Chapter 8

Two Days Later

With his arms crossed over his chest, Athos watched Piers and Walnut finish tying the heavy oiled leather cover to their wagons that were filled with the supplies that would repair the chateau, replace the destroyed furniture, and replenish their stock of wine and food. The wagon tongue clanged when the team of horses shifted. They swished their short tails, tossed their heads, and chewed their bits. The large drafts looked awkward next to the Friesians, which, while also drafts, did not bear the weight, height, or thickness of the Belgians that stood over a hand taller than the musketeer mounts.

Walnut slapped the side of the wagon, scanned the garrison, and then curled his lips into a genuine smile when Gentry stepped toward them with a bundle of food wrapped in cloths. They would not go hungry on their return trip. Piers chuckled, shook Gentry's hand, and then watched him return to the commissary.

Birds chirped in the background, chickens clucked and pecked at the ground, and a dog trotted by the garrison's entry. It was early, and a cool breeze brushed against the flag. Several teams of musketeers had said their goodbyes and spoken briefly with Piers and Walnut before their departure to the palace and their patrols. Promises of reunions were spoken with an open invitation from Piers to visit Verdun.

Piers stepped onto the wagon, and the seat squeaked beneath his weight. He looked over his shoulder, watched Walnut settle himself on the wagon behind him, and then looked at Athos, who walked toward him. "Maybe," Piers said, "when we again return to Paris, perhaps we can stop and say hello. I know Isabeau would like to see you and the others," he said and tilted his head toward Walnut, "as well as everyone else." He smiled, gripped the reins, and then reached out his hand. "I cannot thank you and your men enough, Captain. I owe you a debt of gratitude."

Athos smiled, shook Piers' hand, and said, "On the contrary, Piers," he said, "the debt is mine." He stepped back and then looked at Walnut. "The offer still stands."

Walnut laughed, shook his head, and rested his elbows on his knees while he adjusted the reins between his fingers. He looked around the garrison and thought about what could have been. "It's a generous offer, Captain, but my duty is to my family." He looked at Athos with a slight shrug. "But I thank you for your consideration."

Athos said, "I respect that." He took a deep breath, watched Piers slap the reins against the horses' rumps, and click his tongue. The big horses stepped forward, the wagon lurched, and the creaking and groaning of wood followed as they left the garrison.

Athos turned and watched Kelpie, from his stall, arch his long neck and nip at the tie that kept Porthos' mount stabled. Mathias crossed his arms over his chest and speculatively observed as the big black, persistent in his efforts, used his lips and front teeth to untie the rope. Once released, Kelpie bit the rope and tossed his head before tossing it to the ground and then immediately started to work on the iron latch that kept Porthos' horse stalled.

Athos stepped next to Mathias and shook his head. "What are you waiting for?"

Mathias exhaled. "I want to see how he does it, and then fix it so he can't."

Athos nodded, chuckled, and then motioned toward Alexander. "Flip the gate opening to the other side," he said and clapped Mathias' shoulder. He turned and walked to the staircase. "Alexander can help you."

"Your horse is a menace, Captain," Mathias said.

Athos laughed, which caused those in the courtyard to look at him. "Yes," he said proudly, "he is."

Porthos chuckled while seated on the table positioned near the stairs and just shy of the shade beneath the balcony. Aramis, seated on the bench with his back to the table, raised his cup and looked at Mathias, who turned toward them and shrugged.

D'Artagnan, leaning against the banister railing with his arms crossed over his chest, looked at Athos, who walked toward the staircase.

"Captain?" d'Artagnan said and pushed himself from his leaning position. He motioned toward Francois, who pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted.

"A message, Captain," Francois said, and stepped forward with his horses's reins in his right hand while he dug into the inside breast pocket of his doublet to retrieve a note. "From General Thorell. One of his men spotted me near the gates as he arrived from Verdun." He paused and took a deep breath. "He wanted me to get this to you right away."

Athos took the note. "Thank you." He looked at the mare, who breathed hard, and sweat gathered on her chest and where her bridle rested on her head. "See to your horse, Francois."

The young man nodded and quickly turned to cool his mount.

Athos, standing next to the railing, snapped the wax seal and allowed the pieces to fall to the ground and land near the toes of his boots. The parchment crinkled as he unfolded it and he read the note from Thorell. The second sheet of parchment listed the names of the Spanish soldiers who had escaped the chateau after the battle. Athos carefully scanned the names with a furrowed brow and critical eyes. He took a deep breath with a sigh of disappointment and then handed the note to Porthos.

Porthos, with a furrowed brow, glanced at d'Artagnan and then at Aramis before he glanced at the note. He listened as Athos walked up the steps. "What name is missing, Athos?" Porthos said, and then turned toward him. He handed the note to Aramis, who read it with d'Artagnan looking over his shoulder.

Aramis looked at Athos as he paused near the top step.

"Polo," Athos said, and then walked to his office. "The soldier who likes to play with knives." He took a deep breath, opened his door, and then closed it after entering.

Porthos clenched his jaw, curled his lips downward, and shook his head.

D'Artagnan took the note and list from Aramis and looked at it. He looked over the names and shook his head. "More men than this escaped," he said, and lowered his hands to his sides. The papers fluttered while clutched between his fingers.

"It's a start," Porthos said, and stood. "Like everythin' else," he said and grabbed his doublet from the bench next to Aramis, "it's goin' to take some time to find 'em all." He slipped into his doublet, took a deep breath, and grabbed his weapons belt. "I'm goin' to find a few bottles of wine," he looked at d'Artagnan, "find Remi an' Brodie an' find out if Gentry can make somethin' sweet."

Aramis frowned. "What are you planning?"

"A celebration… we're home, we're alive, an' we all need to be thankful for it." Porthos turned and shouted over his shoulder. "Let's roast somethin'!"

"Why don't we just go to the Wren?" d'Artagnan asked and shrugged his shoulders with his hands spread at his sides.

Porthos turned with a genuine smile and walked backward a few steps. "Best idea I've heard!"