When the doors to the grand hall opened, the men quieted, and resumed their former positions in haste. The duke, followed by his chief council, entered first and walked around the thrones toward the dragoners as the soldiers stood in parallel formation down the center of the hall. Treville and the cardinal followed.
Again, the room was quiet. Once the duke stepped onto the carpeted walkway, each of his men stepped back with their right foot, each row faced each other. The duke looked just as determined and he walked with confidence as he nodded toward his men. He clenched his jaw and stopped again, paused momentarily to look at Athos who clenched his jaw and frowned.
There was an uncomfortable silence as the duke ran his hand over his beard and met Athos eyes. The duke squinted, furrowed his brow, and pursed his lips. "Why do I know you?"
Athos felt his heart pound against his ribs, and he clenched his left fist. He could feel his brothers' eyes upon him, but he remained stoic, as the duke's stare grew uncomfortably long. There was no recognition for Athos, no moment of understanding, or regret. Just a feeling of uncertainty and a question of why he had drawn the duke's attention. Athos watched the duke look forward, swallow, and then chuckle.
The duke's face relaxed, he took a deep breath, and looked again at Athos. "I know your eyes." He chuckled, wiped the corner of his mouth, and looked at the musketeers. He sighed, stepped forward, muttered something in Spanish that Athos didn't hear and continued down the aisle toward his carriage.
Treville stopped in front of his musketeers and watched the dragoners turn and exit the building with a uniformity he had only read about amongst the Roman Soldiers from past decades. He clenched his jaw, looked toward his men, and sighed. "What did he say to you?"
Athos rubbed his temple, frowned, and clenched his jaw. He did not relax his left hand, but instead felt his fingernails dig into the leather of his glove. A hint of something tugged at a memory, and the vagueness of it, caused his his head to hurt. The Duke of Burie did not look familiar, nor did his voice, deep, and graveled, sound like someone he had ever met before. Athos' family had been affluent, well known for their history, fair treatment, and dedication to king and country. Athos rubbed his brow between his eyes and looked toward the floor.
Porthos took a deep breath. "He said he knows Athos' eyes," he shrugged, chuckled, and slapped Athos on the shoulder. "Perhaps you remind 'im of the Anjana — only taller."
Athos wasn't amused and while Porthos tried to bring a sense of humor to the situation by comparing him to a fairy, the sentiment wasn't there. Athos sighed, watched from a distance as the dragoners mounted and followed the duke's carriage from the courtyard.
"He said, el chico sobrevivio," Aramis said with a frown, "the boy survived."