I am SO sorry about the delay. Uploads might be erratic this week too as work is manic but here, at last, is the next chapter. Thank you SO much for the continued feedback.
CHAPTER 34
With Athos' speedy departure, he had failed to see the well-aimed pauldron curl through the air towards Delacroix who, slow to react, recoiled as it caught him on the left side of his face, the buckle drawing blood. The silence in the courtyard was palpable and musketeer attention divided. Some watched Delacroix wipe the blood from his cheek with a trembling hand whilst others looked towards the empty archway, half expecting Athos to reappear.
"What has he done?" whispered d'Artagnan, trying to absorb the implication of what had just happened and the prospect of a future without the older musketeer amidst their number.
"What he felt he had to do," Aramis answered softly.
"That was his fight back plan?" breathed Porthos in unconcealed awe of his friend and brother. Snapping out of his reverie, he looked at the two still standing with him, his face serious but his eyes glistening with a combination of pride and resolve. "All for one," he announced, starting to unbuckle his own pauldron.
The glance between Aramis and d'Artagnan may only have been brief but they instantly reached a mutual decision. "And one for all," they concluded as they too removed their leather pauldrons, the symbol of everything they had believed in, the code by which they had lived and fought. The bond of brotherhood was stronger though and was unquestionable. Where their brother, friend and leader went, they would follow. The three cast the leather on the table where they had sat on innumerable occasions to share meals, laughs, triumphs and tragedies.
"What do you think you're doing?" yelled Delacroix from above them. The three looked at each other and grinned, suddenly imbued with purpose as they headed in the direction of the rooms they used whilst in the garrison.
"Packing," Porthos shouted without turning round. As the three walked off, Porthos in the middle, he threw an arm around the shoulders of his two companions. "We'd best gather up Athos' belongings too and go after him. With him not having had a drink for a while now, he may be well into his cups by the time we find him."
"And when we do," Aramis decided, a mischievous glint in his eye, "it would be best if we did the same. I doubt a celebration is in order, given that we suddenly find ourselves without gainful employment, but it is a significant event for all of us and, I warrant, it should be marked as such!"
"And what do we do after that?" asked D'Artagnan, trying to ignore the gnawing concern that bothered him in order to draw strength from his brothers.
"Then I assume we'll be setting off with Athos in search of Treville," Porthos said with a certainty he had not felt for a while.
...
Athos did not know how long he walked the streets of Paris but when his mind eventually cleared, he made his way back to the Wren and resolved to stay at the inn until the others appeared as he had no doubt they would do before the evening was out. In fact, he was still nursing his first goblet of wine, staring unseeing into its ruby depths, when d'Artagnan sank breathlessly into the seat beside him.
"Where have you been? We have been worried sick, searching high and low. We've already been here once. The others told me that I was to keep you here until they returned. Under no circumstances was I to let you out of my sight. They'll be here soon."
Athos nodded and downed his wine in one before reaching for the bottle for a refill.
"Are you …" d'Artagnan hesitated, wondering what would be the best word, "well?"
Athos shot him a withering look but was spared having to answer when the main inn door opened to admit Porthos and Aramis. On seeing Athos, they shared a relieved glance and approached the table, signalling the bar tender for another bottle and more glasses as they went.
Once each had a drink, they could not delay the inevitable conversation.
"Where have you been?" Porthos asked, unaware that he was repeating d'Artagnan's earlier question.
"Walking. Thinking," came the succinct response.
"You have no regrets about your abrupt decision?" Aramis wanted to know.
"It is pointless to have regrets. The decision is made and I will not serve with that man any longer." Athos pulled himself from his musing and looked at his friends. There was something different about them and, for a moment, he could not identify the change but then realisation dawned and his eyes widened in a mixture of disbelief and horror. "What have you done? Where are your pauldrons?"
"With yours," d'Artagnan answered simply.
"What? But you …" Lost for words, Athos looked from one to the other of his friends as they smiled broadly at him.
"We thought it'd make it easier to go searchin' for Treville," Aramis explained.
"But your commissions …" Athos almost groaned at their loss.
