Law and Disorder

by Sue Pokorny

When Aramis is abducted and held for trial in the Court of Miracles, it is up to Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan to prove he is not guilty of Charon's murder.

4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Treville sighed as he was ushered into the King's sitting room. Though uncertain of the reason for Louis' summons, he had hoped to find the King alone so that he could control the amount of information he would be forced to relay about his men's current predicament. The sight of the Comte de Rochefort standing at Louis' side dashed those hopes.

"Ah, Treville," Louis greeted, leaning back in the gilded chair beside his ornate table. "Please do come in."

Treville nodded to the page who had admitted him and walked slowly to the center of the room, the cold eyes of the Comte making him feel as if he were on trial. He bowed stiffly, ignoring Rochefort completely as he addressed the monarch.

"It was a pleasure to receive your summons, Your Highness. How may I be of service?"

Louis exchanged a quick glance with Rochefort before clearing his throat. "It has come to my attention that there is a situation within the slum called the Court of Miracles that you and your men have been attempting to hide from me."

Treville glowered at Rochefort, whose smug smile made it obvious who had brought it to the King's attention. Though he had no idea how Rochefort could've learned of Aramis' abduction and the subsequent 'trial', it was becoming quite obvious that in the short time he'd been back in Paris, the former Spanish prisoner had accumulated a spy network that rivaled Richelieu's.

"There has been an incident," Treville explained. "Though rest assured there is no need for you to be concerned, Sire. My men have the situation well in hand." He had heard nothing from any of his men for some time, but he had every faith they could handle things with diplomacy and aplomb. Or, if that didn't work, fight their way out with minimal violence.

"Come now, Treville. I would hardly call the abduction of one of the King's elite Musketeers a situation well in hand."

Treville breathed out heavily through his nose, Rochefort's condescending tone grating on his every nerve.

"While it is true one of my men was taken against his will," he continued, sending a glare toward the Comte. "Athos has assured me the situation will be resolved quietly and without bloodshed."

"And just how will it be resolved?" Louis asked.

"A trial."

"There can be no trial without the King's approval," Rochefort argued, his voice flat, unemotional. It was obvious the Comte cared little for the men involved, he simply saw another wedge to drive between the King and the Musketeers.

"True," Louis agreed, nodding his head sagely. "I have given no leave for any trial. Tell me, exactly what is your man being accused of?"

"Murder, Sire. A charge of which he will no doubt be proven innocent."

Louis' interest rose along with his brows. "Murder? And who exactly is he supposed to have murdered?"

"One of the leaders of the Court. A man named Charon. He was killed trying to stab another of my men in the back. Aramis acted to save Porthos' life."

Louis shook his head. "I would hardly consider that murder."

"Nor would I," Treville agreed. "Athos and d'Artagnan were also present at the time of the incident. They are standing witness along with a woman from the Court who holds sway with the people there. They have assured me they have things under control."

"There is still the matter of the people of the Court overstepping their boundaries," Rochefort interjected before the King could respond. He turned to the King. "I hardly think such behavior can go unpunished."

Louis nodded, his lips pursed in thought. "I'm afraid Rochefort is right as usual. These people have attacked a member of my guard, which is the same as attacking the crown. Something must be done."

"Please, Sire," Treville tried. "The matter is delicate and, as I've stated, my men have things well in hand—"

"Your men have proven incompetent at best as of late, Treville." Rochefort sneered. "Perhaps Your Highness would allow my Red Guard to handle the problem?"

Louis waved a hand. "Yes, yes. That would be fine."

"Your Majesty," Treville quickly interjected. "I already have four of my men in place inside the Court of Miracles. If you would just allow them time –"

"There is no more time," Rochefort interrupted. "His Majesty has plans for the area that have been put on hold since the death of the Cardinal. Perhaps now is the time to clear the area and begin again?"

Louis eyes lit up at the prospect. "Yes, yes. We shall move ahead with our plans." He directed his attention to Treville. "You have one hour, Treville. You will have the rest of the Musketeers use whatever force necessary to free your men. If you cannot handle it, Rochefort's Red Guard will attack and arrest everyone who resists. I want those responsible for this inconvenience. Is that clear?"

Treville schooled his face, attempting to hide his anger as he bowed. "Of course, Your Highness. My men will deal with the situation."

"See that they do. You have disappointed me greatly these last few weeks, Treville. See that you do not disappoint me again."

