Athos and Aramis approached the sprawling urban estate of the Comte de Varone up the long marble lined drive on foot having been instructed to leave their horses at the gates to preserve the expensive paving stones.
A massive fountain decorated in gilded leaves stood before the home's main doors where two guards stood behind a valet dressed in crimson livery. Every aspect of the home seemed designed to lord its opulence over its visitors in a vulgar ostentatious way. Aramis raised an eyebrow at Athos' low growl as they climbed the stairs leading to the front entrance.
"Deliveries are to be made to the kitchen doors only," snapped the valet as he looked down his nose at the Musketeers ascending the stairs below him. Aramis hesitated for a fraction of a second, caught off-guard by the valet's open hostility. Athos forged ahead until he was eye-level with the man. The bright blue eyes pinned the man with their most derisive stare.
"We are not here on a delivery. We are conducting an investigation in the name of the King. Where is your master?" Athos said, his voice coated in anger and condescension.
The valet raised his eyebrows – shocked by the tone of the intense musketeer. He glanced quickly behind him to where the guards stood. They tightened their grips on the handles of their rapiers. Aramis grinned at the guards, his hands casually moving to rest on the handles of his pistols.
Recovering, the valet asked Athos, "The Master is unavailable. Do you have an appointment?"
"Do representatives of the King need one?" Athos asked narrowing his eyes further.
The valet snorted at that comment, and Athos lost what little patience that remained for the man. Seizing him by his lapels, he pulled the valet towards him until their noses were mere inches apart. The guards made to draw their swords but a blur behind him and two soft clicks let Athos know that Aramis had both pistols drawn freezing the goons in their tracks.
"One of his Majesty's Musketeers has gone missing while attempting to deliver something to the Comte. We will be returning in one hour. I suggest you have someone ensure your master is available – unless you think he would prefer to be dragged and bound before the King for questioning," Athos snarled and pushed the man away from him.
"Of course, sir, anything to aid one of his Majesty's musketeers," the valet sneered, straightening his coat, his voice dripping with scorn.
Aramis lay a hand on Athos' shoulder and had to practically pull him down the stairs to prevent him from launching himself at the rude valet. It was rare to see Athos so close to losing control like that.
"What was that about?" Aramis whispered as they strode back towards their horses.
"Nothing. Just the plague of the nobility!" muttered Athos fuming.
Aramis pulled him to a stop before he could mount Roger.
"Athos, we need to stay focused. We will return in an hour and tear this place apart gilded leaf by gilded leaf if we have to in order to find Porthos, but right now we need another lead," he said imploringly, his hand resting on Athos' shoulder.
Athos breathed heavily, staring into the eyes of the plaintive marksman until he calmed.
"Better?" Aramis asked.
Athos nodded. "I apologize," he said briefly, "I didn't mean to react that way."
"If it's any consolation, I think the valet nearly wet himself when you grabbed him," said Aramis.
"It will be once we find Porthos," Athos responded. "We should return to where you found that blood. We can canvas the area. There must have been some sort of witness present." With that Athos swung into the saddle on top of Roger as Aramis mounted Bella and exited the gaudy property.
oOo
Aramis' brow was furrowed. "Do you want to talk about what happened with the Valet?" Aramis asked quietly as he and Athos tethered their horses and began to search the alleyway for clues.
Athos paused, his hand on his saddle. It was as though Aramis could see the cogs spinning in the lieutenant's brain as he considered his answer. "I have a problem with the way that ignorance is spread among the noble class," he said simply. "What makes the nobility different from other men?"
"Well money, property, education, the ability to eat three meals a day…divine right?" Aramis quipped, his smirk firmly in place. Athos smirked in response before shrugging his shoulders.
"It's the idea of betters. As though those with a title are somehow better…like they're infallible…as though they aren't capable of terrible deeds…of pain…of regret…" his blue eyes darkened. Aramis' heart swelled at the obvious hurt in his friend's voice and for the millionth time he wished that he was somehow able to relieve Athos of this pain. "These ideas…they're pervasive and they can infect the entire household. It's more than just pride…it's…wrong," Athos finished somewhat lamely, and sighed in frustration.
"I understand," said Aramis honestly. As the bastard son of a courtesan and a minor noble, Aramis was all too familiar with the pitfalls and judgement of society based on birth. He smiled warmly at Athos. "You have too good a heart, brother," he said, placing a hand on Athos' shoulder.
The swordsman gave a shy smile back. "Come," he said, "there must be something here that can help lead us to Porthos."
oOo
A cold bucket of water had Porthos jerking awake violently. He pulled at his chains in his surprise, the cold metal of the manacles biting deeper into his wrists. The light from the candle seared his eyes after so much time in the darkness. He raised his hands to block the light from his face as he fought the urge to vomit as his head throbbed and his vision swirled.
"Thank you for joining us," said a cold voice from the darkness.
"Let me outta here," Porthos growled.
