Disclaimer: I don't own anything belonging to either Alexandre Dumas or his descendents.
Chapter Four: Sons of the Sign
"A lady?" Aramis' voice came right on top of Porthos' sitting down hard on the ground.
"Lord Almighty, how could I miss that? I am the worst Musketeer ever."
"Yes you are." Athos glared at Porthos. "And you-" he pointed at the woman, "what the hell are you doing?"
"Getting help to solve a murder." She planted her fists on her hips in a stance as old as womankind. "But you don't seem to care that a dozen men died back at Chapelle Mansounx."
"Our job is to protect the king, not police the people." He brushed by her.
"Then why were you there?"
"King's business."
"You mean those men."
"No I mean king's business."
"So that's it?"
"Yes."
"Coward!"
Athos stopped and slowly turned. Aramis, who had been giving Porthos the scolding of his life lifted his eyes and recognized the murderous look on his friend's face. In a desperate attempt to save the woman's life, and Athos a turn rotting under the Bastille, he placed himself between the two adversaries. Judging Athos to be the more dangerous of the two, his appeal was directed at him. "Don't kill her Athos. You'd never live down the humiliation of murdering a defenseless woman."
"Oh yes, she's quite defenseless."
It wasn't what Athos said that made Aramis turn to look at the woman, but rather the way it was said. Eight inches of curved steel lay in each of her palms and a wicked grin was spread across her face. Aramis would have given almost anything to know where she pulled those from.
"Let him come priest, I'm not worried."
"Um children?" This was from Porthos.
"What?" Three irritated voices snapped at him.
"If you would really like to kill one another, and I'm certainly not going to naysay you there, but perhaps you should do it somewhere a little less public, hm?"
They glanced around and sure enough had gathered quite a crowd. The woman slipped her knives into her sleeves and with a grin and a bow said, "Come back inside, I'll buy you a pint and you can listen to me try to convince you to help me."
Athos looked a bit skeptical at this but followed anyway.
"Isn't someone going to help me up?"
Athos and Aramis looked at each other and Aramis conceded with a sigh to help his fallen comrade, but the woman beat him to it.
"Come on," She hauled Porthos to his feet. "God you weigh a ton." Porthos, other than his brief bout of guilt, was taking the news that his new friend was a woman rather well. Porthos took any news that involved a woman rather well. Together, they staggered into the bar. Inside, Aramis raised a hand to order three fresh mugs, then looked at the woman for her order. She raised an eyebrow in reply, so he ordered four; then blushed clear to the roots of his hair when the barmaid leaned over the table to receive her coin in the accustomed place in her cleavage. The woman's eyebrow rose even higher at that and Aramis quickly dismissed the maid.
"Do you have a name, or should we make one up or you?" Athos motioned across the table at the woman sitting there.
"You don't think it's really Louis?"
"I already know it's not." Porthos stated from her left.
She sighed, "Can't you control these two?" The question was directed at Aramis.
"What makes you think I should?"
"Even godless heathens such as them will respect a man of the cloth."
Aramis shook his head, confused, "I don't know what I said to give you the impression I was a clergyman my lady, but I hold no ecclesiastical titles."
She cocked her head to the side in a motion Porthos was beginning to dread, "Pity, it would suit you."
"A name madam." Athos was finally beginning to sound irritated. He'd been irritated for a while, but he was just beginning to sound it.
She shot him a quick grin and a wink. "Elizabeth."
"Elizabeth?"
"I wouldn't question her choice of name Athos," Porthos interrupted as their ale arrived, "she can get pretty mean about this type of thing."
Elizabeth smirked at him. Aramis looked a bit confused but bit back his comment.
"Well, Elizabeth, you said you wanted to convince me, you have my attention. Convince."
She pushed her mug to her left, and leaned over until her elbows rested on the table. "I'm sure you did enough research to learn that the men killed weren't from Chapelle Mansounx." At Athos' nod she continued, "They had accepted work from a man calling himself the Comte de Giverny."
"Giverny is held in a Viscount-ship, not a Comte." Aramis pointed out.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him as she retrieved her mug which had found its way into Porthos' hand upon the finish of his own. "I know that, and you know that, but most common people wouldn't. They took up work with this Comte in order to further the workings of a group calling themselves the Sons of the Sign." She paused here for their gasp of recognition, which never came. She sighed, "You're telling me that you have blue blood and you don't know who the Sons of the Sign are?"
"Why should we?" Aramis asked.
