A/N Many thanks for all the comments; we're so close to the two hundred comments. Thank you all so much for your never-ending support; I love to hear from you

In this chapter, we begin with the Treville/Claude double act as they deal with the two miscreants. For some reason, not everyone is happy with the news that they are about to embark for the island!

CHAPTER 21

As he walked briskly back towards his command tent, Tréville issued a string of instructions to his second-in-command, promising him that he would join him in supervising preparations for leaving La Rochelle as soon as he had dealt with the miscreants. He was still contemplating his options regarding possible sanctions as Savatier peeled away and he spotted two familiar figures sitting patiently on the grass outside the tent. It was highly unlikely that they would have been anywhere else. Glancing around quickly, he thought it interesting that none of Delacroix' so-called friends remained in the vicinity and he was convinced that they had not removed themselves to avoid a further altercation with Athos' brothers.

Aramis and Porthos scrambled to their feet on his approach, hats held deferentially in hands as they waited to intercept him, their nervousness plain for anyone to see.

"Captain ..." Aramis began but Tréville did not break his stride.

"Not now, either of you. I am not in the mood for a reception committee."

Even as he swept past them, he expected them to disobey and pursue him with their objections. When they did not do so, it was their strangely silent compliance that stopped him.

He turned and studied them, seeing the hope re-ignited in their eyes as they watched him.

With a heavy sigh, he walked back to the pair.

"On second thoughts, tell me what you know and keep it brief."

So they did.

He felt better informed as he re-entered the stifling atmosphere of his tent; it would be a relief when the storm broke and the rains came to cool the air. As far as the two musketeers were concerned, it was as he suspected all along; that Delacroix was responsible for a slight greater than usual but even Tréville had not expected the level of puerile behaviour on the man's part. Worse than that, Delacroix had been prepared to delay valuable information regarding the first sighting of the English fleet from reaching the command posts. Not that it really mattered for Tréville was already aware of the fleet's arrival from one of the many lookouts around the royalist camp. It was the principle that was most important.

When he entered the confines of the tent, Tréville was relieved to see the two troublemakers sitting opposite each other, straight-backed and still on wooden chairs. Claude had positioned himself off to one side, straddling a third chair, his arms resting along the back and supporting his weapon, his vantage point giving him a clear view of the two men.

All three rose to their feet on seeing the Captain, the younger two snapping to attention and staring straight ahead, not daring to make eye contact with anyone. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. Tréville gestured to Claude to resume his seat whilst ignoring the other two. Turning his back on them, he began to unbuckle his weapons belt, laying it across the table top as he spoke.

"Have they given you any trouble, Claude?"

"Nope. If they 'ad, there'd be blood an' if they kept it up, they wouldn't be breathin'."

Tréville was glad that he had his back to the men as he felt the corners of his mouth twitch. Trust old Claude to ease the mood.

"'Sides, when you gave me permission to shoot 'em, you didn't say as 'ow I needed to kill 'em outright from the start."

"You're correct," the Captain acknowledged as he revolved to face the veteran. "And what would you suggest I do with them?"

"These young 'uns 'aven't got the sense they were born with. They're like young bucks bumpin' heads. You'd think they were fightin' to be leader of the herd," and here he broke off to glare at Delacroix, "but I'd be thinkin' that's not what's behind all this. They need to be burnin' off all that excess energy if they can't find a better use for it. I'd say put the pair of 'em in an open space an' let 'em fight it out; not with weapons, mind. There'd be those who might say that's a duel an' that's not what we're meanin'. No, let 'em fight until one or neither of 'em is standin'. They'll learn."

"It's a tempting proposition," Tréville agreed as he looked over at the two with interest.

Their different body language spoke volumes. Delacroix stood defiantly, scowling ferociously at Claude, his hands clenched into fists and Tréville could see in an instant that he was totally unrepentant and resentful of the fact that the older soldier had been given a voice. Athos, on the other hand, stood with head bowed, staring fixedly at a point on the ground in front of his boots but there was no hiding the flush of embarrassment and shame that coloured his face.

Claude had not finished though.