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Inconveninece. Fuming from his confrontation with Rochefort and the King, Treville made his way to the gardens where he knew Clouden and Remaire were stationed watching over the Queen and the Dauphin. Since the incident with Marmion, Louis had been adamant his wife and son be protected at all times – even within the relatively safe confines of the Louvre. It had been a burden on his limited manpower, but Treville could not blame the King for his increased paranoia. The Musketeers had thwarted Marmion's plans, but the memory of his threat lingered and if Louis needed the reassurance that his wife and son were safe, Treville would gladly give it to him.

As he approached the gardens, he could see the Queen and Constance sitting beneath a tent, the Dauphin cradled in his mother's arms. The Dauphin's governess sat close by, attentive yet not involved in the two women's conversation. The rest of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting mingled together amongst the flowers and shrubs. Treville had been pleased when he'd learned of Constance Bonacieux' appointment as the Queen's newest consort. Anne had been quite lonely since leaving her home in Spain all those years ago; the people of France suspicious of a Spanish Queen, the ladies of the court following suit. He could tell she was much more relaxed in Constance's presence – or perhaps it was simply motherhood lighting her face. Either way he was relieved she had found someone to trust and applauded d'Artagnan's suggestion even if it turned out it was for more self-serving reasons.

Clouden was stationed closest to the entrance to the gardens, so he made his way to the young Musketeer. Clouden, who had been eyeing the ladies across the gardens, snapped to attention as the Captain approached.

"Captain Treville," he said stiffly. "I did not expect to see you, sir."

"Obviously," Treville responded with a raise of a brow. Though Clouden was newly commissioned, he'd been an exemplary soldier. Treville did not meddle into his men's affairs, only cautioning them to think with their heads rather than other parts of their anatomy. He'd long ago decided some of the more seasoned Musketeers – Aramis being at the top of that list – were beyond his control when it came to affairs of the heart, but Clouden was young and Treville remained hopeful he could teach the man some discretion before he followed the marksman's example too closely. "I need you to return to the garrison and muster every available man."

Clouden frowned. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"Unfortunately," Treville sighed. "Meet me at the east entrance to the Court of Miracles, on Rue St. Dennis. Do not attempt to go further and allow no one – especially the Red Guard – to enter either."

Clouden nodded. "Of course, Captain. May I ask what our mission is?"

"Your mission is to keep the peace, Musketeer. Do not make any moves until you hear from either Athos or myself. Is that clear?"

"Sir!" Clouden rushed toward the stables, sword clanging against his leg.

"Captain?"

The call was not unexpected and Treville squared his shoulders before crossing the garden and ducking under the tent to bow to the Queen.

"Your Majesty."

Anne's eyes shifted from where Clouden had been positioned at the entrance to the gardens back to Treville, a frown of concern marring her lovely features. "Is there a problem?"

He considered lying to her, telling her everything was fine and under control, finding himself hesitant to burden her with the current situation. But he knew how much she admired her loyal Musketeers and worried for their safety. Selfishly, he believed having an ally in the Queen could go a long way in keeping Louis focused on what was important and away from Rochefort's already too heavy influence.

"I'm afraid there has been an incident involving some of my men in the city, Your Majesty. I apologize for sending Clouden away, but I need my men mobilized quickly. I am sure as long as you remain on the grounds of the Louvre, Remaire is more than qualified to look after your safety."

"Of course, Captain," Anne readily agreed. "I have no doubt your Musketeer is capable. This incident, I pray it is not serious."

Treville sighed. "I am afraid it could be. Rochefort has convinced the King to send troops, but I believe a show of force will only inflame the situation further. Some of my men are already inside the Court of Miracles handling it, I just hope they can successfully resolve the situation before the Red Guard force their way in."

Anne and Constance exchanged a concerned glance and Treville easily guessed their fear.

"D'Artagnan is one of the men involved, but as far as I know, neither he, Porthos nor Athos is in any danger."

"And Aramis?" Anne asked, a strange note of emotion coloring her tone. She smiled quickly at Treville's raised brow. "We hardly ever hear of the four of them separated."

Treville nodded, accepting the answer. "Aramis was taken for reasons too complicated to explain just now. But I assure you, Athos and the others have things well in hand. With luck, they should all return fine and fit by sunset. If you will excuse me ladies." He bowed to Constance and then the Queen.

"Of course, Captain," Anne dismissed him. "Please bring us good news."

"I will, Your Majesty." Treville turned and marched from the gardens, praying he had not just lied to the Queen of France.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Athos studied his friend as he drank from the small bowl. Aramis' color had returned to normal and he no longer seemed to struggle for breath, but he was still weak, the heat and lack of air taking its toll.

