Dear all,

The third chapter for this week (and then I might need to head for home and a lie down!) I am so glad that you liked the humour of the last chapter, be it Milady and the bedroom scene or Athos talking to his horse. I don't know about you, but I was sorely in need of some respite from the tension, especially as it increases again from here on in! (Slight give away about this chapter there.) It was also important that we see the four 'as they were' in the early days before their responsibilities took them in different directions. Athos needed a little reminder of what has been missing for him and his 'chat' with Têtu was a time when he did not have to be wary about what he said, even to his friends

On to today's offering then. I wait to see what you think. Thank you for ALL the feedback that you have given me this week.

CHAPTER 36

I

Aramis was standing at the window of his room looking out onto the land at the front of the chateau. He did not respond to the light knock on his door which was immediately followed by the sound of it opening to admit both Porthos and d'Artagnan.

"Well?" he said, turning to face them.

"His bed's not been slept in," d'Artagnan confirmed, having come from Athos' room.

"He did say as how he might be there all night. It depends if anyone showed up," Porthos reminded them, trying not to look or sound as worried as he felt.

"Is it just coincidence that we don't know exactly where he is at this moment and the activity within the chateau suddenly increases with daylight?" d'Artagnan asked.

No-one could think of a suitable – or reassuring – reply.

"Any more?" Porthos looked directly at Aramis.

"Not since those three rode in about thirty minutes ago. They approached from the front and went straight round to the courtyard."

"That's three plus – what? Five men of fightin' age and fitness working within the 'ouse? That's eight that we know of."

"With Benoit, that makes nine," Aramis added, "even if we have not seen him about since early yesterday."

"The villagers reckoned at least twenty men are kept by Desmarais. Where're the rest?" Porthos wondered.

"We have to be prepared and assume that they are already here somewhere or will be soon," Aramis said grimly.

"I wish we knew what the Baron was up to. We are expected downstairs to break our fast soon and I do not relish the thought of going down there unarmed," d'Artagnan said.

It was inappropriate for a guest to bear arms in a host's house and they had all dutifully set theirs aside on entering the chateau, although Porthos had insisted that they be allowed to keep their weapons in their rooms.

"You reckon the three of us can take on twenty?" Porthos asked with a mirthless laugh.

"No, but we could be a match for nine," d'Artagnan pointed out. He shrugged. "Always hoping that the other eleven don't materialise from somewhere and Desmarais decides to join in. Then I think we might be a little outnumbered!"

"Oh I don't know, Milady could dispense with a few and perhaps Athos will return from his nocturnal ride just in time. Five against twenty? I'd say the odds are improving all the time," Aramis said glibly as he rummaged in his bag. "Ah, got you!" and he held aloft a small dagger which he then proceeded to slide down inside his right boot. "I haven't done this for a while."

He caught the others watching him and held wide his arms. "Come on, gentlemen, don't disappoint me and say that you are unable to do the same!"

The trio grinned at each other and, within minutes, all were similarly equipped.

"We still don't know why though," d'Artgnan began, suddenly serious as they headed for the door. "Why all this activity? Does this have anything to do with Athos not being here?"

Aramis paused. "I think it has everything to do with the expected visitors and I suspect our being here involves us a lot more than we yet realise."

"What about Milady? Is she in any danger too?" d'Aratagnan persisted.

"I'd like to think not," Aramis reasoned. "Whilst her real identity remains secret, she is safe. He believes her to be an aristocrat and a helpless female one at that. If he's doing this to get at her money – which we all strongly believe – he will not let any harm befall her."

"Come on then," said Porthos as he opened the door. "Let's go down and see if we can find out anything."

II

They were the first to the dining hall and moved to what had become their customary places since their arrival. They sat in an uneasy silence, watching as a couple of young serving girls entered, carrying a platter in each hand and stood waiting. Their nervousness could have been accounted for by them never having waited at table before – the three friends did not recognise them – or there was a more sinister reason. An older woman bustled in with another laden tray, set it down and arranged its load on the table within reach of the men. She issued a string of instructions to the girls and bade them hurry as she went out.

An old man then entered and started to fill their cups with a small beer*. He had served them before and he did so now, in silence and not meeting their eyes.

