A/N: My thanks to the Guests and Doubtful Guest, who I cannot thank personally for your kind comments.
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Chapter Thirty
It had taken almost four days, but at last, Athos and Foubier sat quietly side by side within the tree line, looking down on the city of Paris sprawled across the landscape in the distance. They were bruised and battered, tired and hungry. It had been ten days since Athos had seen his brothers. By now, Foubier hoped that the Adrianna would be unloading her cargo in La Havre.
Below, the King was in danger. Athos had information on a possible threat to Richelieu, but the King was his priority. There would be men in the city who were preparing, or indeed by now engaged in a Huguenot rebellion led by The Wolf, a man who had melted away after the Siege of La Rochelle, but whose influence they all had felt.
Foubier straightened and took up his reins. Athos, though, remained perfectly still.
"What is it?" Foubier said, calming his skittish horse.
It was then that Athos proposed another detour.
"We go across the pasture," he said, pointing eastward, to their left, as Paris lay below, to their right.
"Off the road?" Foubier replied, looking around.
"If those other two are ahead of us, if we continue we will be like sitting ducks," Athos explained, meeting Foubier's eyes. "We need the advantage. I would hate to die so close to home."
Foubier rubbed his chin.
"Then, lead on," he said, allowing Athos to ride a few paces ahead before he pulled his horse off the road to the left.
They would ride in a wide circle, skirting parallel to Paris, under cover of the last line of trees, before turning and riding down the steep slope from a different angle, hopefully catching any waiting ambushers off guard and left footed.
With Paris to the right and way below, they rode quietly eastward.
After some thirty minutes, Athos gave Foubier a last glance over his shoulder and reached down to stroke his horse's neck. He whispered a word of encouragement and then he squeezed the horse's ribcage with his lower legs and the horse surged forward in response. Leaning low over the side of the horse's head, he took off.
Foubier did the same and they flew down the hill with Paris in their sights, the decline speeding their way, their horse's manes flying in the breeze.
Halfway down, Foubier risked a look behind him, turning his head and craning his neck.
Sure enough, there in the distance, two figures on horseback came bursting from the treeline, but where the road lay to the west, and high on the hill.
Foubier grinned. Athos had been exactly right. They had the advantage, although the thought struck him that these men and their horses would be more rested, having no doubt been biding their time until the Musketeer and the Privateer rode into their trap.
"They're coming!" he yelled at Athos, slightly ahead of him. Athos turned his head and looked back at the two figures in the distance, coming at them at a steep angle but gaining on them all the time.
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The horses thundered down the hill.
Ahead, they could see the city's walled fortifications. There were several gates in the various ancient walls that surrounded the city, the right bank having six gates and the left bank, five. Athos knew them all, and on most days, the men who guarded them.
Without looking back again, they reached a gate that stood away from the throng of the busy Pont Neuf bridge, for Athos had formed an idea upon first sight of the city from the hillside. He needed to stay alive, and assassinations amongst the populace busy with their daily lives was too tempting for anyone intent on silencing a target and then slipping away in the crowds. He also had the safety of Louis's subjects to consider.
Passing through the gate, Athos leapt from his horse with Foubier pulling up beside him in confusion. He handed his reins to one of the guards who had risen with a nod of recognition from a bench at the foot of the wall to greet him.
"Take care of our horses, if you will," Athos said, quickly. "I will send for them. There are two men following, let them through."
"What are we doing?" Foubier asked, dismounting and further confused. "Are we going on foot?"
Athos looked up quickly at the wall.
"We are going up there," he said, as he strode to the stone steps set in the wall.
"Ah," Foubier said, falling into step, "Another trap?" he asked, as they reached the top of the stairs and watched the figures almost upon them.
"We need one of them, Foubier," Athos said, firmly.
"So, where are we going?" Foubier asked.
Athos pointed to the rooftops.
"Up there," he said, turning toward the tiled roof that adjoined the wall. "Do you have a head for heights, Jacques Luc?"
"I have a head for most things," Foubier replied, hurriedly, stepping beside him.
Athos nodded and took a step back. And then, without further discussion, he jumped across the gap between the wall and the roof.
"I didn't take you for a cat, my friend," Foubier called, eyeing the gap, before launching himself after Athos.
"I had a good teacher," Athos replied, grabbing Foubier's arm as he straightened. "And besides, it is safer up here."
"Safer for who?" Foubier replied.
The riders were very close now, and he instinctively crouched.
Athos looked down at the people making their way through the streets.
"The people, for one," he replied.
"But they will slow them down," Foubier argued.
