Chapter Twenty Six
"They are persistent, aren't they?" Foubier said, an hour or so later as Athos trained his spyglass on the horizon.
"There are only two," Athos replied, scanning the horizon but seeing no-one else.
"Do you think they found the bodies?" Foubier asked, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his long hair, before tucking it behind his ears.
"Probably," Athos muttered.
"Same tactic?" Foubier said, as he replaced his hat.
Athos looked at him. They were both weary now, carrying injuries and Foubier had one arm in a sling.
As if reading his mind, Foubier pulled the sling off and dropped it over the pommel of his horse.
"At least we are ahead of them," he smiled, looking every inch the Privateer that he was.
Athos replaced his spyglass in his inside pocket and pursed his lips.
"I would be happier if there were four of them," he said, quietly.
Frowning, he turned turned to Foubier;
"We need to circle back," he said, suddenly, his horse turning in a tight circle as he gripped the reins and shifted his feet in the stirrups.
"What? Why!" Foubier cried. His horse side-stepped in alarm at the disturbance.
"If they are tracking us, they will ride by Madame Lamont's homestead," Athos replied, turning a worried look on Foubier. "They will want answers. They will not be gentle."
Foubier instantly nodded in agreement and they turned their horses back, in readiness to draw their pursuers away from their previous track.
Foubier took out his compass.
"We can pick up the river if we go east," Athos said, watching him. "After we circle back."
"It is a longer route, Athos," Foubier replied with a frown. "The river meanders and is fed by smaller rivers which we will need to negotiate."
"And then we can cut across country once more for the last part of the journey," Athos continued, as if Foubier had not spoken. He had negotiated the river route before, after all. "It will eventually bring us to the pastures above Paris, but we will be in the open again for the final ride downhill."
"But in between that, we have this day and tomorrow to survive," Foubier replied.
"And two evenings," Athos added. "This second detour means we will not reach Paris before nightfall tomorrow."
"There will still be time, Athos," Foubier said.
"I know, but it will be tight," Athos agreed, tersely.
"Do we split up?" Foubier asked.
"No, not this time," Athos replied.
They lost the two men who were pursuing them by circling back, pulling themselves off course before they disappeared into woodland and dismounted, waiting for time to pass before continuing. At first, they had made sure they had been seen, but the men were sufficiently far away and after remounting and following one of the tributary rivers, they emerged at a point where the river was low. Easing their mounts slowly across, they made the opposite back, before making their way over a rise and disappearing into woodland once more. It was a delay they both accepted. It did ensure Madame Lamont would be safe though and, although it lost them time, it was not wasted.
Later, as the horses fed on the tender grass by a stream, Foubier and Athos took the opportunity to wash, one first standing guard and then the other.
"How does it feel?" Athos asked, as Foubier rotated his shoulder and grimaced as he dried himself with his shirt.
"It aches," Foubier replied as he led his horse into the stream to drink.
"The muscles have been disturbed," Athos said. "You will need to keep exercising it."
In answer, Foubier once more rolled his shoulder in a circle, grimacing again at the resultant ache.
"This is nice," he said, then, as he looked around the small copse they were in. "I had forgotten how peaceful the woods can be."
"The problem," Athos said, as Foubier dropped his shirt on the grass and laid down, "Is the gang members left behind in Paris. They will not all have been deployed to find us. They will continue with their plans."
"The Temple?" Foubier said, turning on his side and propping his head up with his hand.
"The Temple," Athos sighed, sitting on a nearby rock and pulling his boots on. "I am not too concerned about Richelieu. He has his own guards to protect him and it was his spies who first brought The Wolf to his attention. If he has chosen to ignore the threat, that is his concern."
"To protect his reputation," Foubier replied.
"Quite."
"But the threat to the King remains," Foubier added. "The two shall fall."
"The bear and the stork," Athos mused. "It still does not make sense, damn it."
"Could it be a tavern?" Foubier said, rolling onto his stomach and plucking at the grass in thought.
"Not one I have heard of," Athos said, taking the bag of food Madame Lamont had given them and setting it down between them. He looked down at Foubier and sternly met his gaze.
Foubier held up his hands;
"I didn't say anything" he laughed.
Athos could not help but smile.
"As Musketeers, we are required to know our city," he said, haughtily.
"Including the taverns, of course," Foubier agreed.
"Of course."
At the moment though, Athos felt as if something was missing from his knowledge.
He fed each horse one of the apples he had appropriated from the farm the previous day and then after eating some of the bread and cheese, they dusted themselves off and remounted. A little later they urged their mounts up an incline deeper in the wood, which would give them a viewpoint, and better, perhaps a cave in which to spend the night.
