Good evening. My apologies; you must have thought I'd fallen off the face of the earth as it's been so long since the last chapter. All is fine here and I trust this finds you all well. Many thanks to all who read and left comments for Ch 30.
Our heroes need to save themselves!
CHAPTER 31
I
"Fire!" Aramis yelled, shaking his brothers awake. "Fire! Get moving!" He waited long enough to see them respond and then, keeping low as the barn was filling with smoke, he crawled to where he remembered the doors were. Pulling himself to his feet, he attempted to open them. Several times he shook them violently but the little movement enabled him to determine the problem.
"They're barred on the outside," he shouted, trying to make himself heard above the increasingly agitated animals. If they broke free, the men could be caught in the panic and trampled.
"Pierre?" Porthos grunted as both he and Athos took up positions either side of Aramis to lend their weight but there was no opening the doors.
"No," Athos said before another fit of coughing stopped him. "Guiscard," he gasped.
Lacklustre flames had caught the bottom of the wooden walls to the left of the doors and were slowly climbing upwards. Some planks burned more easily than others which hindered the fire's spread, but it was enough to provide an eerie low glow within the barn. The greatest menace was the smoke though and as they coughed, the men's eyes began to stream.
Aramis snatched up his shirt left out to dry and, using his dagger, hastily ripped it into strips. Athos had already started collecting the water buckets they had given to the horses. Aramis stopped him and soaked the linen he had cut.
"Tie these over your nose and mouth," he ordered, handing his friends the dripping material.
Porthos was beating at the flames with a blanket as Athos threw whatever water he could find. All the while, they shouted for help, desperately hoping that Pierre or Agnes would hear them.
"We have to find another way," Athos said and moved as quickly as he could towards the back of the barn to feel his way over the wood. It seemed as if his search would go on for ever and then, suddenly, he found what he sought.
"Porthos, help me!" he ordered and sensed the man join him before he saw him. "The timbers are rotten or at least weaker here. We need to break through."
Porthos did not need bidding twice. Bracing himself, he threw his weight at the wood. Nothing happened and so he tried again … and again.
"In the corner over there," he said, breathless from his painful efforts and the smoke. He nodded in the direction behind Athos. "Pierre's tools are there. Thought I saw an axe amongst them." He continued shouldering the wall as Athos disappeared. Aramis was busy beating at the flames at the front of the barn and still shouting in the hope of making Pierre hear him.
Athos returned with the axe and he and Porthos alternated their assault on the wall, one with the axe and the other with his body.
The wait was interminable but eventually they felt the timbers begin to give way. It spurred them on and soon, there was hole large enough for one of them to climb through.
"Keep working at it," Athos said, putting a leg through the opening they had created. "I will go round to the front and unbar the doors before the fire really takes hold of them too."
He was almost through when Porthos grabbed his arm.
"Wait. You haven't got a weapon. Supposin' Guiscard is waitin' out there ready to cut us down if we escape? Take this," and he handed Athos the axe.
It would be no good against a man concealed somewhere and using a pistol, but Athos nodded his thanks, took it and disappeared.
He ran around the side of the building just in time to see a figure moving and he raised the axe to defend himself.
"It's me!" Pierre cried out in terror and Athos lowered the tool. The old man was in his night shirt and boots, an incongruous sight. Behind him, Agnes pulled a woollen shawl tightly round her shoulders.
Athos patted him on the shoulder. "I have to get the doors open."
He could see the heavy wooden bar pulled across the tall doors to prevent their escape and he slid it out of its supports, letting it crash to the ground as he wrenched one door open and Pierre the other.
"Stand back," he warned as the horses thundered past them and kept running into the night.
Porthos and Aramis stumbled out after them, coughs wracking their frames as they gasped in lungsful of the night air and gradually recovered themselves.
The Musketeers, Pierre and Agnes set to with buckets of water and blankets to douse or beat down the flames and, eventually, they stood back to survey the charred and smoking timbers to the right of the barn doors.
"We might not've appreciated it at the time but it's just as well we 'ad all that rain an' the drivin' wind. I reckon the wood was too wet to burn properly an' that's what saved the barn," Porthos noted before he coughed again.
