Dear all, I am SO sorry for my silence. I have been fighting a throat virus for nearly four weeks now and for ten days had nothing above a whisper. No time off work though! Made teaching an interesting challenge but the students were all great, responsive and we turned finding methods of communicating into a game! It was not so easy with trying to direct rehearsals. Opening night is 8 days away - I am in it too and can at least speak but cannot sing yet! (Unless folk like listening to a demented bull frog!) Then the last two weeks was an intense turn around on marked exam papers plus a two-day school inspection thrown into the mix!

Anyway, I have rushed to complete this chapter tonight, I have not proofread it properly so apologise in advance for the likely existence of a billion typos! Will be interested to hear what you think of the plot twist here! (Gives a little grin that is part tentative and part evil!)

Will try to get another chapter up before the show next week but I can't promise anything; please forgive me.

CHAPTER 25

I

Benoit had ridden hard once he had caused the rock fall, pushing his mount relentlessly and without regard for its wellbeing until it stumbled and struggled to retain its footing, at which point common sense prevailed and, although there was at least another hour of daylight remaining, he set up camp on the banks of a shallow stream and loosely tethered his animal there. He did not want to lose the animal through negligence and have to walk the rest of the way, for it was imperative that he reach Desmarais quickly and warn him of the impending visit by the First Minister as well as relaying the information that he had dealt with 'the problem', as he now euphemistically referred to Athos in his head.

He hoped that events in the gorge would have slowed the men considerably and he wondered if they would proceed to the estate with the body or even turn around and head straight back to Paris, as that was marginally closer. It was, inevitably, a waiting game but at least the Baron would have been forewarned.

II

"I keep telling you that I am fine!" Athos insisted as he sat propped up on a bed in one of the two rooms they had secured in the first inn they reached. "We should have pressed on whilst we still had daylight left."

"And slept out under the stars when you so recently were knocked unconscious?" Aramis objected loudly. "I think not."

"Nor have you fully recovered from the serious fever you had," d'Artagnan added, earning himself an approving nod from Aramis, reassured as he was that someone was agreeing with him.

Porthos roared with laughter. "Come off it, you two. It's no good you pullin' all that 'concern for Athos bit' when the real reason is that the First Minister here has got too used to the good living an' comfort, an' is too soft to spend the night on the ground anymore."

Athos' lips twitched in amusement even as Aramas began to splutter a fierce denial.

"Your protestations are a little too vehement, I fear," Athos said lightly. "Relax; I promise not to complain too much about the facilities as long as you promise to let me get some sleep as you insist upon the pair of us sharing this room tonight."

Aramis smiled in response but wondered if the comment hid a more serious directive in that he was to refrain from asking any more probing questions. It had crossed his mind to take advantage of the situation when they were alone together once the other two had retired to the room they had been assigned, but now he feared that his plan was futile. Athos had never been one to be pushed into divulging information and it said something about his current state that he had revealed as much as he had in the aftermath of the rock fall. It was clear that Aramis was going to have to be patient, an adjective that his friends had seldom used to describe his spontaneous nature.

A knock at the door signalled the arrival of their dinner, ordered a little earlier. The four had decided to eat in one of the rooms, away from the prying eyes of the locals that might frequent the place during the evening. The four were incongruous in every way: their mounts stabled in the yard were of excellent bloodstock, whilst saddles and tack were of the highest quality; their clothes announced them as men of rank and status, and there was the unspoken question surrounding the two who bore superficial injuries. The innkeeper had been keen to oblige, sensing that he would be well-recompensed for his accommodation and services, even if it inconvenienced him a little, but he recognised men of standing and he did not want to upset or offend in any way. On their instruction, he had ransacked his cellars for bottles of the best wine and he had urged his wife to be generous with the food portions.

When he had gone, the aroma of the hot food proved too much and the four men quickly fell to eating, conversation at a minimum.

"Mmmmm, that was good," Porthos sighed appreciatively, a contented smile on his lips as he slapped his full stomach with the flat of his hand. "You can't beat simple country fare."

"All food is good to you," d'Artagnan joked, raising a tentative hand to the cut on his forehead and grimacing as he felt the soreness.

"Serves you right," Aramis scolded, having seen him. "Leave it alone and it will heal; it stopped bleeding ages ago."

"I may have developed a more 'discerning palate'," Porthos laughed, "but it doesn't stop me from hankerin' after the plain, fillin' food that soldiers have."

"Very plain and not always filling," Athos added quietly, thinking back to the four hard years he had spent fighting against Spain.

"Agreed," Aramis went on, eyeing Athos' empty plate. "I am pleased to see that you have eaten well tonight."

"It must have been all the fresh air we had today; it has given me an appetite," Athos said, his voice and heavy lids suggesting a tiredness that he would not be able to fight for much longer.

