"Get those wagons hitched!" d'Artagnan shouted, and motioned with his hand for the recruits to follow orders. "Women and children in the wagons. All able-bodied men can walk."
When they arrived in Creil, d'Artagnan had expected to find the farmlands flooded, but he had not expected to find homes caved in, the sides of barns washed away, fences down, while the local businesses were all suffering the effects of the flooding. The people had come together to save what they could, but had put themselves at risk as the water from Lake Oise continued to rise. Mothers carried their children and what few belongings they had, while the men had struggled to find wagons and worked to hitch the horses to them. Personal items had been abandoned. The only things that remained were their lives and what little they could carry, a bit of food, and lightweight mementos.
While it looked desperate, and it was, it was not permanent. Once the weather cleared and the water receded, the families would return, rebuild, and reestablish what they had lost. It had been done for centuries before and would continue as the lands were inherited by the people that tilled them. The lands were as much apart of them as they were of the land.
"How many?" d'Artagnan shouted as he led his horse through the ankle deep water. He watched the young men work diligently as they helped mothers, wives, daughters, and sisters into the wagons.
"Seven, sir," recruit Pagel said. Tall and slender, with large doe eyes, long blonde hair and a button nose, his youthful appearance betrayed his twenty-six years of experience. He had spent those years on his family's farm and was familiar with the livelihood of those they assisted. "If we move now, we can at least get the women and children to safety while the men and musketeers bring up the cattle and other livestock."
D'Artagnan nodded, quickly mounted, and motioned toward the road. "Keep them on track. We will get caught in the currents if we wait much longer."
Pagel nodded and nudged his horse's sides and galloped toward the musketeers who helped herd several cattle, goats, and sheep. The small animals bellowed and cried as they traveled through the rising water. The sheep's wool was soaked and caused the animals to weigh down, while the cattle sloshed forward, swatted their tails, and bobbed their heads. The goats trotted and jumped forward as they moved. Chickens and guinea hens found refuge on the backsides of the cows and sheep, while a cat had escaped the confines of the barn and rested comfortably against a farmer's neck while he used a long walking stick to guide the animals toward Paris. A dog barked from the back of the wagon. He wagged his tail and watched diligently as his master led a bull by the nose while the cows and heifers followed.
It was a mishmash of people and animals. All working together to get to safety. The company of musketeers and young recruits had stepped in and assisted where needed and now rode along the outskirts with those on the journey to Paris.
D'Artagnan pulled his horse to a stop and stood off the side of the road. He nodded toward his men as they rode by. They rode in order, each watching out for each other and those they assisted. It was a fine group of men, most too young to know what would face them in the coming months, and a few with more life experience than Athos and d'Artagnan combined. But here they were, ready to give of themselves for their country, their people, and their king. The men did not complain, argue, or cause turmoil within the ranks. They accepted their duties with honor and pride, and did what was asked of them. At another period of time, d'Artagnan was sure he would feel confident with those he trained and worked alongside, but now, he knew many of the faces he nodded toward would not live to see the next summer. They would not arrive home to their families. A few, a lucky few, would return, but never be the same. D'Artagnan had never faced a battle, not like Porthos, Aramis, or Athos, but he knew the day would come when he would step away from Paris and return a changed man. He accepted his fate, and he accepted the fact that many of those he led would fall and not rise.
Several crows in the tree above him cawed and fluttered their wings against the rains. Squirrels jumped from branch to branch, while a herd of deer in the distance stood atop a hill and watched curiously as the company continued their journey. The sounds of hooves striking stone and splashing through water persisted.
D'Artagnan looked up as the rain stopped and closed his eyes and smiled as the clouds momentarily parted and the bright light of the sun shone through. He took a deep breath and then looked as the recruits and farmers all paused in their walk toward Paris and felt the heat of the rays on against their face. A wild dog jumped from the long grass and darted across the road and two horses spooked and jumped to their left. Their riders adjusted their seats and chuckled as they settled their mounts. Within minutes, the deer that had been watching them turned suddenly and fled from the pasture and disappeared behind the hills.
D'Artagnan rubbed his face, took a deep breath and encouraged his horse forward. His big gelding shifted beneath him and followed the caravan. The wagons rocked, groaned, and shifted uncomfortably as the damage from the rains had washed parts of the road away. Even if the rains stopped for a long while, it would be days if not weeks before the mud dried and the foliage lost its yellow hue in exchange for robust greens.
"Where will we be taking these people, sir?" Pagel said. He removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair as he rode beside d'Artagnan.
"There's a village outside of Paris to the east that stands at a higher elevation. They'll be safe there as well as their animals until the waters recede."
"If the rains continue?" Pagel said. "Might Paris flood?" He frowned and then looked to where d'Artagnan had focused his attention.
D'Artagnan stood in his stirrups when he spotted a black horse crest the hilltop and gallop toward them. The flap of a blue cloak waved behind the rider, and d'Artagnan adjusted his seat and galloped ahead. Pagel quickly followed.
Remi pulled his horse to a stop and the big black tossed his head as foam and saliva dripped from his mouth. "The quays are breaking apart in Paris because of the waterways leading into the Seine and Minister Treville has ordered all but a small group back… estates closest to the river and the low-lying quarters along the Marais are flooding and we need to get the people to higher ground."
"Go," an old man said and waved his hand toward the road. He walked behind a cart with a long walking stick. "Please, Monsieur. We know our way to Perche… and I know the mayor we'll be fine. Please, go."
D'Artagnan took a deep breath and nodded. He whistled, got the attention of the recruits, and then, with a motion of his hand, ordered them to follow. He looked at Remi, who chuckled and shook his head.
"Never thought the young farm-boy would be training new recruits." Remi smiled and flashed blue eyes toward d'Artagnan. Remi wiped his brow with the back of his hand and nudged his horse's sides after d'Artagnan huffed and galloped ahead.