Good evening, all. Firstly, thanks for reading and commenting on the last chapter. I will respond next week. Secondly, apologies for being so late. it is almost 1.00 am and therefore Saturday as opposed to Friday. Also, apologies if a number of errors have escaped my notice; I really ought to be asleep. Thirdly, the next chapter will be Tuesday. Sorry about that.

CHAPTER 45

I

With the dawn of a new day, there came the promise of fine weather, its early warmth heralding a heat that would be uncomfortable for the men in their leathers as they stood for a protracted period lining the processional route.

"Have your kitchen boy take the barrow and water skins out to the men along the road this morning, Serge, especially before the procession starts. That midday sun will be merciless," Tréville instructed as he stood in the middle of the mess room biting into a chunk of bread and hard cheese that the old cook had pressed into his hands.

Every seat at a table was taken by men hastily breaking their fast before spilling out into the yard to continue with their tasks. It was not a particularly large room for the number of men for whom it catered but they were never expected to be eating simultaneously in great numbers. Several had offered the officer their seats, but he declined with thanks. Most of them, although younger than him, were going to be on their feet for much of the day and in climbing temperatures.

He, however, would have opportunities to sit at his desk in the office as he perused last minute details, at the palace before meeting with the King and in the saddle during the procession. There would be no other chance of respite for he would be circulating and inspecting the men in their roles. Anyway, he admitted to himself, being on the move was somehow never as exhausting as standing still for ages. A man of action all his military life, he far preferred being engrossed in physical business than standing in one spot merely , or the drudgery of paperwork that so often filled his day or.

It was one of the drawbacks that came with rank and his mind wandered again to the last couple of days when he had shared that responsibility with Athos who, as usual, had exuded an air of calm and efficiency as he assumed the role of scribe. If Tréville were honest with himself, he enjoyed the times he spent bouncing ideas and objections back and forth with the younger man and if he only hurried up and gave Athos that long-awaited promotion, he would be able to do that more frequently in an official capacity.

As soon as that treaty is signed, he promised himself.

"What time is the ceremony?" Serge asked, interrupting the Captain's reverie.

"Two o'clock. The procession begins thirty minutes earlier," Tréville answered. "I'll give orders for a horse and cart standing by in the yard, just in case you get word that any of the men have collapsed in the heat."

"Wouldn't it be better to have it waitin' somewhere near the route? Waste less time," Serge asked, frowning.

"It would be preferable and did cross my mind, but we have gone to great lengths to ensure that nothing of its like is near the precession, just in case it is seized and used as an obstruction."

The old cook nodded his understanding. "I'll be ready with it if you send word."

"Thanks, Serge. I need to get on." The Captain took a few steps and turned. "I probably don't say it often enough but thank you. Today and yesterday can't be easy for you feeding the men at such odd hours."

Serge harrumphed with awkwardness at the gratitude. "Get away with you now. It's not as if you 'aven't sprung somethin' like this on me before. I've 'ad the practice."

Grinning, Tréville walked on out into the yard to be met with a hive of industry. Horses had been led out and were being groomed in the open air by stable boys and riders, who had doffed coats and rolled up their shirt sleeves whilst more men checked and cleaned tack and still more sat on benches doing the same with their weapons.

A little while later, a large group of men on foot headed out through the archway on foot, laughing and joking together, their manner easy as they departed to relieve colleague already doing additional searches or in position guarding the route. Within fifteen minutes, men streamed back into the yard and headed straight to Serge for food.

Promptly at ten o'clock, the Captain, having perused documents outlining the day's events for one last time, shut the door to his office and descended the stairs, pulling on his gloves as he walked. He was confident that his men knew exactly what their roles were and only wished that he could be as sure about the Red Guard and the Spaniards.

Below, Athos, Porthos and Aramis were already mounted, and Claude stood nearby, awaiting any last-minute instructions.

"You'll lead the men out for the final duty change at noon," Tréville reminded him for he had told him and the men the preceding day what was going to happen. "Those on foot will take up their positions and you and the rest will ride on to join us at the palace for the procession."

"It's all in hand," Claude reassured him.

"And I can trust you to give the men a quick inspection." It was a statement, not a question.

"Of course," Claude responded. "We'll see you later."

The Captain and the Inseparables rode slowly out of the garrison and onto the Paris street. Before they went to the palace, Tréville was insistent, for his own peace of mind, that they do a final check of the route the procession was to take. Once at the palace, he would join Richelieu, Athos would go to Ferdinand, Porthos would take up his watch of the Ambassador and Aramis would liaise with Brondate.

They had done everything they could to protect those involved in the procession and subsequent Mass but even this knowledge could not dispel their growing sense of unease as the time for the service approached.

II

"Do you really think that something might happen this afternoon?" Brondate asked Aramis as they walked together through the ground floor corridors of the palace.

"There is a strong possibility," Aramis said, having given the Spanish captain a warning on Tréville's orders. It had been difficult as he had also been instructed to be as vague a possible and to avoid outright accusations.

"And you have no idea where or who from? No informant who has helped you?" Brondate asked.

"No," Aramis said, pleased that he could answer the second question in total honesty and elected to ignore the first one. He wondered if the captain had any recollection of what he had divulged when drunk.

"Something must have given rise to your concerns for today," Brondate pressed.

Aramis thought carefully before responding.

"There have been serious attacks on those involved in this Treaty, not least Ambassador Mendez and his party."

Aramis saw the sadness cross Brondate's face at the reminder of what had happened to his friend, but he did not dare offer sympathy for he should not have known about Lorenzo being one of the dead.