"We had plenty of fresh air in the old days, even before the war," Porthos teased, "but I don't recall food bein' your priority very often. The way I see it, we were 'avin' to persuade you to eat more often than not."

Aramis stiffened at the veiled reference to Athos' drinking habits; in the light of what had been said to him after the rock fall, he did not want the former Captain to be offended. To his surprise, the green eyes took on an amused gleam.

"So you haven't had to persuade me to eat tonight, perhaps that allows me to have a full cup of wine this time. Aramis may have ceased watering it down for me but I would like to taste the stuff and d'Artagnan was a little restrained in his pouring. If we are going to talk about how we are to proceed with Desmarais, I need something to the discussion easier."

With cups refilled and no stinting when it came to that of Athos, the men grew serious for each of them recognised that their task resembled the search for a needle in haystack.

"We could just thump 'im until 'e confessed," Porthos offered as a way of opening the conversation.

D'Artagnan, grinning, clouted him on the forearm at the unhelpful suggestion whilst Aramis frowned.

"As much as I do not like the man and would love to take a short-cut in events, especially if it caused him a great amount of discomfort, we are going to do this by the book, aren't we, Athos?" and he looked directly at the grieving man as if to gauge his reaction and dare him to say otherwise.

Porthos and d'Artagnan watched their friends in uncomfortable silence and then exchanged an equally uneasy glance for they sensed something else in the challenging directive. What was even more telling was Athos' deliberate refusal to offer a reassuring answer.

"Do you have any ideas about how we are goin' to go about this?" Porthos asked, hoping the innocent question mighty diffuse the sudden tension in the air rather than fuel it.

"I am not familiar with the layout of the inside of Desmarais' chateau," Athos explained, "and only a passing knowledge of the outside, so we must establish what rooms are where as quickly as we can. We might need to develop some diversionary tactics so that one or two of us can steal away to search the place to get that information. It would arouse unnecessary suspicion if we were to ask too much of the servants and I expect that we will be engaged in a more detailed search for evidence as soon after that as we are able."

"I assume there will be no problems about our staying there once we have turned up unexpectedly at his door?" d'Artagnan ventured.

"He would not presume to turn away the First Minister of France," Porthos insisted as he topped up d'Artagnan's cup. "Certainly not with 'im bein' so keen on invitin' us all to dinner. It wasn't our fault 'e got called away from Paris all of a sudden."

"But we haven't come all this way just to take him up on his offer of dinner!"

"Course not! We've got some kind of ruse planned, 'aven't we?"

Aramis nodded. "He came to me concerned about the revolt regarding the increase in taxes and I said that we were more than willing to offer support. Athos knows that the people were subjected to two tax increases when only one had been sanctioned from the Council in Paris so why the second? Where did the money go and why did he need it?"

"P'raps 'e got greedy and wanted to redecorate the chateau," Porthos speculated, not really believing what he was suggesting.

"If that is so, we will see the outcome for ourselves, won't we?" Athos said.

"And he can confess such greed to our faces if that is the case," Aramis continued. "In the meantime, we will ask to see his books. We can say that we are visiting a number of estates to see the impact of the higher taxation and assessing the effect of the same upon the tenants. He should have a record of the taxes he has raised. I have checked details of moneys raised by him and paid into the royal coffers over the past year and seen where the first expected increase was initiated but there is definitely a discrepancy between what we have been given and what Athos says has been demanded of the people now so what is Demarais doing?"

"My sources lead me to believe that he is providing funds for the Spanish and so we must find that evidence. I do not, for one moment, think that his books will be trustworthy but I think he is not one to maintain some kind of record somewhere about what he has been paying to the Spanish and when. There has to be evidence of contact with enemy agents, of some kind of bargain struck with them. What does he hope to gain from this?"

"Buying some kind of safety in the event of a full scale invasion from the north?" d'Artagnan wondered.

"I am convinced of it. He is also suspected of passing on information about French troop movements to intercept the Spanish before they launched a full scale retreat."

Porthos cursed at Athos' words; such treachery could have endangered the lives of so many men under his command positioned defending French territory in the north of the country. "He was askin' me all sorts of questions about our plans for the area."

"Me too," d'Artagnan admitted. "I thought he was taking an unhealthy interest in matters which were of no concern to him; now I understand why."

"I certainly do not expect him to have readily available in an obvious place any bound documents appertaining to all this; I think they will be hidden away somewhere, hence our probable need to search the place thoroughly. However, I would also have you alert to the possible existence of a counterfeit purchase order for some forestry land adjacent to my property. If we could find that, it would be the start of untangling his web of lies," Athos informed them.

D'Artagnan cleared his throat. "And what of Milady? What if she gets there before us?"