"So what's the plan?" the marksman asked after taking another long drink from the bowl. He pushed his hair back from his face, running his wet fingers through the strands before leaning his head back against the wall. He was disheveled and obviously weary but once again aware, his eyes clear, his mind focused.

Athos was seated on the mattress next to him, finding it more comfortable – and safe – than the rickety chairs near the table, his shoulder brushing his friend's. He'd insisted the door remain open to disperse the stifling heat inside the small shack and Flea's man had agreed, forcing the other guards to acquiesce to the demand. While it was still uncomfortably warm inside the walls, it was no longer oppressive but Athos, due to their proximity, could still feel the heat radiating from Aramis' body.

"The plan is to get you out of here," Athos responded. His eyes flickered to the open door, his voice low, hushed.

Aramis snorted a laugh. "And just how do you plan to do that? We seem to be at a distinct disadvantage."

"You do have a knife." Athos reminded him.

"A very small one," Aramis countered.

"We've worked with less."

Aramis nodded in agreement. "Then our victory is certain."

Despite their words, neither man made a move from the thin mattress.

"Porthos believes Flea will be able to convince the people of your innocence."

Aramis pursed his lips. "I believe she will try. But if Tommen is any indication of how the people of the Court truly feel –"

"She says he is not."

Aramis sighed and closed his eyes, letting his head once again rest against the rough wood of the wall behind them. "I pray she is right." He rolled his head to the side and glanced at Athos. "So we tell the truth and hope it's enough?"

Athos nodded. "Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."

"John 8:32," Aramis smiled in approval. "Are things so dire for you to quote Bible verse to me?"

"I thought you may find it comforting," Athos shrugged.

"As much as the Good Book reassures me in times of need, I think, in this instance, I would prefer an actual plan."

"We will play their game," Athos finally relented. "We will tell the truth, Porthos and d'Artagnan as well as Flea standing witness to the events of Charon's demise. If we cannot convince the people you acted with honor in defense of a brother, Treville has the entire regiment awaiting word."

"Any attack will cost many innocent lives."

Athos leaned his head back, his lips a thin line of resolve. "Perhaps, but we will not allow them to condemn you for a crime you did not commit. The King cannot allow the people of Paris to take the law into their own hands no matter how just they believe their cause."

Aramis sighed in agreement. "I hope Porthos knows how sorry I am about all of this. Though I will never regret what I was forced to do, I wish with all my heart it had never been necessary at all."

Athos laid his hand on Aramis' thigh and squeezed in understanding. "Porthos lays no blame on your shoulders, my friend. None of us do. Porthos made his choice long ago. He is a Musketeer. He is one of us. That will never change."

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Porthos paced the confines of Flea's sitting room, anxious to get things over and done. He had no idea how Athos and Aramis fared, his concern for his brothers in this venomous situation most keen. He knew d'Artagnan was still nearby, although he had given Flea his word he would not try to seek out the younger Musketeer until she could gather the people needed for the trial. Still, the waiting was beginning to eat at his nerves and he was not sure how much longer his could remain calm before demanding to see his friends – all of them – to make sure they all remained alive and whole.

Shouts and jeers from the street began to filter through the narrow walls and Porthos hurried to a window, peering out from behind a draped curtain. A crowd was gathering in the street below, the people huddling together in groups, gesturing toward the far end of the road out of his line of sight. He turned as Flea entered the room, rushing over to join him at the window.

"What's going on?" he asked, noting the flush of anger on her face.

"Tommen," she answered simply. She nodded her head toward the street and Porthos once more turned to the scene outside.

Tommen and his men were marching between the parting crowd, pushing a bound and gagged captive across the uneven pavers.

"That's Treville," the Musketeer growled, his hands clenching into fists at his side. He felt the heat of pure hatred flush through his body, his eyes narrowing at the way Tommen paraded the Captain before the people of the Court. "He's gone too far."

Without waiting for a response, he stormed from the room and down the hall, rushing out onto the street just as Tommen approached with his prisoner.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'," Porthos snarled. He grasped Treville's arm and pulled the Captain behind him towards Flea who already had a dagger out to cut the bindings. He stepped up to Tommen to block his advance. "That is the Captain of the Musketeers, you fool. Are you trying to start a war?"

Tommen refused to back down, standing toe-to-toe with Porthos. "He came of his own accord asking to speak with you." Tommen's smile was predatory. "We were simply escorting him for his own safety. Musketeers are hardly safe within the confines of the Court."

"Bound and gagged?" Porthos shouted. He pointed back toward the captain who was now free, the rope binding his wrists cut, the gag pulled down around his neck. "This man deserves respect. If you're looking for a fight, Tommen, you just found one."

