Greetings. Many thanks for the feedback on the last chapter and the well wishes. I had a wonderful and precious time with family at last. This chapter is a bit like Topsy. It grew! Apologies for any errors that have crept through.

So, what about that glove?

CHAPTER 6

I

Aramis, although startled by Athos' question, was the first to recover and comply. He picked up his gloves from where they lay on the ground next to him, separated them and held them out, one in each hand.

"I have mine," he announced unnecessarily.

Athos turned to Tanquerel, raised an eyebrow as if to say 'Well?' … and waited.

Was it his imagination or was the emissary momentarily flustered?

Then Tanquerel smiled and reached into his pocket.

"I wonder at your question but here are mine where I …" His voice trailed off as he realised that he only had one of them.

He checked another pocket and then leapt to his feet, turning a full circle as he studied the ground where he had been sitting in the hope that the missing glove had fallen out as he sat there.

"It must be in the bag attached to my saddle," he insisted, flashing another, less-confident smile.

"Of course it must," Athos responded, his face an inscrutable mask as he watched the emissary hurry away on the glove search. "It does beg the question as to why one glove should be in a pocket and the other in a bag though," he muttered under his breath just loud enough for his brothers to hear.

Aramis stepped towards him. "What is the matter with you? Tanquerel is already convinced that you don't like him."

Athos turned his head, his expression unreadable. "Then he is correct."

"But why?" Aramis hissed, distracted by the emissary's search of his bag, pulling out all of its contents and scattering them on the ground in an agitated display of hunting for the missing item.

"That'll delay us a bit longer while 'e repacks that lot," Porthos grumbled.

"Not if I help him," Athos said, an edge to his voice. He was about to walk off when a big hand shot out and caught him by the arm.

"Think it's better if I go," Porthos offered and before either of his two friends could react, he had moved off to join Tanquerel.

Aramis, hands on hips and face dark, rounded on his brother. "Well? What is it?"

Athos sighed. "I do not trust him and before you ask, no, I cannot give you a valid reason. It is a gut feeling, that is all, but Tréville felt it too and advised us to be careful. I have heard you talking to him as we have travelled but there is so much that we do not know about him or this mission. What he has shared with you is of little consequence."

"Do you have to be so plain in your animosity towards him though? It is unlike you. Is it not more beneficial to pretend to be friendly at least?"

Athos gave a wry smile and clapped Aramis on the upper arm. "I am content to play the unapproachable and I know that is more in keeping with my nature," he quickly added. "All the better for highlighting you as the warm and friendly Musketeer. Let him take you into his confidence if he will; just make sure you start asking him the right questions and try not to make it too obvious."

"I'll do my best," Aramis said, "but I think you ought to try harder too."

"I am sorry," a voice called to them, and they turned as one to see Tanquerel striding towards them, hands out in a gesture of futility as Porthos accompanied him.

"I have mislaid it somewhere and am not best pleased. They were only purchased recently and were of a good quality leather, soft and supple. I hope we have time for me to buy a replacement pair in Calais, it would not look well arriving at Dover's castle without gloves."

Athos managed the beginning of a smile, although it did not reach his eyes. "I am sure we will be able to accommodate that." He glanced towards Aramis as if to ask, 'Am I trying hard enough?'

Tanquerel took the comment as it was meant. "Splendid. I usually have them made especially for me, but I can make an exception to my custom and buy a pair already made." He frowned and fixed his pale blue eyes upon Athos. "But what occasioned your question?"

Athos' face hardened, his brief attempt at being conciliatory gone as the implications of the action were uppermost in his mind. "I believe it was lost at the fork in the road."

If it were at all possible, Tanquerel's frown deepened. "Why would you think that?"

Time for pretence and saving feelings was over. "Because the three men who have been following us since we left Paris yesterday paused at the fork in the road and two of them decided to take the left road when they picked up something from the ground. Your glove perhaps."

"My ….?" Tanquerel's eyes widened in shock as he realised what Athos was suggesting. "What three men? I didn't know we were being followed by three men." He gave a mock laugh as further realisation dawned. "So they were the three wild animals of which you spoke last night! Why didn't you say so openly."

He looked at each of the Musketeers in turn, but they did not answer.

"You did not trust me and you don't trust me now! You think I dropped a glove deliberately as a signal to those men."

"And did you?" Athos challenged him, not anticipating a truthful reply.

"Of course I didn't!" Tanquerel spat out in ill-disguised anger.

"Then it is a very strange coincidence," Athos pressed.

"And that is all it is. A coincidence. Besides, do you know for certain that it was a glove? Did you see it?" Tanquerel demanded.

"Not personally," Athos admitted.

"I saw something," Porthos admitted hastily. "It looked like fabric and was about the size of a glove."

"But you do not know for definite. I could have dropped that glove at any point of our journey and if it did happen at that point in the road, then it was an unfortunate accident and I apologise, especially if it has helped whoever is following us. It was completely unintentional, and I had no idea we were being pursued until just now."

