Chapter Two
Porthos and Aramis had spent the last couple of hours working with the cadets. The young men were ready to take up their full role as Musketeers in the next week or two, and very soon a new batch of raw recruits would arrive.
They sat at their regular table, attempting to formulate a plan of action.
'Talk to 'im,' Porthos coaxed, his tone as innocent as he could make it. Aramis' eyes widened in response.
'Talk to him? What do you suggest I say? Good afternoon, Athos, the Captain will be relieved you did not break your neck falling from your horse, or were not delayed by downing a bottle of wine on your return journey.' He arched his brows in askance and the big Musketeer scowled.
'But 'e talks to you, 'e won't tell me anythin'.' There was no recrimination in the statement, as it was well known that Aramis was regarded as a good listener. He was a man of God, and tried not to judge those who chose to unburden themselves to him; as opposed to Porthos who was slightly too honest for his own good.
'I am not sure he wants to talk,' Aramis stated.
'Hmph, 'e doesn't know what 'e wants. Let's face it, 'e rarely recognises what's in 'is own self- interest,' Porthos added. Aramis nodded in agreement, just as the sound of a cantering horse heralded the approach of a rider. Both men turned to look. It was late morning, but not yet noon, and it appeared Athos had taken Treville at his word.
Silently he acknowledged his friends with a nod, before taking the steps up to the Captain's office. Though Athos had not slowed his pace, Aramis could not help but feel there was a reluctance to the thud of his booted feet.
Athos raised his hand to knock the door, but it flew open before he had the chance.
Athos took a step back as a man slid past him, a look of trepidation upon his face when he noted Athos' expression. By his mode of dress, the swordsman deduced he had come from the palace, either with news, or a summons to an audience with the King.
He knocked, and noting the Captain pulling on his uniform tunic, Athos decided it had obviously been the latter. Before he could speak, Treville looked up and saved him the bother, appearing relived to see him. 'Good, I hoped that was you arriving. You are early, you have the missive?' Athos kept his expression blank.
'You made it clear you wanted me to return before midday, and yes, I have it.'
Treville did not let the provoking comment rile him. Instead he looked Athos in the eye and said, 'Good, the King wants us.' Treville strode past the Musketeer, through the door, and the swordsman followed.
'Us?' he asked, dryly.
'Us!' Treville barked. Athos said no more, but when he saw the questioning expressions of the two men awaiting him, he merely shrugged his shoulders.
The stable boy was standing holding Roger and Treville's bay ready. The Captain must have sent a message via the King's courier, as Athos' horse should have been divested of his saddle and partaking of a nice rub down by now.
He patted the large black stallion as it pawed the ground in recognition.
'Sorry boy, no rest for the wicked.'
Once they were riding through the busy streets, Athos dared a question. 'Why us? Or was it simply the messenger the king requested?' He kept his voice neutral, though he preferred knowing what he was walking into where the palace was concerned.
Whilst his guard had been lowered on their recent mission, as he had watched his life expectancy grow shorter by the hour, Athos had confessed his identity to the King – a decision now he regretted every minute of every day.
Louis had vowed to keep the secret, but the King's moods were famously mercurial, and who knew what small matter or remark would make him share that secret like a sly child?
Treville paused before answering. 'He asked that you collect the message and now he wants us to bring it to him.' The Captain kept his eyes up ahead, a sure sign that some guilt or annoyance kept him from holding Athos' gaze.
The swordsman remained silent – he suspected Treville knew no more than he did. He realised the Captain had been aware of his nightly activities, but apart from one late arrival, he had worked as requested and fulfilled all demands made of him. But Athos was anything but a fool; he knew Treville was disappointed in him, and that burden sat heavy upon his heart – just another layer of guilt to add to the others he had accumulated.
Athos was not a man who suffered flights of fancy – he dealt with logic and strategy – life had shown him that emotion and passion bought only pain. That being said, as they rode through the early afternoon crowd, he had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. He allowed himself to scan the crowd, keeping his perusal as casual as possible. He saw no familiar face or shape, nor any suspicious observer following them. There was a time when he had seen her face in the crowd, any crowd; dark hair, billowing cloak, just something to elicit an old painful memory. He had moved beyond that, or so he told himself. She was in England, no longer a threat to his heart – only his sanity.
However, the truth was, that even if he had seen the pair of dark, beady eyes that watched him from the shadows, he would not have recognised the face he had last seen through a drunken haze.
As the two Musketeers rode by, the watchful eyes narrowed, and their owner slunk back into the crowd, heading for a rendezvous he hoped would prove lucrative.
