Chapter 14: Riding ever closer.
D'Artagnan saddled his horse and Athos' and led the animals out of the barn to where Porthos was getting ready also, Athos was settling the account with the gentleman running the inn. They had ridden into the hills heading south east all of yesterday, following the trail of the men that had passed the area the day they were attacked. Unfortunately, they had lost the trail in the afternoon and not found anyone on route that had any idea of where quarry had gone. They had called it a night after finding this inn and had stopped. They were a short way outside a town, D'Artagnan would call it small but it was larger than anything else they had found in these hills yet. Athos had been there before and recalled that it had a town guard that they could talk to. He had also said that the town was technically in the land belonging to Deverell's neighbour Burdett which meant they had come down the other side of the hills, which was too far, they knew Drago was in the hills.
D'Artagnan stood waiting by the horses as Porthos and Athos seemed to take ages to get ready. The injury he had sustained days before was almost painless now, occasionally it pulled when he moved the wrong way but he was sure he would be fit and fine to fight if the occasion arose. However, whilst it was not painful it had started itching, an all consuming tickle across his front he could not stop. It was tender and if he attacked it directly it hurt, which lead to a rubbing action that required his coat to be half open.
"What are you doing?" Athos asked as he approached him, putting his gloves on.
"It itches," he answered, not stopping the rubbing.
"Stop it," Athos said pulling D'Artagnan's hands away from his chest before taking the reins of his horse and checking the tack before swinging up onto it's back. Porthos also mounted and D'Artagnan followed suit. Once seated, his hand drifted back to his chest.
"Perhaps it's time the stitches came out," Porthos commented as the three of them walked out of the yard.
"They are not what itches," D'Artagnan complained.
"If it's itching then it is healing," said Athos, "It's a good thing."
"Then why is it so irritating?" he replied.
Porthos chuckled, but neither of them gave him an answer as they sped up along the road. Shortly, they arrived at the edge of the town proper, there was a guard shack at the entrance and they slowed down and stopped by it. Athos dismounted to speak to the guard as the man came out to see who they were.
"Good morning," Athos said amicably.
"Good morning to you," the man replied. He was an older man, likely somewhat older than Treville and D'Atagnan wondered how effective the town guard was. "What are musketeers doing so far south of the king?"
"We are looking for some outlaws, we know they are to be found in the Beaufort hills and have been committing some raids around here," Athos told him.
"Aye, I've heard of them," the man replied, "they haven't come down this way, this town is guarded well enough to put off raiders. But there are people come down from the villages in the hills that talk of them."
"Could you give us a direction?"
"Sure, head out of town on the south road, it crosses a river at a ford, after that take the next right on the road that goes upwards," he said.
"Thank you very much," Athos mounted his horse.
"You'll find few enough villages up there," the guard said, "winding roads and quiet houses, ain't nobody goes up them roads unless they live up there."
They simply nodded in thanks as they passed the man and rode into the town. It was somewhat busier than the places they had been to yesterday but D'Artagnan found it lacking the bustle of Paris. To his surprise he found himself missing that, he had taken to living in the city and enjoyed the atmosphere. At the market square they found the road that lead south out of the city, they stopped long enough at the stalls to find some food for the day. Neither Porthos nor Athos were convinced food would be easy to come by in the hills.
It was not long before they were leaving the town behind them and finding the road that wound back up again. Athos was leading the way and setting the pace, a slow canter that D'Artagnan found relaxing. The day was shaping up to be a good one, the sun had cleared away the morning mist and there was a light breeze that made riding pleasant.
They were on the road for an hour or so before they came across a farm stead, a young boy spotted them and ran inside and, as they slowed to a walk, a woman came out of the farm house, small children holding onto her skirts. Athos and Porthos tilted their hats but did not dismount and D'Artagnan hung back taking in the farm. He guessed any older children and the father were out working the farm. Though they had climbed into the hills they were currently on a valley floor and, given the lack of flat land here, D'Artagnan assumed they farmed livestock, likely sheep.
"Good day madam," Athos greeted.
"Sirs," the woman replied in kind, "can I help you?"
She sounded suspicious and D'Artagnan thought it likely she had no idea they were musketeers, just three well armed men on the road. Athos appeared to realise that too.
"We are the king's musketeers," he informed her, though she didn't relax. "We are looking for some outlaws we believe are operating in this area."