The catastrophe averted, Pierre rounded on the men.
"I let you stay in my barn, and you set fire to it with your carelessness! What did you do? Kick over the lamp?" he spat out, reaction beginning to set in as to what might have happened.
"Now wait a minute …" Porthos began, anger burgeoning but Aramis held out a hand to stay his objection.
"It was not us, Pierre. We were diligent in extinguishing the flame. Besides, how could we have barred the doors from the outside?" he asked.
"It was the man who is after us," Athos cut in. " He meant us to perish. I apologise that we brought danger to your door; it was not our intention. We thought we had seen the last of him but obviously not."
Pierre looked about him wildly as if he could see in the darkness beyond the immediate vicinity. "So this mad man could still be out there watching us?"
"I strongly doubt it," Athos replied. He was not going to add that if Guiscard were still there, he probably would have been firing a weapon at them, either as the Musketeers fled the barn or as the group were distracted dousing the flames, making them easy targets. "Most likely, he started the fire and made good his escape, believing that he had taken care of us once and for all, but he failed to take into consideration the heavy rains we had earlier."
"I think you owe me an explanation," Pierre insisted.
"You can do the explaining when you all come inside the house and have something to eat and drink," Agnes insisted, her stern eyes warning Pierre that she would have no more of his nonsense.
Aramis wrinkled his nose with disgust, "But we stink of smoke."
Agnes raised a corner of her woollen shawl to her nose, sniffed at it and gave a little laugh, instantly evaporating the tension that still hung in the air. "We all smell so that is no excuse," and she led the way inside, expecting them to follow her.
"Better do as she says or I won't hear the last of it," Pierre said resignedly.
"We will maintain a watch for the rest of the night," Athos announced as the four walked together towards the house.
"I'll go first," Porthos offered once they were inside, already setting a chair beside the window so that he could look out into the night. "So long as you don't forget me," he added, nodding towards the table where Agnes was already setting out a jug of weak ale and bread.
As they sat around the table, Athos and Aramis were forced into giving a more detailed account of their mission than they had related earlier. Now they explained the value of the reliquary that made it so desirable to some at whatever cost, although they still omitted any mention of the Templar treasure. The trail of death that followed the soldiers was enough to bring tears to Agnes' eyes.
"I am sorry," Athos said softly. "We did not mean to distress you. It was not for you to hear such details."
She leaned across the table and patted the back of his hand in an affectionate gesture more familiar between a grandparent and grandchild.
"I am glad you told us for I understand the dangers you poor, brave boys face in doing your duty." Her cheeks dimpled as she smiled. "It is so much more than just standing in the palace on guard duty and looking handsome."
Porthos chuckled and turned from his vigil at the window. "Oh, so much more! I wish other folk would see things the way you do. Why, I could tell you many a story including the time when …"
"Not now, Porthos," Athos stopped him with a warning look. "You are concentrating, remember?"
Porthos shrugged. "Another time maybe."
Agnes winked conspiratorially. "I shall keep you to that. Meanwhile, you boys had better make yourselves as comfortable as you can down here. At least it's warm and I'll fetch some spare blankets. I won't have you going back out to that barn, not tonight."
So, the three settled, not that they expected to get much rest. Their sleep – between taking turns on watch – was fitful at best and they looked tired when the farmer and his wife rose with the dawn. Pierre and Agnes did not look as if they had fared any better themselves, their eyes darkly circled.
After some food, the five ventured out to scrutinise the extent of the damage.
"It's not as bad as I feared," Pierre said brightly once they had inspected inside the barn and out. They left the doors open in the hope that fresh air might begin to dissipate the smell of burning.
"Some of the timbers'll need replacing," Porthos said as he surveyed the blackened wood near the base of one wall, the smoke damage and the charring on the doors.
"We had better get to work then," Athos declared, "and we must not forget the hole we made last night for escape." He turned to Pierre. "Do you have any wood we can use or should we go and cut some fresh."
Pierre looked surprised. "You are staying to help me do the repairs?"
"Naturally," Athos answered, looking and sounding vaguely surprised at the implication that they would do anything different. "Our presence here brought this upon you. It is the least we can do."
