Many thanks for reading and reviewing, as always.
Another longer chapter, but I think it's warranted.
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Chapter Thirty Eight
A few moments earlier, Athos had taken hold of the door handle, a great iron ring. Holding his breath, he turned it. And it opened.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he nearly cracked his head on the way through, forgetting that he had already seen from below that it was a small opening.
He emerged into the cacophony of the Great Bells and the bright light after the gloom of the staircase. He was breathing heavily, his knees twinging. He would need to hold on to his strength if he was to meet Masonne. He was approximately the same height, he judged, but Masonne was all lean muscle. Athos had not seen his swordplay though, so he may be more brawn than finesse. He just needed to put him down, like the animal he was.
He looked ahead. There was no sign of Foubier, the door to that tower, a mirror image of his own, was still shut. He made the decision not to wait for him and, raising his sword, he crouched and moved on to the gallery walkway. His legs still felt heavy, his knees stiffening after the climb. He reckoned it was over three hundred steps in all and he would not be in a hurry to do the climb again.
Moving along the walkway, he tried to shut out the sound of the bells but it was impossible. They were designed to be heard throughout Paris and he reminded himself that he was here to save them, not complain about them.
He concentrated on following the stone balustrade. The railing turned sharply ahead, going around the side of the tower. He was walking forward blind, not knowing what he would find. He shifted his back to the facade and took a quick look around the sharp bend.
There was nothing to see, only another stretch of walkway and then another bend, as before.
He made the mistake of looking down.
His stomach shifted.
He was not averse to heights, he had been on many a hillside and rooftop in his time as a Musketeer but this was the highest he had ever been. The wide square stretched below him, figures moving about that were more akin to insects that people. There would be no safe landing and Aramis's words came back to him; "Don't let Masonne fall or others will be killed." Or words to that effect.
The rhythm of the bell suddenly changed.
The King and Queen were arriving.
He did not look, safe in the knowledge that Treville was down there, protecting them and the Captain would be informed by his brother as to what was happening above him. Turning back to the walkway, he approached the second sharp bend. This time, there was something to see.
A rope entwined through the balustrade stretched before him. As he looked more closely, he saw that it was a fuse.
It had suddenly become very serious.
To his relief, the fuse was not lit. They were in time!
As he moved along the gallery though, he saw a shape ahead.
Beneath the chimera of the Bear, Masonne was crouched, hunched over something and to his horror, Athos saw that it was another fuse. As his eyes flicked over the gallery floor, he saw that there were at least five more fuses, unlit as yet but Masonne was nothing if not determined.
"Masonne!" Athos yelled, as he moved quickly along the gallery.
Paul Masonne jerked at the disturbance and reached down, picking up the sword he had laid beside him.
There were no others around and Athos gave silent thanks to this man's brother, Simeon, who had achieved his aim this morning, it seemed.
Masonne shifted and Athos saw what he had been doing.
The long fuse in his hand that snaked away toward the Bear, was lit and sparking and as Athos rushed forward, Masonne threw it toward his face.
Athos turned his head away, though without his uniform leather jacket, he had little protection and the lit fuse glanced off his shoulder, but not before it had caused the material of his shirt to catch.
Stunned by the action, Athos clamped a gloved hand over the smouldering material before the embers could catch fully alight. He gritted his teeth as the flesh of his shoulder scorched, the edges of the material melting. He staggered back and ripped his sleeve from his arm with a grimace. It fluttered away across the floor on the breeze.
Paul though, took the advantage and he launched himself at his enemy, sword raised.
"I left you to die like the dog you are!" he screamed. "You will not stop me now!"
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Some moments later, Foubier too had come across the fuse. His relief was palpable though when he saw that the fuse was not lit.
His mood changed quickly when he became aware of the sound of swordplay.
He had been a good swordsman in his time but it had been a while since he had wielded one in a one-to-one situation for any length of time or for something as important as this. There was little use for gentlemanly rules in the life he now led. However, he knew he was heading towards one of the King's best Musketeers and the odds were in their favour.
What he saw when he rounded the corner took his breath for a moment.
Athos and Masonne were engaged in a pitched battle.