Her reply was that they should continue on the road, that she had heard of them but any outlaws would be further south. They got the same answer as they rode the rest of the morning but then the story changed when they reached the first decent size village in the hills at around midday.
As they rode into the village, people were just as suspicious of them as the people they had been meeting all morning. Villagers stopped what they were doing to watch them pass and D'Artagnan found it somewhat unsettling. The village was built on the hillside, space was tight and there was no evidence of an inn or market place, just a main street. Once they had got around half way along it a man on his own horse rode up and stopped in front of them, they halted.
"Good day," Athos said as the man made no attempt to introduce himself.
"Can we help you?" the man asked with a scowl. D'Artagnan nudged his horse closer to the others, the man appeared to be little threat but he was not alone, the villagers were surrounding them. He glanced at Porthos and saw he had noticed their predicament too.
"We are musketeers," Athos said loudly. "We are here looking for outlaws that are operating in this area, have any here seen them?"
"And why would musketeers be interested in outlaws this far into the middle of nowhere?" the man on the horse asked.
"They are attacking people, their leader must be brought to justice," Athos replied.
"You mean they are attacking musketeers?" came the response.
"How do you know about that?" Porthos said, frowning.
"News travels fast," he said. "How is it you come searching for them when they attack you but we have been suffering from raids for months and nobody is interested?"
"We were unaware you were having..."
"We have sent men to our gracious and kind duke asking for assistance," he interrupted Athos, "and what does the great Deverell do? Nothing! He sends no men nor takes any notice!"
"I assure you we knew nothing about this, we would happily hear your grievances against the raiders now," Athos said firmly.
"You would?" the man narrowed his eyes, and the murmuring of the crowd indicated they had not expected such an offer.
"If we are made aware of your grievances they can be presented at the outlaw's trial in Paris when he is caught. Any information you can provide that would aid our finding their hide out would be appreciated," Athos offered them. It often impressed D'Artagnan how Athos was able to persuade men with only his words.
They spent the next hour or so being given a tour of the damage the village had suffered by the outlaws. They were invited to lunch at the man's house and were able to interrogate him and the other villagers as to the identity of their attackers. It did sound like it was Drago and his men. But then D'Artagnan wondered if there were likely to be any other outlaws out here anyway.
It was well into the afternoon before they were on their way again. After that first village everyone they met had been raided by Drago and his men. Their progress was slower going as people were all too happy to lay out their grievances to the passing musketeers. Athos had started writing them down, including information such as the village name and exact damage experienced. All of the raids were bloodless, Drago and his men seemed only to have been after food, tools and weapons though they had taken apparent delight in damaging property.
As the afternoon wore on, however, the stories in the villages changed. They were being attacked less and knew more about Drago and his men. Athos had pointed out they must be close to where he was hiding, he was unlikely to attack the villages directly around him as he probably needed their loyalty and help, as a consequence the villagers were more familiar with who the outlaws actually were.
By the time it was getting late in the day they were on the road to yet another small village on a steep hillside when they came across a farmstead beside the road. An old man was leaning against a fence post looking at a pen of sheep D'Artagnan assumed he had just brought down to the farm for the night. He greeted them in quite a friendly manner.
"Good evening," he said tipping his floppy hat. They came to a halt beside him.
"And to you," Athos replied, tipping his hat also. He explained yet again why they were on the road to the man.
"Well you're in the right place," the man said.
"We are?" D'Artagnan asked looking along the road as though their goal might be in sight.
"Aye, down in the next valley is a village, the largest round these parts, Drago is there somewhere. Everyone about these parts knows that," he said.
"That is good news," Athos replied. "Thank you for your help."
They nudged their horses on.
"Where do you think you are going?" the man asked with a frown. They stopped and looked back to him.
"To the next village, we need lodgings for the night," Athos replied. D'Artagnan doubted there would be an inn in the village, the ones built up on the slopes were small and generally lacked
facilities for travellers.
"You musketeers are here to kill Drago?"
Athos glanced at them before answering the man, "we intend to take him to Paris for justice."
"The few villages in the valley you are entering are loyal to Drago, musketeers turn up there and they'll be dead by morning," he told them.
"Thanks for the warning," Athos said, "in that case we'll keep to the woods."
The valleys up here had an abundance of woodland.
"You are welcome to stop here tonight," the man said indicating his farmhouse.
"You are kind, but we couldn't impose."