"In time," the voice replied. Porthos stared in the direction of the voice, but the man stood at the edge of the circle of light cast by the candle. Porthos could see he was tall and broad, but his features were hidden in the shadows.
"What do you want with me?" Porthos growled again.
"A few things," the man said casually. "You were carrying something of mine, something I want back. A letter. Since you didn't seem to have it when we searched you, I'm assuming you stowed it somewhere," he said.
"That letter was from the King. It has already been delivered," Porthos lied.
"No, I don't think it has. For your sake I hope it has not. Besides, it's unlikely that the Comte de Varone would have permitted you onto his property even if you were carrying the King himself on your back. He's not the most understanding or tolerant of men."
Porthos froze as these words were spoken. How did this man know so much about his mission? It was top secret – he hadn't even told Aramis and Athos about its details – only that he was to deliver a letter for the King.
Porthos took a deep breath and tried another tact. "Look, I'm a King's musketeer. If you let me go, we can forget that this ever happened…"
"Well that's the thing, you're a musketeer. You have value."
"The King would never bargain with criminals," spat Porthos.
"No? But what of your brother musketeers? Surely they must have noticed that you've gone missing. How far will they go to save you? What will they do in order to guarantee your release?" Porthos didn't respond. He knew that Athos and Aramis would burn Paris to the ground if necessary in order to find him.
"What do you want?" Porthos said darkly.
"I only want what is rightfully mine. And for you not to die…yet," the man said as he placed a water skin and a plate of food on the floor of the cellar. He turned on his heel and opened the door. Bright light burst into the room and again Porthos was nearly struck dumb by the impact of the lights on his eyes. Two others entered the room and grabbed Porthos roughly as they unlocked one of his wrists.
Instantly Porthos snapped to attention and grabbed one of the men with his free hand. The other was ready though and as Porthos grasped his partner, the man brought his wooden baton down on Porthos' forearm. He howled in pain at the impact and dropped the other man. Both men then proceeded to kick angrily at Porthos' side until an audible crack could be heard. If his ribs weren't broken before, they certainly were now.
oOo
Frustrated, Athos and Aramis rode back to the Comte's estate, leaving their horses once more at the gates and marched determinedly up the marble path. The valet greeted them at the top of the stairs and without a word led them into the study off of the hall. The Comte was awaiting them, seated at a broad mahogany desk.
Athos tensed under the gaze of the Comte and he grit his teeth.
Aramis glanced at his brother and addressed the Comte. "Thank you for meeting us, my Lord," Aramis said, oozing as much charm as possible, "Your home nearly rivals the Louvre." This fly was to be caught with honey, not vinegar.
"Well it should. They were built by the same artist," replied the Comte in a disinterested drawl as he continued to survey the musketeers before him. "Now, what is this about? I'm very busy."
"We won't keep you long. We are investigating a musketeer that has gone missing in the service of the King."
"I'm not sure how that's any of my concern," as the Comte reclined in his chair with his elbows on the arms. He steepled his fingers and rested his chin on top.
"The musketeer went missing on route to delivering something to your home," Aramis explained.
"Again, monsieur, I'm not sure how this is my concern?"
"Were you expecting something from the King?" Athos asked bluntly. The Comte's gaze shifted from Aramis to Athos. A servant entered carrying a carafe and a wine goblet.
"Yes, I believe I was. A gift actually. The deed to some lands," said the Comte casually. "Useless lands actually – they used to belong to the Baron de Broule. Meagre, ugly property it is. But one does not reject a gift from the King, no matter how insignificant."
A glass shattered as it fell from the hands of the servant. His arm was trembling and Athos noticed the distinct flash of rage that was in the man's eyes as he stooped to clean up the shattered glass.
"Useless," the Comte muttered under his breath, but otherwise did not acknowledge the servant.
"A Musketeer was attacked and taken prisoner trying to deliver this deed to you. Are there others who would be interested or feel entitled to the property? Is there anyone who might want to tarnish your reputation before the King?" Athos asked tersely.
"What?!" exclaimed the Comte. "Tarnish my reputation?"
"It's possible that this musketeer was attacked to make you perhaps seem ungrateful of the King's gift," said Aramis, catching on to Athos' ploy.
"That's preposterous. I am close friends with the Cardinal and a favourite of the King!" the Comte declared.
"Which makes you a target with much to lose. Can you think of anyone who would benefit from your possible – though unlikely – fall from grace?" Aramis asked, attempting to soothe the Comte who was burgeoning on irate at the notion of any potential embarrassment.
Taking a steadying breath, the Comte replied, "The Baron had a son. I'm not sure what became of him, but if anyone had interest in the property, he would be the only one able to contest my ownership of it. He would need the deed in order to do so."
"Thank you, my Lord. If you can think of anything else, please let us know," said Athos with a curt bow.
"Just a second," said the Comte calling out to Athos. "You – you look familiar to me." Athos tensed again. The Comte paused as he stared at Athos before shaking his head. "No, you all look the same to me. I must have just seen you at court or something like that."