"Porthos," Treville's voice was sharp but calm. "Stand down. No harm was done."

Tommen laughed. "See? No harm done."

The big Musketeer breathed through his nose, not giving an inch, his fiery gaze boring into Tommen's.

"Porthos," Flea's hand grasped at his bicep. "Please. This is not the way."

Tommen's snorted a laugh. "Seems like you have more than one person tugging on your leash."

Porthos growled again before stepping back and turning to confront the Captain. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to let us handle this."

"I was," Treville nodded. He rubbed his wrist, his eyes roaming the hostile crowd surrounding them. "I can see you have things well in hand."

Porthos sighed and crossed his arms over his broad chest defensively. "We do… in a way."

"Captain Treville," Flea interrupted. "Porthos speaks highly of you. I'm sorry we must meet under such… tense circumstances." She held out her hand, which the Captain took gallantly.

"You must be Flea," he responded with a terse smile. "Porthos has also spoken highly of you. In fact all of my men have told me you are to be trusted." He looked around again, a raised brow announcing his doubt. "Though I am having difficulty believing things are in order."

"I assure you, your men have not been harmed and the situation will be resolved."

He nodded, taking her at her word before returning his attention to Porthos. "There has been a development."

"I didn't think you risked your neck just to check our progress," Porthos countered.

Treville frowned at the insubordination but let it go.

"The King has ordered the Red Guard to step in."

Porthos sighed and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "How did he even – don't tell me. Rochefort."

The Captain nodded. "Somehow Rochefort must've gotten wind of what was happening and informed the King. I was called to the palace this morning and ordered to deal with the situation. I was able to get His Majesty to give me a little time before he sends the Red Guard in to attack."

"That'll be a bloodshed," Porthos warned. "These people aren't just goin' to sit here and let soldiers take over. What does the King think will happen?"

"I doubt he cares," Treville said quietly, his eyes still roaming over the restless crowd. "But we must deal with this before they arrive. I have the Musketeers at the entrance to the Court with orders to keep them at bay for as long as possible, but we need to end this now."

"The only way to end this is for the Musketeer who murdered Charon to pay with his life!" Tommen had been standing close enough to overhear most of their conversation. He turned to the crowd and raised voice. "This man has brought soldiers down upon us! I told you they are not to be trusted! We have no choice but to fight for what is ours!"

"That's not true!" Flea pushed her way to the front. Next to Tommen she looked small and frail, but her shoulders were squared and she stood with her fists on her hips, her expression one of raw determination. "The Musketeers are here to protect us." She pointed behind her to Captain Treville. "This man risked his life to warn us so that we could come to a peaceful solution. Are we so afraid that we would condemn a man for doing what is right?"

Porthos saw some of the people nodding in agreement with Flea's words. The crowd no longer seemed hostile, but he was not about to trust that their allegiance wouldn't swing the other way just as quickly.

"Lies!" Tommen countered. "There is only one way this can end!" He pushed his way through the crowd, quickly disappearing from sight.

Flea watched him go for a moment before turning to her own men and motioning for them to follow. She held a hand against Porthos' chest, keeping him from charging off after them.

"He's going after Aramis." Porthos was certain Tommen would try to kill his friend despite their agreement and he was not about to just sit back and wait for it to happen.

"My men will not allow anything to happen to him," Flea assured him. She stepped closer, her eyes locked on his, beseeching. "Please. There is enough unrest. You following can only make things worse."

"She's right," Treville agreed reluctantly. "Athos and Aramis can handle Tommen. Right now we need to come up with a plan to stop the Red Guard before they move." He looked around. "Where's d'Artagnan? We'll need to be ready when they return."

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

d'Artagnan sat up, perched on the edge of the chair as the din from outside the building increased. He heard voices shouting, a collective unrest from what seemed like an increasing crowd. The voices were muffled, hiding the nature of the conflict from him, but considering their precarious circumstances, no disturbance within the confines of the Court could bode well for them. There were no windows in the room, but Felix still stood guard outside the partially open door, and it was his countenance that gave the young Musketeer cause for concern.

"What's going on out there?" he asked, rising to his feet and striding to the door.

Felix shook his head, his brow furrowed. "I don't know." His gaze shifted from the hallway back to the man in his charge. "Give me your word you will remain in this room and I will find out."

D'Artagnan nodded without hesitation; the need to know whether his friends were in danger exceeding his desire for freedom.

Felix hurried away leaving d'Artagnan alone to consider what could possibly have happened to excite the people of the Court into such a frenzy. He didn't have long to contemplate before Felix returned in a rush.