"And yours," Porthos reminded him. "We are brothers. Hasn't it occurred to you that that means more than even the regiment?"
There was a long pause as they thought about Porthos' profound comment but then d'Artagnan cleared his throat and brought them back to another reality. "What happens next?"
Without hesitation, three pairs of eyes turned on Athos in mute evidence of their acceptance of his leadership once more. "We set off at first light to look for Treville. In the meantime, we need to gather our belongings …"
"Already done," Aramis interrupted, "and stowed in a room at an inn not too far from here." When Athos raised an eyebrow quizzically, Aramis explained further. "Your sudden departure rapidly followed by ours has been somewhat sensational; Delacroix is bordering upon apoplectic."
"I wonder what Richelieu's reaction is going to be," Porthos said with a smirk.
"I would not want to be in his place when the Cardinal finds out," d'Artagnan asserted with his own smile at the prospect.
"But our final movements at the garrison were closely scrutinised and we had the feeling we were followed at one point so we have been careful since then," Aramis elaborated. "I strongly suspect we do not know everything though," and he looked meaningfully at Athos for clarification.
Having taken a mouthful of wine, Athos proceeded to tell them what had transpired in the office that had culminated in his resignation and why he was so determined now to ascertain what had happened to Treville. Events had taken a further sinister turn if Aramis was correct in their suspicion that they were being watched or followed. If Delacroix did have knowledge about the attack on the musketeer group, he would not want the Inseparables investigating and uncovering the truth so it was inevitable that the four of them were now in danger. They would have to watch their backs.
Athos drained his goblet. "We will not wait until morning; we leave tonight. The route west from Paris is well known to us, a full moon is expected and there is little cloud cover at present. With care, our mounts should be safe but it gives us additional time to put greater distance between ourselves, Paris and, by association, Delacroix. This brings us to a slight problem - we need horses."
"Consider it done," Aramis declared.
Athos studied him for a moment and then said, "I'm not going to ask."
"Good," Aramis grinned. "It's better you do not know as I would hate to have to lie to you."
"And our first destination?" Now they were decided upon some action, d'Artagnan was eager to learn specific details.
"Clairmont," Athos announced. "We pay our respects but, more than that, we ask questions of the villagers who exhumed the bodies and search the area as carefully as we can. They may have missed something important because they would not have considered its significance. Indeed, they would not have been looking for anything. We can discount the existence of any tracks; recent rains would have destroyed them. There is, however, something I need to do first. I will meet you in the fields beyond the west gate."
"The city gates will close in just over two hours," d'Artagnan warned.
"I'm hoping that I do not need that long but if I can't get out tonight, I will at first light. Wait for me there but if you sense any trouble, head straight to Clairmont. I will join you there as soon as I can."
"I can't say's I like this plan," Porthos said. "We should not be splittin' up right now, at least with no-one on 'is own. Wherever it is you're goin', I'm comin' too." The other two nodded their agreement.
Athos hesitated, "Very well. I am going to Treville's house." He retrieved the keys from his pocket and held them out to show the others before quickly explaining how he had come by them and why he believed he had been given them weeks before by their Captain.
"You reckon that whatever it is Richelieu wants is at Treville's house?" Porthos wondered aloud.
"It's the last possible place, unless there is something there that indicates another place of concealment. If there's nothing there, I don't know what else to do," Athos replied.
"We'd best get moving if we want to get out of the city tonight," Aramis reminded them.
They stood and, as unobtrusively as possible, left the inn, wary of those still wandering in the streets as dusk began to fall and watching for any unwanted company.
At the end of the street, they parted company, dividing into pairs with a handshake, a hand to the shoulder or an equally brief embrace as they gave muted words of advice to take care of each other and a promise to reconvene at the agreed spot as soon as possible.
Athos and Porthos were soon concealed in the shadows of a building at a junction and looked across at the modest townhouse almost opposite. Whereas the windows of homes around them began to glow with warm candle or lamplight, those of their destination were in complete darkness,
"Should there be anyone there?" Porthos asked.