With another curt nod, Athos strode from the study and out the door, Aramis at his side.
"What are you thinking?" Aramis asked Athos as they remounted their horses.
"I think that the Comte is more concerned with his reputation than anything else and regards a 300 acre property as nothing, but I don't think that he was part of whatever party attacked Porthos. He didn't care about the deed and he pays absolutely zero attention to things he believes beneath him," Athos replied.
"Like his servants?" asked Aramis.
"You noticed the anger in the young man too?" Athos asked and sighed. "I think we should see if there are any people near that alley that might point us in the right direction. Then we should reconvene at the garrison to see what Treville knows about the Baron's son."
oOo
Aramis and Athos were having no luck finding clues near the alleyway where they had found the blood. The locals were quiet, refusing to offer any help to the anxious musketeers.
"We don't want any trouble. This is a good neighbourhood. We don't want you stirring up anything else," they said.
Aramis stood at the entrance to the alley looking out at the street, frustrated. As a marksman, he was trying to determine where the shot that had injured Flip could have come from. As he looked out onto the street a carriage pulled to a halt in front of him. A curtain was drawn back and he smiled in surprise.
"Well, isn't this a lovely surprise," a woman's voice purred.
"For me as well, Baroness," replied Aramis as he bowed slightly and kissed her proffered hand.
"Aramis, my love, no need for formalities. My husband is away in the country," she laughed. "Did you come here to see me?" she asked.
"Unfortunately, no," Aramis said. He missed the way she pouted as he glanced over his shoulder at Athos who approached the carriage. "My companion, Athos and I are here on the King's business. Athos, meet Eloise, the Baroness de L'ile."
Athos bowed to her and her eyes brightened as she appraised the handsome musketeers in front of her.
"Do you live in the area?" Athos asked.
"My husband's home is just a little ways along this street. Near the Comte de Varone. As I said he's away at the moment and won't be returning for a few days yet," she said, coyly. Athos blushed slightly and Aramis grinned.
"Unfortunately, my dear Eloise, while we're on duty for the King, we will be unavailable to enjoy your exquisite company," Aramis said with grin and wink that brought a rosiness to her cheeks. "Perhaps you may be able to help us though," Aramis said thoughtfully. "We are looking for our brother, Porthos. He was attacked while delivering a missive from the King in this area. His horse returned to the garrison with a gunshot wound this morning."
"Porthos? Isn't he your tall handsome friend?" she asked, her brown eyes widening. Aramis nodded.
"Did you hear anything yesterday evening? A pistol shot or a horse galloping away?" Athos asked.
The pretty Baroness furrowed her brow. "I'm not sure…I might have heard something from the street... My maid said that she had nearly been trampled last night, but I didn't think anything of it – I thought she was being dramatic."
"Will you allow us to speak with her?" Athos asked with urgency.
"Yes, alright," she responded, startled slightly.
"We are in your debt," said Aramis, taking her hand and placing another light kiss upon it. Eloise's cheeks flushed again under the gaze of the marksman and she smiled at him indulgently.
"Of course. Anything Aramis. Whatever you need," she said breathlessly. Athos gave a small cough and shattered the spell. The Baroness gathered herself and said, "Follow me. Celine should be at home."
Aramis released her hand and with a subtle wink to Athos, the two men mounted their horses and followed the Baroness' carriage to her home.
Celine turned out to be a great help.
"I was returning to my mistress's house when I was nearly run down by the musketeer's horse. He was trying to stand after his horse had thrown him. There were men – three of them – and they were striking and kicking him viciously but he was fighting back until one struck him with the butt of their pistol and he went still. A fourth man pulled a cart forward from across the street. They pitched him in the cart and took off. It happened so fast!" she said tearfully.
"Did you see where they went?" Athos asked.
"No…they turned left coming down the street, but I don't know where they went next," she said, "But the cart had a star and anchor drawn on its side."
Athos stood suddenly and began to head towards the door. "Thank you Baroness, Celine. This has been very helpful."
Aramis made to follow Athos out the door, but the Baroness stopped him. "Will I be seeing you soon?" she asked him seductively.
Aramis removed her arms from around his neck. "My duty calls. Perhaps once we've recovered Porthos if he's able to return to duty..."
"Well then I hope you find him most quickly!" she said as he bowed to her once more and hastened out the door after Athos.
Back outside, Aramis grinned at Athos. "Well, that was helpful. It's a lead at any rate."
"We were lucky that the Baroness saw you and stopped her coach," said Athos, mounting Roger.
"The house looks different in the daylight," said Aramis with a sheepish grin that couldn't quite hide his pleasure. "If the shooter was seated on the cart, that would explain the angle of the shot that graze Flip," Aramis said seriously.
Athos nodded. "We should report our finding to Treville. See if he knows what actually happened with the Baron and his son."
Aramis nodded and the pair set out towards the garrison, riding a little faster than they probably should have, but time was pressing as the sun began to set over Paris.
oOo