"Because they are the main backers of the belief that the current king is not a descendent of the original Royal houses: Capetian, Valois, and Bourbon. They believe that at the turn of the 13th century, during the reign of Philippe IV, the queen became pregnant, with a child not of her husband. Rather than be cuckolded, the king chose to recognize the queen's bastard heir. Once he had impregnated his queen, he could simply have the child killed. But after the birth of Philippe V, the queen could have no more children. The king however, fathered a bastard, and he went to his queen to convince her to claim the child as of her line, but she refused. Knowing that his child could never claim the throne since he had already claimed an heir, he conferred his true son to a Lord in the south and ordered him to treat the child as his own. He killed his queen himself by the way, strangled her in their marriage bed. It was quite the scandal of the time. Anyway, there are people who believe that the descendent of this Lord is the true heir to the French throne because of his ties to the royal line of kings, and not some whore who held the queen-ship."
"Whoa." Aramis sat back in his chair.
"Did you catch all that?" Porthos asked Athos.
Athos waved a hand to shush him, "How is it the Musketeers were never informed of this?"
"Because it's all hearsay and rumors. It was never proven and the evidence is so flimsy, it probably never will be. But young nobles join the Sons of the Sign in the hopes of replacing the current king with the true heir."
"Who is this man who claims to be king?" Athos asked.
"No one can be sure. It was never discovered upon what family the child was bestowed; so, like all good myths, this one cannot be either proven or disregarded."
"So those peasants were committing treason?" Aramis asked, "That's helpful, we tell Trèville and that's the end of the story."
"A peasant cannot commit treason." Elizabeth snapped, "They know nothing of the world outside their village and most couldn't tell you who the current king is."
"Ignorance is no excuse." Aramis pointed out.
"And when ignorance is forced down their throats from the day they are born, what excuse can they make then?"
"You know," Athos growled at her, "for someone who doesn't know anything about these plots, you certainly have an awful lot of information."
"It's all history, I assumed you already knew it."
Athos sighed, "Anything else I should already know?"
"Well, I assume you saw the marks on those men?"
Athos and Aramis both shot guilty looks at Porthos, but remained silent.
Elizabeth looked into her empty mug for a moment before turning to Porthos, "Stick out your tongue." Porthos complied without thinking and Elizabeth used his saliva to draw a triangle and three lines that looked very familiar to everyone but Porthos who didn't even bat an eyelash, except at the nasty taste left on his tongue after the grime of the table had traveled there. He began to furiously scrub his tongue with the heel of his hand that is usually only seen with shoe-shine boys. Athos and Aramis were a bit taken aback at his disregard to what was, for them, a blaring indictment of his guilt and treason against the king.
When he had finished, Porthos looked at the mark. Then at his two friends who were looking at him like they expected him to jump up and kill them all. "What?"
"Do you recognize it?" Athos pointed at the rapidly fading mark.
"It's the emblem of the Sons." Elizabeth clarified.
"Can't say I do."
Aramis and Athos shared a long glance, then decided to let it go until they were out of company. "Well," Athos said to Elizabeth, "it seems that you know more than we do."
"It's like this Athos: I know exactly what we're looking for, I just don't have the slightest idea where to look and because I'm a woman, I can't look everywhere. But you can. You're Musketeers, and you can help me find who is responsible for this. Help me bring murderers to justice. Help me Athos."
She sat there under the silent scrutiny of the Musketeers for a long moment before Athos broke the silence.
"Alright, we'll do our best, but you need to stay out of it."
"But-"
"No." Athos slammed a hand onto the table for emphasis, "As you so kindly pointed out, you are a lady, and we can best help you by keeping you out of harm's way."
"But-"
"No."
"Athos-"
Athos just raised an eyebrow. At this point Porthos thought it would be best for him to jump in and play knight-protector to his friend.
"Athos, surely she could-"
"No."
"But-"
"No." Porthos leaned back in his chair with a sullen look and proceeded to drink what was left of everyone else's ale. Athos rubbed a hand over his face and looked at Aramis. "Are you going to argue with me too?"
"No." Aramis replied. "I think you're right. She needs to be kept safe until we have more information."
"Damn you Aramis, you didn't have to be vocal in your agreement." Elizabeth snapped.
Athos smiled, the first time in a long while it seemed. "Where can we get in touch with you?"
Elizabeth looked positively stunned at the question. "I… uh… I…"
"You have no lodging?" Aramis finished for her.
"Not so much." She admitted.
"Do you know anyone she could stay with?" Aramis asked Athos.
"Someone we could trust with a young woman of her face? No."
"What about Porthos, he was married for a time wasn't he? Won't that shield her honor a bit?"
"I know you've spent your entire life thinking you might one day join the clergy Aramis, but that's a bit farfetched even for you."
"Well, she can't stay with either of us, whatever honor she has would be instantly forfeit."
"I know that."
"She could say with Mademoiselle Rougiem." Porthos piped in, looking longingly at a mug left unguarded at a nearby table. He personally thought it was a fine idea that would solve all their problems.
Athos and Aramis thought he was crazy.
Elizabeth, frankly, didn't know what to think.