Once again, this story is taking over my life! Creativity strikes at the most inconvenient times. Anyway, thanks again for all your feedback and interest. I love hearing what you think about it.

Chapter Twelve

Aramis raised a hand to knock on the door. He was surprised when it opened only seconds later. He had expected d'Artagnan may still be sleeping, but it was clear the young man had been up for some time as he was already dressed in his breeches and boots. His eyes betrayed his lack of sleep however and Aramis wondered if he should have stayed overnight after all.

"May I come in?"

d'Artagnan simply nodded at him and stepped back to allow him to enter.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

Aramis watched with concern as d'Artagnan shrugged his shoulders and walked away from him. The deep welt across his shoulder stood out as a glaring reminder of the day before. Any other time the younger man had sustained any kind of injury he would be champing at the bit to prove he was fit for service, often well before he actually was. The fact he wasn't, was cause for extra attention.

"Is your head bothering you?"

"I'm fine. I just didn't sleep well."

Aramis pointed towards the bed and nodded. "Sit down, let me take a look at you."

As he unwound the bandage from d'Artagnan's head he frowned. The bruising was coming out in all its glory and the eyelid was swollen almost closed. The stitches were holding well however and he was happy to see there was no sign of infection in the wound. After applying some salve to the area he gently wrapped a fresh bandage around it again and tied it off.

"And now for your back. How does your shoulder feel?"

D'Artagnan edged around on the bed so Aramis could inspect his back. The angry red welt had swollen overnight and the skin was stretched taut. Bruising spread out in all directions and Aramis could see why sleep would have been difficult. No matter which way his friend lay on the bed, something would have hurt. He spread a little more salve onto the injury and stepped back.

"It will be a while yet before you can swing a blade or fire a pistol with that arm. I don't think you should be riding for a few days either. Give your shoulder time to heal without straining it."

D'Artagnan nodded miserably at him, but did not argue. The silent compliance had Aramis seriously worried. It was totally out of character and he would normally have to be threatening to bring the Captain into it to keep his young friend down.

"Is anything else bothering you? You seem more than tired."

"I'm fine, really. Thank you for taking care of … of all this." His hands waved in the air as he stood up and went in search of a shirt. Aramis watched as d'Artagnan struggled to pull the fabric over his head and he winced in sympathy.

"Ready for breakfast?"

"Mmmm. Sure."

Something was wrong and Aramis could not define what it was. He watched as d'Artagnan strode across the room and he followed behind him. He made a mental note to ask Porthos to keep an eye out as he followed his friend across the practice yard. The smell of fresh bread wafted across on the morning breeze and his stomach growled in response.

Porthos was already sitting at a bench, making his way through a bowl of something. Athos stood off to one side, a half-eaten bagel in one hand and a vacant stare on his face. Porthos was watching him closely while pretending to be absorbed in his breakfast. His stomach churned as he knew the cause of that look. He knew, without having to turn to look, the instant d'Artagnan came into Athos' line of sight. His friend stiffened against the wall, his eyes closed as if he were in pain and then a mask dropped over his face.

Both Aramis and d'Artagnan headed for the food laid out on the table and scooped up a bowl each before settling on the bench seats. It did not escape either Porthos or Aramis that Athos silently moved to sit next to d'Artagnan as he sat down. Porthos had to force down an angry comment and he shoveled a spoonful of food into his mouth instead.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Athos watched as d'Artagnan moved stiffly to reach for his food.

"I'm fine. Head's a bit sore still, but I'm fine."

The rest of breakfast went slowly as each of them was absorbed in their own concerns and thoughts.

Marcel hovered in the doorway of the stable and wondered how he was supposed to get the attention of the big man across the yard. He felt his stomach doing flips as he considered how much trouble he would be in for keeping yet more secrets. It wasn't like he could just walk across the yard and talk to them. He watched as they sat and ate breakfast. Other musketeers had come and gone for food as well and he considered going across for his own. He didn't think he could keep anything down anyway and he turned back into the stable.

Suddenly a loud noise caught his attention and he realised somebody was shouting. He ran out the door just in time to see a couple of red guards fly into the yard. Before either could dismount, they were calling for Treville.

Marcel watched as Treville came rushing down the stairs from his office and headed straight for the two men. An urgent conversation took place that he couldn't hear. Athos and his friends had already hurried over to their captain and suddenly there was a flurry of activity around them. He could see them coming towards him and he scurried inside to gather their gear. It was clear they were coming for their horses and he knew what they would need.

Treville strode into the stable with d'Artagnan by his side. The young man looked furious.

"You are in no condition to be riding, according to Aramis. You need to stay here."

As his friends hurried to saddle horses, d'Artagnan stood off to one side and glared at his captain. There was nothing he could say to argue and nothing he could do to change the decision.

Treville turned back and clamped a hand on the young man's good shoulder. "I'm sorry. This is no reflection on you. With this new threat to the Cardinal we need to act immediately. You are simply not fit for duty this morning. "

He watched as d'Artagnan's face reflected his frustration. " And one more thing. I need you to stay in the garrison today. Your injuries need to heal. No wandering off to visit anybody, understood?"

