A/N: Fan Fiction glitches and laptop glitches. But all is well and I think this one needs a longer chapter!
/
Chapter Thirty Two
Later That Same Day:
Dishevelled and exhausted, Athos and Foubier arrived at the Louvre as the lamps were being lit. The courtyard was bathed in a soft, yellow glow. Quietly, after Athos had had a discreet word with the guards, they handed the prisoner over, before they entered the palace.
Foubier, who had never been in a Royal residence before, was entranced, running his hand over the marble balustrades and staring at the paintings.
"I can hear you calculating their worth," Athos muttered, as they along strode along the corridor to where the Musketeers usually stood guard.
The guard had changed for the evening and Athos pulled Foubier to the guard room further along the corridor where they briefly assembled after their duty, hoping they would still be there.
"I would have thought Aramis and Porthos would be scouring the streets for you," Foubier mused quietly as Athos hurried them down the corridor.
"No doubt they have been," Athos replied, tersely. "They were not to know I had been kidnapped by a Privateer."
"So ungrateful," Forbier returned, as they reached the double set of doors.
With slight trepidation at what he would find, Athos flung the door open and pushed Foubier inside.
Inside the room, all activity ceased.
Aramis and d'Artagnan leapt to their feet.
"Athos!" Aramis cried as he came forward to clasp his arm, before wrapping his arms around him.
Athos felt his bones go weak in relief at the sight of them, though he pulled in a sharp breath at his brother's tight grip.
Realising, Aramis quickly let go, running his eyes over Athos, before his gaze fell on the man by his side.
"Well, well," he said, quietly, shaking his head, a smile spreading across his face.
"Gentlemen," Foubier said, giving them a bow, before looking around the room. "You are one short I see?"
"Porthos is out, looking for you, brother," Aramis replied, his eyes back on Athos. "You are injured?"
"It is nothing," Athos declared, calmly, raising his hand.
Seeing the state of them, d'Artagnan poured two glasses of wine and handed them to Athos and Foubier, who both accepted gratefully and drank them straight off, before holding out their glasses for more.
"He was injured, but one of my men took care of it," Foubier explained.
"A medic?" Aramis asked him, doubtfully.
Foubier pursed his lips, before side-glancing Athos cautiously;
"Actually," he said, "Marcel was a butcher in his previous life."
Athos nearly spat out his drink;
"You told me he was a book-keeper!" he hissed, incredulously.
"Would you have been so amenable to his ministrations if you had known that?" Jacques Luc laughed. "Besides, butchers have an excellent knowledge of musculature."
Aramis laughed, mainly at Athos's indignant expression. How he had missed him.
Athos noticed d'Artagnan looking on in bemusement. Of course, he realised, he had not met Foubier, their previous adventure having occurred before his dramatic arrival at the Garrison.
"Jacques Luc," Athos said quietly, regaining his decorum, "This is d'Artagnan."
Foubier smiled and gave him a bow before holding out his hand.
"Ah, yes! Your fourth! I am pleased to meet you, at last," he said, his expression almost serious.
d'Artagnan looked a little confused, before shaking his hand.
Just then, heavy footsteps were heard in the corridor and, after a flurry of activity, Porthos came noisily into the room, newly returned from his search for information.
Seeing Athos, Porthos stopped dead in his tracks.
Brown eyes wide, he strode unseeing past Foubier and put both hands on either side of Athos's head, looking into his eyes.
"You're alive," he breathed.
Athos reached up and clasped his friend's arms tightly;
"It would seem so," he smiled.
"Now you are complete!" Foubier cried. "What was it Treville called you? The Inseparables? Yes, that was it!"
Porthos whirled around to address the man he had walked past, and his jaw dropped open when he saw who it was. He broke into a laugh.
"Captain Jacques Luc Foubier!" he grinned. "You been leadin' our brother astray?"
"Quite the contrary," Foubier retorted, with mock indignation, before he too broke into an easy laugh.
"Gentlemen, settle," Athos said, quietly. "We have much to discuss. Time is of the essence. We were pursued by six of Raspier's pack back to Paris but we were able to capture one of them. He is in the dungeons, though I doubt we will get much from him. None of the other five spoke."
"You despatched them all?" Aramis asked.
"It was them or us," Foubier interjected.
"What has been happening here?" Athos asked, looking from one to another.