"You 'ave different helpers this mornin'," Porthos said conversationally but the old fellow did not respond. "Where are the men who waited on us before?"

"They're out an' about," the old man growled.

"Oh? Doing what?" d'Artagnan tried this time.

"This an' that," was the limit of the reply as the servant left the room.

The three exchanged concerned glances.

"The younger men are definitely involved in something then," Aramis said.

The door opened and Milady entered, wearing an elaborate, dark green dress, its skirt rustling as she moved.

She sat down, looking quickly around her to confirm that there was no one else with them. Leaning forward, she kept her voice low.

"What is going on? There is a lot of coming and going around the place which was not so before. Have the people for whom Desmarais is waiting arrived here or are they expected?"

"What makes you ask?" d'Artagnan spoke up.

"I heard a lot of horses in the yard and looked out at them. There must have been at least eight with their riders. I saw Desmarais go out and speak to them. Four dismounted and left their horses with the stable boys while they came into the chateau. The other four rode off again."

"Did you recognise any of them?" Aramis wanted to know and, when she shook her head, he added, "They're in addition to the serving staff then. That makes at least twelve. I wonder where they have come from."

"What do you mean?" she demanded, casting her eyes around the table. "And where's Athos? Is he not back?"

They swiftly told her what they knew and had seen, and were about to furnish her with a warning when Desmarais walked in, rubbing his hands together and smiling unnaturally.

"Good morning, my love," he greeted Milady, planting a kiss on the top of her head as he walked past her to his seat.

The others saw her school her features from revulsion to a seductive smile.

"And a good morning to you, Auguste," she purred.

He nodded a greeting to the men once he was seated and they responded in kind but as they all began to break their fast, the tension around the table was palpable and conversation at a minimum.

"What plans do you have for today, dearest?" Desmarais asked at one point.

Milady thought for a moment and then smiled sweetly. "I was so looking forward to another ride together, Auguste. We went south yesterday and, from an upstairs window I saw a vast stretch of forest land to the north. Perhaps we could ride there today?"

Aramis tried his hardest not to look at her. She knew that was the direction of the hunting lodge. What was her game? Following hard on that thought, he wondered if it were a ruse to search for Athos. If she were to find him, it would prove their story of his recurring illness to be a lie and would consequently make their continued stay at the chateau untenable. Although they had enough proof of Desmarais' treachery, it meant that they would have to show their hand a little earlier than planned.

As it happened, Desmarais took the initiative and chose to be the first to reveal his hand.

"I see that Secretary Allard has not joined us again; I trust he is no worse?" He hoped that he sounded suitably concerned.

"Thank you, Baron, for asking," Aramis said. "He passed a somewhat restless night and, whilst feeling better, he is very tired, so I advised him to rest a little longer."

A strange expression crossed Desmarais' face. It was only there for an instant, but Aramis was sure that he had not imagined it and, as a result, felt the stirrings of alarm, not for the first time that morning. He caught Porthos' eye and the big man frowned with a similar unease.

"Our ride together?" Milady prompted.

"I am so sorry, my dear, but our ride will have to be postponed. I have some business to which I must attend and some of it involves my other guests." He waved a hand to encompass the three men who sat at the table. The smile he ingratiatingly bestowed upon them did not reach his eyes.

"Perhaps I could ride out with your head groom?" she suggested.

"No!" Desmarais said, a little more sharply than he had intended. His smile definitely softened for her. "I am afraid I have tasked him with something else. That would be impossible and, before you even ask, I would not entrust your safety to a mere stable lad, nor is there any question of my letting you ride out alone.

"I suggest, therefore, that you retire to your room after we have eaten. I shall send one of the women up with refreshments and a selection of volumes from the library that I have always found fascinating. Or perhaps you wish to write some letters? Share our good news with friends? I shall make sure that you receive everything that you require."

So that was that! Milady was to be banished to her room after the meal, not allowed to freely move around the ground floor and certainly not permitted to leave the chateau, especially to ride in a northerly direction.

It begged a question. What did Desmarais not want her to see or hear?

As the meal drew to an uncomfortable end, a young man entered, went straight to the Baron, bent and whispered a message. Try as she might, Milady could not determine anything of what was said despite being the nearest; the voice was kept deliberately low. The message wrought an immediate change in its recipient, however. Desmarais smiled more convincingly this time and his mood lightened to a suppressed excitement. He nodded at the young man who immediately turned on his heel and left the room as swiftly as he had come.