Both men dismounted, and without further conversation strode shoulder to shoulder along the elegant corridors. As they reached the double doors to the throne room, Athos' breath hitched, just as it had done every time since their return from the ill-fated King's tour. Would this be the day Louis would lay his past bare for all to see? Would he forget himself and use Athos' real title?
Louis was in deep conversation with the Cardinal, whilst on his other side stood a young man, obviously not a member of the household staff judging by the arrogant way he regarded Treville before summarily dismissing him as unimportant. The stranger moved on to Athos and something flickered across his haughty features, but it was too fleeting to put a name to. Still, his eyes narrowed and he glared at the swordsman with more than the passing interest he had given the Musketeer Captain.
Upon their entry, Louis turned and gave them a broad grin. 'Ah, Captain, it is good to see you, and you, Athos.'
'Sire.' Athos bowed.
Richelieu had watched the King acknowledge the Musketeer and, like a cat in a dovecot, he had sat back and observed his prey. Now the Cardinal turned and smiled, a most unsettling sight; it was not a natural expression for the man and Athos was instantly on his guard.
'Captain,' Louis began, 'I require you to do something for me. This is Reynard Du Bois, he is the son of an old friend of the Cardinal's and I want you to take him under your wing.' He grinned broadly, like a child who thinks they have had an excellent idea.
For a moment there was total silence. Richelieu stopped smiling, but his eyes were alive with mischief as he watched the Musketeer Captain struggle to find the right words.
Athos appraised the young man. He was perhaps nineteen or twenty, but the sneer on his face made him appear older. His jaw clenched as he observed the young noble smirk at Treville's dilemma. Du Bois was obviously conscious that the outcome was a foregone conclusion. In reality the Captain had no choice in the matter.
Treville finally found his voice.
'Sire, the new cadets will begin at the end of the month, may I ask what experience…' he paused, '... Monsieur Reynard possesses?' He looked toward the young man and Louis nodded for him to answer the Captain's question.
'I was destined for the army, Captain, but my father has a fancy for the King's elite regiment. I am highly skilled with a sword, unbeaten in fact.' Once again he looked at Athos. There was no hint of respect, or interest in the swordsman's reputation, though it was no secret that the man was rapidly becoming a legend within the regiment.
It was the Cardinal who spoke up, saving Treville from commenting on what was rapidly becoming an awkward conversation.
'Monsieur DuBois will be an asset to the regiment. I am sure he will keep your swordmaster busy.' He smirked at Athos, watching his reaction like a hawk. However, Athos was the master in stoicism and gave no outward response at all to the First Minister's slight.
'Athos is a Musketeer, and the finest swordsman in the regiment. Monsieur DuBois will do well to learn from him,' Treville countered.
The Captain was not happy. Though it was not unusual for a nobleman to purchase a commission for a younger or recalcitrant son, there was something about this that made him wary. For one thing, he doubted the Cardinal had any friends, let alone old ones. If you had known Richelieu for more than a year, then you were probably useless or dead.
'So that is settled,' Louis clapped his hands. 'Monsieur DuBois will join you at the end of the week.' Anticipating Treville's next comment, he added, 'No point waiting until the end of the month when he is so eager. I am sure you can put him to use.' Again, Louis smiled that broad, innocent grin – it might even have been endearing it if it did not regularly follow or precede some highly unreasonable or idiotic comment.
Treville sighed. There seemed little point arguing when he knew the matter had in reality been decided before his arrival. He took the package that Athos was holding and held it out to the King. 'Your communication from the Church of our Lady, Sire.' Louis appeared slightly confused, then looked toward Richelieu.
'I believe it is for the Cardinal,' he replied, and he gestured for Treville to pass the scroll to the First Minister.
'Thank you.' Richelieu took the package and addressed Athos.
'You encountered no problems on your journey, Monsieur Athos?' The swordsman looked the First Minister in the eye; the question was out of character. The Cardinal never acknowledged the Musketeers, let alone addressed them by name – if he even knew it.
'None, Minister, the task went smoothly.' Richelieu gave a quick grin then frowned. 'I met an old friend the other day who thought he knew you, he was from Benoir. Are you from that area Athos?'
Athos froze. He waited for the King to mention Pinot but he made no sound. Despite the thumping of his heart Athos managed to reply with as little interest as he could muster.
'I am afraid I do not know of such a place, Cardinal, he must have been mistaken.' Athos offered no further information, but the two men's gaze held, neither breaking contact. Richelieu blinked first, a false smile upon his lips, and he steeped his fingers together.
