I'm beginning to think I may rename this story The Adventures of Marie! I can't believe a doll has become a central character in my story :-)

That certainly wasn't in the memo when I started.

Chapter Eleven

Aramis leaned against a wall and took a long drink from the dipper. The morning crowd was beginning to find it's way into the streets and he watched them from the side of the well. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and he dipped his fingers in the water before wiping it across his face. It did little to refresh him, but once more he dipped his whole hand in and swiped at the back of his neck. He slowly replaced his hat before putting the bucket and dipper back in its place.

He looked upwards and noted the sun was well over the edge of the rooftops. It had been a long night with many miles of cobblestones under his feet. Something drew him out of his reverie and he noticed a couple of red guards dragging some poor soul between them. A third guard appeared from a side alley and joined the group after a short discussion. While he generally despised their dealings with people, they served a necessary purpose and he normally tried to ignore them. Something about this particular group caught his attention.

He meandered closer as the trio crossed the square. Suddenly his feet took off of their own accord and he found his hand on his sword hilt.

"It can't be!"

As he drew closer, he felt his heart in his mouth. The unruly mop of long dark hair hung in dank ribbons down either side of its owners face. Bits of straw and mud stuck to his clothing and hair. The unfortunate wretch was being dragged and prodded across the space and was clearly having trouble keeping his feet. One of the guards pushed at him every so often, which only caused him to stumble more.

Aramis planted himself firmly in their path. "Stop! Who is this man?"

"None o' your business, musketeer!"

The first guard eyed him with pure contempt, but Aramis slowly moved forward. "It is my business if it's who I think it is."

He began to step forward again when one of the guards pulled his sword. Aramis had his own sword in his hand before the man could speak again.

"I have no wish to fight with you. I simply need to see his face."

"What's it to you? He's gonna hang anyway."

Aramis felt the seconds slipping by as he stared at the lanky frame of their prisoner.

Lift your head, please!

If he could just get a look at the face.

"Hang? For what crime?"

"Stealin' 'orses! Now get out of our way before we run you through!"

"His face! Show me his face!"

The steel in his voice was echoed in the movement of his sword. The guards looked at each other in annoyance and realised the musketeer wasn't going to leave them alone until they complied. Finally one of them tugged at a handful of hair and yanked Louis' head upright.

Aramis sucked in a sharp breath as he saw the bruised and bloodied face of his friend. Without thinking, he stepped forward again.

"'old it right there!" The guard waved his sword menacingly towards him and Aramis finally dragged his eyes away from d'Artagnan. ""e's goin' to the Chatelet. You can visit 'im there if you wish."

The other two laughed at the joke as nobody got to just visit a prisoner in the notorious prison.

"He's no horse thief! He's a musketeer. And he's injured!"

"I don't care if 'e's the Queen o' Sheba! 'e's a horse thief and 'e's going to pay for it. Now get … out … of my ... way!" The guard dropped his prisoner's head and began to move forward.

"D'artagnan! Can you hear me?" Aramis tried frantically to get his friend to lift his head again. He'd seen no sign of recognition in his eyes and no sign of resistance to the guards. That scared him more than anything. The idea that his hot-headed young friend was beyond resisting was terrifying. "D'Artagnan! Answer me!"

The guards pushed past him and Aramis considered challenging them further, but knew he was outnumbered and would not help his friend by getting killed himself. He watched helplessly as the trio of guards dragged the young man away down the street. At least he knew where they were taking him and he needed to get the news to Treville.

As he turned towards the garrison he was stunned to see a small child stumbling towards him. He had momentarily forgotten they were searching for two people. The child looked terrified. Straw and mud splattered across her clothing and in that moment he knew. She was the child they'd been searching for.

"Juliette?"

His heart broke as the child began to sob at her own name. He knelt down on one knee before her and tugged at the wisps of straw around her face.

"Your parents are looking for you. I'm his friend," Aramis pointed across to where the men had dragged d'Artagnan away. "I need to help him first and then we'll get you home. Is that all right?"

The child nodded and took another tentative step towards him. "They hurt Louis."

"I know. But we are going to make him better." Aramis felt tears pricking at his eyes as he watched the child chew at her lip. It reminded him of somebody else. He reached out for her and was surprised at how fiercely she grasped hold of him.

It was mid morning and Treville was itching to begin walking the streets himself. The idea his youngest musketeer was out in the city somewhere, hiding from his own brothers grated on him. He had assigned the duties the day the escorts and decoys had been sent out. He'd considered long and hard how he was going to do it. He'd been in command for long enough to know that sometimes the best laid plans went awry, but it did not stop him bearing the burden of guilt when it did.

He paced across the almost empty yard. A large enough group had been kept back in case of a need from the palace, but the bulk of his men were out scouring the city. Those who had been asked to stay were not happy about it. It was not like the musketeers to leave one of their own behind and it did not sit well to have to wait for news.

It was well into the morning when he caught sight of it. A blue cape and hat was unmistakable and judging by the gait of the man, he picked it as Aramis. He was clearly carrying something and Treville stood watching for some time before he realised it was a child. Part of him was pleased to see the child had been found, but his soldier's instincts were on high alert. Why would Aramis be returning with the child and not d'Artagnan? He hurried into the street towards him and soon saw the bedraggled bundle he was holding, wrapped beneath his cloak. Dark hair burrowed into his shoulder and from what little he could see of her, the child was splattered in mud.

