Athos grabbed the canvas bag, already partially filled with letters, and placed it next to his desk as he took a seat. He looked at the stack, all sealed, written by d'Artagnan for Constance. His devotion was evident through his diligence and promise. Even the fine script of his handwriting was meant for her. Athos glanced at the tent entry, grabbed a letter, and gently tapped the edge on the desk. It was dishonorable to open a letter not addressed to him. But at the moment, he needed to send word to Treville without the risk of it being discovered. Carefully, he snapped the wax seal. He didn't read d'Artagnan's words, but noticed the elegant script along the page, and the signature of d'Artagnan's name. Instead, Athos carefully slipped his letter to Treville inside the other and closed it. Gingerly, he placed a drop of wax on the seal and held it closed. It was slightly thicker than the others, but he sandwiched them all together and tied them into a bundle.
If Grimaud was intercepting his communications with Treville, he had to do what was necessary to get word to him. He stuffed the bundle into the bag and grabbed another piece of parchment and began to script another note.
It was late by the time Marc and Levi entered Athos' tent and found him still sitting behind his desk. He looked up briefly, and then quickly folded the parchment into thirds and slipped it into an envelope. The lantern flickered and sent shadows across the canvas. He poured wax over the closed edges and placed his stamp in the center. The evening was still quiet, except for the sounds of men snoring, horses snorting and cleaning their nostrils, and the occasional night owl that hooted.
Both Marc and Levi each held a stack of messages from their men. Letters home to loved ones.
"The men were ready with their communications, Captain," Marc said. "At least those who have family, and those who brought parchment with them."
Athos nodded, looked at them both, and then motioned toward the bag that contained those from Pothos', d'Artagnan's, and Aramis' companies. "Levi, I'm sending injured men back to Paris who can no longer fight. I need someone to escort them and deliver these," he motioned to the bag "home. Remi should provide replacements for those we have lost — I expect your man to escort our replacements back."
Levi nodded, opened the bag and dumped his stack inside, and then allowed Marc to do the same. "The men traveling — will they need assistance? There are a couple amputees."
"Aramis and Monsieur Tolin are confident they will survive the trip." Athos rubbed his face and handed Levi the letter he had just sealed. "Send your fastest rider."
"My last two riders have not returned," Levi said. He scratched his jaw — they should have been back a week ago — longer for David, who departed first."
"Tell your rider to abandon this message should he feel threatened. If your men are being attacked on the road, we need to know. It's more important that your rider return empty-handed than try to outrun the threat."
Levi frowned. "Athos — that makes no sense — why send a message only to abandon it?"
"It makes little sense now," Athos said, "but it will."
Levi raised an eyebrow and, with a subtle nod, said, "I learned a long time ago not to underestimate you, Captain. I'll see to this." He clasped the sealed parchment tightly between his finger and thumb.
Athos looked at Marc, cleared his throat, and said, "Musketeer Alexander Nodine is from nobility?"
Marc nodded, took a deep breath, and shifted his stance to be more comfortable. "High nobility," he said. "Second born."
"Send him and a few other musketeers — those from nobility — west of here. There's a small community at Fismes and a farmer by the name of Monsieur Moses Toye who might," he raised his eyebrows and stressed, "might allow us to purchase some cattle and sheep — we need to replenish our food supply. I want men who understand diplomacy and someone who can make the request without causing offense. General Raboin's reputation has caused some concern amongst the locals — Make sure Alexander knows and emphasizes that the request is for refugees and the Musketeers."
"What about the other regiments?"
Athos smiled modestly. "We'll do what we can to support them — but right now we need to feed our own people… and," he paused, "I will not watch children starve." He tossed a small leather pouch to Marc, who caught it and felt its weight.
Marc nodded.
"How long will the cease fire last?" Levi asked as he swung the bag over his right shoulder.
"Not long enough," Athos said as he leaned back. "Prepare your men. I'd like them on the road at first light."
"The sun is already coming up, Captain," Marc said. He glanced at Levi, who nodded.
Levi stepped forward, clutched the letter, and said, "If this gets intercepted… what can we expect to happen?"
Athos looked tiredly at Levi and held back a yawn. "I have a feeling, Levi, that if that letter gets intercepted, the Musketeers will need to protect France, her king, and themselves from everything and everyone around us."
Levi looked critically at Athos, swallowed, and nodded once. He clutched the parchment tighter. "Whatever it is, Captain, we'll be ready." He rapped his knuckles on the desk and then turned and left the tent.
Marc paused, looked hard at Athos, and said, "When you're ready to share what your plans are, Captain, just know your men stand with you."
Athos quirked a subtle smile and watched him leave. He placed his elbows on the desk, rubbed his face, and rubbed harder at his eyes. He was tired as he listened to the activity outside, the shifting of men as they woke, horses as they were prepared for travel, the shifting of logs as fires were once again renewed. Athos needed to meet with the captains, organize his men, and make a decision that could change his fate and the fate of those he cared for most.
Coming Next: The Weight of War