Above them, Foubier saw the outline of a large stone stork on the edifice of the cathedral, but he did not have time to comment on it. Perhaps later, for also behind Athos and Masonne, the fuse snaked through the balustrades and out of sight. Foubier did not like to think what lay at the end of the fuse.
He soon found out though, for when Athos caught sight of him, he yelled;
"The fuse! Get the fuse!"
The fuse Athos pointed to was a second one, and this one was lit. Not only that, but more fuses lay criss-crossing on the ground, ready to be lit either by Masonne or by the one now burning down.
Athos worked at keeping Masonne engaged as Foubier rushed past them. The fuse was ahead of him but because it was entwined amid the stonework, he would need to disengage it so he could stamp it out. He could not do that where it was.
The sound of cursing met his ears, followed by a sharp yell. He could not think of that now. He had to get the fuse out. He pulled at it, trying to avoid the fierce flame sparking at the end. Pulling his fingers back a few times he realised he would just have to grasp it as best he could, so he pulled the cuffs of his coat over his hands, leaving only his fingers free to prise the fuse from its purchase.
Once, twice, he pulled it but to no avail. He drew on the auspices of his Sea God once more and gripped the end, almost screaming when the flame burned into his fingers. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pulled once more and this time, it came free. He staggered back, his back hitting the wall, just as movement caught the corner of his eye. He had dropped his sword in order to deal with the fuse, but he pulled out the knife that hung from his belt, ready for combat, stopping only when he realised it was Athos staggering toward him, blood trickling from a cut on his cheek.
Hands gripping each others shoulders, they pounced on the end of the fuse, stamping their booted feet on the flame. It seemed to take an age, the stubborn flame hissing faster and faster toward what they could only guess was barrels of gunpowder, around the bend in the walkway.
The fuse was so much shorter now and for the first time, they saw what they were up against. Not barrels of gunpowder, but sacks. The were brown builders sacks. Masonne and his pack no doubt had hauled them up here with the stolen pulleys under the pretext of maintenance. They had probably had the Temple de l'Oratoire under observation for some time and seen how those working on it managed to move their equipment.
It would not take a huge explosion to rupture the towers. They were both fronted by open louvred frames to allow the sound of the bells to be heard around the city. There were vaulted wooded ceilings in the towers. Athos had glimpsed them through narrow doors level with the door he had opened onto the gallery walkway. He presumed they led to the very top of the towers, somewhere he had no desire to go.
It was a mad, frantic dance as they both stamped on the fuse. Just as they were winning their battle, Masonne came roaring around the corner, the front of his doublet covered in blood.
"He is not dead?" Foubier cried, turning to face the red-haired man,whose blue eyes were blazing, his mouth open in a roar, the very essence of a wild creature.
"Apparently not!" Athos hissed, moving forward to engage him once more, leaving Foubier to the fuse.
Athos threw Masonne back against the facade. The man is an animal, driven by adrenaline. He is breathing heavily, but suddenly, he surges, twisting and pushing Athos toward the railings. The sky suddenly tilts alarmingly as Athos finds himself with the balustrade pushing into his back, a hand on his throat, pushing his head back. He catches sight of the insects way below and for a moment, he heart almost stops, as he thinks about what Aramis would say if it was he who landed at his feet. He loses grip on his sword, which drops from his hand. Instead of dropping onto the stone floor, it catches on top of the balustrade and remains, beginning a slow spin, its trajectory aiming only one way. He reaches out for it, his fingers scrabbling, Masonne's hand tightening on his throat.
Black spots begin to form at the edges of his vision and his head begins to swim, Masonne's curses barely audible as the blood pounds in his ears.
His fingers brush against the hilt of his sword, balanced precariously on the balustrade and his brain allows him one last action, and the sword is suddenly in his hand. He swings the blade and brings his knee up at the same time. The hilt connects with Masonne's shoulder and with a grunt, Masonne's hands leave him.
Suddenly thrown off-balance by the movement, Athos struggles to right himself. When he does, he sees Masonne staggering through the door of the right tower. Dragging in a breath and desperately trying to hang on this his stomach, Athos straightens, looking wildly around for Foubier.