Quickly sobering, they retreated to the table, and all sat.
"Where to begin?" Aramis sighed, running a hand over his jaw.
"How about chastisin' this one for 'is foolhardy escapade?" Porthos muttered, turning hard eyes to Athos.
"My apologies," Athos replied, quietly. "But let that to be the end of it."
Porthos narrowed his eyes and d'Artagnan shifted, but they both let it lie. For now.
"Nice hat," Aramis said, to lighten the mood.
Athos removed it and dropped it on the table in front of him.
"You should have seen the feather that came with it," Foubier muttered, under his breath.
"Ostentatious, no doubt," Aramis replied, knowingly. Porthos chuckled beside him.
"Just a little," Athos murmured, before raising an expectant eyebrow at Aramis to continue.
"I confess," Aramis began. "We found little out after you … left. Simeon has led us a merry dance," he added, "But we do have news. He came to the Garrison this morning. Apparently, Gaspar Raspier is dead."
He went on to describe the sporadic information Simeon had given them, his demeanour and how he had suddenly escaped them.
Athos took the news of Raspier's demise quietly.
"That explains why Paris is not in ruins," he said, finally. "But there is a plan afoot, led, I believe by a man called Paul Masonne," he added, "And we have little time before it comes to fruition. Two days in fact."
"And what is "it" precisely? Did you manage to find else anything out? It's so good to see you! Let's not do that again," Aramis babbled, until Athos dropped his hand on his shoulder with a smile.
"It is good to see you too," he said, looking around. "All of you. I will tell you what I know, but there are missing pieces we need to work on."
Sitting on the benches, Athos leant forward and quickly brought them up to speed, explaining how
he had seen Simeon but it was Foubier who had rescued him, what he had overheard in the grain store and how he had found himself onboard the Adrianna; Foubier chipping in when Athos's memory was vague, due to his injury. Lastly, he told them about their interest in the Temple de l'Oratoire.
"That's quite something. That is why you didn't find your way back to us straight away," d'Artagnan said. "We were worried."
"I found myself a little way from Paris," Athos replied. "I am not sure of Simeon's intentions and what would have happened if Jacques Luc had not pulled me out of there. But it was a surprise to find myself halfway to Le Havre."
"It was all I could think of on the spur of the moment," Foubier declared. "Simeon tried to kill you," he added wearily. "And I still don't see why you won't face the facts in front of you."
Sensing an undercurrent between the two men, the others held their tongues, watching intently.
"Because he is not the man you describe," Athos said, flatly. "I would speak to him about that."
Aramis shot Athos a concerned look, but Athos raised his hand to quieten any more questions.
"So now you know everything we know," Athos finished, including Foubier in his statement. "We were pursued mercilessly from Jacques Luc's mooring. They wanted us silenced."
"By that, he means dead. Thankfully, we outwitted them at every turn," Foubier said, slapping his leg and grinning, looking as if he had enjoyed every minute.
"Apart from one small matter," Athos replied, with a frown. "The gang spoke of 'the Stork and the Bear.' And that 'The two shall fall.' We have racked our brains and cannot tie the three in. Think on it, if you will."
"What about Simeon?" d'Artagnan asked, tentatively, his eyes wandering from Athos to Foubier.
"Foubier believes Simeon is in on it, as you see," Athos replied, glancing at Foubier, who rolled his eyes and huffed in frustration.
"You still have doubts?" the Privateer asked.
"Why would he come to the Garrison this morning?" Athos said, turning to look at his brothers.
"To save 'is skin," Porthos muttered, gruffly.
"Then why not say more? Why leave it where he did?" Athos persisted, his voice trailing away wearily.
"There is much to think on, but we are all exhausted and need to sleep," Aramis replied, rubbing his forehead. "But first, Athos, will you let me see?"
Athos sighed, knowing he would get no peace until Aramis had inspected Marcel's work. He finished his wine and pushed up from the table, taking a chair by the door. Aramis followed, as the others melted away to gather their belongings, taking Foubier with them in order to offer Athos and Aramis some privacy. Aramis pulled Athos's jacket from his shoulders as Athos was in the process of pulling out his shirt. He then tentatively unwrapped the bandage and sucked in his breath when he saw the new scar and bruising along his ribs.
