Disclaimer: The characters of Le Chevalier D'Eon do not belong to me.
Durand reminisces on what once was.
The Three Musketeers
"So it's the four of us, the 4 musketeers. All for one and one for all, eh?" old Teillagory guffawed as he helped Robin lift their trunk into the coach. Discussing their route with their driver, Durand could not help but overhear. He felt a sharp pang in his chest which only became more acute as a tousle-haired D'Eon emerged from the building, having slept in. He looked so much like his dead sister. Blinking to clear his head, Durand forced his attention back to the map before him.
Their horses' hoofs ploughed through the mud as if they were flying. The wind tore at their hair while the rain lashed them mercilessly. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed. They were travelling light, having achieved the goal of the mission and were now flying back to France. They could not afford the luxury of stopping. As usual, Lia was in the lead. Her horse was grey, a pale blur in the dark. It was a tempting target in the murk. A boom and a burst of fire flashed from behind a twisted tree. Her horse, spooked, reared as she clung onto the reins.
Maximilien caught up with her on his black stallion, covering her as she regained control of her steed. He returned fire with a pistol despite the damp. He must have hit home as a dark figure stumbled out of the shadows of the tree and onto the muddy path. The sniper was not alone. More men on horseback emerged from the trees, blades drawn. There was now too much rain for firearms. Silently and solemnly, Lia and Max drew their swords as their horses paced and pawed. Surrounded, they would have to fight their way out.
All their hopes now lay with Durand. The brunette's chestnut mare had fallen behind a little. Their enemies probably failed to notice there was a third man in their party. Lia and Max engaged their attackers in combat off the path, leaving the way clear. Without slowing, Durand galloped past his companions. He had faith they would catch up. He must deliver the letter in his saddlebag to the Comte before it was too late…
"Durand! Watch out!" Maximilien's keen eyes spotted the rope slung across the path between two trees before Durand did. It was a trap to trip a passing horse. Durand reined in his steed too late. The horse stumbled, tossing Durand headlong into the earth hard. He blacked out from the impact.
"Durand?" Lia's voice cut through the haze of pain. He tried to sit up and the room swum about him. Lia hastened to prop him up with a pillow.
"Where are we?" he asked. He was in a warm bed, wearing a clean linen shirt. His freshly laundered clothes hung by the fireplace, drying.
"A farmer's cottage in Lorraine, a few miles from the border…" Lia replied.
"God, the Comte…" Durand felt sick to his stomach. It was daylight and the sun must have been up for hours… The letter should have reached the Comte last night.
Maximilien strode into the room, dishevelled and sporting an arm in a crude sling. He looked dog-tired. "Don't worry, I've been to the Comte. He has the letter. Sorry about your horse though. She broke her leg and we had to kill her." He flung Durand's battered saddlebag onto the table.
"Was it…" Durand ventured.
"They signed the treaty an hour before I got there… Sorry," The news of their failure hung over them. The Duc du Broglie would be furious. Durand clenched his fists in the sheets in helplessness.
Durand then noticed that Lia was massaging her own shoulder. There was a bandage on her exposed calf. Both Lia and Max were still in their damp and stained clothes from the night before.
"You should have left me," Durand muttered. It was a simple matter for either of them to grab the saddlebag from his fallen horse and ride on, abandoning him for dead. Instead, they have fought off their attackers to rescue him. At risk to their mission, they had ridden with him across the saddle of Lia's horse to seek shelter with a farmer. It was only after a doctor had been sent for that Max rode on with the letter, ignoring his own injuries.
"Don't be foolish, Durand. We're the three musketeers…" Lia chided.
"All for one and one for all…" Max nodded in agreement with Lia.
The gently-rocking coach had lulled his three companions to sleep. It was not too long ago that he had travelled on this very same road with his former colleagues. When had it changed? Was it when Maximilen was ordered to leave for Russia? Or was it earlier? Durand had been away in Marseilles then.
"All for one and one for all… What happened, Lia, Max? What went wrong with the 3 musketeers?" Durand whispered under his breath as he looked out on the passing countryside. The ache of losing his friends was still there. How he wished he knew.
Author's Notes:
A glimpse of what was. Believe the Secret du Roi during Lia and Max's time in it would be quite something. They were probably like the 3 musketeers.