He glared at Athos, daring him to disagree but the Musketeer remained silent for he knew he had no proof; it was merely conjecture.

"And I could have dropped it at the fork in the road. We stopped there long enough whilst we had our discussion," Tanquerel went on.

"If I recall, it was more of a disagreement," Athos corrected him. "You seemed very reluctant to come this way."

Tanquerel, temper flaring, stepped closer to Athos as if to intimidate him. Porthos stiffened, expecting the emissary to foolishly throw a punch but he controlled himself and Athos, unflinching, stood his ground, face impassive and hands held loosely at his side. There was a tension in his frame though as he assessed the situation and tried to predict Tanquerel's next move.

"I know this is the longer route and wonder at your reasoning. Had you been open with me, I would not have been so insistent. For the last time, I did not know that we are being followed. Whoever they are, they are nothing to do with me. They must work for those are opposed to the King having the reliquary whilst I have been negotiating on his behalf for months regarding its acquisition. Tell me why I would jeopardise that."

When Athos refused to be drawn into giving an answer, Tanquerel huffed in exasperation and stormed off, calling out as he did so.

"Perhaps we ought to resume our journey. We would not want our pursuers catching up with us, would we?"

"That went well," Aramis said to no-one in particular.

"I haven't had anythin' to eat yet," Porthos grumbled.

The three looked on as Tanquerel mounted his horse and set off along the road.

"Better get after the idiot before 'e gets 'imself into any trouble," Porthos said and began to walk to where his horse was tethered.

Aramis was watching Athos. "You still don't believe him, do you?"

Athos exhaled slowly and ran a hand through his tangled hair. "No, I do not. It all sounds plausible enough and could have been an honest mistake, but I refuse to dismiss my suspicions just yet."

Aramis raised a hand to Porthos as he rode past. "And if you are wrong?"

Athos raised an eyebrow as if questioning the notion that he might be in error and the corner of his mouth twitched in a semblance of a smile. "Then I will be the first to offer him my hand and heart-felt apology." His face hardened again. "But he had better stop challenging my leadership as to which direction we go and when our rest period stops!"

II

With a second night under the stars, the atmosphere between the travellers improved slightly, although Tanquerel deliberately gave Athos a wide berth and refused to engage with him unless absolutely necessary, for which Athos was thankful.

He continued to listen, though, as the emissary chatted amiably enough with Porthos and Athos. Much of it was on incidental matters until after they had eaten and were gathered around the fire, Porthos feeding it the small branches, dry bracken and twigs they had collected earlier.

"So how did your business regarding the reliquary begin?" Aramis asked. "How did you know of its existence?"

Tanquerel was sipping at a cup of wine from the bottles they had bought at a tavern they passed late morning.

"It was all down to Henrietta Maria," he began.

"You mean the sister to our King?" Porthos wanted to know.

"Yes, and Queen of England through her marriage to Charles. During the dissolution of the monasteries at the behest of Henry VIII and his servant Thomas Cromwell, de Ricart's tomb was desecrated and his bones went missing, but it was the Queen who heard of their recent discovery, made her own inquiries and contacted her brother, thinking that the bones should at least be returned to de Ricart's home in Normandy. It was the King's decision to add the reliquary containing the bones to his collection of religious artefacts, so I was tasked with arranging the exchange."

"It is just an exchange? No money is changing hands?" Athos asked from where he was sitting on the far side of the fire from Tanquerel. His face was in shadow to his companions, but he strove to keep his tone light and conversational; he had no wish to antagonise the emissary further.

He had had time to think as they rode during the afternoon and he was beginning to question himself. Perhaps he was doing Tanquerel an injustice for he had no hard proof of any deception, and yet he could not shake off his sense of unease and the more persistent Aramis became in desiring some sort of explanation from him to account for his attitude, the more intransigent he knew he became. He needed Aramis to trust his instincts – he always had before - but as Athos began to doubt himself, he realised that it was unrealistic to expect more of his friend. He needed answers for himself and the sooner he acquired them, the better for all concerned.

Tanquerel regarded him shrewdly. Perhaps, Athos pondered, the emissary was so surprised to be addressed by him after several hours of strained silence, that he was wondering what might lay behind the apparently innocent question.

Well, Athos thought, I only have myself to blame for that.

"A part payment has already been made by myself to the de Ricart family on behalf of the King and I am not at liberty to disclose the sum; it was, I will admit, a considerable yet fair amount given the Saint's reputation. It was the delivery of that money in good faith which secured the documents you collected. The rest will be handed over as soon as Louis is in receipt of the reliquary," Tanquerel said.

"Who are the family?" Aramis asked. "Are they nobles?"

