Dear all,

I want to thank so many of you for your ongoing support with this story which, I know, has not been easy for some. I may have lost some readers along the way but that is their choice and I fully respect them for that and appreciate those who have contacted me. The story moves on - as will Athos in time - and many questions remain. Just what is Desmarais up to?

I really appreciate your support and speculation and love hearing from you all so I look forward to the next round of comments, even if you are cross with me!

CHAPTER 10

I

"Did he say where he had been?" d'Artagnan asked over an hour later.

Four of them were gathered around the table, the makings of a light meal laid out before them, but none of them was eating as Aramis and Porthos shared with the musketeer Captain and his wife what Athos had told them. D'Artagnan slipped his arm around Constance and held her close as she wept silently at the news of the death of her friend and the little boy who had brought such joy.

"No," Porthos went on. "I was surprised 'e said as much as 'e did considerin' how ill he's been. It tired 'im out though an' he soon fell asleep."

"He'll probably sleep for the next few hours," Aramis said. "I hope it helped him to tell us as much as he did but there is more to his tale, of that I have no doubt."

"Where do you think he was?" d'Artagnan persisted.

Porthos merely shrugged as Aramis answered for them both. "We have no idea."

D'Artagnan looked directly at Porthos. "Do you still favour the notion that he had sold his skills?"

Porthos thought carefully before giving his opinion. He stared unseeing at the stem of the wine goblet he was holding and turned it between his fingers. "Like I told Aramis, I don't think so; it was a spur of the moment thought and, lookin' back on it, I reckon it does Athos a disservice, unless 'e found someone in serious need of 'elp an' it would've had to 'ave been very bad if it took 'im away from the village when the people were 'aving such a struggle. No," he shook his head as he reached a decision, "I'm certain that's not it." He could not resist the temptation to glance at the rapier in the corner of the room; it had been there since they brought their unconscious brother back to the garrison. "Since when has he carried such a weapon though?"

"It's a good piece, beautifully balanced," d'Artagnan said and, when he realised the others were staring at him, he shrugged. "It was hard not to notice it with that ornate hilt. I certainly haven't seen it before and do not think it's the type of weapon Athos would go out and purchase if he was employed to fight, not when he had to other serviceable blades already. He had the one he always used and the family heirloom that he had kept."

"'E never used the family one an' p'raps the other one was broken; it'd seen plenty of action after all," Porthos reasoned as he thought further about the matter.

"Or perhaps this one was given to him," d'Artagnan suggested.

"Just another mystery to add to the long list he has created," Aramis added ruefully.

"Do you think it was the same thing that took him away at least twice?" Constance suddenly asked as she pulled away from d'Artagnan, straightened in her chair and dried her eyes. Not interested in the talk on weapons, she was still thinking about the previous subject of their discussion. The three men turned to her, their expressions questioning. "Well," she continued, "he was away when Sylvie and Raoul were killed and you said that he told you he'd been away beforehand to find out that the people were being overtaxed."

"You're right," d'Artagnan said. "What was he doing that took him away from home? Is it related to the weapon? It could not have been something as simple as going to market; he would just have gone into Louviers itself."

"It's certainly something we need to ask him next time he wakes up," Aramis said. "In the meantime, I suggest we eat and then I intend going back to the Palace to send for Desmarais. It's high time he and I had a further conversation."

"You need to be careful how much you say," Porthos insisted. "You don't want to give him any idea that you've had another source of information."

Aramis shot him a look of feigned hurt. "What do you take me for, brother? Of course I will not let him know."

"Do you want me with you again?" d'Artagnan asked.

Aramis grinned. "No, I will see him alone this time. I think you made him nervous! We need someone to stay with Athos."

"I will take my turn and sit with him now," Constance offered without hesitation. "Whilst he sleeps, I have plenty of sewing that I can do."

"If you're sure?" her husband asked worriedly.

She smiled. "Certainly. He is recovering and needs rest. It does not take much exertion on my part to give him water and a little food should he awake." She looked around at the three men. "And I promise not to press him for any more information or run the risk of upsetting him, but at least I shall be with him should he wish to voluntarily divulge anything else. You all have work to do."

II

Aramis was in his office, standing as he poured over a large-scale map of north west France that was spread out on his desk.

"Enter," he called as a knock sounded at the door but he deliberately did not look up as Desmarais was admitted by his secretary. When he heard the door close again, he knew that his man had departed but he made no attempt to acknowledge the Baron, who was left standing awkwardly in the middle of the room for what seemed like ages.

At length, he looked up, his handsome features breaking into a broad grin of welcome as he affected surprise at seeing the Baron. Swiftly coming around his desk, he extended a hand and gripped that of the other man.

