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Unto Dumas: Pax, Disney, Hallmark and United Artists too

Give credit where credit is due,

I'd be writing something subtly different…

If not for all of you.

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Chapter 9: The Voyage

Some time after dawn sleep shattered with the sound of cannon fire. As one, the young musketeers tumbled from their hammocks …Ramon a bit sleep tangled greeted the floor rather unexpectedly and was decidedly more alert when they reached the deck then he would have been on an equally early morning in the Garrison.

"Maybe we suggest Duval put hammocks in barracks," D'artagnan quipped "It may cut the Coffee consumption by half!" Jaques snickered,

"Cannon fire…is sobering enough thanks." Ramón growled, and winced as his headache intensified with the next round.

Captain Porthos was grinning wildly, "Nor'easters Norrington hasn't found our range yet…that was supposed to be over our bow. How are we on contraband lads…should we let 'im board us today?"

"NO!" the young Musketeers exclaimed with one voice.

"You heard them by bonny Boy-O's let's run!" The commander called and his sailors swarmed the ratlines. The ship lurched forward and banked solidly to the right. "Andie to the wheel… Etienne, Anton, Armor up!" The Captain was in his element and loving every moment of it.

Three youths…not more than 13-years-old scrambled out of the hold. A lithe lass with shining blond hair shot into the pilothouse, likely this was 'Andie.'

The other two, Anton and Etienne lifted hinged trapdoors in the deck along the rails and pulled out lengths of metal chained together and slipped them over the side of the rail. There was a definite –clunk- as they fastened to something just below the waterline. "Were ironclad Captain!" the smaller of the two called with an impishly smile. The other youth noticed Siroc's curious gaze, "Bands of steel keep the timbers from splintering…and reflect the shot too." he said by way of explanation – "We know a great smith, Will can make almost anything… magnets keep the top bits in place." He smiled with pride the inventor knew all too well; this was likely the boy's own design.

"Wouldn't they attract the…" Siroc began but the –BOOM- of the next sally drowned out the word "Cannonball."

Just then, Lewis stumbled on deck knuckling the sleep from his eyes. "It is not yet noon. Stop this at once! I'll have you know I am the …mmmmfmmml." Jacques arm around his mouth as she tackled him to the deck prevented further speech. As did the next uncomfortable close shot.

The ship caught a glancing blow and shuttered in response, but as promised, the steel bands dissipated most of the force. The newly repositioned sails swelled and the attacking vessel quickly shrank in the distance.

"Un-hand me you…you… 'Schiavo' I could have you flogged." Lewis shook Jacque off and crawled blindly away -- Bumping into Siroc's legs as he did so.

The young inventor knelt to help the boy up. "Please do not say such things, my lord." Siroc whispered, that Italian term 'slave' coupled with the word 'flogged' caused him undeniable pain and disappointment shone in his eyes. "You do not know what it means."

No threats…no insults…no bribes…or fawning…he simply said please. It was the 'please' caught the young king's attention. This Siroc was unlike any who had ever had charge of him. Lewis bit his lip and nodded. "We are unused to being manhandled in such a fashion…but we understand…Lew…Lew would not react so. I, I will try and not let such things upset me. You may tell the man I shan't have him flogged after all.

"I think you should tell Jacque yourself…if not for his quick action you could have been hurt. I expect that is one thing you could use a little practice in-- Lew. It's called an apology." Siroc smiled warmly and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, gently guiding him back to the cabin.

And so it can be noted that on at least one occasion the King of France has been induced to apologize.

-o-o-o-o-

Some time later Lewis leaned on the rail by the bowsprit and watched dolphins frolic about: leaping, diving and dancing in the waves. "They seem so free." The boy sighed.

"This is their element, it's where they belong. You however, have been in the sun too long. Come inside for a bit or you will be as blistered as D'artagnan is. I've only got so much salve. Siroc smiled.

The young royal obeyed.

Etienne, Anton, Ramon, Jacques were playing Brelan in the galley. D'artagnan was leaning stiffly against the wall watching when Siroc and Lewis entered.

The larger of the two lads looked up from his cards and asked hopefully. "Are you three going to play the winner?"

"I think not Anton." D'artagnan smiled. To Siroc he whispered, "Uncle Paulie…is one of the finest card sharps I've ever seen…but young Etienne is too like him…I haven't caught him at it yet but his skills are a might uncanny, if you get my meaning.

As if to prove D'artagnan's point Etienne exclaimed joyously, "Praise God! The holy trinity! Take note and despair gentlemen -- three of a kind!" The slim youth grinned. And the others groaned in dismay.

"Oh, Oh I like this game!" Louis called…nearly beside himself with excitement. "Can you teach me?"

"To play… or to win?" Etienne winked playfully at him.

"Oh my dear fellow," Lewis smiled regally, "I only play to win."

"I am out" Anton smiled, and gratefully laying down his cards and offered his seat to Lew. "Games aren't really my thing… I'd much rather read." He said moving to a bench near by with his book 'A Dissertation on Architectural Geometry' by Luca Bartolomes Pacioli

D'artagnan found this unspeakably amusing "Are you sure you two weren't swapped at birth?" the young Gascon laughed.

Siroc looked confused.