The guests were all apprehensive now and it was Aramis who sought the advantage.

"Business that involves us, Baron? What can that be? My Secretary and I went through your books yesterday and found all to be in order, just as you said they would be. That is what brought us here, that and the temptation to leave Paris for a while. We would depart today and move on to the next estate but I am afraid we need to impose upon your hospitality a little longer whilst Emil recovers fully."

"Of course, Minister," Desmarais said smoothly as he reached for another pastry, "and where did you plan to visit next? Which of my fellow nobles is to be in receipt of an unannounced visit?"

Porthos and d'Artagnan looked at Aramis nervously. Desmarais was wearing a smug expression on his face; he obviously suspected that there was no inspection of other nobles.

Aramis gazed at him for a while, his expression unreadable and then he flashed his disarming grin.

"Our plan is to move on to the estate of Baron Leondre Voland at Les Andelys.** I fully intend to combine that business with personal pleasure. I have long wanted to visit the area and to see the ruins of the magnificent Chateau-Gaillard built by Richard Coeur de Lyon. It is unfortunate that our current blessed King's grandfather saw fit to have much of it demolished about fifty years ago but I can appreciate that it was the scene of much strife.

"I read somewhere that three thousand or more were employed in the construction of the castle but those workers needed a place of worship. I gather the result, Saint Sauveur church, is worth a visit too. It is strange, do you not think, that a place dedicated to the glory of God and needed for the care of souls took four years to build and a vast place built to protect the men themselves took only one?"

Aramis took a sip from his cup, his heart thundering as he wondered how much more of his extra preparation might be needed and desperately hoping that he could remember it properly. He sensed his brothers relax.

Desmarais studied Aramis thoughtfully as he slowly chewed his food and swallowed. "I said you would find nothing wrong with those books."

It was said almost as a challenge and Aramis could not resist it. "I agree that those books were acceptable."

If Desmarais had been about to say something, he was distracted by the door opening yet again as the young man they had seen earlier re-entered, closely followed by two more colleagues. The three took up strategic positions around the room and no-one could fail to notice that they were all heavily armed.

Desmarais glanced pointedly at Milady. "If you've finished, my dear?"

The other three, having come to know what she was like over the years, saw her struggle to curb her tongue. She was not used to being ordered around in such a manner. Were she to object or make one of her usual caustic comments, she could ruin everything.

She didn't. Instead, with theatrical fluttering of the eyelashes and a slight pout, she rose from her seat, the men respectfully standing with her.

"Of course, Auguste. Perhaps it is just as well that we are not going for a ride this morning. I feel sure that I have a headache coming on for I did not sleep well last night, so I shall take this opportunity to have a little rest."

Demarais had the decency to look concerned. "Can I get you anything, my dear? I would not have you suffering at all."

She smiled reassuringly. "I will be fine in a while and then I shall think of those letters. Perhaps we could consider taking a ride this afternoon when you have concluded your business. In the meantime, if you don't mind, I do not want to be disturbed for at least an hour. Longer would be preferable."

"Anything you say, my dear."

"Gentlemen." She acknowledged the other three men at the table.

Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan all had the same thought simultaneously. What was she planning for it was out of character for her to acquiesce quite so readily?

They were not to know that, rather than heading straight to her room, she had repaired to the top of the stairs and concealed herself around the corner that led to the rooms they were occupying. That afforded her a clear view of the door into the dining room and the main hall. She would wait patiently and see what transpired next. Almost sub-consciously, her hand smoothed her skirts so that she could feel the presence of the small dagger strapped to her right thigh.

Minutes passed and four more armed men appeared in the hall, two standing either side of the main entrance – ostensibly to prevent anyone from leaving – and the other two disappearing into the room she had just left. Including Desmarais, that meant six men in there as well as d'Artagnan, Porthos and Aramis and, as far as she was aware, the three brothers had no weapons. She did not doubt that they were capable of putting up a good fight with their fists but not in the face of such obvious weaponry.

She would continue to watch …. and wait. Her vantage point was unlikely to be compromised for she had put off any servants attending her and, if they had any sense or Desmarais had issued clear instructions, they were not likely to be roaming the corridors with whatever was about to unfold on the ground floor.