"Go!" Foubier shouts as the flames finally goes out inches from the sacks. "The fuse is out. We are safe! I'll take care of this!" Now he has to pull the remaining fuses from the sacks.
"He is going after the King!" Athos shouts. "It is his only option."
Athos hurls himself after Masonne with Foubier not far behind.
Going down is no easier than going up as momentum carries him and there is nothing to stop his forward motion. The only thing he can do is twist so that he is facing the steps, where he momentarily drops to his knees, feeling the hard stone bite into his shins. Gathering himself, he starts again.
Ahead of him, Masonne is staggering around the twists and turns though Athos cannot see him, and he realises he will not catch up with him. Foubier is behind him now, his boots drumming on the stone steps, his breath coming in harsh gasps.
"Masonne!" Athos bellows, in desperation, knowing it is futile. Masonne will not stop.
Ahead of him, Paul Masonne takes the steps precariously, but does not lose his balance. His goal now, is the King. He knows he is alone, his men have deserted him, but there is a voice in his head that he cannot shake.
Gaspar Raspier, phantom that he is, is not willing to let his protégé go.
Behind his, Athos yells, and Masonne smirks. It is an added satisfaction to know that the Musketeer will ultimately fail.
His hand slides along the curved wall. He is almost at the bottom now. He can hear the people outside cheering. Louis is out there, Richelieu too, no doubt. He will get them both if he can.
He rounds another turn, the dimness lifting a little as he nears the bottom of the staircase.
And it is as if he runs into a wall.
Everything stops.
For a moment, he does not know why, until the sudden coldness that has slammed into his gut turns to intense heat.
He drops his eyes and sees the length of steel that has impaled him.
Lifting his head, he stares wide-eyed into the clear eyes of his brother, Simeon.
"It's over, Paul," Simeon says, softly, but his face is impassive.
"Traitor!" Paul manages to cry, as Simeon pulls his blade out, and pushes him back against the steps.
"Once, I may have believed that. But we are brothers no more. My debt is paid," Simeon said, taking a step down as Athos rushes into view, in time to see Simeon replace his blade, his face expressionless. Athos throws out his arm to stop Foubier, bracing himself as the Privateer slams into him.
Paul Masonne, crumpled on the step, slowly keels over to the side, his head hitting the wall.
His face slackens and he dies.
Athos looked from him to Simeon.
"Simeon?" he whispered.
Simeon looked up at Athos and Foubier and pulled in a ragged breath.
"I'm alright," he said, his voice quiet but strong.
"My brother died in the city of La Rochelle. He was lost the moment Raspier came for him as a boy. His hold was too strong."
"He did not succeed in fulfilling Raspier's plans today," Athos said. "Thanks to you."
"And I am glad of it," Simeon sighed. "I have made my peace with God. He gave me strength today."
"You probably saved the King's life today, for that is where he was heading," Athos said, stepping around Paul Masonne's body and bracing himself on the wall next to Simeon.
"Like The Wolf," Simeon said, sadly, "Persistent to the end."
If it had been Aramis by his side, Athos knew he would have said a prayer for Paul Masonne's soul, but neither Athos or Foubier were religious men and so they eased past the two Masonne brothers.
"I will send someone to help you," Athos said, dropping a hand on Simeon's shoulder as they both continued down the stairs to give the all-clear to Treville and his brothers.
The square was full of people, though the service was still on-going. No-one had been aware of what had occurred high above them, save for a handful of Musketeers.
"The Stork was nice," Foubier said, as they crossed the square and approached a small number of Musketeer guard, gathered together and awaiting their return.
Athos tentatively raised his arm and took a look at his reddened, painful shoulder.
"I much preferred the Bear," he murmured.
"I thought you would say that," Foubier laughed.
He clapped Athos on his good shoulder and kept his hand there as they walked on.
Athos, tired though he was, allowed it.
To be continued …
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A/N: Photos of the Bear and the Stork on the Chimera Gallery can be seen online. There is also a video. I claim poetic license as the chimeras were added a little later than our story timeline, although the gargoyles were in situ from the early days Notre Dame's construction.