Athos kept his mouth shut as d'Artagnan nodded. The urgent summons from the guards had set his mind reeling as he tried desperately to find a reasonable excuse to keep d'Artagnan from leaving the garrison. The fact Treville had inadvertently done it for him, allowed him to breathe a little easier.

Marcel watched as the men mounted their horses and raced out into the street. D'Artagnan ignored him as he strode past the boy and headed out into the practice yard. Even though men were already at work in the area, it suddenly felt completely empty. He stared at the target boards and felt his chest constrict. Athos had just ridden out without him with no idea he was under any kind of threat. The road to the palace was narrow, winding streets for much of the journey. The perfect place for an ambush. The fact his friend was with three of the best soldiers he could be with was the only thing keeping him from saddling a horse and chasing after them.

It was over an hour later when a second pair of red guards rode into the garrison. D'Artagnan had spent the morning practicing his knife throwing since it only required one arm and there was nothing else to do. The target ahead of him had taken a beating as he had taken out his frustration on the wood. Denier and a couple of others had noticed the young recruit and knew all too well the feeling of being left behind due to an injury. Denier wandered across and watched the knife throwing and was impressed with what he saw. The accuracy had improved markedly since the lad had arrived and he whistled in appreciation as a third knife hit its target.

D'Artagnan stalked across to the target and wrenched the knives free. Denier frowned as the young man seemed to be in pain. He knew d'Artagnan was right-handed, but he was pulling at the knives with both hands. He'd heard Treville tell him to stay behind as he still needed to heal and he knew that left shoulder must be causing the pain. He stepped forward and was about to say something when the two guards rode through the gate. In the absence of both Treville and Athos, it was up to him to see what they wanted.

"Your captain wants d'Artagnan to come to the palace, immediately!"

The guard's brusque manner did not bother him, but the thundercloud on d'Artagnan's face did. He had no idea the fear the request had stirred up.

D'Artagnan stepped forward and placed his hands on his hips. The action was more about keeping them from shaking than anything else.

"Why? What's wrong?"

The guard glared at him. "Are you d'Artagnan?"

"Yes."

"Then I shouldn't need to explain to you that when your captain issues an order, you follow it."

The fact he was correct did nothing to dispel the knot of fear clawing its way up from his stomach. Treville had been explicit about him not being fit to ride. So why was he suddenly being summonsed to the palace unless there was something wrong? He had to force himself to keep calm and nod at the guard.

"Let me saddle my horse."

Marcel shrunk into the shadows as he stared at the two men. He had never seen them in uniforms before, but he definitely knew them. He prayed they had not seen him. It was never good to be the object of their attention.

Treville glared at the man pacing across the room. It was the second time he had been called out by the Cardinal on a flimsy complaint. The fact the man had considered it a death threat would have been ridiculous if Treville had not been privy to the threats against Athos.

"As you well know, Captain, this is the second time I have had one of these threats delivered, in exactly the same manner!"

"And this is the second time your own guards have failed to stop the intruder!"

Treville felt his anger rising and he had to force himself to keep calm. The letter nailed to the door with a small dagger made his blood run cold. The first time around, he had simply dismissed it as the Cardinal having a fit of hysterics. He had investigated as he had promised he would, albeit not particularly thoroughly.

This time though, he knew differently. According to Porthos' information from Marcel, Milady had delivered a letter to Athos in exactly the same way. His mind was chewing through possible ways the two things were connected, but his main concern was not letting on to Athos that he knew anything. If the man suspected his secret was out, there was no telling what he would do.

Suddenly Treville thought of something else. He knew Milady had worked for the Cardinal. It was highly likely the man recognised his former accomplice's weapon of choice. If that was the case, he knew who had delivered the threat. And he also knew that it was a credible threat. The Captain had a momentary lapse where he briefly considered leaving the man to reap what he had sown. If it had not been for Athos, he may well have done so.

For his part, Athos was reeling as he stared at the dagger. There was no doubt in his mind that his wife was behind it. What he could not fathom was how this connected to her game with him. He detested the Cardinal, but could not see what possible advantage his wife gained from threatening him.

Aramis and Porthos looked at each other and could read the same concern on each other's face. Something was getting very strange about the whole thing and neither of them could decide what it was. It just concerned them both that d'Artagnan had been left behind at the garrison and Athos looked like he was going to be sick.

The guards headed off through the streets towards the palace and d'Artagnan followed behind them. His horse could feel the tension in his rider and it showed in his gait. It made d'Artagnan focus on the animal instead of his thoughts as he needed to hold the reins tighter than he usually would to control his mount. He missed the fact they had turned into a street he would not readily use to get to the palace. Suddenly he looked up and began to ask where they were going, when one of the guards turned towards him. The two men dropped back to ride alongside him and each of them revealed a pistol hidden under their cloaks. He may have been able to take out one of them, but the other would have an open shot at his exposed back.

"We're taking a little detour." The smirk on the men's faces was unnerving as he looked back and forth between them.