"The Duchess 'as gone so you're free to start talkin' this other business," Porthos growled, weighing up their possibilities in their rapidly deteriorating situation.

"I would prefer it if we adjourned to the main reception room. It's so much larger than this one and can accommodate more people," Desmarais stood, all semblance of the genial host, however strained, completely gone.

"You expectin' a party?" Porthos asked.

"A few more," Desmarais answered guardedly,

"And if we said we would prefer to remain here?" d'Artagnan queried.

It was a mere dip of the head by the Baron but his men reacted immediately as they drew their pistols and aimed them at the three friends.

"If we have outstayed our welcome, Baron, you only had to say!" Aramis quipped as calmly as he could. Raising his hands above his head, he slowly rose.

"Guess this means we're adjournin' to the main reception room after all," Porthos reasoned as both he and d'Artagnan got to their feet.

Milady watched as they were escorted at gunpoint across the hall and into the reception room where they had all met only two days before. Teeth worrying at the inside of her bottom lip, she contemplated her next move. Seconds passed before she began systematically to go through their rooms, beginning with that of Porthos, and collected all their weapons. It took her three trips to take swords, pistols and ammunition to the point where she had concealed herself and quietly lay them out. By the time she had finished, a small arsenal had been set out near the top of the stairs and she viewed it with grim satisfaction. There were several pistols – not her weapon of choice but she knew how to load and fire one – and there was an assortment of swords and additional daggers; enough for her needs.

If Demarais was about to initiate some kind of war, she was prepared.

III

The group of men made their way into the reception room. D'Artagnan, who was bringing up the rear of the three friends, was obviously not moving fast enough as one of Demarais' men pushed him hard in the back, causing him to stumble. Furniture had been moved, untidily grouped around the walls so that an expanse of floor was cleared. Four hard chairs were positioned in the middle of this newly acquired space.

Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan were forced to sit and then bound to the chairs.

"What do you think you are doing?" Aramis demanded angrily as Desmarais entered the room and stood, staring hard at them, his arms folded defiantly.

"I thought of asking you the same thing, Minister," the Baron spat back.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Aramis was not about to divulge anything; he was going to leave that to the traitorous man before him.

"Really?" Desmarais said contemptuously. "Look here," and he indicated towards the empty chair at the end of the row. "There seems to be one of you missing." He palmed his forehead in a mocking gesture of remembrance. "How could I forget Secretary Allard? Why don't I invite him to join us from his sickbed and he can tell me himself how he is faring?"

The three captives said nothing and worked hard at remaining expressionless; they had not survived for as long as they had in their work by revealing anything in an unguarded moment. Below the surface was another matter though and they feared for their missing friend whom they had not seen for nearly fourteen hours now.

"I would be wasting my time, wouldn't I?" Desmarais sneered at them. "For I would not find him in his bed, would I?"

At that, the door opened and Benoit, grim-faced, walked in and nodded towards his employer.

"I don't need to send out that invitation. It seems that he has decided to join us after all," Desmarais was displaying a sadistic pleasure in what was happening.

Three sets of concerned dark eyes turned towards the doorway as two strangers entered, their clothing and appearance at once suggesting Spanish heritage. A brief exchange of greeting passed between them and Desmarais and then they stood aside for more newcomers.

It was not so much the build and hardness of the two men in the Baron's employment that attracted the attention of Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan. It was more the sight of their unconscious brother hanging limply between the men, head bowed and one of his arm's around each of their necks as they supported his weight and dragged him across the room to dump him without ceremony on the fourth chair. The ropes, this time, were necessary to hold Athos in position for, without them, he would have slid to the floor.

D'Artagnan suppressed a gasp, Porthos gave a low rumble of suppressed anger and Aramis struggled to maintain an impassive air, for it was plain to see that Athos had received a vicious beating at the hands of those who had captured him and there was no telling the extent of his injuries from a distance.

* Small or light beer – 16th and 17th century drink of small alcoholic content (0.5 to less than 2%), a good accompaniment to breakfast!

** With the exception of Baron Leondre Voland (entirely my creation), everything else that Aramis says in those two paragraphs about Les Andelys is as stated.