He made eye contact as Aramis hurried towards him. "This is Juliette. The little one everyone has been looking for."

Treville nodded in relief, but could see there was more. He saw the urgency on Aramis' face and he waited impatiently for the rest of it.

"Captain, I found him, but red guards took him! They are on their way to the Chatelet. They think he's a horse thief."

"What?"

Juliette lifted her head from where she was resting and took in the new man beside them. He looked angry.

"We were just sleeping there. He wasn't going to take it!"

Aramis almost smiled at the defiant tilt of her chin.

"I know that. Those men just got things a little mixed up."

"They hurt him!" Fresh tears welled in the child's eyes and he felt her trembling in his arms. Treville frowned at her words as they passed through the entry into the garrison. Somebody was going to be held accountable, but for now he needed to get to the Chatelet. There was no telling what could happen to a prisoner in there, especially if anybody knew he was a musketeer.

Aramis looked around and wondered what he was going to do with the child, before he spotted Serge. In the absence of a better idea, the old man would have to do. He called out to him and watched as Serge shuffled towards them.

"This is Juliette and I'm pretty sure she's hungry." He eased her down onto the bench, but kept a hand on her back as she clung to his arm. The child looked exhausted and he wished he could do something more to calm her before running off. There was no time to delay and little time to explain. He pointed towards the man beside him. "This is Serge. He's going to watch out for you until your mother comes."

He watched as uncertainty flittered across her face and he plastered on a smile. "I'm going to go and get Louis."

Serge frowned at his answer before Aramis nodded at him. "D'Artagnan. He's been taken to the Chatelet."

He gently disentangled his arm and watched as the child clutched at something in her hand. He smiled as he realised it was a small doll. The sound of hooves on the cobblestones made him look up and he nodded with approval to see Treville had already brought out two horses. The Captain was still issuing orders as he mounted his horse and Aramis doffed his hat towards Juliette as he turned for his own horse.

Juliette watched as the two men disappeared out the same gate they had just come in and she hugged Marie closer. Serge nudged at her elbow and pointed to a doorway.

"How's about some food?"

The grubby little wretch in front of him felt her stomach growl in response and he laughed.

"I'd say that's a yes!"

Athos felt like his legs had turned to lead as he turned yet another corner. His mind was beginning to remind him that Paris was an awfully big city and there were literally millions of places to go to ground. He looked up to see a rider approaching and knew something had happened before they even got to him. A musketeer on horseback was clearly searching for him and that could only mean one thing. Treville had news.

He looked up as the rider closed on him and saw a strange look on the man's face. It wasn't a smile, but it wasn't a frown either.

"You have news?"

Dufour swung down out of the saddle and handed the reins to Athos. "They've found him. Red guards took him to the Chatelet. Treville and Aramis are already on their way there."

Athos frowned at the answer. "The Chatelet? For what?"

"Claimed he's a horse thief."

Athos was already in the saddle before the man had finished his answer. They hung horse thieves! He nodded in thanks and turned the horse towards the prison before kicking it into action.

Porthos was beginning to think their young friend had somehow acquired some kind of unnatural ability to hide when one of the pack of boys he'd spoken with earlier came scurrying towards him. If the people of the Court could not give him answers, then d'Artagnan truly had disappeared into thin air.

"They took 'im! Red guards! They took 'im for stealin' a 'orse." The boy was puffing as he spoke, but Porthos got the idea quickly enough. He pulled out a couple of coins and dropped them in the boy's hand before turning and running up a street to his left.

Athos draped his horse's reins across the hitching rail before racing through the entryway to the most feared place in Paris. Many who were dragged through those doors did not leave alive. He searched the immediate courtyard for any sign of his friends and was relieved to see Aramis striding towards him. He grasped at his friend's arm.

"It's true? He's here?"

Aramis nodded at him. "Treville has gone to the King and I'm waiting to see if our capricious friend will allow me entry."

Athos glared at him in frustration. The warden was notorious for being amenable to bribes one moment and then being a man of "honour" in the next breath. Athos shifted his hand to the hilt of his sword.

"He will allow us entry."

As it turned out, they did not need to put that to the test before a guard wandered over towards them. He thumbed towards the doorway. "Second level."

Athos nodded and moved past him before the man had any chance to change his mind. Aramis was right beside him and the two of them descended down the internal stairs towards the second level. The dank smell of the place assaulted them as they entered. The smell seemed to reflect the hopelessness of the place. It was another ten minutes of searching the cells before they found what they were looking for.

He was huddled against the far wall, a mop of dirty, dark hair hanging down over his face. Athos grabbed the nearest guard and demanded he open the door. The man looked like he was going to object until Athos pointed out the prisoner was securely chained to the wall. The hand resting on his sword added weight to the argument and the guard reluctantly unlocked the door.

Athos surged forward and grasped at d'Artagnan's arm. When he got no response, he cupped a hand under his chin and lifted his head back. The dried blood encrusted to his face told its own story and the fresh bruising only added to it. The total lack of response in d'Artagnan's eyes terrified him.