"You know what makes me so mad about you two? In a matter of days, good men are likely to die but they'll do that knowin' an' hopin' that it's for somethin' better; they're fightin' for the King an' France. They're willin' to risk good flesh an' blood. What're you two about? Why are you wantin' to waste yourselves when the Captain 'ere needs all the men 'e can get? What's so important that you'd go that far? How dare the two o' you think what's goin' on between you is more important than the business of the King himself!" He broke off, speechless with anger.

Tréville leaned back against the table, straight legs crossed at the ankle, his arms folded across his body and frowned. "I couldn't have put it better myself."

Delacroix was not of the same opinion as anger, fuelled by his arrogance, erupted as he glared at Claude.

"You dare to speak to me like that, old man?"

Tréville had been patient for long enough and suddenly, his patience utterly exhausted, he demonstrated one reason as to why he was captain of the King's regiment. He moved with a speed that Delacroix had not considered possible. Fleetingly, he looked as if he were about to grab the younger man by the throat but, at the last, he restrained himself, realising that it would do him no favours to la hands on a subordinate – no matter how infuriating the man might be - and his hands dropped to his sides but there was no mistaking his fury as he spat out his question.

"And would you dare to speak to me like that, boy?"

Delacroix had the good sense to look sheepish as the Captain harangued him.

"You do not think before you speak; you open your mouth and what pours forth is a vitriolic vomit. You are so wrapped up in your own sense of misguided self-importance that you do not think of any other person. You jump so easily to conclusions. What do you know of my background, or his?" He pointed at Claude. "Or his?" and his finger settled in Athos' direction. The beleaguered musketeer's head shot up and Tréville saw the flash of panic in his eyes as he feared the Captain was about to reveal truths about his history in order to prove a point. He need not have worried for Tréville would not make that fundamental mistake; Claude was his example.

"That old man, as you so rudely call him, has fought by my side as a musketeer and in previous regiments from a time when you could barely walk; he taught me most of what I know and he has protected me every step of the way. He has more knowledge and understanding of strategy and being in the field than you will ever have the common sense to learn so don't you ever let me hear you denigrate him or anyone else of his calibre again."

He paused for breath and Delacroix blinked owlishly at him as he readied himself to start afresh.

"I am not sure why you have taken against him," and he indicated Athos, "but I am sick of it. You are naught but a bully, do you know that? And perhaps I should have intervened many a time before now but I foolishly took the view that you are grown men and that whatever initiated this discord might be overcome by rational thought and developing maturity , but today's debacle has proved how wrong I can be."

Tréville was in his stride now. "What possessed you to take his clothes? Whatever gave you cause to think that was acceptable behaviour from a trained soldier towards one of his colleagues?" He managed to take another step closer to Delacroix and spoke slowly and carefully into the younger man's face as his own grew as dark and thunderous as the changing skies outside.

"Whatever grudge you have with Athos is one thing but what I will not forgive is your willingness to delay him reporting that the English were on the horizon. Your actions could potentially have endangered the King's forces and his cause. That is negligence – nay, even betrayal - of the highest order. You do something like that again and all it will take is one word from me to the King to revoke your commission and I do not care one bit what it cost your father in the first instance."

"But I came and told you," Delacroix paled and muttered in self-defence. "There was a delay of minutes, if that."

"You just do not understand, do you? It is enough that there was a delay, that there was something you considered of more importance than allowing him to make his report. You then decide to make the report in his stead. Do you expect me to be grateful?"

He gave Delacroix the chance to respond but there was nothing the man could say.

"We are leaving for Ȋle de Ré on the morning tide. You will join the team getting the horses ready tonight, load them on board and then you will travel with them to monitor their well-being. I neither want to set eyes on you or hear anything about you until we have disembarked tomorrow. I would not delay discipline in any other situation so you should hope that we will be too busy dealing with the English for me to worry about a final sanction; Claude is correct – I need all of you ready and prepared to fight. If that were not the case, you would not be standing here now, of that I can assure you. Now, get out of my sight!"

Delacroix did as advised but he was muttering under his breath as he went, enough that Tréville knew that he spoke but not the words. He could have summoned him back but did not think it worth expending the energy. Instead he raised an eyebrow in Claude's direction, the gesture sending a question that was understood in an instant. The older soldier looked grim.

"'E ain' happy an' he's certainly not acceptin' any of the responsibility. You need to watch that one. I'm thinkin' you just made yourself an enemy."