"The de Ricarts are a long-established family. They were already in possession of a large estate when a de Ricart accompanied William, Duke of Normandy on his invasion of England in the eleventh century. With his success and need to keep control, he rewarded his closest, most useful nobles with lands in England, Normandy or, as in the case of de Ricart, both. The centuries and poor estate management by subsequent generations have seen them lose the English holding as well as a diminution of their French lands. They still have a sizeable estate though."

It was Athos who provided the information and whilst Porthos and Aramis knew of his nobility and the extensive education he had received from a variety of tutors, especially in military history and the French aristocracy of which he was a part, they were nevertheless intrigued by his diverse and extensive knowledge. Whilst they were more accustomed to the little nuggets of information he would suddenly impart, Tanquerel was not, and he gazed at Athos with new-found curiosity.

"You are well-informed," he said, perhaps hoping to find out just how much Athos knew but the Musketeer merely shrugged.

"That is about my limit on the family. I know nothing of the man whose remains we are collecting, other than what I learned from you at our first meeting about him leaving Normandy for England, joining a Cistercian order and later founding his own religious house."

"What made him leave France and what did he do to warrant being canonised?" Aramis asked. "He is not a saint with whom I am familiar. Did he perform a miracle or something?"

Tanquerel paused before answering. "I'm afraid that the information is scarce regarding what he did before going to England. It is there that he made a name for himself within the Cistercian order for his faith and leadership. He was canonised less than a hundred years after his death at a time when many were achieving sainthood for reasons that would not be considered sufficient today; it was probably just for founding the new house and the exemplary manner in which he conducted himself."

"'Ow big is this reliquary if 'is bones are in it? I mean, we 'aven't made any plans about 'ow we're goin' to shift it if it's big. Will we need a cart?" Porthos asked.

Tanquerel laughed. "No, it is certainly not big. It does not house a complete skeleton, just a few of the smaller bones such as from the ribs, skull fragments, fingers and toes, or so I have been informed. Nothing remains of the actual limbs."

"Then how do you know that the bones are of this saint?"

"Athos." There was a warning note in Aramis' voice when he heard his friend's question, even though there was no hint of scepticism.

Athos held out his hands in a gesture of apology. "I mean no disrespect to you, Aramis, or you, Tanquerel. I am simply asking. I would not want the emissary here to be tricked into accepting the bones of anyone other than the saint himself, especially as the King himself believes them to be genuine."

"Let me assure you, Athos, that much investigation was undertaken at the time of the discovery of the bones. Queen Henrietta Maria would not have wasted her time and efforts otherwise," Tanquerel answered.

"But where and how were they found? What was the nature of the investigation? And what of the reliquary itself? You said that it held a considerable value all its own," Athos pressed.

Tanquerel wrapped himself in his blanket and shifted position to make himself more comfortable. "I am glad to hear that you are so interested in the saint's story, Athos, and I would love to tell you all about it, but the tale is a long one and best suited for another time. We have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow if we are to reach Calais by nightfall. I don't know about you, but I need my rest and so I bid you all goodnight."

And with that he lay down and rolled onto his side, back firmly towards Athos, who glanced towards his brothers.

Porthos averted his eyes and threw more wood on the fire. "Who's taking first watch?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I will," Athos cut in before Aramis had a chance to respond. "I am not tired yet. Try to get some sleep, the pair of you."

"Wake me first," Aramis insisted as he settled himself.

Athos nodded and stared into the fire as all around him grew quieter. It was not silent, not with the leaves rustling in the gentle breeze and the strange chittering of a badger somewhere in the trees behind him and the even stranger symphony of noises emanating from the sleeping men. Aramis shuffled and sighed whilst Porthos and Tanquerel competed with their snorts, snores and whistles.

Athos allowed himself a soft smile and then his face hardened. He looked to Tanquerel's huddled form and felt his own body go tense. The emissary had dismissed his request for a reasonable explanation, effectively asserting his control again by insisting that they end their conversation and get some rest.

Confusion and a burgeoning anger battled within him. Tanquerel was quite correct. They did have a long journey ahead of them the following day but why did Athos feel he was being challenged and undermined yet again? He mentally scolded himself for being unreasonable and petulant.

But his mind was racing. The religious faith that had once played such a strong part in his life and upbringing had melted away when his brother's murder had set in motion a chain of events that had nearly destroyed him. Now he could not hide the misgivings he felt regarding the veracity of the saint's bones. How could anyone determine whether they were those of the saint and was the King being deceived into parting with a considerable amount of money for the remains of an imposter? Worse still was the notion that the reliquary might house animal bones.

Did Tanquerel really believe they were genuine? Had he asked enough relevant questions of his own? Had the deception begun with the English Queen an innocent victim? As a Catholic regarded with suspicion in a Protestant country and not yet twenty years of age, perhaps Henrietta Maria had fallen victim to some dastardly plot to humiliate her in the eyes of her husband or brother.

Or did Tanquerel have some other sinister reason for not wanting to discuss the rediscovery of the bones and the reliquary that contained them?