I'm running a bit behind on getting back to everyone who has left a comment. My sincere apologies, but I'll try and catch up in the next day or so. Just a few more chapters to go...

Chapter 9

Porthos laughed, slapped the table with his palm, and then pointed at d'Artagnan, who had spilled ale down the front of his shirt, his doublet, and his britches. The drinking game, where musketeers tried to drink an entire cup without their hands, had turned into a battle of wills. Porthos had mastered his bite on the edge of his cup while the others struggled. The pile of sous in the center of the table continued to grow as more men took a seat at the table with Porthos and attempted to win. Cups were clenched and ale was spilled as it slipped past cheeks, over faces, and fell into the eyes and hair of those who took part. Ale collected on the floors beneath their feet, and on their britches.

The tavern wench delivered more drinks to musketeers, who had taken over the space. Locals had left, and the red guards had avoided the business and the street. The king's men had earned the right to be left alone, to enjoy a moment of reprieve, and to act like fools.

More ale was ordered and the barkeep, a short man with an abundant waistline, struggled to keep up. He took a deep breath, wiped his hands on his apron, and then turned to his right when a table of men laughed as a musketeer tried to do a handstand. The musketeer's legs flailed, arms wobbled, and finally he fell over despite the use of the support beam. While seated, he grabbed his drink from the table, raised it in cheer, and then downed it. The men cheered.

Athos and Aramis entered the room and looked at the chaos. The tavern wench slapped Germaine when he grasped her buttocks. He laughed, apologized, and then grabbed his ale and drank it without stopping.

Remi stood, raised his glass, and shouted, "Captain!" He turned, looked at those in the room, and then stepped back, bumped into his colleague, and then fell backward. His feet went upright, and he landed with a "humph" and then laughed. He managed to not spill a drop of his drink. Remi stood, laughed again, and then pointed to his drink. "Priorities!"

The room erupted in laughter once more.

Aramis slapped Athos' shoulder and then slipped into the crowd. He walked to the bar, a simple slab of wood held up with barrels of wine, and grabbed himself a drink. He took a sip, and then watched a game of dice before he took a seat with d'Artagnan and Porthos at their table.

Athos chuckled, shook his head, and then nodded in thanks to the bar wench as she handed him a glass. He leaned against a pillar, watched the games, the antics, and listened to the laughter. He thought about calling an early muster, just to see how many men would stumble from their quarters half-dressed and severely unfit for duty. Headaches and upset stomachs would soon follow and Gentry's morning-after treatment, despite the horrific smell and taste, would be greatly appreciated. While the thought caused him to curl his lips into a subtle smile he pushed it aside, and just watched the musketeers enjoy themselves without fear of being attacked, of watching their brothers suffer the effects of war, or fearing the need to bandage wounds while fighting on a battlefield.

They had accomplished the near impossible with too little supplies, few reinforcements, and even less sleep. The musketeers had pushed aside any doubts, and followed the orders of a captain with little experience leading a regiment. They had lost many, but together they had helped save Paris and her king from an enemy over three times their size.

"The first time I met you," Levi said as he stepped beside Athos, "I liked you… but I made some assumptions that I shouldn't have… I thought you," he shrugged, looked around the room, and then looked back at Athos, "it doesn't matter," Levi said, and then smiled. "But, I'm glad I was wrong."

Athos craned his neck to look at him, noticed how he stood apart from the others, how he looked with pride at the men he had served with. A man looking one last time at a life he was ready to leave. Athos frowned and said, "You're resigning?"

Levi took a deep breath, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked around the room at the antics of men he had grown to love as brothers. "It's time…" he said with a hint of sadness in his voice. He paused and watched young Laury get tossed from one group of musketeers to the next. "If that young man were any shorter…" he curled his lips downward as he contemplated one last duty as a King's Musketeer, "I may get him a goat before I leave."

Athos chuckled, took a sip of his ale, and said, "Saddle it, and then leave it in his horse's stall."

Levi laughed and scratched at the stubble on his cheek. There was a long pause when he finally turned to Athos and said, "I'll resign my post after your meeting with the king tomorrow… and if you need me to continue for a while, I can. But," he said with a shrug, "there's a girl I want to marry… and my brother has awarded me some land that needs to be managed. And," he looked over his shoulder toward d'Artagnan. "I'm tired… I'm tired of losing friends, of watching my brothers die, of not knowing if today will be my last… I want to have children and I want to be there for them… watch them grow up.

"If Pom could do it… so can I," Levi said, and looked at Athos.

Athos stuck out his hand and said, "It's been an honor serving with you."

Levi felt his throat tighten, and he grasped Athos's hand, and then pulled him into an embrace. "The honor has been mine…" he placed his hand on Athos' neck, "Captain," he said and gently slapped him on the shoulder and then left the confines of the Wren.

Athos watched him go. He looked at his cup, the ale that swirled as he moved, and the foam that collected around the edges. He heard the noise and chaos around him and he watched soldiers relax, enjoy a moment in time without threat, and each other's company. Athos quietly wondered how long it would be before he walked away… before Aramis, Porthos, and d'Artagnan made the same decision. Or, if by chance, they would remain musketeers until their dying breaths.

Brodie walked across the room toward Remi's table and motioned with his hand for him to rise from his seated position. They hummed something and together they found the key that would work best as both men stood side-by-side and started to sing. The combination of Brodie's baritone and Remi's tenor voices spread throughout the room and the chaos stopped. The men turned in their seats and listened. The gifted singers sang their parts with passion and joy.

Athos smiled appreciatively toward them, looked once more around the room, and then quietly left. He would allow his men the time they needed to rejoice in their return, and then when the laughter died down, the chaos settled, he would allow them still more time to grieve for those they had lost.