Tréville shrugged. "I'm not in this business to make friends. I doubt very much that he had a favourable opinion of me in the first place but if thinks he can conduct himself like that in this regiment, he needs to reconsider whether or not this is the best place for him."

Athos still stood there, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Tréville looked from him to Claude and nodded his thanks. The older soldier smiled and winked as if to wish the officer good luck in dealing with the troubled younger musketeer. Tréville merely rolled his eyes and waited until he was alone with Athos in the tent.

Picking up the chair Delacroix had vacated, he put it in front of his table and walked round to his own seat.

"Sit," he ordered but Athos did not move. "Now!"

He waited until he was obeyed. "How often do we have to have this conversation?" There had been numerous occasions when they – correction, he – had discussed the problem of Delacroix but Athos had appealed to him not to intervene in the situation. Like Aramis and Porthos, he could not understand why Athos appeared to tolerate the way Delacroix treated him without objection.

The dark head tilted upwards, the shock of unruly, waving hair nearly masking the green eyes as he stared back at the officer in silence.

Tréville sighed. "Aramis told me what happened at the beach."

"He should not have done that," Athos said softly.

"And why not? He and Porthos continue to worry about you and don't even try to tell me that they have no need. If you don't understand it by now, I doubt you ever will. They are your friends, your brothers and they have your back. You have your own guilt about many things, I know, and now they have theirs because they were not with you at the beach to prevent Delacroix and his colleagues from stealing your clothes in the first place. His behaviour was unforgivable but then you reacted. Why? After all this time and all that he has done or said, why choose now?"

There was a pause. "I don't know."

"And I don't believe you," came the immediate rejoinder. "In the time I've known you, there has never been a time when you have acted without some reason or motivation. I may not have agreed with you but that's who you are. Why did you do it?"

"It is not important." The voice was low, the words barely audible.

"Well obviously it is; to you at least. Why don't you try explaining it to me?" When no immediate answer was forthcoming, he reached behind him for a bottle of brandy and two cups. He poured out two measures, stopped the bottle again, pushed one cup across to Athos and sat back, turning his own cup in his hands.

Athos thought about it for a moment. "I was coming to tell you about the English but he tried to prevent me and then he came to you himself. He sought glory where there was none to have; it was duty."

Trévlle waited patiently, knowing from past experience that it achieved little if Athos were to be pushed for any information appertaining to himself but he was not to be drawn and the Captain felt disappointment. The younger man was complex, enigmatic and he doubted that he would ever understand him. With his cup in hand, he indicated the second drink that he had poured and watched as Athos downed it in one.

"I cannot let this go unpunished," Tréville announced quietly.

Athos replaced the cup on the table, studied it for a moment and then raised his eyes to meet the Captain's scrutiny. "I know. I would not expect otherwise. I should not have reacted to Delacroix the way I did. My behaviour was inexcusable and played into his hands. It has brought nothing but shame upon me and I am sorry. Do what you will, there will be no complaint from me."

"Apology accepted but as I said to Delacroix, there are far more pressing issues to deal with tonight. I will give it some thought. For now, you need to get back to your tent and pack up what you can for an early departure tomorrow."

"We are really going to Ré in the morning?"

"Really, so get some sleep. We need to be moving at first light. Dismissed."

Athos hesitated and Tréville wondered if he was about to make a further comment but he kept his silence. What was more concerning was the way in which what little colour he had suddenly drained from his face. Dipping his head slightly, he stood up and left the tent hurriedly.

Tréville sat back, perplexed, and tapped the table top with his finger tips as he wondered what had brought about this abrupt change in the younger man. If the officer had not known any better, he would have thought that it was an expression of fear that had sent Athos swiftly leaving the tent but the news that they were departing to the island had very obviously bothered him.

The only reason he could conceive for the dramatic effect was that the young man was a poor sailor and did not relish the crossing to Ré but the island was not far and the journey should not take too long.

Athos strode from the tent, distractedly talking to himself, and did not even notice that his two friends awaited him. He walked straight past them and they exchanged confused glances.

"What did he say?" Porthos asked as they watched Athos heading towards the area where they had pitched their tent. They slowly moved to follow him.

"I don't know," Aramis said, "but it sounded something like 'I'm not getting on any ship.'"