Greetings! Thank you so much for the comments and to all the readers.
Just to give you some advance warning - there will be one or maybe two more chapters before next Wednesday and then there will be a break for a couple of weeks as I am off to spend some much-needed time with family at long last. It is the first time I will have seen them in seventeen months thanks to the pandemic. That is the longest time ever that we have been apart; even when I lived in the US for a year, they all came visiting! I am getting so excited. Next Thursday is our Christmas Day, Easter and a whole load of birthdays all rolled into one before three of us escape to the depths of the country to spend precious time together ... in a converted hen house! As much as I love all things writing, I am not going to do any so I hope you'll forgive me.
Here, the journey to Calais begins.
CHAPTER 4
I
The garrison was just coming to life in the early morning light when Tréville left his office and descended into the yard to where four horses were already saddled and waiting, courtesy of a sleepy stable boy as he stood holding the reins.
The Infirmary door opened and the three friends emerged. Aramis, a bag of medical supplies in one hand, turned and closed the door behind him very carefully and quietly.
"All set?" the Captain asked as they moved with long, easy strides towards him. He could see that additional bags containing a few personal belongings such as grooming items and a change of shirt had already been strapped to the back of the saddles.
"We are ready," Athos replied.
"You'll need this," Tréville said, handing him a small, folded map of their route to Calais.
"We know the way," Athos was quick to point out.
"I know that you do but it is just in case you have to find a swift detour."
"You suspect that we will not be alone on our route?" Athos raised an eyebrow.
"Let's just say that I would not be surprised," Tréville countered. "I was not amused to discover that the documents you were sent to fetch were linked with this mission, so I no longer believe that you met up with some opportunist robbers. And with that in mind, I cannot trust Richelieu to have told us everything even now. You must watch yourselves."
Athos nodded as Serge appeared from the kitchen with a tray of bread, cheese, fruit and ale which he set down on the table usually occupied by the Inseparables.
"You'll eat first before you go," he ordered and glanced at the Captain. "You too."
His kitchen boy joined him with a set of cups which he also set down and handed the grizzled cook a sack.
"Some provisions for your journey," Serge continued, passing it on to Porthos.
"Where's ours?" Aramis asked, a glint in his eye as he nodded towards Athos, who was already breaking off a chunk of bread and crowning it with a slice of cheese.
"That's for all of you an' the man you're takin'," Serge said innocently. "You'll no doubt do a bit of huntin' to top it up."
"And you think by handing it to Porthos any of it will be left by the time we have reached the outskirts of Paris?" Aramis asked as he poured a cup of ale and handed it to Tréville.
Porthos looked mortified. "You're doin' me an injustice," he declared. "I'm a growin' lad."
Aramis chuckled. "Then it's about time you stopped your growing."
"You know Porthos has a prodigious appetite," Athos said, before taking a bite of his food.
"No!" Aramis objected. "He's just greedy and constantly thinking of nothing but his stomach."
"I can't help it if I appreciate food; all food," Porthos said in his defence.
Tréville huffed in amusement at the early morning banter between the three men who looked rested and were clearly in fine spirits.
"How was d'Artagnan when you left him?" he asked.
"Still sleeping," Athos answered quickly. A little too quickly.
Tréville' brow furrowed. "I know you three can move quietly when you want but even so …" his voice trailed off as his eyes took in the array of weapons the men wore about their person.
Aramis sighed. "Let's just say we wanted him to have a good night's rest."
"And we did not want to disturb him as we departed," Athos added.
"An' none of us like long goodbyes," Porthos said.
Tréville looked from one to the other of them and then focused on Aramis. "So you gave him something to help him sleep."
"I did not want him to be uncomfortable or in pain," Aramis reasoned.
The Captain took a mouthful of ale. "You know he is going to be furious with you all when he finds out what you've done; that you slid off without saying goodbye and I shall have to deal with it."
"He's not a Musketeer yet," Aramis reminded him, "so he won't dare give you a hard time."
"Oh he'll find a way; you can depend on that. I can already feel it in my bones," Tréville complained.
"You'll deal with 'im," Porthos said dismissively as he helped himself to the simple fare Serge had provided. He closed his eyes in contentment as he chewed.
"I suppose you three have given me some practice," the Captain went on as he bit into an apple.
Athos' eyes widened as if offended by the observation. "I have no idea what you mean! I am not like these two."
Tréville almost choked on the fruit. "There are times when you're the worst one!"