'No matter, I suppose one Musketeer looks very much like another.' Treville glanced from Athos to the Cardinal, then to the future recruit; he, too, observed Athos a little too closely for the Captain's liking.
Something was wrong, but Treville simply did now know what.
'Sire, if that is all?' the Captain asked. The King had been hanging upon every word of the exchange, and if his fascinated stare lingered slightly too long upon Athos, he did not make it obvious.
'Of course. Captain, Athos, I bid you good day.' With that, he rose from his chair and walked purposefully from the room.
Treville nodded to Athos and together they turned toward the grand double doors. Once they were in the corridor, away from prying eyes, Treville turned to Athos. 'What was that all about?'
Athos scowled. 'I have no idea.'
Treville eyed the Musketeer closely. 'Is there something I should know Athos? If so, tell me now.' He waited for Athos to answer, but if truth be told, he realised he would not have known if Athos was lying to him or not, so closed was the man's expression.
'Well I do not like it,' the Captain added. 'Why would the Cardinal ask such a thing?'
'Because he was fishing,' Athos concluded as though he was deep in thought.
'He has never liked you, Athos, you threaten him. You show neither fear nor respect, and he senses you are not what you seem. You must learn not to antagonise him. Plus, we have no idea what Milady told him.'
Athos turned to face the Captain. 'She told him nothing.' His voice was low but firm.
Treville watched him out of the corner of his eye. 'Because she wished to protect you?'
Athos gave the slightest sigh. 'Because she wished to protect herself.'
Treville snorted and shook his head. 'Well, she created enough of a mystery to pique Richelieu's interest, and until he has the full story you need to watch your back… again!' He ran his hand through his hair, and Athos would have grinned at the Captain's familiar gesture of frustration had he not found Treville's remark too accurate an assessment.
Treville rode on in silence, a situation he was normally perfectly comfortable with, but not today. Today there was so much that lay unspoken, and the older man knew this was a perfect opportunity to talk to his morose Musketeer, but somehow he was afraid to hear what Athos had to say. For the first time in his life, Treville felt like a coward – and it did not sit well with the veteran soldier.
They rode through the gates of the garrison and Treville slid from his horse. He turned to speak to Athos, but saw that the man was already leading Roger into the stable, back straight and walking with purpose. Treville shook his head, and instead walked toward his office. He had much to do and Athos was old enough to look out for himself.
It was lunchtime and Athos knew he would find Porthos in the canteen, and where Porthos was, Aramis was sure to be close by. So, despite having no desire to eat, he headed toward the low building that housed the Musketeers' rest room and kitchens.
As he paused in the doorway attempting to locate the two Musketeers, a voice broke into his reverie. 'Well, look who it ain't! Thought you were dead.' Athos turned with a cold stare to acknowledge the man who had spoken, the twitch at the corner of his mouth, indicating he was not in the least offended by the remark.
'Serge.' It was all he said, but the old man ladling food into bowls for the hungry men merely snorted and looked away, though he, too, had a twinkle in his eye.
'I should be offended, yer never eat my food. But then I know you ain't eatin' anybody else's either, are yer? Skin and bone, that's what yer look like.' Serge narrowed his eyes, but he did not expect an answer.
Athos gave him a lopsided grin and shrugged his shoulders, turning away toward his quarry seated at the back of the room.
Porthos looked up from his bowl of stew. 'So his lordship has deigned to dine with us at last!' He noted Athos stiffen and felt the sharp blow to his leg beneath the table, instantly regretting his jest. Though it was a joke he had used many times, now that Athos' background was known to them, it no longer held any amusement – just the opposite in fact.
Porthos, of course, habitually trod where angels would have shuddered to follow, but that was part of his charm – or idiocy, depending how one looked at it.
'So how was the palace? You are still standing, so obviously they did not want to arrest you or behead you.' Aramis smiled brightly, hoping he could overshadow Porthos' ill-considered greeting.
Athos' shoulders relaxed slightly. He knew they had many questions, questions they had every right to ask, but which he had no intention of answering. Discussing the events of the palace was an acceptable alternative.
'It was interesting.' He sat at the table and poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle in the middle, aware of two pairs of eyes watching the manoeuvre. He looked up and realised it was not his actions that held their fascination, but their anticipation over the details of his meeting with Louis.
'Pray continue, we are agog,' Aramis grinned, partly delighted his friend was talking at all.
Athos quirked his brow and sipped from his cup, his expression becoming more thoughtful.