Athos breathed in deeply. "The Queen apparently sent her word that musketeers were acting as escort so that should have deterred her from making any move against Desmarais on the journey to his estate. She had left Paris, though, when the Queen sent her another order to stand down from her task so we have to hope that we get to Desmarais before she has had a chance to act."

The silence that followed was filled with questions that no-one dared ask; questions relating to Athos' feelings about the likelihood of encountering her soon, how he might react and what he would do if she had already killed Desmarais.

"We still have no real idea as to why you were targeted in that attack in the gorge," d'Artagnan said, eyeing his friend worriedly.

Athos shrugged. "We will not find out for sure until we confront Desmarais and his man Benoit, if he were to be the one responsible. We do not know the origin of the information but we must presume that Benoit knows where we are destined and he will warn Desmarais, thereby denying us the element of surprise."

"We ought to consider settling down for the night then," Aramis instructed. "Benoit cannot be too far ahead of us and must stop for the night if he has any sense. We will need to be on the road at first light; we are unlikely to catch up with him but we certainly do not want him to have the chance of giving the Baron a lengthy warning.

"No," Athos agreed, his face growing sombre. "We must not give him the opportunity of destroying the evidence we so desperately need."

III
"What?" Desmarais exclaimed late the next morning when Benoit gave him the news of the Minister's potential arrival.

"But he may not come," Benoit insisted, shuffling uncomfortably as he stood before the Baron's desk. "He may well decide to return to Paris with the body of his friend."

"Yes, so you were telling me. You think you have successfully disposed of somebody you think is a former musketeer captain. You do a lot of fruitless 'thinking', don't you? They were heading this way for a purpose. The First Minister of France is not going to leave Paris on a whim. 'Oh, I think I'll just go for a ride out to the Louviers area and look in on my good friend, Baron Desmarais, and I'll take three ex-musketeer colleagues just in case.'" He never elaborated upon 'in case of what' in the mocking voice he assigned to the First Minister.

Benoit made the mistake of smiling slightly in amusement, causing Desmarais to lose his temper entirely, snatch up the glass goblet from his desk and hurl it with force at the man who stood before him. Benoit had the speed and presence of mind to duck as the goblet sailed over his head and smashed into shards against the opposite wall.

Desmais leaned his weight on his hands on the desk top, the gesture causing him to lean forward menacingly. "And why do you presume the man is dead? Did you see him brained by a massive rock? Was he buried, obscured by a hillside of rubble? No. His horse reared, the saddle broke and he fell off! The fact that he lay there unmoving does not mean he is dead, you imbecile! He was probably just unconscious. If you're right and he was a musketeer, he has spent years in the saddle and has probably had more spills in action than you can count!"

He paused for breath and glowered at Benoit who had paled at the unfairness of the tirade. He had never wanted to fulfil the demand in the first place but had complied and done the best he could under the circumstances. There were reasons – three of them, all with a soldier's instinct and skills – as to why he had not remained to determine whether or not Athos had actually been killed, but he had wished so eagerly for that outcome that it seemed he had convinced himself that it had happened. It was so obvious now that he could have jumped to an erroneous conclusion.

"So now they will be hammering on my door and not very happy," Desmarais hissed.

"But they do not know it was me," Benoit sounded more like a boy defending himself against an unreasonable charge.

"We will soon find out, won't we? This could not come at a worse time for me. I've not long had the musketeer escort leave for Paris with the prisoners for questioning in Paris. I have a good idea as to the accusations they are going to try to put forward against me. Then I have a visitor whom I would prefer to spend time entertaining." He watched as Benoit raised a questioning eyebrow and Desmarais could not suppress the smile that resembled more of a lecherous sneer. "The delectable Duchess of Bedford and the source of a deep financial money bag that will keep the Spanish happy for some time."

His face clouded over.

"But that will take time, time I haven't got. I have arrived home to a missive from Spain. Their representatives are on their way here and due to arrive in two to three days. No doubt they want the next instalment of their money and I only have about half of it. They will also be wanting more information and I did not discover anything of value to them in Paris, not for the want of trying. If I don't provide them with something, I am either a dead man or they will dispense with my services."

He sank down onto his chair, head in hands and every inch a very worried man. Benoit, though, brightened considerably as an idea struck him.

"But you have something even better to give them!"

Desmarais did not even look up. "And how do you arrive at that conclusion?"

"You will have France's First Minister, one of her Generals, who has been on the northern front line, and the Captain of one of the country's finest regiments. You might not have the actual information but you have something far better. You have the source of that information, a lot of it! Hand them over to the Spanish and the responsibility of extracting all that information is down to them. If this Athos has survived, hand him over too. They can demonstrate their techniques on him, show the others that they mean business."

Desmarais slowly raised his head and looked up at Benoit in amazement. Then his features broke into a fiendish grin. "Do you know something, Benoit? You're not such an imbecile after all!"