Porthos and Aramis erupted into laughter at the expression of shock on their brother's face as if he had been terribly maligned.
"What were your impressions of Tanquerel?" Athos then asked, subtly changing the subject onto supposedly safer ground.
"Difficult to say. We didn't have much to do with him in that meeting yesterday. He was as skilful as Richelieu though in providing somewhat vague answers," Tréville said.
"My thoughts exactly," Athos agreed, helping himself to more ale.
"I may be misjudging him, but you'd do well to find out anything you can about him on your way to Calais."
"Oh I intend to," Athos reassured the officer.
The conversation slipped into pleasantries as they finished breaking their fast, not one of them having seated himself at the table and it was not much longer before the four mounted and walked their horses out through the archway and into the street.
At the palace, they found Tanquerel conversing with Richelieu as he stood ready and waiting for the Musketeers to arrive. They greeted each other briefly.
"Are there any last-minute instructions for my men?" Tréville asked pointedly, his blue eyes fixed upon the Cardinal.
"Just a warning to be on the highest alert. We do not know if there will be another attempt to appropriate the reliquary. The ship you join has been acquired specifically for this purpose so it will await your arrival in Calais no matter what. Once you reach Dover, it will remain in the harbour until you are ready to depart again."
"Are we likely to be the sole passengers?" Athos asked casually.
"That is for the captain to decide," Richelieu answered. "He has been paid handsomely to be at your service and there will be no published sailing times but if he chooses to enhance his income somehow, it is at his discretion and must not interfere with what you are doing."
The three Musketeers swung up into their saddles with practised ease, each of them surreptitiously watching Tanquerel. How he mounted would give them an instant indication as to his skill as a horseman. If bad, he could slow their progress considerably but, to their surprise and satisfaction, he swiftly demonstrated that he was as much at home on horseback as they were.
Tréville took a step towards Athos and looked up at him. "Remember what I said and take care. Be alert when you are making the crossing, especially if you are not the only passengers on board the ship. Trust no-one, not even Tanquerel at the beginning. I will defer to your judgement if you later decide that he is one on whom you can depend."
Athos nodded and pulled a pistol from the back of his weapons belt before transferring it to one of the saddle holsters; its partner was already housed in the other.
"There is a short message from the King," Richelieu announced from the steps. "He says God speed and wishes you a safe journey. He urges you to return with the reliquary as quickly as possible. He is quite anxious to see it."
The Musketeers said nothing but nodded to the First Minister. Their eyes lingered a little longer on their Captain whilst Porthos touched his hat brim in a brief acknowledgement.
Tréville stood and watched them until they had disappeared from sight. He turned, about to say something to Richelieu, only to find that the man had already gone back inside the palace.
"No matter; it wasn't important," the soldier muttered to himself as he, too, mounted and started off in the direction of the garrison. He had wanted to accompany his men to the palace in order to see them depart and he had achieved that. Any other business with the Cardinal could wait until he returned to the palace later in the day to have a combined audience with the King. It was far too early as yet for the monarch to have risen.
II
The four men rode in comparative silence through the Paris streets as the city came to life. It was not until they had left the outskirts behind them and were on the open road that Athos took the lead whilst Porthos and Aramis fell in on either side of the emissary and began to engage him in light-hearted conversation. Athos was not so far ahead that he could not hear the exchange and although his eyes scrutinised the countryside opening up around them for any indication of danger, he was carefully listening, keen to hear what Tanquerel had to say about himself whilst the words from his Captain were never far from his thoughts.
"Trust no-one; not even Tanquerel in the beginning."
It was advice that Athos was quite happy to follow for there was something about Tanquerel that he did not like but he could not identify exactly what it was. The man had not done or said anything to arouse Athos' distrust, but gut instinct already made him uncomfortable around the man and it could not be solely ascribed to the emissary's unnerving stare, the way those watery blue eyes fixed you in a strange, unblinking manner.
"If we are to be travelling companions for the foreseeable future, we ought to introduce ourselves," Aramis said, exuding charm. "I am Aramis, this is Porthos and ahead of us is Athos, the Captain's second-in-command." He gestured to himself and the others.
"And I am Guillaume Tanquerel," the emissary answered, giving a slight bow to the men who flanked him.
"Have you done this sort of thing before?" Porthos asked directly.
"What? Procuring artefacts for the King to add to his collection?"
Porthos nodded.
"Yes, although most of my travels have been eastwards and to Italy in particular."
"Always for the King?" Aramis threw in the question.
