Force of Nature

Chapter Three

The weather granted them no reprieve. When Athos looked out of a window at noon it was as dark as it had been when they left the garrison before dawn. Rain pounded against the glass, driven headlong by the fierce winds that still howled around the building. During the course of the morning he had rotated his men, pairing Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan each with a cadet. Brujon had been tasked with making the rounds of the building while Athos snatched a few minutes for quiet contemplation.

He remained convinced that there would be an attack. The treasures of the palace were too valuable to be ignored by Grimaud. It was frustrating to have to contend with a faceless enemy. So far they had been able to learn very little about the man. The mere mention of his name was enough to have people stammering and claiming ignorance. Whoever he was, and wherever he came from, his reach was long and brutal.

With a heavy sigh he made his way towards the kitchens, intent upon securing sustenance for his beleaguered troops. He was passing the bottom of the main staircase when he was hailed by a servant.

"Captain. The Governor has sent for you."

The last thing Athos needed was to waste his time with Feron. "Send him my apologies. I have urgent matters to attend to."

"Begging your pardon, Sir, but he said it's an order."

Much though he might wish it Athos couldn't ignore a direct order from the Governor of Paris. "As he wishes. Can you see that the Musketeers receive food and drink?"

"Of course, Sir."

With a nod of thanks Athos climbed the stairs, making his way along numerous hallways until he reached Feron's suite. He knocked and waited to be invited to enter. The room was cold, the fire having died out. Feron lounged in a high backed chair swathed in furs.

"Ah, Captain, there you are."

Athos stood to attention and waited with ill-concealed impatience for Feron to get to the point. There was an odd aroma permeating the room and it took a minute for Athos to recognise it. One eyebrow rose fractionally when he identified it as opium. He looked speculatively at the Governor. It was no secret that Feron suffered from a serious disease which affected his back, making it painful for him to walk. Clearly he was taking opium as a means of controlling that pain. He knew from experience how badly laudanum could affect the mind. How much more potent would raw opium be? He noticed that the Governor's eyes were heavy lidded and that he was sprawled almost bonelessly in his chair.

"I wanted your opinion on the security of the Louvre," Feron continued, a slight slurring evident in his voice.

"It is inadequate, but I'm sure you already knew that."

"You are insubordinate, Captain."

"It would have been more effective to keep the Red Guard in Paris and allow the Musketeers to accompany the King. The regiment is depleted by the war and there has been insufficient time to recruit more men."

"I was given to understand by Treville that you and your companions are war heroes. Surely guarding an empty palace isn't beyond your capabilities?" Feron spoke with derision, watching Athos closely for any adverse reaction.

"Porthos, d'Artagnan and I served at the front. We did our duty and do not consider ourselves to be war heroes. However, we are seasoned warriors. Aramis, although he left us for a time, is no less skilled."

"What of your boys?"

Reminding himself that Feron was Governor of Paris and the King's half-brother allowed Athos to keep his composure. "They are Musketeer cadets and all have shown promise that one day they will be commissioned. If trouble comes they will acquit themselves well."

"I'm glad to hear it. We wouldn't want a mob rampaging through the building."

"You sound as if you are expecting an attack."

"Not at all. I merely want to assure myself that you have the security arrangements in hand."

"Insofar as that is possible with the number of men at my disposal."

"Thank you, Captain." Feron waved a hand languidly in the direction of the door. "Don't let me keep you from your duties."

With gritted teeth Athos bowed and left the room. He returned to the main entrance where Aramis and Claremont stood guard. Each held a mug of soup and a chunk of bread. Aramis grinned when he saw him.

"The doors are secure and there's no sign of trouble. A couple of the servants brought the food a few minutes ago. If you hurry you should be able to catch up with them."

"I'm not hungry. Claremont, find Brujon and get me a report from each of the guard stations."

Claremont drained his soup quickly. "Yes, Sir."

Aramis split the bread in half and held some out to Athos. "You need to eat."

Athos accepted the gesture but made no move to bite into the bread. "The river will be cresting in a few hours. If there is going to be an attack that's when it will happen."

"If it comes we'll be ready."

"Are the cadets ready?" Athos looked to his friend for reassurance.

"They are a talented group of young men. You've seen them spar with d'Artagnan and I've assessed their competence with a pistol. They don't lack for courage either. Each one of them will make a fine Musketeer in time."

"They're so young."

"You have ordered men into battle before. What is it that disturbs you?"

Athos pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes while he considered the question. "I can't help feeling that we have been set up to fail."

"By Feron? Surely you don't suspect him of being in league with Grimaud?"

"We have seen stranger alliances before."

"Where would be the benefit for Feron? He has all the power he could possibly desire and, if he is in need of some mindless thugs he only has to look to the Red Guard."

A brief flicker of a smile crossed Athos' face. "That is true. However, Grimaud is no ordinary thug. He has influence and connections. I'm convinced he was behind the theft of the grain and, according to Treville, Feron was only too eager to arrange financing so that more grain could be imported."

"Which was for the benefit of the people of Paris. You see conspiracies where there are none, my friend."

"Perhaps." Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was a connection between Feron and Grimaud, irrational though that might be.

TMTMTM

Grimaud entered the tavern where his men were waiting for him. There was immediate silence when he walked in with his head held high and a sardonic smile on his lips. He walked over to one of the tables and unrolled the parchment he was carrying.

"Come here."

They immediately clustered around him, looking down at the plan of the palace. Most of them, he knew, couldn't read but that would be no impediment to his plans.

"Pay attention. There are the entrances to the building." He rapidly moved his finger from one point to another indicating the points of ingress. "They are guarded by four Musketeers and twelve raw recruits. Easy prey. Remember, though, that the Captain is mine." He paused to savour the thought of victory. He would bring Athos to his knees before he killed him. As for the others, well, they would be no match for his men. "The river continues to rise. Already there is flooding in the streets. It is only a matter of time before water enters the Louvre. When that happens the Musketeers will be distracted and we will strike. If you find an unguarded door use it to get behind their lines. We will attack on two fronts and they will be powerless to stop us."

"What happens after we kill them?"

"Take anything of value that you can find. We have an army to raise and that takes money." He gave only a fleeting thought to Gaston who would be their figurehead. The Prince presently languished in the Bastille, out of favour with the King. He had Feron's assurance that he could facilitate Gaston's escape at any time so the Prince could stay where he was until he was needed. "Any other questions?" He waited a few moments. "Good. Three of you to each entrance. Sort it out between yourselves."

He left them and walked over to the bar where a tankard of ale was quickly laid in front of him. He silently toasted his impending victory and imagined riding into Paris at the head of an army. The boy from the gutter had grown to be a man of means and ambition. Soon he would have his reward.

Tbc