"Come," he ordered. "We must return to Flea's quarters."

D'Artagnan dashed out the door and followed the younger man. "Why? What's going on?"

Felix turned his head as they hurried down the hall. "It seems the King has sent soldiers. Your Captain has been captured."

"Treville?" d'Artagnan asked, stunned. The Captain had agreed to give them time to solve this on their own. But if the King had somehow gotten wind of what was happening… it was no wonder the people were in such a state. If Treville had been ordered to attack, there would be little he could do to keep his word. D'Artagnan only hoped that Treville's arrival meant the Captain had a plan to get them all out safely before the show of force could turn Flea's plan to dust.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Shouting outside the shack brought both Musketeers to their feet just as the partially closed door was wrenched fully open and Tommen stormed inside the small space. Athos stepped in front of Aramis, only to be pushed aside roughly by the irate man as he grabbed for the marksman and yanked him forward.

"What are you doing?" Athos shouted in anger. The Musketeer rarely let his emotions take control of him, but in this instance he was unable to contain his fury. "Unhand him at once!"

"You don't make the rules here, Musketeer." Tommen sneered as he forcefully dragged Aramis out the door. The marksman stumbled as he crossed the threshold, nearly falling as he was pushed beyond his current capabilities. Tommen hauled him a few steps from the shack before forcing him to his knees in the dirt.

Athos rushed out behind them, taking up position in front of his friend once again. "You have no right to treat him this way. Flea has promised a fair trial."

Tommen laughed. "There is no need for a trial. I know he is guilty." He waved a hand toward the other men surrounding them. "We all know he is guilty. Flea has had her say. She told us to trust you, yet there are soldiers massing outside the Court, ready to lay siege."

Athos stared back in surprise. Treville had led the regiment here? Even after assuring them he would allow them to handle things?

"We have your Captain," Tommen continued, his eyes alight with madness. "He will die along with the rest of you."

"Your grievance is with me," Aramis struggled to his feet. "Let my friends and Treville go and you can do what you want."

Athos rolled his eyes at his friend's penchant for self-sacrifice. "If you kill a Musketeer, the King will lay waste to everything inside this realm. They will kill every last man, woman and child and it will all be on your head. Is that the price you are willing to pay for your vengeance against a man who saved you from destruction?"

"Your words will not save you," Tommen stepped forward, pressing into Athos' space. "This dog has already confessed to his crime. I will waste no more time on this. It is time for him to die. If you attempt to stop me, I will have no problem taking your life as well."

Athos did not flinch, giving no ground to the bigger man. "It will be the last thing you ever do."

"Tommen," one of the guards, Flea's man, approached. He placed a hand on the big man's arm and forced him to take a step back. "Flea has given these men her word."

Tommen shrugged off the hand, holding Athos steady gaze. "Flea has no say in this."

"I cannot allow you to –"

Tommen turned and grabbed the guard by the neck, cutting off his breath as well as his words. "Who is goin' to stop me?" he challenged.

Athos felt Aramis shift behind him. A moment later, the cool grip of a knife was pressed into his hand. As Tommen released the guard, Athos surged forward, thrusting out with the blade. Despite his size and lack of training, Tommen was unexpectedly quick. Seeing the attack coming, he was able to lean back, the knife merely glancing across his ribs.

Tommen pressed a hand to his side and quickly pulled it back, staring at the blood coating his fingers. For a moment no one moved. Then Tommen growled and lunged forward. Athos feinted with the knife, yelling for Aramis to run. The sounds of a scuffle behind him made it obvious the marksman had not heeded the order. Athos dodged Tommen's advance and turned to defend his wounded friend when more men began to pour in from the adjoining street.

The guard whom Tommen had choked was on his feet, charging toward Tommen, knocking the unsuspecting man from his feet.

"Go!" he called to Athos. "Get back to Flea."

Athos did not argue. He scurried forward just in time to grab hold of a man attempting to throw a punch to Aramis' back while the marksman was engaged with another of Tommen's men. Swinging the man around, Athos landed a punch to his nose, shattering the bone just as Aramis managed to send a knee into his own opponent's gut. The man doubled over and Aramis relieved him of his sword, tossing it to Athos as he leaned over and plucked another from the dirt.

"I think it's time for us to take our leave," Aramis grinned over the sounds of fighting. The new men were obviously Flea's as they began to attack the men who had accompanied Tommen. "Any idea which way to go?"

Athos shrugged and grabbed his friend by the arm, tugging him in the direction the other men had come from. "Right now, I'd say any direction is the right one. Let's go!"

TBC