomorrow.