Athos rode Kelpie through the massive wrought-iron gates that had been shaped into the outline of horses rearing. Large brick pillars stabilized each, and hedges extended along the property. The leaves of the trees were spreading, and the grasses near the roots of the cork oaks spread far and wide across the grounds. The well-used path toward the chateau was lined with spring flowers and fencing that held horses and cattle.

The sun peered through the branches of trees, even as clouds shifted and moved across the blue sky. The spring day would warm the ground and entice the plants to grow and the animals to frolic. Laborers repaired fences, exercised horses, and two women beat rugs that hung from lines outside the chateau. Dust billowed as they swung and slapped their heavy woven rugs with wire rug beaters. Gardeners removed foliage from the base of the rose bushes and cleared the gardens to prepare for planting.

A footman stood at the end of the path that led to the house. He gently grasped the reins of Athos' horse as he dismounted. "Monsieur," the man said. He was tall, slender, with red hair and blue eyes, and a thin mustache. "Is the Marquis expecting you?"

Athos tossed his cloak over his shoulder and nodded. "Yes."

"Will you be staying, Monsieur?"

"No," Athos replied and ran his hand along Kelpie's neck. "Keep him close and ready." He walked to the house. "And don't tie him," he said over his shoulder.

The footman nodded and led Kelpie toward the stables. Athos watched him go and took a deep breath as he looked at the stone and brick exterior. Windows were opened and ivy that had dried over the winter months was showing signs of life as leaves sprouted and the stems turned green. He removed his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and walked toward the house. The hem of his cloak slapped the back of his calves and he nodded toward the doorman, who bowed as Athos entered the chateau.

The scent of slow roasted meat wafted throughout the halls and foyer. The cream and amber flooring shined, spiraled wood handrails outlined the U-shaped staircase that led to the second floor, and the candlelit chandler hung above a round table that held a marble statue of a man struggling to control a wild horse.

"Captain Athos?" An older man said as he stepped into the foyer. He wore a black doublet, black britches and boots, and white gloves. Short gray hair feathered around his face, and dark brown eyes looked politely at him.

Athos nodded.

"Please, Monsieur, follow me." He turned and walked down a wide hall that was lined with paintings and doors that led to private quarters. "Marquis Monnot was surprised to receive a note from the captain of the King's Musketeers."

Athos adjusted his grip on the brim of his hat as he followed the steward. The chateau was designed to be comfortable and spacious, with tall doors that arched at the top, and contrasted in color against the pale yellow colors of the walls. Marble, maple, mahogany, and blue and burgundy carpets brought color and comfort to the home. While it was grand in size and appearance, it lacked the showy ostentation that many embraced. Athos spotted the Marquis de la Monnot standing near the fireplace and bowed as he entered the room.

"Captain Athos," the Marquis said. He was a broad man with thick shoulders, thick black unruly hair, and a crooked nose that had been broken several times. A heavy beard hung nearly to his chest, and he gripped the handle of the black cane in his right hand. He nodded toward his servant, who quickly turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. "I was surprised to receive a message from you. The king and I have not been cordial since our disagreement when he was a boy."

Athos cleared his throat, shifted his stance, and watched the marquis walk carefully toward the buffet that stood against the far wall and then poured them each a glass of wine. A still life painting of fruit on a gold pedestal hung above the buffet, and candle sconces were attached to the wall on either side.

"I'm pleased you've agreed to meet with me."

"I would have had you escorted off my lands had I not," the marquis said, and motioned for him to take a glass of wine. "Join me by the fire." He turned, cane in one hand and the glass of wine in the other. "I refuse to allow the people who occupy my lands, or my sons, to serve General Raboin." He turned, took a seat with a heavy sigh, and rested his cane against the armrest of his chair. "Are you familiar with him?"

Athos sat across from him, rested his hat on his knee, and held the glass as the wine shifted and reflected the glow of the flames. "Just rumors."

"Any general who puts his own life above the lives of his men is as worthless as a lame horse before a race." The marquis looked at the fire and then glanced at Athos. "General Raboin should be shot for treason, Captain —"

"I respect your opinion, Marquis Monnot. I cannot, however, discuss leaders of the king's military."

The marquis frowned. "Why did you contact me? The king knows my opinions. I've made myself clear and I understand he has asked that I not return to the palace if I wish to criticize his military. Cardinal Richelieu hated me… he even tried to have me exiled for my political beliefs." He raised his eyebrows and quirked the right side of his mouth into a grin. "But my tax monies were too much of an attraction for him to do so." He took a sip of wine and leaned back against his seat. With his right leg stretched before him, he took a deep breath and looked at Athos. "Why are you here?"

Athos rubbed the wooden curve of the armrest of his chair, clenched his jaw, and then swallowed. "The king has asked that I increase the number of musketeers to 300 —"

"How many men do you currently have?"

Athos looked up. "125."

Monnot curled his lips downward and tapped his thigh. "You need 175 able-bodied men by when?" He raised an eyebrow in question.

"Soon, Marquis Monnot."

The marquis leaned forward and rubbed his right knee. "How soon does the king believe we'll be at war?"

"I cannot discuss matters of state with you." Athos paused and glanced from the man across from him to the flames of the fire. "What I can tell you is that you'll be supporting the king at a time when he needs you most."