Gripping his jaw, he turned his friend's face gently from left to right, noting the fading, yellowing bruises.
"So your sojourn with them was not for nothing?" he said, before meeting his eyes.
"They have pursued us, so yes, you could say it wasworthwhile. But I concede after what you have said that Simeon may be more deeply involved than I had thought."
"He was behaving very oddly this morning," Aramis murmured, as he dropped Athos's shirt without replacing the bandage. That would a job for the morning. "He was desperate to escape us, unfortunately. Though he said little, he knows much more. We need to find him. He came to us once, his conscience may prick him again with a little encouragement."
"And we may be back to square one, without him, " Athos sighed, pushing his shirt back in his breeches and standing.
"Let me help," Foubier said, from the doorway, startling them both.
"How?" Aramis and Athos said as one.
"I owe Simeon a consignment," Foubier replied, stepping into the room.
"Of what?" Aramis asked, frowning.
"Does it matter?" Foubier replied, holding his look.
"It might," Aramis replied.
"Muskets," Foubier stated. "And ammunition."
"You are supplying a felon?" Aramis asked.
"I am supplying a known supporter of the Monarchy," Foubier replied, his voice cold. "At least he was when we made the contract. If you boys and your King have upset him, it's not my fault. And how do you think you obtain your weaponry? It is not all legitimate, my friend."
"He's disappeared," Aramis repeated, coldly, ignoring Foubier's tone.
"I can locate him," Foubier replied, calmly. "I owe him the consignment, for which he has paid me half. He will want his due. And I have some questions for him."
"To what purpose?" Athos frowned.
"I found him with a knife at your throat. I think he was going to kill you, but you think he was trying to rescue you. If he was rescuing you, how do you explain the men who pursued us? How did they know?"
"Go on," Athos said. It was a thought that had occurred to him, regrettably.
"Well, that's the missing piece, isn't it? Does he know them? If so, will he do business with me for the muskets if I ask?"
"The muskets will be in Le Havre by now," Athos reminded him.
A broad smile broke out on Foubier's face.
"He doesn't know that."
Despite their scepticism, the two Musketeers looked at each other.
"That could work," Athos murmured.
"We don't have anything else," Porthos replied, having returned and listened to the exchange.
"And we only have two days until Easter Sunday," Foubier added.
"Very well," Athos said. "Find out what you can. But don't alert him if you don't have to. As far as they all know, we are bumbling Musketeers who they have bettered. I have fled and probably died from my wounds and am no longer a threat to them. Their riders are dead, they will not know we are reunited."
"Do we warn Richelieu?" Aramis asked in view of the information Athos had imparted about his captivity.
"I think we must," a familiar voice said from the doorway. "He has decided to consecrate the altar of the Temple on the morning of Easter Sunday. We cannot ignore the gang's interest in it. I will brief the Cardinal and the King in the morning."
Treville stepped into the room, having listened quietly unseen and without interruption to most of the conversation.
He strode over to Athos and clasped him by the hand.
"Athos, you have returned to us," he said, warmly. "And with valuable information."
"If we can figure it out, Captain," Foubier said.
Treville turned with a smile.
"Captain Foubier," he said. "What on earth are you doing here?"
"I might ask myself that question," Foubier replied, shaking hands warmly with Captain Treville. "It is good to see you again, and in one piece. I understand our previous mission to England was a success."
"A resounding success, yes, thanks to you."
"Only in part, you are too generous," Foubier said. "You can see why I could not let another adventure go by!"
"Once more you come to France's aid." Treville said.
"Will the King be with His Eminence on Sunday?" Athos urged, bringing them back to the matter in hand.
"No," Treville said, with some relief. "Louis will attend Notre Dame services with the Queen. Richelieu may join them later."
"The Temple is their target, I am sure. They gave me this," Athos said, pointing at his still-bruised eye, "to recount his movements. Fortunately, I did not know them."
"Nor did we. The Cardinal has been very tight-lipped of late." Treville said.
"There is still the riddle of the bear and the stork," Athos frowned.
"And the whereabouts of Masonne," d'Artagnan said, "Your red-haired man. At least we have evidence that he is a direct link to Raspier, "
"Thanks to you," Aramis said, smiling at d'Artagnan.
"You should have told us of your suspicions in the warehouse, Athos," Aramis said, then. "It may have made your decision easier to bear."