"Nonsense, I don't get much company up here, just me, the wife and the animals, we'd enjoy the company," he said walking towards the farmhouse. He looked back when they didn't move. "What are ye waitin' for?"
"With all due respect," Athos said, "but how do we know we can trust you?"
The old man laughed, "ain't no one that comes up here, I assure you, and you can see I ain't going to be running off to tell anyone you are here. Them villagers don't know I exist!"
Athos looked over at him and Porthos, D'Artagnan shrugged, he didn't mind. Porthos didn't seemed bothered either because they were soon dismounting and taking their horses to the barn as the man directed. After they went into the house with the man who introduced himself as Jesper and met his wife, Rachelle, who was just as amiable as her husband. They were soon being served a hot meal and chatting over the diner table in a situation that reminded D'Artagnan of home at the farm house.
"So what has Drago done attract the attention of Paris?" Jesper asked curiously.
"He attacked musketeers travelling to meet with his brother the duke of Deverell," Porthos said as he tore a piece off the loaf of bread Rachelle offered and passed it on to D'Artagnan.
"Ah, well I can't say I'm surprised," Jesper said looking to his wife.
"I don't suppose anyone would be," she commented.
"And why not?" D'Artagnan wanted to hear their reasoning.
"Drago is not the kind of man to hide away in the hills," Jesper answered.
"No, he isn't," Rachelle agreed. "Things were quiet up here before he came."
"And when did he come?" Athos asked.
"Not two years past," Jesper said.
"And once he came everyone up here knew of it, he and his men would raid and threaten people round these parts," Rachelle continued. "Demonstrating that no one would care he was here. And the young men, well, they liked him. He offered them a chance to do something other than work the land they inherit from their families."
"People don't often leave these hills," Jesper agreed with his wife, "Don't often have the chance to become fighters, certainly not for a man with such grand plans."
"Do you think they will fight for him against musketeers?" Porthos asked them.
"I doubt most will," Rachelle said, standing to serve them yet another helping, as full as he was D'Artagnan let her put more food on his plate.
"I agree," Jesper sat back with his glass in his hand, waving off his enthusiastic food serving wife. "They like the chance to pretend they are soldiers, but fighting well trained men? Nah, they'll run back to their farms without too much fuss."
"Will you let them?" Rachelle asked them, suddenly worried. Porthos looked over to Athos who met his gaze and D'Artagnan looked questioningly between them.
"If they were not involved in the ambush of the musketeers perhaps," Athos said after a moment. "However there is also a list of grievances from those that have suffered raids so I think it will depend on what each man has done."
"And how will you attach a crime to a man?" Jesper asked obviously unimpressed.
"I do not know," Athos frowned at him, "nor will we until the situation unfolds."
"All we are really after is Drago," D'Artagnan told him, there was no point in arguing this now.
"Is that all you are really after?" Jesper said.
"What do you mean by that?" Porthos voice had an edge to it that D'Artagnan recognised as trouble.
"Three musketeers ripping these hills apart looking for one man," he said, "why suddenly so urgent?"
"Huh," Porthos grunted thoughtfully in reply with a very slight grin, D'Artagnan raised an eyebrow at him. "Drago may have taken a couple of musketeers."
"Do you know that for sure?" Rachelle asked them.
"No, why?" Athos said quickly.
Jesper and Rachelle looked at each other before Jesper answered "Drago doesn't take prisoners, and he is a cruel man, those he does take do not last long."
"How do you know that?" D'Artagnan asked them, suspicious of what they were being told.
"It is only what we hear," Jesper admitted, "the villages round here support Drago, he is often the topic of conversation down in the villages."
"Well, let's hope you are wrong," Porthos said sternly. D'Artagnan knew he was hopeful, if there was any chance Aramis was still alive Porthos was determined they would find him. But he knew Athos was not so easily convinced, he wanted to believe Aramis was alive but feared they would find him otherwise. D'Artagnan hoped desperately he was alive, that he had not died to save his life, how could he live with that?
Their night at the farmhouse was otherwise very pleasant, and, though they rose early, breakfast was almost as much of a feast as the meal the night before. Thanking their hosts profusely they rode off promptly, heading to the village Jesper said Drago resided in.
AN: So they aren't far away from Aramis at all now! Can't be that long until they meet right? :-D Thanks to all my reviewers, they are very much appreciated!