"But we can track them from up here, and pick one of them off," Athos replied. "But I need the other. We have to have him interrogated."
He looked at Foubier;
"The King has some excellent interrogators in his dungeons. It is about time the advantage was ours."
"Lead on," Foubier replied, swayed by Athos's reasoning.
With that, Athos turned and crossed onto another adjoining roof, as the sound of horses clattered through the gates below them.
At the same time, the guard on the wall was moving their two horses away, and one of the assailants pulled up. The guard waved him on.
His companion had also pulled up now. They had no reason to believe the horses were those belonging to Athos and Foubier, but they stood out. Above them, Athos and Foubier watched them question the guard, who shook his head.
"Move along!" the guard shouted at them, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Athos tracked them from above, before positioning himself on a parapet, where they could see him. As they looked up, Athos was standing, sword drawn, feet apart and hat pulled low over his eyes, looking down at them. To their left, Foubier stood, before firing a stone at their feet by way of a challenge. Immediately, Athos and Foubier parted, each headed for different roofs. With that, the two men dismounted and pushed passed the guard, leaving their horses and running up the stone steps, their swords unsheathed. Athos had told the guard to let them pass and so reluctantly, the man did so, watching as the two gave chase.
Athos ran up a slight gradient and crossed onto a tiled roof, while Foubier dropped down a little way onto a wide wall and ran along it, in the same direction but parallel to Athos. Below, some people had stopped to watch but the guards ushered them on, moving the four horses along to a railing by their timber guardhouse.
Athos lost sight of Foubier now, as he edged around a tall chimney and onto the ridge tiles of a long roof. In the near distance, he could see the familiar landmarks of Paris, the Seine behind. Somewhere down there, the Musketeers were gathering, rehearsing and preparing for the Easter Sunday celebrations in two days time.
Behind him, he could hear one of the pack climbing up a drain pipe. Across the alley between his building and the next, he finally saw Foubier, engaged in a shoving and punching match with the other man. By the look of it, he was thoroughly enjoying himself, no doubt taking satisfaction for the times they had been attacked by the men's comrades.
Just then, Foubier's foot slipped and the man grabbed him, with the intention of pushing him over the edge of the roof. Foubier, though, jammed his foot into the gutter that ran along the edge of the roof, steadying himself. He landed an upper cut on his opponent's jaw. Unable to hang on without dislocating his ankle, he had to let the man go and, taking a few roof tiles with him, the man disappeared over the edge of the roof, evidently hitting a lower roof, before a final thud indicated his downward journey had come to an end.
"Sorry!" he called out to Athos, who was fighting with swords now. It meant of course, that Athos would now need to keep his own opponent alive, if he still wished to take one of them alive.
Athos gritted his teeth.
He would have to make his way down from the roof and fight on safer territory if he and his assailant were both to live and so he waved Foubier down from the roof and re-sheathed his sword before jumping down on to a flat roof below, almost toppling over himself. From there, it was a question of shinning down the square drainpipe as quickly as he could, as the man he had left behind on the roof was now leaning over, swiping his blade at his head.
As Athos got himself out of range, the man re-sheathed his sword and began his own descent of the drainpipe.
Athos took off along an alleyway, careful that the man could see where he had gone. Foubier followed along the top of a wall, before dropping down. Athos appeared at his side and grabbed his collar and dragged him down an opposite alley.
They climbed over another low rooftop, this time, Foubier in the lead. Foubier grabbed Athos's belt and yanked him up on to a higher roof.
There they had a vantage point.
Notre Dame stood majestically in the distance, giving Athos his bearings. He searched for the Temple de l'Oratoire, Richelieu's newest development. They were still some distance off.
Their pursuer suddenly appeared at the end of the alley, twisting and turning, looking for Athos.
Athos nodded at Foubier, who dropped down into the alley, facing the man, waving him forward with a wide grin. The man growled and walked forward, swiping his blade from side to side. He was almost within striking distance when Athos dropped quietly down behind him.
Athos tapped him on the shoulder with the tip of his blade.
"I am Athos of the King's Musketeers," he said. "You are under arrest for incitement to violence, attempted murder and treason. You will come with us."
The man gave up, out of breath and outnumbered. Athos shoved him face first into the wall.
"I need to find Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan," he said, catching his breath.
"The Garrison?" Foubier asked, as he divested their prisoner of his weapons and tied his hands behind his back with his belt.
Athos though, faltered.
"We must get to the King first," Athos bit out. "We go to the Louvre."
It went against everything his heart was telling him but his duty came first.
To be continued ...