/
Luck was with them once more, as the two men plus horses fitted into the cave they found. After pulling branches across the entrance, they moved inside and lit a small fire, mainly for light, as they had decided not to cook. Madame Lamont's generosity had meant they had enough provisions to see them through the night and into their final day. Athos was silently hopeful of finding a tavern for their final evening, though, where doors could be barred.
He untied their two bedrolls and set them out away from the horses, next to the fire.
It was a relief to finally settle in the quiet of the cave and eat the simple meal before them. They had earlier filled their water bottles from the stream and wanted for nothing. The rum had run dry, but there was the brandy that Madame had gifted them, which Foubier retrieved before dropping down onto his bedroll.
"To the lovely Madame Lamont," Foubier said, raising the bottle.
"A worthy woman," Athos agreed, with a tilt of his head.
Foubier swallowed and smacked his lips;
"This would have been wasted in a cooking pot, Madame was right," he smiled.
"Agreed," Athos replied, spearing a piece of cold bacon with the blade from his boot.
"We will need better accommodation tomorrow," he added. "The horses will need a proper feed and brush down."
"Perhaps we will find a tavern called The Stork & Bear," Foubier replied, with a grin.
"With a back room full of conspirators," Athos added,"Their plans unrolled on the table."
Outside, the sudden sound of a twig breaking made them both freeze.
Athos reached for his sword which he had laid beside him. Foubier at his side, they moved to the brush that covered the cave entrance.
A noise outside made them tense, Athos looking at Foubier, who nodded. Athos would take the lead. He moved one of the branches cautiously. Outside, the light was fast fading. Streaks of gold stretched across the darkened sky in the distance. Somewhere, a jackdaw called.
And then, a shape passed quickly in front of the branches and Athos stood back, involuntarily.
Cursing, he let out a breath when the shadow turned and came back, snuffling around the branches.
"It is a pig," Athos grunted, flatly, turning back.
He could feel Foubier starting to laugh beside him;
"Pity we have no need of him tonight. We have bacon already," he said, slapping Athos on the shoulder.
Sitting back down, Athos picked up a stick and idly drew a stork and a bear in the loose earth next to the small fire.
"It's odd, isn't it?" Foubier said, as he passed the brandy over to the frowning Musketeer.
"What is?" Athos replied, wearily, looking up.
"Why a stork and a bear?" Foubier said. "One does not see them together."
"Not if the stork has any sense," Athos replied, leaning back and closing his eyes.
The fire cast long, meandering shadows over the walls and ceiling of the cave.
"What was her name?" Foubier said, abruptly, his voice soft in the quiet of the cave.
Athos turned his head toward Foubier, but the man was not looking at him, merely poking at the remnants of the fire.
After a long heart-searching moment, in which the only sound was the horses snuffling, Athos finally replied;
"Ann," he said, quietly, "Her name is Ann."
Foubier did look up then, searching Athos's face, surprised at his words.
"She is alive?" he said, his eyebrows raised.
"She is now," Athos replied, cryptically.
"And the knowledge does not warm your heart," Foubier stated. It was not a question.
He could see that, of course, by the brief look of despair that crossed his 'friend's' face; for that was how he was beginning to think of this Musketeer, who was bound by his oath but also by his nobility of spirit. It was a trait that Foubier admired, as he did not possess it in anything like the quantity that this man did. Athos eschewed the nobility, as he himself did, but decades of good breeding rendered a man with a strong core and ready heart. Whatever Ann had done to Athos had challenged him to that core, as had Adrianna's death to him, but Athos had thrown himself into the service of his King, following his noble line, despite denying it. They had both gone very separate ways because of what had happened to them, it seemed.
Foubier sighed;
"Sometimes men can be the most fragile of creatures when faced with the fairer sex," Foubier mused.
Athos ran a hand down his face.
"That is my experience," he replied, with a grim smile. "It is something that will not trouble me again."
"That would be a pity, my friend," Foubier replied, with a sad smile. "A great pity."
They finished the brandy in companionable silence. Packing away the remnants of their meal, they allowing the fire to die down. The warmth of the horse's bodies would be enough to keep any chill at bay. Foubier took the first watch, even though they both felt more secure, now that night had fallen.
Tomorrow would take them on the last leg of their journey. Athos would be reunited with his brothers and together, they would try to unravel the information he had.
Time though, was of the essence, and as Athos scrubbed his foot through the crude drawing he had etched earlier, he could not see how they would make sense of it.
To be continued ...