Chapter Twenty Three
Paul Masonne swung around as he felt the presence behind him.
He had been standing at the window, the curtains closed with a minimal parting; watching the street. Even so, he had not been aware of the man silently entering the house.
Simeon stepped out of the shadows and lowered the hood of his cloak.
"You still possess the skills of a spy, brother," Masonne said, quietly, feeling the tension leave his body.
"And you, the loyal cub. Isn't that what he used to call you?" Simeon replied, quietly.
The light was behind his brother, but his eyes had adjusted to the dimness now. Paul's hair was lit from behind, as bright as ever, reminding him of his mother. He felt a pang of regret for her.
Paul turned away leaning his hand on the nearby table;
"He said you betrayed me."
"I betrayed you?" Simeon said, incredulously. "The hypocrite! It is the oath I made to our father that brings me here."
"Our father the Catholic?"
"As am I. Why do you hate us so? Our mother ..."
"Our mother was weak!"
"She loved him!" Simeon cried. "She loved us. Don't you know that?"
Paul Masonne turned back and crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head back. Simeon was reminded of the younger brother as a young boy, always confident, quick to temper but in thrall to him. Following him around, wanting to be older, to be Simeon.
"I know that Huguenots and Catholics can never resolve their differences!" Paul hissed now.
"Raspier has ruined you," Simeon said, his voice low. "He fed you bile and you lapped it up like the cub you were."
Paul smashed his fist on the table, which shook beneath the force.
"Their so-called love was a travesty! Where did it get them? A Huguenot and a Catholic! Where did it get us? They died because of it!"
"Did he tell you that? Does your hate for Catholics wipe away our early years in their care?"
"I only remember years spent hiding," Paul ground out. "Afraid someone would find out they should not have been together."
"Does Raspier mean so much to you?"
"He meant nothing to me!" his brother yelled. "He was weak! He was a means to an end!"
It did not escape Simeon that his brother used the past tense when talking about his mentor.
"What are you planning?" Simeon said then, taking a step forward. "People have died ..."
"And more will do so until the True Faith is recognised!" Paul barked, stepping forward to meet him, until they were inches apart. Simeon an inch shorter, but more powerful and well-muscled against the younger man's lean though obviously strong physique.
"And how will that happen?" Simeon sighed. "Our world will always be divided by religion. France has fought battles all our lives!"
"Wait and see, brother," Paul Masonne said, softly. "It will be glorious."
Simeon ran a hand over his cropped hair, the other on the hilt of his sword;
"They will stop you," he said, searching his brother's face, and seeing nothing. The bright blue eyes of the child now a dull gray.
"They can try," Paul laughed. "But you will not stop me. Your oath forbids it."
"You hold me to that, yet you do not recognise my faith?" Simeon Masonne replied.
"I do not. I never will until the last breath leaves my body."
"You are conflicted! You speak Raspier's words. Our father ..."
"Your father!"
"...loved our mother!"Simeon cried, his voice breaking. "He died trying to protect her! To protect you by asking the oath of me. Not ordering, Paul. Asking. Imploring. I gave it gladly. Our parents hoped for a new world!"
Paul seemed to shake with anger.
"Then it was a FALSE hope!" he yelled, raising his hand and stabbing his finger toward the door. "Go now! Before I remember you are a traitor who saved a Musketeer before me. That was your oath laid bare, brother! You left me behind. You left me in Hell! You owe me!"
Simeon's eyes widened as he stared at his brother. He staggered back a step, sure his knees would buckle;
"I tried!" he said. "You would not come! I pleaded with you that day to follow me from the city! You would not abandon Raspier! He told you a lie. I lost my brother that day! And from what I see, he is lost to me still."
"Then go! Or I swear on our mother's life you will die as he died."
Simeon turned to go, his brother's screamed words reverberating behind him;
"I had him! I had that Musketeer! He should have died like a rabid dog! Did you have a hand in his rescue a second time, brother? Did you trick me that day? Were you in it with the Privateer? Well, they will both die. My men are hunting them. They will both die!"
"I told you the truth!" Simeon snarled as he turned and strode to the door.
"Think on your oath to out father, Simeon," Paul shouted at his back. "Think on your oath!
As he hurried away, his legs not working fast enough to take him from that place, Simeon knew then that Gaspar Raspier was dead, murdered by his own protégé, but his legacy lived on in hate and madness in his brother. More so, Paul had just confined him to his own Living Hell with the oath he had sworn to his stricken father all those years ago to always protect his younger brother. No matter what. Even it seemed, if that brother was quite insane.
Reaching the street, Simeon's hand shook as he raised it to cross himself.
He could hardly breathe as he staggered away.
/
"I think we are being followed," Foubier said, softly, as he and Athos road quietly side by side.
"We are," Athos replied, simply, without turning his head.
"The hat suits you," Foubier said then, which made Athos turn, no doubt what Foubier wanted.
"Foubier …" Athos snarled.
"Could just be bandits," Foubier interrupted, nonchalantly.
Athos gave him a look that almost made him laugh, given the circumstances.
Jacques Luc had taken to calling his stallion "Shanty," and had also taken to singing a number of strong-rhythmed songs, explaining how they applied each one on board ship. Athos had clamped his jaws shut, but they kept on coming, until Athos had raised his hand.
"I trust they will not all revolve around raucousness and debauchery," he had murmured.
Foubier had looked wounded, but quickly recovered, announcing that the next one was applied when they were hoisting the sails.
"Keeps the men in time," he had explained.
He started to hum one of the shanties now.
Athos rolled his eyes.
"The last time we travelled on this road," Athos said, firmly, "There was a disused farm an hour's ride in that direction," Athos said, pointing to the east. "If we are being followed, we can lead them there and await their arrival."
"We can do better," Jacques Luc replied.
Athos raised an eyebrow and waited, the horses hooves the only sound as they walked majestically along the track.
"We can split up," Foubier said, reaching out and patting his horse's neck.
"So soon?" Athos replied, raising an eyebrow and looking across at him. "Was it something I said?"
Foubier laughed, pulling out his compass. They were well away from the Seine now, in open countryside. He had seen movement on the horizon a short while ago and Athos's comment had confirmed it.
"I suggest we separate," Foubier said. "You go south and I go east and we double back and meet at the farm. If we are being followed, we will soon know. We will have the element of surprise and then, we can deal with them."
"Very well," Athos agreed. "It is a sound enough strategy. It will split them up. It should only take us an hour or so, it will not lose us too much time."
Foubier leaned across with his outstretched hand.
Athos eyed it, before he reached out and took it.
"You wanted adventure, Jacques Luc," he murmured. "Let it not be your undoing."
"I was going to say the same to you. Perhaps not so eloquently."
"I expected nothing less," Athos said, wrapping the reins around his gloved hands and digging a heel into his horse's side.
"Remember, your horse is as valuable as your life today," Athos called as he turned the horse, which had now picked up on the tension and was shaking its head, ready for flight.
"You Musketeers," Foubier said, with a small smile. "So dramatic."
With that, they each set off; Athos along the road to the south and Jacques Luc continuing across the meadow to the east.
To be continued …
A/N: "Shanty" from the French verb "chanter," meaning "to sing."