Chapter 6

Minister Treville dismounted, handed his horse's reins to a musketeer, and then walked to his old office. He took a deep breath and, with a hint of a smile, looked around the garrison. Musketeers groomed their horses, sparred in the yard, cleaned their weapons, and stood talking beneath the awning railing. In the twenty-four hours since they had been home, the men were back in their old routines. The scars would remain, many would be kept hidden, but a few would find exposure in the months to come. When memories of war, losses, and turmoil invaded their dreams and their waking hours. Then images would flash before their eyes, smells would invade their nostrils, and sounds of war would echo in their minds. It was to be expected, but never spoken about in terms of pain or sorrow, but rather heroic stories that belied the horrors. Treville looked at them, admired their strength of courage, their determination, and their devotion. Together they would heal by talking around the fires at night, around a table at the Wren with a bottle of wine, or on nightly duty when the nights grew quiet and the days mundane.

Treville stepped into a pile of horseshit, closed his eyes, and then scraped the bottom of his boot on the edge of the first step.

It was good to be back.

Treville grasped the banister railing and listened to the surrounding sounds: the greetings from the men, the sounds of horses clearing their nostrils, clicks of muskets as triggers were tested, and the ring of clashing swords. The thumps of his feet ground on the wood, as dirt and stone protested beneath his weight.

"Come," came the call to enter from behind the door before Treville could knock.

"You have the senses of a cat, Athos," Treville said as he entered the room. Overjoyed, he smiled, laughed, walked across the floorboards, toward Athos, who stood next to the desk. Treville grasped Athos on either side of his face. "Welcome home," he said, and then embraced him in a hug. He stepped away, looked for a bottle of wine, and spotted one on the credenza near the fireplace while Athos took a seat. "I wanted to see you sooner, but the king had some business to discuss." He poured two glasses and handed one to Athos as he took a seat in a chair next to his old desk. "Thorell mentioned in his report that you had been shot… how are you healing?"

"I'm mending," Athos said and didn't elaborate. "How did the king take the news of the death of his… cousin?" He asked, and sipped at his wine. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his desk, and ran his fingers across the lip of his glass.

Treville leaned back, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. "He's grateful that his concerns no longer lie with one of his generals."

"Said like a true politician," Athos said with raised eyebrows.

Treville winced and hesitantly nodded. "Louis has been bereft of late… once he realized what it was the Musketeers accomplished, it brightened his spirits." He quirked a humble smile. "War is not a trial for the weak of mind or body, Athos… you know that." He looked at the stack of letters that rested on Athos' desk that had yet to be delivered. Treville then noticed the list that was still missing a check mark by the names of those they had lost. There were many letters yet to be written.

Athos looked at the list and said, "Nearly half of the regiment." He shook his head in disappointment and then swallowed the rest of his wine. "Sanchez put up a fight."

Treville looked at Athos. "You and the Musketeers performed exceptionally well… no one could ask you to improve on what you did."

"Had it not been for Raboin's captains," Athos countered, "we would not have succeeded. Comtois, Fain… the others."

Treville nodded, pursed his lips, and then looked at the glass of wine. "Wise men who saw through their general and looked to a musketeer to lead them. Your report for the king was very concise — he was disappointed that," he paused and then said, "things didn't move forward more quickly."

Athos looked Treville in the eyes and nodded. He swallowed, frowned, and then shrugged as he leaned back in his seat with a heavy sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair and scratched the back of his head. "I'm not an assassin… I never pretended to be one, and I could not act without proof — I needed more than assumptions and accusations."

Treville held his wineglass and watched the liquid move along the sides as he shifted. "Because we're in the positions we're in, we will always be asked to compromise our values… those beliefs we hold dear, those," he paused and ran his thumb along the glass, "choices that make us who we are." He looked at Athos and sympathized. "Hold true to them… because at the end of the day, that is all you have and if you give those up… there is nothing left to give. You made the correct decision, Athos… as a result of that, General Sanchez's attempt to cross into French territory and seize Paris was thwarted. Good men lost their lives believing in you, trusting in you, and we are here today knowing Paris is safe — the king is safe. Those men," he reached across the desk and tapped the list of deceased with his index finger, "will never know the sacrifice they made for their country, but their families will, their children will… their grandchildren will."

Athos swallowed and looked at Treville.

"The Musketeers, with your leadership, helped save the lives of every child playing in these streets, their mothers, their fathers… the Musketeers accomplished the impossible because they had a leader who was patient, acted when needed, and protected his men and his king by defying orders." Treville knew the value of merit. He knew the cost of decisions and how difficult they were to make. "You are one of the finest soldiers I have ever had the honor to lead and those men outside," he pointed to the door, "will continue to follow you no matter how many men you lost… all because of what those men died for… and who they died for."

Athos looked away and gently squared the corners of the stack of letters with his right hand. "Children died under my command."

Minister Treville stood, placed his glass on the corner of the desk and said, "The moment those men don that uniform, they are no longer children." He cleared his throat, rapped his knuckles on the desk, and said, "Jacques was a fine soldier… he served his country and I could not be prouder of what he accomplished." He paused, took a deep breath, and looked toward the door. "I remember when he first arrived here," he smiled gently as he looked toward the window when the sparing outside grew louder. "I always knew that the boy hiding in the shadows would one day make a fine musketeer."

"He was a good one."

Treville scratched the back of his neck as he stood and said, "He had some great mentors." He turned to the door, gripped the handle, and paused. "King Louis wants to see you — not today, but soon." He opened the door and said over his shoulder, "Be proud of what you've accomplished."

Athos licked his bottom lip. "Thank you, sir."

Treville closed the door after he left the office.