From the speed this one got written you may guess that I've been waiting a while to finally write this chapter...and then it turned out completely different to my original plan. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
As ever, my grateful thanks to my stalwart reviewers and appreciation for their support. Sorry I've not been able to reply personally, I got a bit preoccupied with this.
A Simple Mission
Chapter 10
Dawn, the next day.
As the sky started to show the first hint of approaching sun from the east, Aramis had already uncurled his stiff and aching limbs from the awkward but, ultimately, safe resting place he'd found for the night and was waiting impatiently for enough light to act.
Much as he'd not wanted to spend another night in this forest, he'd been relieved when it became obvious the ford would not be reached the previous evening and the disgruntled group had been, reluctantly, forced to set up camp once again.
In a seeming attempt to reduce the agitation among them, Bouchier had been very clear in stating that there'd be little more than an hour's ride in the morning to get to the ford and, once across, Auchonne was no more than a few hours travel on the other side: Climence had retrieved a couple of bottles of wine from her bags and distributed them among the men as a gesture of appeasement and, as a result, all had slept well.
Aramis knew he had to take this opportunity: He could not let them get across the river.
As the watery early daylight crept through the leafy cover, he picked his way carefully through the trees and approached the tethered horses, all still saddled, standing patiently just a little way from the clearing where only the sound of gentle snores could be heard.
The animals eyed him curiously but only snorted gently as he patted the first two he encountered, moving between them and loosening each one's saddle in turn. Ducking under the reins holding them, the next one received the same treatment and seemed appreciative of the increased comfort the action created.
He was about to move on again when a rustle of bushes nearby caused him to still. One of the men, still clearly only half-awake, had staggered into the undergrowth a short distance from the clearing to relieve his bladder. Completing his business, he made to return to the camp only to find himself pushed against a tree, a hand clamped over his mouth and the small dagger Aramis always carried on his belt thrust between his ribs. His last look was one of shock and surprise; he had no time to cry out.
Normally always one to preserve life whenever possible, killing an unarmed man in this way did not sit well with the musketeer but, unfortunately, he had no other choice in this case as any attempt to solely incapacitate the unfortunate soul risked making too much noise. As the body slumped in his grasp, it occurred to him that this offered an additional opportunity he'd not previously considered.
Checking the others remained fully asleep, he hefted the body over his good shoulder and covered the short distance to the horses within moments.
As he had done with Edouard's body, although with considerably less respect, the corpse was laid over the saddle of one of the horses whose tack had not been tampered with. Loosening the lead rein used to tether the animal, he tied it around one of the man's feet, threaded the leather underneath and secured it to his hands on the other side.
First leading the horse a little way from the others and closer to his own mount, he then slapped the animal soundly on the rump causing it to startle and run off down the track; the uncontrolled weight on its back only added to its panic.
Getting back on his own horse, Aramis moved to retreat as quickly as possible in the opposite direction as the whinnying of the other horses, alarmed by the sudden action and disappearance of one of their number, caused stirrings within the camp followed by loud cries.
Bouchier was first to arrive at the spot where the horses were tethered and, unable to distinguish anything much in the still weak light, fired both his pistols, one in the direction of each of the two different sources of movement and sound.
TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM
Porthos was already alert and starting to clear the rudimentary camp they'd set up the night before as the thin light seeped into the clearing, anxious to be underway as soon as possible.
They'd travelled as far as they could the previous day and Bastien had assured them that the river crossing was no more than a few minutes ride south of their position. However, with the failing light, there had been no possibility of making the crossing safely before nightfall.
Porthos knew he'd hardly slept and one look at his equally taut fellow musketeer told him much the same was true of Athos.
Bastien, to his credit, was quite attuned to their feelings and was already, silently, repacking his blanket.
The sound of two gunshots, some way distant but nonetheless unmistakable in the still morning air, had both musketeers instantly reaching to pull themselves into the saddle. Their young guide reacting to and following their movements unquestioningly.
"We need to get across that river...now!"
Bastien nodded his understanding to Athos and led the way to the crossing with as much urgency as the terrain and available light allowed.
TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM
Back at the clearing, everything was chaos.
"What happened? Where's Martin?" Climence demanded of Bouchier.
"He's run out on us..." Bouchier growled in response.
"Why now? We're about to get out of here and get paid..."
"Perhaps he didn't fancy being hung for killing musketeers..." one of the others volunteered in a surly tone.
"If he goes to the Duke we'll all hang." Climence was wild-eyed and furious. "What are you waiting for? Get after him! Which way did he go?"
"There were two..." Bouchier seemed confused, "...I'll swear there were two.."
"Don't be ridiculous." Climence screamed. "Faure! Perrot! Get on those horses and stop him!"
The two men went to mount the horses nearest to them and both ended up, unceremoniously dumped back on the ground in short order as their saddles slipped. Bouchier was still preoccupied trying to reload both pistols he'd discharged, fumbling his way through the process, his head still foggy from too much wine the night before.
Climence's level of ire hit new heights, screeching every term of abuse she could think of, she grabbed the next horse along in the line, quickly checking and tightening its saddle:
"Here, take this one and get going," she thrust the reins at the shaken and bewildered Perrot who'd managed to get back on his feet, "which way Bouchier?"
Her partner, who had finally managed to reload one pistol and was struggling with the second, looked at her blankly and then indicated the two directions in which he'd fired earlier.