"Don't patronize me," the marquis said. He scratched behind his left ear. "I received a letter from General Raboin requesting able-bodied men for his military force. Myself and several surrounding land owners have denied his request. I understand King Louis needs men for his military, but I will not support a king who encourages a general who is known — at least here — for compromising his men, his position, and his duty for his own selfish needs and wants." He flared his nostrils and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I have eight sons, Captain. If they are going to fight for something, they will fight for something they believe in, not a man — who I believe — will trade France for a handful of coins, much less a man who would compromise the lives of my sons."

Athos met his eyes. The marquis was a protective father, a man who knew who he was and what he wanted, regardless of the outcomes or his defiance of the crown. This was not a hill Athos was willing to die on. He needed men, but he needed men who were willing to fight and who believed in what they were fighting for. "I respect your stance, Marquis Monnot."

The older, and considerably defiant, lord smiled genuinely. "Your demeanor is respectable, considering my views on this matter…" he paused and said, "You have a very familiar look about you."

Athos nodded with a wry smile. "You knew my father." He adjusted his glass in his hand and twisted it until the wine moved up the sides.

Monnot paused for a long moment and looked critically at Athos. "Oliver?" When Athos nodded, the marquis chuckled, and took a sip of his wine. "If you knew me, why did you not announce your title when you arrived?"

Athos glanced toward the floor and again twisted the glass of wine. "I did not want my former title to influence your decision… The king may one day demand your allegiance, but my father taught me that men who join you willingly will fight harder than those who have been forced."

"You relinquished your title?" the marquis said in surprise.

"I wanted no part of that life."

"And being the captain of the King's Musketeers is the life you want?"

"It's the life I have built."

The marquis contemplated Athos' response and slowly nodded in understanding and reflected on his own life. He took a deep breath and then asked, "Why would you come to me to ask for men? You know my relationship with the king? And, given you know my history with your father, what brings you to my door?"

Athos glanced from the window behind the marquis to the man seated in front of him and quirked a smile. "I know your history with General Raboin, and I assumed he would have already made his request for men —"

"You knew I would refuse him," Monnot raised his eyebrows knowingly, "and before the king can force my hand, you're requesting men for the musketeers?" He watched Athos nod. "Nobody can say you're not familiar with the politics of state, Oliver." He leaned back, rested his elbow on the armrest, and pulled on the hairs of his left cheek. "Will you be serving under General Raboin?"

"I will serve where I am asked, but," Athos paused and looked at him, "I will fight for France, and I will fight alongside the men who call themselves Musketeers —"

"Does the king know you're here?"

Athos took a sip of wine and rubbed his thumb along the edge of the glass. "No," he said. "I have been ordered to recruit and train more men… where those men are pulled from is best left to those who understand the importance of duty."

Monnot chuckled, finished his wine, and then leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Your father educated you well, but I have a feeling even he would be surprised by the man you've become." He contemplated the request and looked toward the paintings that hung on the walls and the meaning and purpose behind them. Paintings of still lifes, his sons, and his wife. "My youngest is 14 —"

"I will not put a boy of 14 on a battlefield —"

"Perhaps a stable boy, until he's of an age you feel he's capable of serving his king?" Monnot looked at Athos, who shook his head.

"If you decide a military life is best for your son when he reaches the age of 16, I will consider him a young recruit. I will not have children dying on the fields of battle, Marquis, not as long as I am captain."

Monnot nodded, grabbed his cane, and inhaled deeply. He ran his thumb along the curve of the handle and then rubbed his chin. "I will meet with the surrounding landowners," he looked at Athos, "young men who are able-bodied and willing to fight for France will arrive at the Musketeer headquarters in Paris — if we can agree that this would be the best course of action for our sons, and the sons of those who work our lands." He stood, shook Athos' hand, and then clapped his shoulder as they walked together toward the door. "I do ask that the men who are not qualified… be asked to return." He paused, tightened his hand on the cane, and leaned against it. "Many of the landowners depend on the skill these young men have acquired over the years and while France needs men able to fight, France also needs men who can harvest, plow, and sow the grains that will feed those men.

"I also ask," the marquis said, "that if the fighting gets close to my lands — my neighbors' lands — that you pay me the respect to let me know so that I too, may defend what is mine."

"You have my word."

Marquis Monnot smiled and exhaled in relief. He walked with Athos to the front door and stepped onto the portico and chuckled when his footman stood holding the reins of a black gelding who chewed grass around his bit. The footman had tried to brush away dried leaves and hay from animal's mane but gave up when the horse rubbed his head against him.

"Do the King's Musketeers ride anything but black horses?" Monnot said as Athos put his hat on and walked toward his mount.

"Sometimes," Athos said, and then gracefully mounted.

"And does the king have 175 horses for the new recruits?"

Athos winced and said, "Not as yet." He collected Kelpie's reins and adjusted his cloak. He nudged the animal's right side and he side-stepped toward the path.

"The men who arrive at your headquarters, Captain, will be outfitted appropriately. Perhaps when all of this is over, you and I can discuss strategies of independence and sovereignty?"

"I will look forward to it." Athos said. "Thank you for your time and for your consideration." He tipped his hat with two fingers and then galloped toward the gates in the distance.

Marquis Monnot watched him leave and then looked across his lands. The rolling hills, the trees, and the fields that may one day absorb the blood of fallen French soldiers. He turned and found his house servant behind him. "Call together the landowners — we will need to meet tonight," he said. He adjusted his cane and took a deep breath. "We are headed to war."