"There was little time, brother," Athos stated. "I did not want to warn him."
He turned to Foubier.
"Do you think you can find Simeon?" he asked, expectantly.
"Athos, please," Foubier smiled. "This is business. I think he will want to speak with me. And I am sure he will be curious as to what happened after he left the grain store so suddenly."
"Very well," Athos conceded. "It cannot do any harm, I suppose."
"Your faith in me is touching, Musketeer," Foubier responded.
He and Athos shared a look before an understanding passed between them.
"We return to the Garrison, gentlemen," Treville said, then. "Tomorrow will be a full day. We can find you accommodation, Captain Foubier," he added.
"I will be delighted," Foubier replied, looking just so.
"Captain," Athos interjected, "We left two excellent horses with the guards at the gate next to the Pont Neuf. They will be a fine addition to our stock. I said I would send for them."
Treville nodded appreciatively.
"Very well, I will leave word for our stable hands in the morning. In the meantime, you can double up with me on the ride back, Foubier with d'Artagnan?" he added, looking across at their youngest, who nodded his assent, casting a curious look at the Privateer.
Athos took Treville aside as the others left to make their way back to the Garrison.
"You heard we brought a prisoner with us?" he began. "In light of what has been said tonight, I would like to speak to him before his interrogation by the palace guards."
"Alright," Treville replied, reaching up to grasp Athos's shoulder. "I will accompany you."
They made their way to the small gaol block that formed the holding cells for any transgressors before they were transferred to the municipal prisons. The palace was a reflection of Paris society and had its own share of disagreements, thieving and occasionally, fights. The block was dimly lit by burning rushes, held in sconces. They walked past several cells, half of them empty, but the end one was the one they wanted, according to the guard.
Looking through the bars, Athos stared at the man who had tried, and failed, to kill him and Foubier. The man merely stared back, before turning his back and going to the back of the cell, facing the wall.
"How does he keep you with him?" Athos asked, in the quiet of the block, one hand gripping the bars.
The man did not respond.
"I am talking about Paul Masonne, for he is your leader, whether you know it or not," Athos added, matter-of-factly. "You should know, Gaspar Raspier is dead. He has been dead for many weeks, apparently. We have it on the authority of one of Richelieu's spies."
He saw the man's shoulders tighten. This was obviously news to him. He wondered how many of his compatriots knew The Wolf was dead. He glanced at Treville, who nodded for him to continue.
"What are the bear and the stork?" Athos demanded.
The man gave a low laugh and turned slowly to face them, his jaw tight.
"It makes no matter," the man hissed, before stepping forward to stare at Athos and Treville.
"The two shall fall," he sneered.
Athos tightened his hand around the bars.
The man continued to stare at them belligerently.
"There are enough of us," he said, before turning his back on them once more.
"But you won't see your plan come to fruition," Treville cut in. "You will be tried for your crimes. Was it worth it?"
The man stood defiant.
"There are enough of us," he repeated.
"Five are dead," Athos stated.
The man emitted a low laugh;
"That's nothing," he responded.
"You will hang," Treville warned.
"But not," the man replied, "Before I know the result. You cannot try me and hang me in time. "
He stepped aside into the shadows. It had been a terse exchange. He would say no more, they knew.
Athos gave his Captain a resigned look.
"There is nothing more we can do here. The guards may loosen his tongue," Treville said, though he doubted it. "Let's go. You need to rest."
It was true, Athos was exhausted and had been literally holding himself up by his tight grip on the bars of the cell.
They walked side by side out into the courtyard.
"It will be good to be in my own room once more," he admitted quietly.
"You don't want to share with Foubier?" Treville teased.
Athos huffed and turned without replying, walking toward the stables, where Treville's horse was waiting. Behind his back, Treville smiled. He knew the flamboyant Privateer and had an idea from personal experience what Athos had had to endure from the talkative man. He had expected such a reaction from Athos.
They rode quietly back to the Garrison, where they parted company with a silent handshake.
Treville was right, tomorrow would be a full day.
It would be an early start. They had two days but, if they did not make sufficient progress, it would be down to wire on Easter Sunday when the city would be thronged with people.
They were putting their trust that a Privateer could seek out a reluctant spy. The reputation of the Musketeers was at stake. Not to mention the lives of the two most eminent people in Paris.
To be continued ...