"My dear Baron, thank you so much for responding quickly to my invitation," he said, pumping Desmarais' hand enthusiastically.

The Baron did not dare correct him by pointing out that there had been little of the 'invitation' and more of a summons about the message he had received. Benoit had accompanied him but Secretary Edouard insisted that he remain in an outer room whilst the Baron met with the First Minister. They had exchanged a wary glance but there had been no chance for Benoit to be admitted with him.

"Minister," the Baron said, wondering what lay behind the meeting. He was soon to find out as Aramis returned to his original position and summoned Desmarais to join him.

"I am intrigued, Baron, as to where your estate is. I have been trying to locate it but …" he gestured helplessly towards the map.

"Here," Desmarais said and pointed it out with ease.

"I see. A wonderful area …. And what is the extent of your land? It is bounded by the river to the east but how far west does it reach?" The map indicated that Desmarais had forests on his estate but wanted to see if Desmarais dared to claim the extensive forest to the west of Athos' smallholding. It was one thing to tell the villagers that he owned the land and quite another to lie openly to a Minister of the Crown.

Desmarais was evidently no fool. He ran his finger down an imaginary line that marked the western boundary of his estate.

"Oh," Aramis sounded surprised. "Then this great forest is not yours? That is a pity for I expect the hunting possibilities would be good there."

Desmarais eyed him suspiciously. What was the Minister driving at? Had he heard anything? If so, from whom? Even as he looked at the tall, well-dressed ex-soldier, Aramis flashed him a disarmingly warm smile which he tentatively returned. "No, Minister. There are several privately owned small holdings between the forest and my boundaries."

"Ah, that is most unfortunate, Baron," Aramis said breezily and then abruptly changed the subject. "I have been concerned about what you told me regarding the unrest that has resulted because of the increased taxation imposed by us here in Paris. It is most unfortunate that you have had to deal with this and I want to be reassured that you will not have to confront any further problems."

"I thank you, Minister, for your concern but one of my men has come from the estate to update me. It seems all is quiet and one of the remaining two fugitives has been apprehended," Desmarais explained.

"That is good news indeed," Aramis agreed. "That means the Musketeers will be taking four prisoners off your hands."

Desmarais visibly winced for he had begun to hope that the Minister would have forgotten about the musketeer involvement, especially when he had not been seen so frequently at court over the preceding three days. The Baron was aware of some of the whispering amongst those at court regarding the Minister's absence; there was much speculation as to a new female companion but other observers had seen him heading towards the garrison and criticism was levelled at him for spending too much time with old friends. Desmarais had also been on the lookout for the General Porthos, of whom he had heard so much but he, apparently, was in the same friendship grouping as the Musketeer Captain and the First Minister.

On the periphery of one group of courtiers, he had dared to wonder aloud how such an incongruous trio had formed a friendship.

"It is clear, Desmarais, that you have not been at court for far too long," a flamboyantly dressed, obnoxious courtier had observed in a loud voice and with a braying laugh. "Did you not know that these three men were serving musketeers together? Two were heroes of the conflict with Spain and all were involved in the defeat of the Duc d'Orleans when he tried to seize the throne on the death of his brother, Louis. There was a fourth, apparently, who was the current Captain's immediate predecessor."

"Did he die?" Desmarais asked, his curiosity stirred. He had never imagined that the current First Minister was an ex-soldier and Musketeer at that. It was common knowledge that the Minister for War and short-lived Regent had been a Musketeer Captain as well. What was this? A regimental take-over that several of them had been rapidly elevated in position? They were not to be underestimated then as they had served as brothers-in-arms and appeared to be close friends. It would be unwise of him to underestimate them.

"No, he resigned his command and left Paris. Word was that the pressure proved too much for him. He left Paris and has never been seen again, or so the story goes."

Desmarais then tasked Benoit with making further discreet enquiries as to the stories about the quartet who were referred to as the Inseparables; a name, it was said, that was coined by their Captain in the early years of their brotherhood, the Captain who later became Regent to the country. The Baron wanted to know more about the nature of the three men with whom he was dealing but he was still ignorant of much of that when Aramis sent a message requiring his presence at his earliest convenience. That usually meant immediately; it was accepted that one did not keep the First Minister waiting.

"When do you wish to collect the prisoners?" he asked now, endeavouring to appear as co-operative as possible.

Aramis gave a non-committal wave of the hand. "Whenever you decide to leave for your estate is convenient. Captain d'Artagnan will send men to escort you on the journey. There have been recent reports of robbers along the highways of late, maybe even deserters from the army, and whilst every effort is made to keep the routes as safe as possible for honest folk, you will appreciate that it is a difficult undertaking."