Exasperated, Climence directed Perrot back towards the track as Bouchier was indicating with his right hand:
"Find him and kill him if you don't want to hang" She ordered. The man nodded and headed off.
Faure had managed to re-tighten the saddle on his original horse and was now, finally, mounted. Climence sent him in the other direction with the same order and he set off.
She hurried over to the remaining two horses and began to check the saddles. Without bothering to look at Bouchier she ordered:
"Get our stuff, we're leaving."
He looked askance at her then, knowing better than to argue, he holstered his second reloaded pistol and hurried back into the clearing. Within a very few minutes they were heading on down the track and towards the ford.
TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM
Bastien led the way to the river with the same competence he'd shown throughout their journey. Leading them down the shallow embankment a short way, he indicated where a bank of silt and mud, accumulated over years, had created a causeway of sorts allowing them to cross, carefully, one at a time. From there it was just a few minutes ride till they emerged into what had, once, clearly been a regularly used track.
Bastien immediately scanned the ground underfoot for any sign of recent traffic, locating evidence of multiple hoof prints, and signalled that they should follow the south-easterly path.
They'd not been moving long when Athos called them to a halt and listened intently. The sound of galloping hooves advancing on them from the opposite direction had caught his attention. He and Porthos both drew their pistols, ordering Bastien to take cover immediately: True to his word the youngster did as he was told without protest and guided his horse off the track and into the trees.
The single horse came into view within moments, a body slung and tied across its back. Seeing the two riders ahead caused it to rear up in its panic, causing the corpse to slide further down its back creating even more alarm in the frightened creature.
Re-holstering their weapons, Athos and Porthos used their own horses either side to bring the animal under control before taking its reins and leading it to one side of the track where they dismounted to tether it and remove the man's body which they laid down a short distance away.
"He's not been dead long." Porthos observed.
"Killed with a knife, so who was shooting?"
The sound of another rider approaching caused them both to step back into the middle of the track, raising their pistols as they did so.
Whatever Perrot anticipated finding in the course of the pursuit with which Climence had charged him, it would be fair to say it wasn't the sight of two fully-armed musketeers blocking his path and his erstwhile comrade lying dead at the side of the road.
He pulled to a halt even before they had any chance to demand he did so and raised his hands, clearly of the impression that the men before him were the one's responsible for Martin's death.
"Don't kill me..." he pleaded, clearly terrified.
The musketeers exchanged a glance, masking their amusement admirably. If a simple misunderstanding could make the man so compliant it seemed pointless to disabuse him of the notion when it served their purpose so well.
Athos instructed the man to dismount and he almost fell off in his rush to obey, dispensing with his weapons as he did so.
Perrot, who seemed determined to come clean without any need for prompting, immediately started to babble looking nervously from one pistol trained on him to the other the whole time:
"It wasn't me that shot the musketeer, the one back on the road. It was Bouchier or one of the others..."
"How can you be so sure?" Athos asked wryly.
"I'm a terrible shot." Perrot admitted, obviously of the opinion that while he was talking they wouldn't shoot. "I wouldn't have got involved if I'd known...they just said we were going to rob a couple of messengers...said nothing about musketeers..."
"What about the other one?" Porthos managed to ask.
"We didn't kill him..." the man said desperately trying to make the crime he'd been involved in less heinous. "He fell when the ground collapsed...the landslide at the ravine...he was buried, didn't stand a chance...we only wanted him to give us the bag..." his voice tailed off at the look of absolute devastation that had formed on Porthos' face, realising that he'd just confessed to something of which neither of these men had been aware.
Feeling even more intimidated by the silent rage that seemed directed entirely at him than he had before, Perrot looked to offer something else that might help him avoid Martin's fate:
"I know where the letter is. I know who has it and I can take you to them."
Of the two, only Athos was even remotely capable of forming a coherent thought or sentence at that moment. He took a step closer to his visibly trembling friend and laid a hand on his shoulder. Very softly he instructed:
"We will bring those responsible to justice, Porthos. Then we will find him."
With considerable difficulty, Porthos forced himself to focus and slowly nodded his agreement his eyes never leaving Perrot.
Athos, barely containing his own, normally well-buried, emotions found he could easily imagine the pain and grief Porthos was feeling but knew that, in the here and now, they still had a job to do.
"Stand there. Do not move." He instructed the extremely scared-looking man who nodded minutely and would probably have done anything he was told at that moment in time given the stare he was enduring from Porthos.
Collecting their horses from the side of the track, Athos suddenly remembered Bastien. He called the boy's name and realised, as soon as the youngster emerged into the open, that he'd heard everything.
"Go home, Bastien. You'll be back with your grandfather in good time if you leave now. It's no longer safe for you to stay with us. Thank you for your help."
Remembering what he'd promised before they left, Bastien sadly nodded his understanding before getting on his horse. He managed to choke out a simple "I'm sorry" before setting off on his journey back to L'Ensors.
Mounting his own horse and leading the other over to Porthos, whose self-control was holding admirably under the circumstances, Athos trained his pistol on the wretched Perrot while the other musketeer prepared to move on.
"Get on your horse and take us to the people responsible for this. Please be assured that if you are lying or attempt to trick us in any way it will be the last thing you do."
Finally daring to breathe just a little, Perrot clambered back into his saddle and turned back towards the camp he'd left a short time before.
Just as they started to move a single gunshot echoed through the woods...
TBC