'Treville was asked to take on a new recruit, the son of an old friend of the Cardinal's.' He glanced at the two men, anticipating a response.
'Really, 'e 'as friends?' Porthos remarked, looking incredulous.
'Mm, that was my first thought,' Athos smirked. 'Then Richelieu mentioned another old friend who thought he knew me from somewhere called Benoir. He asked if that was where I was from.' This time the two men sat open-mouthed.
'He addressed you directly?' Aramis queried.
'Indeed,' was the swordsman's only reply.
'It was obviously a lie,' Porthos stated simply. 'I find one old friend 'ard to swallow, but two… not possible.' He was emphatic, and there was no humour in his voice, he was deadly serious.
Aramis sat deep in thought. 'Where did you go this morning?' Athos almost smiled, it would appear the marksman was thinking along similar lines to himself.
'To the Church of Our Lady on the outskirts of Paris. I collected a missive for the Cardinal, and some unsolicited preaching.' He scowled at the thought of the priest's attentions.
'Why did Treville send you in particular?' Aramis persisted.
'Apparently, I was specifically asked for. Whether by the King, the Cardinal, or simply in the note he did not say.' He looked to the two men, and neither appeared pleased with his answer.
'Did you see anyone, or did anyone strike you as out of place?' Aramis frowned.
'The only one out of place was me. But yes, there was something not quite right about the whole morning.' Aramis and Porthos looked alarmed – if Athos was voicing doubts, then something was very much amiss.
'Do you think he knows?' Porthos asked, looking around suspiciously as though Richelieu was about to spring out from behind a seated Musketeer.
Athos shook his head, 'I would have said no, but he was incredibly smug, and the recruit….' He drifted off for a second, as though recalling some distant memory.
'What about him?' Aramis persisted.
Athos furrowed his brow as if trying to remember something. 'I do not know, just something about him was familiar, but I had never seen him before. He was arrogant, but you will soon discover that for yourselves, as he joins the garrison at the end of the week.' He noted their surprise.
'What? Treville did not make 'im wait to start with the others?' Porthos queried.
'No.' The word carried a wealth of meaning, and all three men sat and considered the new turn of events.
'She could have told him,' Porthos stated, despite the warning look from Aramis.
Athos rolled his eyes at the repeated supposition. 'I think it is highly unlikely, and neither do I believe the King has reneged upon his promise, he would never have been able to hide his guilt so easily.'
The two men still had so many questions about Athos' background, but the man had only told them what he thought they needed to know, and even that was under duress. Once they had returned from the debacle of the King's tour, and no sooner had Athos been well enough to talk at length, the interrogation had started.
'So are you going to explain?' Aramis asked, perching on Athos' bed just after their arrival back at the garrison. Athos had refused to enter the infirmary, and instead had been attended by Aramis and Porthos in his own room.
'What exactly am I supposed to explain?' the swordsman had drawled, though he had been expecting this for several days.
'Oh, I dunno, how many secrets do you 'ave?' Porthos asked, towering over his injured friend.
Athos was not sure how to answer that question, but he knew he was not going to get away with telling them nothing, not anymore.
'Perhaps his lordship does not wish to associate with the lower orders,' Aramis suggested to Porthos.
'You're probably right, we really should 'ave known. The snotty remarks, his noble bearing,' Porthos added, his face completely serious.
'Indeed, his voice alone should have been proof, and then his stylish attire...'
'Enough!' Athos growled, his cold stare enough to turn them both to stone. 'I will tell you what you need to know, then we will never mention it again. Is that clear?'
And to date they never had. His morose mood and deteriorating humour had made it more than clear that it was a completely closed subject, but now might be the time for a little gentle probing.
'Athos, I understand your reticence to discuss your past, and we do not wish to open old wounds or pry, but is there anything that Richelieu could hold against you, anything that he could harm you with?'
Athos' face became an emotionless mask. 'No.' The answer was emphatic, leaving no room for further enquiry.
'Richelieu don't need anything, 'e won't understand why a noble would give up everything 'e 'ad to become a Musketeer. 'E will be convinced there is more dirt to dig up and 'e won't stop until 'e's sure 'e's found it all.' His words rang true; a man like the Cardinal could never comprehend why a man who held wealth and power would give it all up to live the life of a soldier. He would be confident there was some crime or lie that was being covered up, that Athos was running from something.
Both men hoped Athos was telling the truth and the First Minister was wrong – that Athos had run from nothing worse than a barrel-load of guilt and a broken heart.