Desmarais had not wanted the musketeers to travel with him but he could not think of a viable excuse to travel alone. The mention of deserters gave him the opening for which he sought to broach the subject of the war with Spain.

"It has been a matter of great consternation to my neighbours and me that the Spanish have been so problematic in the northern part of the country. Do you think we are safe or does the risk continue from them or a vast hoard of deserters?" Desmarais assumed a suitably concerned air.

"The Spanish have retreated for the time being but we must not ignore the probability of further incursions onto French soil," Aramis answered.

"But will you increase French forces in the north? We must be protected, Minister," the Baron persisted.

"I assure you all that is necessary will be done to protect His Majesty's people in the north," Aramis assured him whilst remaining deliberately vague and the Baron had the common sense to refrain from asking any more.

"I wonder, Minister, perhaps you would do me the honour of dining with me at my rooms near here before I leave Paris. The invitation is, of course, extended to Captain d'Artagnan as a sign of my thanks for the protection his men will provide." He suddenly smiled as if a new thought had just struck him. "I understand General Porthos is a good friend of yours; he would be most welcome to join us. I would be most interested in hearing him speak of the front line."

"Thank you, Baron. We shall consider it," Aramis replied with apparently genuine pleasure.

His thoughts were running in a completely different direction. What was Desmarais up to and why was he trying so hard?

III

Constance concentrated upon her sewing, fashioning a bonnet for the new baby as she sat beside the bed where Athos lay sleeping. The room was silent except for his steady, rhymical breathing of the man. He lay on his back, head turned towards her, left hand resting lightly on his chest and the other on the pillow, as if framing his face. He looked and smelt cleaner than when she had first seen him at the garrison but he was still desperately pale, long lashes fanning the fine bone structure of his cheeks. She wanted to reach out to touch him, to reassure herself that he was there, but she resisted the temptation for fear of disturbing him. The others had often spoken of how lightly he slept in the field, the slightest noise bringing him awake to a battle-ready alertness. Now, though, he slept deeply, the rest of the utterly exhausted and she knew that had to be the result of emotional stress, physical exertion and the remnants of his illness. D'Artagnan had expressly instructed her that should Athos show signs of being agitated or in the throes of a nightmare, she was to summon her husband immediately from his office where he was interviewing several applicants to the regiment.

But all was quiet and she smiled to herself. He looked so vulnerable as he lay there but his features were at least calm. Suddenly he stirred, sighing as he shifted position slightly and then settled.

She resumed her sewing only to give a suppressed gasp as the child within her moved awkwardly. She lay a protective had on her swollen belly and rubbed it gently, as if trying to still the impatient baby.

"Fist or foot?"

The unexpected voice made her jump and she looked across at the bed to see a pair of clear green eyes watching her intently.

She smiled at him, glad to see him so aware. "Foot, I think," she answered.

Athos gave a soft snort of amusement. "Raoul kicked and punched Sylvie a lot in the latter stages of her pregnancy. He always seemed to wait until she was at rest and then he would become active. She called him her little soldier and always said he would come out fighting to establish his place in the world. The new baby had also begun to make its presence felt."

She held her breath, overwhelmed by what Athos had shared and gauging his reaction to his own words, but instead of the tell-tale signs of an emergent grief, he seemed relaxed, caught in a gentle, fond memory. She did not want to break the moment but her unborn child had other plans and she grimaced again at the painful result.

"I need to move; perhaps he'll settle again," she commented, easing herself to her feet with a groan.

"Like father, like son," Athos commented as he sat up. Constance leaned to plump the pillows up behind him for support. "d'Artagnan was ever on the move and I dare say little has changed."

"Of course not," she replied. "I tell him he marches in his sleep; he is never still."

She was rewarded by a soft laugh and she handed him a cup of water before gathering her sewing together. "I will take advantage of your being awake and go and get you some broth. Then, later, you might be ready for something more substantial. The others will all be back here for dinner and will sit with you."

Athos sipped at the water and then shook his head. "I have been abed too long. With your agreement, I would like to join you all at the table."

Her smile broadened. "We would all like that very much, if you feel that you are up to it. It is not good that you try to do too much too soon."

"I might need a little support to get there but I am sure that I can manage it," he assured her, the corners of his mouth twitching with pleasure.

"I laid out some of d'Artagnan's clothes for you when they first brought you here." She indicated the clothing that lay over the chair below the window and then studied his long hair and unkempt beard. She looked from him to the scissors in her hand. "But if you are going to sit at my table this evening, we need to tidy you up first."