"No, I have worked on behalf of a number of patrons but have been mainly in the employ of the Cardinal for the last eighteen months. It has been a privilege and honour to be so involved in aiding His Majesty in extending his collection," Tanquerel continued.
Porthos whistled through his teeth. "That long, eh? Only we 'aven't seen you around before."
Tanquerel gave a little nervous laugh. "Why would I come to the attention of His Majesty's Musketeers? There is no reason for me to mix with those of the court. I may be educated and know far more than them in the subject of valuable relics, but I am not of their status, and they would not spare me the time of day. I spend little time at the palace beyond meeting with the King and the Cardinal to discuss another procurement and then I am off on my travels, arranging the purchase of items, bringing them back and setting off in the search for more."
"You know your stuff then."
"Indeed I do, Porthos," and Tanquerel fixed him with an unwavering stare as if challenging him to disagree.
"Do you speak other languages then?" Aramis wanted to know. "It must make for difficult and protracted negotiations otherwise."
"I am fluent in several, including English," the emissary admitted.
"That's good then." Porthos breathed a sigh of relief. "I was wonderin' how we were goin' to cope. We could probably only manage a few words between us, definitely not enough to get by."
"There is no need for concern. I will be doing all the talking; you are there merely to safeguard the relic."
Ahead of them, Athos' back stiffened when he heard the word 'merely' uttered so casually, thereby denigrating their presence. He wondered why he should be so disturbed. They were, admittedly, 'merely' soldiers, albeit members of the King's élite guard, although he knew that would have little or no bearing once they had reached English shores. They were a protection detail; that was their role and he knew it and so he silently rebuked himself for his growing dislike of the emissary. There were no grounds for his thinking at all, yet he could not dispel a sense of unease.
He slowed his mount and turned in the saddle as the others caught up with him, his eyes raking the horizon and not for the first time since they had left Paris. Suddenly, he frowned.
"What is it?" Aramis demanded, seeing the change in him and also looking back the way they had come.
"Not sure," Athos muttered and saw the alarm flicker in the emissary's eyes. "Probably nothing," he added dismissively. He wanted to allay Tanquerel's fears; there was nothing to be gained by scaring the man unnecessarily.
There was no dispelling of his apprehension and much later, when Athos called a halt for the day, the feeling was heightened when Porthos remained in his saddle and discreetly gestured to him to approach.
The big man bent low to speak to Athos quietly.
"You two manage to set up camp if I leave you for a bit?"
Athos patted the horse's neck and tried to ignore the uncomfortable tightening in the pit of his stomach.
"We will be fine. Why?"
"I'm thinking of ridin' back the way we came. Not too far though."
"You feel it too," Athos said flatly. Instinct had warned them of so many dangers in the past.
"Been feelin' it since a couple of hours out of Paris. Not seen anythin' though."
"Neither have I. Whatever you do, be careful. Do not take any risks and do not go back too far."
Athos watched as Porthos wheeled his horse around and headed off.
"Where's he going?" Aramis called from where he was building a circle of stones to surround their fire.
Athos smiled and approached the other Musketeer just as he heard Tanquerel asking what he could do to assist in the process of settling for the night. It was a pleasant surprise as Athos had expected the emissary to sit down and leave them to it, but then he remembered hearing the man saying he travelled a lot in his work, so it was likely that not every night was spent in the safe confines of an inn.
"There is nothing to worry about; Porthos is just scouting our route before it gets dark. I am thinking that we have made better progress today than anticipated."
Athos fixed his gaze upon Aramis and saw his friend's eyes narrowing; he was not believing the excuse. It was clear that Porthos had gone back the way they had travelled, rather than looking ahead. By way of a mute explanation, Athos inclined his head slightly in Tanquerel's direction and Aramis responded with an even slighter nod of understanding.
"I hope you're not saying that you don't know where we are," Aramis laughed easily.
"Of course I know where we are." Athos was scathing. "If we ride far enough in this direction, we will reach the sea. It is big enough and hard to miss and I would hardly describe Calais as small either."
Tanquerel chuckled at the description and seemed unbothered by Porthos' sudden departure. The three men continued to work together and had set up their camp around a small fire by the time Porthos returned.
"I will help Porthos see to the horses," Athos announced, rising from where he had been sitting on the ground and strolling over to the new arrival who was tethering his mount beside the others. Athos started to unbuckle the additional bags behind the saddle.
"Well?" he asked, not looking at his brother for he had already seen the grim expression.
The answer was as he expected.
"We've got company."