"That's right… You haven't been properly introduced have you?" D'artagnan recalled and with a flourish that would have done Ramon proud, he introduced. "Siroc…my cousins: Etienne de Ruse and Anton Porthos"

If one were to judge the two boys wholly on physical characteristics D'artagnan's pronounce meant would have seemed at odds. Anton was a big lad as suited one of the Porthos lineage and Etienne was slight and a bit mouse like… with dark inquisitive eyes fitting of the scholarly De Ruse name. It was their personalities that seemed to have somehow been transposed.

It was hard to imagine any lad who shared a even a drop of blood with the great Aramis to possess the roguish qualities Etienne blatantly exuded. Likewise, one would not expect to describe any Porthos as a quiet, studious unassuming lad…yet here they were; living examples that children are not apples and can indeed fall far from their roots of the family tree.

"You are Emris's!" Siroc gaped at the young gambler.

"His sister Kate Lynn's actually by Gryphon." Etienne explained, "My Sire had no proper surname so he took hers instead.

"But you're Porthos's?" he asked the strapping scholar."

"Distaff side again my fellow." Anton admitted, "Paulie's sister, Sweet Marie by Tan…he uses the name Brand now, but likewise had no surname to pass on.

Siroc was taken aback. He recognized those names, Tan and Gryphon Serious about Siroc. Not only were these boys unique in their bearing and temperament… They were uncommon at a deeper level. Their Sires …Like Siroc himself had come from the darkness of the citadel…They had been shaped by the cruel hand of their Master; Richelieu rather than Mazarin… but the technique was the same. Still these boys were proof that their fathers had not let their unnatural beginnings stand in the way… someone accepted them, found them worthy of love and helped them create families of their own. "That would mean you are both…" Siroc began, eyes wide

"…A might uncommon, by nature of birth." Etienne finished for him.

"Humph!" the X-slave exclaimed contentedly and smiled–his mind raced, "Perhaps my past won't dominate my future. I really DO have family. There is hope. I am not alone! "Any other surprises around here I should know about?" Siroc asked half-teasing.

"Actually that would be Andie…Short for Anna Dee…She's Protector's by Captain Jon." Anton nodded.

"Protector…" Siroc caught his breath that was the one Chosen referred to as 'the Master's heir.' What could one expect from the one designed to succeed Richelieu yet had the courage to refuse him?

"Are we going to PLAY or NOT!" Lewis whined, and the others were happy to indulge him… The young royal actually managed to win 5 out of 8 games…and it didn't look like Etienne was helping him…much.

Siroc was proud to note that Louie did not through a single tantrum when he lost…and only sulked a little.

-o-o-o-o-

The next day the blond Mariner lass announced "Bad Storm coming." She dangled one handed from the ratlines before dropping to the deck. But the sun shone bright and clear.

"You must be mistaken little one" Ramón smiled "'nare have I ever seen… A sky that is so pristine. Oh, brilliant hue…soaring majestic ever blue. And Sea of sullen dove like gray…they'll be no storm for us today." The Spaniard Rhapsodized gleefully.

Captain Porthos frowned. "Don't second guess a mariner… even a little 'un." The large man knelt on one knee to be eye-to-eye with Andie. "So lass, how long do we have? Can we make port or should we batten down and try to ride it out?"

"Ridiculous" Ramon scoffed, "you'd let a child decide… Aren't you Captain here?"

"Andie's got salt in her veins…boy, She's near kin to Papa Sea…He tells her things regular seamen …let alone a land-laddie like you would deem uncanny." Captain Porthos crossed mighty arms over his barrel like chest and loomed over the poet, "If all your kinfolk are as closed to the shifting currents as you are…I can guess why Papa Sea gave your famous armada such a hard time not so long ago." Then the big man shrugged. "You'll learn…sooner rather than later I expect."

And he did.

Less than three hours later, a smudge appeared on the horizon. Sails were taken down, booms lowered and everything that would fit was taken below decks. The horses were swathed in blankets and given a potion to soothe them. Storm anchors were let down on all sides and everything that could not be taken off deck was covered in tarp and lashed down solidly…Still the Spaniard was dubious. "Superstitious over reacting!" he growled.

When the 'smudge' devoured the sky from horizon to horizon and pelted the decks with hail the size of robin's eggs … Ramón was forced to concede the point. The ship pitched and hove… D'artagnan and Jacque fell into one another and remained in an almost indecent tangle for longer than one could believe fully accidental. The sullen Spaniard took no notice, as he sat cross-legged on the deck 'in deep meditation' over a bailing bucket at the time.

At the height of the storm Lewis demanded the clouds "Just go someplace else, take the waves with you… and leave us alone!" then wept inconsolably into Siroc's shoulder when it was apparent nature did not recognize his royal authority. Finally when his sobs eased Siroc promised they'd be traveling on horseback or in carriages soon and avoid further 'Adventures' as much as possible.

Of the six anchors that had been laid, only two remained. The ship limped into the mouth of the Fleuve de Loire three days later. Captain Porthos promised there would be smooth sailing the rest of the way, and they would pass some of the most beautiful scenery in all of France on the way to the port at le Feré. But Siroc had given his word to the young king. "Put us ashore if you please sir…we'll be taking the horses here on in."

The captain was reluctant to let them continue on their own but finally conceded. "We'll head into the Quai de la Fosse if that's what you've a mind to."

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Chapter X: Change of Scene… the adventures disembark. The Journey inland begins…with some delays.