II
The Musketeers remained that day and the next. Rounding up the horses was not the onerous task they had feared because the soldiers' well-trained animals had not strayed far and many of the others seemed to trust their equine brothers, remaining close by. Once the men had their mounts, gathering up the few who had ventured further afield was not too difficult either.
They repaired the barn with seasoned timbers Pierre had already prepared for erecting a fence before felling two more trees, denuding them of branches and chopping them into more manageable lengths as they persuaded their reluctant stallions to drag them back to the barn. They laid them out in readiness for when Pierre would cut them, acknowledging that it would be some time before he could begin work on the fence. The branches were then turned into firewood that was piled high outside the house, enough to last the old couple for several weeks.
In the evenings, they went down to the river to swim and bathe, letting the cold water numb the many aches in their limbs and backs, and scrubbed at their skin, convinced that they could still detect the odour of the fire. Before the evening meal was served, they sat round the table and let Aramis treat callused hands and blisters – some of which had burst and bled – with a soothing salve before he allowed Athos to minister to him. They wiped at their leathers, applying a sweet oil to keep the material supple and in the hope of dispelling any lasting odour of smoke. Meanwhile, Agnes laundered their linens, hanging the clothes in the fresh air and setting sprigs of fragrant lavender between their folds when dry.
On the second night of their stay, Athos produced a letter he had written and handed it to Pierre.
"As I promised, a note to say that you are the rightful owner now of three horses ad are at liberty to sell them."
"Three!" Pierre's eyes widened. "Last night it was two."
The corners of Athos' mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile. "We have brought nothing but trouble to you since yesterday; you have earned it."
Pierre gave a broad grin, revealing the places in his mouth where he had lost teeth. "Oh, I don't know. Life's been very quiet and ordinary for too many years; your arrival definitely brought us some much-needed excitement."
"I bet it's a level of excitement Agnes would prefer to live without," Aramis quipped, winking at her as she ladled pottage into the bowl in front of him.
She thought for a moment, took a deep breath, and laid a hand on her husband's shoulder. "I can cope. After all, there's not many women my age can boast having four such handsome men at her table to eat."
III
Later, as Porthos took the first watch, Athos and Aramis laid out the documents taken from Tanquerel and poured over them by the light of the lamp. Despite Agnes' protestations, they had insisted that they return to the barn for the night and had piled fresh straw for their beds. The old had been raked out earlier as they set about the repairs.
"That is the letter from Philippe to Louis," Athos declared, having swiftly perused the document. "There is nothing unexpected in it, although it states that he does not expect the bones to be returned to the estate, contrary to what Tanquerel later claimed. He accepts that there is no way to prove they are Hubert's remains but all he asks is that the bones are treated sympathetically and with respect as they obviously were once someone."
"That's fair and considerate," Aramis said and exhaled loudly. "Louis is prepared to pay a lot for the reliquary from what Philippe says here." He frowned. "Which begs the question, does he know about the treasure?"
Athos shook his head as he reached for the copy of the Latin document . "I doubt it, at least at the beginning. Half the money had been paid by Tanquerel before we were sent to collect the originals of these documents. It was Richelieu who demanded that they were passed to him. He may have had his suspicions when the news of the reliquary's discovery was delivered from Henrietta Maria. He certainly has the means to find out exactly the same information as Thomas Willoughby gave us. It depends upon what this Latin says; it might give the Cardinal evidence of something more."
"So why didn't Tanquerel collect the documents when he took the first payment? Why the need to send us?" Aramis asked.
Athos gazed at him intently. "Good question. Why was there that delay? What was Philippe's reasoning for that? It was avoidable and led to the first of the attacks on us, one that left d'Artagnan hurt." It was a fact that still rankled with the swordsman.
"He will long be recovered by the time we get back to Paris," Aramis assured him. "Let's look at the Latin. Between us we should be able to translate it."
"Can you reach into my saddle bag for paper and a pencil?" Athos asked and began to study the documents as Aramis rummaged for the items.
"It is in the form of a poem," Athos announced as Aramis turned back, "and perhaps a riddle."
Aramis rubbed his hands together. "Oh good; I love a challenge!"
