Torment and Heartache
Chapter Twenty One.
"A parley, who the hell does Athos think he is, you go back to the cell and kill them, the only parley they will get is the one called death." sneered Rochefort throwing another log into the large fire grate. "I will not bow down to such idiotic demands, these musketeers think they are of a paramount regiment."
The two guards exchanged glances as a pacing Rochefort ranted. He paused at the end of the long table and poured out wine into a goblet and took a swig, he suddenly turned on his heel and stared at the two men, a slight grin playing on his lips.
"No...I have changed my mind...I should have that honour of killing them...I have so wanted this for as long as I can recall."
Rochefort put down the goblet and glanced up.
"Have them brought before me, I will take great delight hearing them beg for mercy.
The two guards bowed slightly.
"Yes Comte."
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Both Athos and d'Artagnan crept slowly down the slightly lit passageway, the further they moved away from the cell the darker it had become. Both musketeers aware of each others presence as they stayed as close to the wall as was possible. A sudden flickering light ahead prompted both men to pause in their tracks.
"We are near to the main hall." whispered Athos turning to what he could make out as his brothers face.
The Gascon suddenly grasped the swordsmans arm as they both heard booted footfalls becoming louder.
"Wait!
Both musketeers turning on their heels and retreating behind a wall niche.
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Rochefort pulled out one of the chairs and sat, anger and iritation was evident on his enraged features. Once again the musketeers had hindered his mission, these interfering lackeys had to pay once and for all. He carelessly poured more wine into a goblet spilling the liquid onto the table top, before taking a swig.
Rochefort was suddenly stirred from his musing as the coldness of the pistol barrel made contact with the back of his neck. He sat rigid in the chair as he realised the true moment.
"How very clumsy of you." came the voice of Athos. "Wasting good wine."
Rochefort's jaw twitched, his eyes averting to the voice, his own pistol was in his grasp as he slowly moved his hand towards it.
Athos was too quick for him as the swordsman swept it out of his reach with a rapid swipe of his hand.
"Nice try! he muttered in Rochefort's ear.
Rochefort glanced up.
d'Artagnan was instantly in his sights, the Gascon retrieving his own weapons from where they had left them.
Athos moved slowly around the table, the pistol still aimed at Rochefort, the sneering grin had vanished from his face.
"I'll check on the queen and Constance." said d'Artagnan re-loading his pistol and clipping it to his belt.
Rochefort glared, his teeth clenched, a vicious almost demented glare filled his face. They had known all along where the queen was. Bastards resounded through his mind, he had sent out his men on a wild goose chase, just when he had needed them.
Athos nodded towards his brother before turning back to Rochefort.
"Where are Aramis and Porthos? growled the swordsman.
Rochefort stared across the table towards him, his scowling features suddenly manifesting into a slight sneering grin.
"The devotion you show for your comrades is quite sickening...they are probably dead by now, besides you wont kill me...you need me...otherwise you may never know where your two jester friends are."
Athos glared across the table at him.
"Oh do not fret Rochefort I am not going to kill you, I would rather watch as you slowly wriggle at the end of the noose." sneered the swordsman. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure."
Rochefort's jaw twitched as he heeded the musketeers words.
"Oh I will not hang...I will be well gone by then...I will be starting a new life in England." came the scowling reply.
A slight mirth flittered over Athos' lips.
"And you thought you would be taking the queen with you...but alas we came along and your dream became a nightmare." scoffed the swordsman.
Rochefort grinded his teeth together with stifled rage as he stared at the musketeer who had now retrieved his discarded weapons and clipped them to his belt.
"Now...answer my question, where are Aramis and Porthos? I may not be killing you...but I can still sever a limb, or would you prefare an ear or maybe...
Athos was cut off from his goading as Rochefort growled.
..."mock all you like musketeer, you will never find them."
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Porthos crawled slowly in the dark, he could just make out Aramis as he leaned up against the stone wall, his breath felt ragged, the air was thin.
"Ara...mis...Aramis! he hissed shaking his friend to life.
The marksman suddenly jolted awake.
"I can hear voices." gasped Porthos.
Aramis wiped a hand across his brow and looked at his friend.
"I don't hear anything." he muttered.
"Listen...there...then." interjected Porthos.
Aramis reached for the old rusty sword his big friend had found and began to strike the wall.
Both musketeers begain to yell out loud.
ATHOOOSSS! d'ARTAGNAAAAN!
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TBC...
Hi Guys,
A short chapter this time, hope you don't mind. This will be the last one until after Christmas, then will cary on as usual.
I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas and New Year, let us hope next year will be alot better, well it couldn't be any worse surely.
Stay safe wherever you are.
Love Pippa
xxx
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