So he continued his reasoning. "Then there was what happened to my brothers and me. People do not want the Treaty signed. This is the final opportunity to prevent it from happening when some key individuals will be vulnerable out in the open. Any attack will heighten suspicion between the relevant parties and has the potential to halt proceedings for many years to come. If you ask me, that Treaty should have been signed the moment de Calatrava arrived."

Aramis hoped that he had not spoken out of turn and that, in his sobriety, Brondate would not have resorted to being completely loyal to the Spanish Ambassador.

"I agree," the captain admitted quietly.

Aramis stared at him. "You do?"

Brondate looked as if he were fighting an inner demon, such was the misery etched on his face. "I cannot say more as I have no proof to support my thinking."

Aramis made an immediate decision not to upset him further by revealing that he had already given voice to his suspicions. He resolved to try a different approach.

"What do you know of Gallegos?" he asked.

Brondate thought a moment. "I do not trust him. He reminds me in looks and behaviour of a weasel."

"Or a ferret," Aramis chuckled and then proceeded to explain Porthos' name for the interpreter.

"How apt," Brondate agreed. "Gallegos has spent an incredible amount of time with the Ambassador when there has been no need; he did not have to interpret for him through much of the journey itself. He appears to be much closer to the Ambassador than his position would warrant. They are always together, talking in low voices. In fact, on the way here, I started to feel sorry for the Cardinal Infante as he seemed to be ostracised by the pair of them for long periods of time. He was always smiling though; perhaps he spent a lot of the time in prayer; I don't know."

Aramis said nothing but absorbed all that he was being told, keeping it close and deliberating its ramifications. In his mind, there was no doubt that de Calatrava, with Gallegos' help, was plotting something to harm the treaty.

III

On arrival at the palace, Tréville and Athos went to the Cardinal Infante so that the Captain could explain why he wanted the younger Musketeer to stay close to him.

"I am sure it will not be necessary," Ferdinand said, a smile playing on his lips.

"And we hope that it is an unnecessary action, but the King and your sister would prefer it if you had a more personal protection. Athos will remain with you and walk alongside the carriage on the way to Notre Dame," Tréville insisted.

Ferdinand eventually complied but was gracious in conceding to their insistence. When the time came, Athos escorted him out of the palace to where the carriage waited that would transport him and the Ambassador to the cathedral.

The King and Queen were already settled into the royal vehicle when de Calatrava appeared with Gallegos, deep in conversation.

Athos was standing with Aramis and Brondate as the two Spaniards concluded their discussion but when the Ambassador climbed up into the carriage, Gallegos closed the carriage door and moved past the three soldiers to where a stable boy held the reins of a horse in the midst of Brondate's men. He mounted with surprising ease, but he did not look at all happy about the arrangement.

"Why isn't Gallegos travelling in the carriage with the Ambassador?" Athos asked, a little puzzled.

Aramis translated for Brondate, who shrugged as he answered.

"He doesn't know," Aramis explained for Athos. "The Ambassador insisted upon it for some reason, so Gallegos is going to ride in the column next to Brondate."

Athos frowned at the unusual arrangement, the little interpreter had travelled in the carriage with the Ambassador since they left Spain and now, all of a sudden, the situation had changed. He was still mulling over why Gallegos was not wanted in the carriage when Tréville gave the order for the column to move.

The Captain set an easy pace, bearing in mind that some of the men were on foot. People lined the route, waving and cheering as the royal couple passed by, but they were prevented from pressing forward by the many Red Guard and Musketeers who faced them, scrutinising them carefully for any suspicious behaviour.

As on that fateful day when he rode beside Loret on his last, fatal journey, Athos knew his tension level was rising again. His hand drifted towards the hilt of his rapier and his eyes were everywhere as he glanced up at windows, scanned the watching crowd, glanced towards Ferdinand in the comparative safety of the carriage and surreptitiously looked around at Gallegos who also looked increasingly uncomfortable.

As they approached the narrow part of the route that Athos and Tréville had marked as potentially the most dangerous section, the column slowed further and, from up ahead, there came the sounds of shouting and he was sure he could identify Tréville's angry tones.

No, this can't be happening again! Immediately, Athos was alert. He looked back towards Gallegos, whose eyes were wide and fixed upon the people to the righthand side of the road. He wheeled round to where he thought the interpreter was staring.

There, amongst the people, was a man in a hood but as he pushed forward through the civilians who began to object loudly, the hood fell back to reveal the heavily scarred features that Athos recognised immediately. More shouts erupted behind him and he saw Gallegos causing mayhem as he tried to turn his mount and force his way back through the escort and away from the carriage.

"Hold that man!" Athos roared his warning, but the scene was rapidly descending into chaos.

Porthos materialised at his side.

"The man with the scar!" Athos yelled, pointing in the direction of the man who had made his way to the front of those lining the route.

It was too late.

He threw something that hit the road and rolled beneath the carriage. Porthos gave an angry shout and took off in pursuit of the man who was fighting his way through those around him.

"Bomb!" Athos screamed and, yanking open the carriage door, he grabbed Ferdinand by his robes and dragged him out. He was vaguely aware that something was wrong within the carriage, but he was too busy pushing Ferdinand along the road ahead of him to think about what it was.

In their panic, citizens almost fought with Red Guard and Musketeers as they tried to get away from the immediate danger but there were too many in too confined a space.

Ferdinand stumbled but, somehow, Athos kept him upright and urged him to run faster.

The blast knocked Athos off his feet and, as he fell, he took Ferdinand down with him.

Then he knew no more.