"Treville's man, Pière. He's been the servant for years apparently. If he's there, he'll be in the rooms at the back so we would not see any light from here."
Porthos stood with his back flat against the wall and edged forward until he could surreptitiously look up and down the street. "Can't see anyone," and he began to move but Athos stopped him.
"I'm going alone. I need you to keep watch for me in case any of Delacroix' men come this way."
Porthos was not happy but he obeyed, finding a more conducive hiding place from where he could observe the front door to Treville's house as his friend approached it. Athos knocked and waited, turning his head to look up and down the street. When he thought that no-one was coming to the door, he took out the keys and was just about to try the largest in the lock when the front door opened a little to reveal an elderly, white-haired man with wide, terrified eyes and a flickering candle.
"Pière, it's me, Athos. Please let me in." Athos feared that the old man would either not remember him or be too nervous to admit anyone to the house in the evening. His concern was groundless as the old retainer stood back to open the door wider and grabbed Athos' sleeve to draw him inside. When the door was safely secured against the outside world, Pière, eyes filled with tears, greeted the ex-musketeer.
"Then it's true," the old man almost sobbed.
"What is?" Athos asked, concerned as the servant was visibly overwhelmed and shaking. Taking the man's arm to steady him, he led him through to the back of the house and into the kitchen which was illuminated by another couple of candles and a fire in the open hearth. On the table was a half empty plate of food; Athos had disturbed his evening meal.
Once restored to his seat and having supped at a tankard of ale standing beside the food, the old man had recovered enough to continue. "Somethin' as 'appened to the Master. The last time I saw 'im, 'e said that if anythin' 'appened to him unexpectedly, I was to wait and that you'd come but then that other one came an' started sleepin' 'ere."
"What man?"
"Can't remember 'is name. Stringy blond 'air; says he's the new captain but I thought that was you whilst the Master was away."
"Delacroix," Athos offered.
"That's the one. Nasty young 'un 'e is."
"You said he's started sleeping here?"
"Yeah, set to move in, 'e is. Says as how it's 'is right on account of bein' captain and that the Master don't need it no more. It's not 'is, is it?"
Athos was seething as he wondered just how low Delacroix could stoop. "No it's not, Pière. This house has nothing to do with the garrison or the role of leader of the regiment. This is Captain Treville's house that I'm sure he has got for his retirement, whenever that will be. Being a soldier, though, he would have made provision, a will declaring to whom he bequeaths his property. It does not, and never will, belong to Delacroix."
Pière was slightly mollified. "But the Master hasn't been back for so long. Where is 'e?"
"That I don't know but I have string reason to believe that he is alive and from now I'm spending all my time trying to find him. I think, though, that there is something of importance in this house that might help me. Captain Treville left me with a huge bunch of keys. The vast majority were for the garrison but then there were these," and he laid them out on the table. "Do you recognise them? Are they keys to any locks within the house?"
He waited patiently as the old man took them up one by one and held them close for inspection to compensate his failing eyesight.
"I know 'em for sure. That one there," and he indicated the largest, "is for the front door. The other two are used up in the Master's bedchamber. The fact he's given 'em to you means 'e trusts you an' now you've come just like 'e said so I reckon as how he wants you to know."
So saying, Pière slowly pulled himself to his feet, picked up a candlestick again and, beckoning for Athos to follow, led him out into the hallway and up the main staircase to the next floor. The ex-musketeer had had occasion to dine at the house before now and knew the general layout of the ground floor but this was the first time he had had the opportunity to explore upstairs. The furnishings and décor were very masculine throughout the house but showed a simplicity of line and taste without unnecessary extravagance.
The large bedchamber he entered was dominated by a dark wood four-poster bed with heavy drapes whilst other furniture included a carved chair with arms that stood at a writing table before the one window, a large chest, a bedside table and a tall cupboard. Wooden panelling made the room seem very dark but this was broken by two floor to ceiling tapestries adorning the walls on either side of the bed.
Without hesitation, Pière moved to the left of the bed and raised one side of the tapestry to reveal a door and a lock. "The middle key'll fit that," he instructed.