Chapter 21

'Athos?' Treville called the Musketeer back to the present. 'Are you listening to me?'

Athos scowled. 'I apologise. However, once I had his attention, there was really little I could do.' It was a poor excuse, but it appeared to satisfy Treville.

The frustrated Captain tore at his hair and briefly considered how much longer he would have any left at all with the angst the man standing before him created. He stared at Athos, who in turn continued to study a fixed spot behind his desk. He felt in his gut something was wrong, but he could not see a hole in Athos' explanation. Eventually he sighed. 'Then take an extra pair of hands. Take one of the cadets – Trousou is coming along well, it will give him some experience.'

Athos scowled and opened his mouth to object. 'Do not even think about it, take him or I'll send somebody else in your place, King or not. I am still not entirely convinced that you are not up to something.'

At this, Athos clamped his mouth shut, hoping Treville would soon dismiss him.

'You see, you did not argue. It does not feel right – I know you wanted to object, but you did not. That has to be a bad sign, and I must be out of my mind not to confine you to the garrison.' Treville skewered him with his gaze, but Athos never moved his from a point just above the Captain's shoulder, a particular mark on the wall he had come to know particularly well.

Frustrated, Treville groaned in defeat. 'Very well, I trust you know what you are doing, which probably says more about my idiocy than yours, but for now I will leave it in your hands. Do not let me down Athos.' He spoke the last words with a quiet intensity, their sincerity searing themselves in Athos' head; how he hated lying to the man who had shown so much faith in him. Unfortunately, the swordsman deemed his obfuscation was for the Captain's own good, but he would have to find a way to leave the young cadet behind. This was not his fight. He had no such qualms about Aramis and Porthos – even if they knew what he was up to, they would refuse to stay behind, so telling them was effectually pointless.

He gave his Captain a brief nod then turned and exited the office, though with each tread upon the stairs his plan stuck in his throat like stale bread.

ooOoo

Milady had returned from the market in a peculiar mood. The freshair had not been very fresh, but at least it had been a change of scenery. The stupid maid was still moving amongst the shadows hoping her mistress would not notice her, only adding to her strange mood. The sighting of her husband had put her on edge – it seemed nothing had changed since their parting some months previous. The sight of him still confused her. As she paced the floor she wondered if eventually time would bring some clarity to her emotions, and whether hate, love or lust would be the one to survive.

With no immediate answer to her dilemma, she poured herself a glass of wine and stared out at the river. The water was dark and deep, the grey swirling mass not yet close to its highest level; though it had been cold, recently there had been little rain. Unfortunately, assessing the current sky she suspected that situation was about to change.

Above the muddied water, clouds scudded along at an alarming rate, small grey pillows hounded away by massive black demons, which thundered closer to the city as the threatening storm approached.

Milady shivered and as she made to turn away from the chilling scene, it was then she noted a figure exit a carriage and approach the house. She could not tell if she was pleased or annoyed. He had left her waiting for far too long, but on the other hand his absence had not been long enough. She steeled herself for his arrival and turned to greet him.

The timid maid pushed open the door, muttered something and then immediately vanished. Milady raised an annoyed brow and gestured for him to enter.

'Ignore the girl, she goes around the house as though she is expecting the hounds of hell to carry her off.' She shrugged her pale shoulders and poured Rochefort a drink.

'I cannot imagine why,' he scoffed. 'Perhaps you should have kept the staff I gave you.' His words bore no trace of annoyance, and she doubted he had expected her to keep them anyway.

'She suits me, she keeps out of my way. Now to what do I owe this honour?' There was no hiding the trace of sarcasm in her voice, but Rochefort chose to ignore it – either because he did not care, or he did not have time.

'Are you familiar with the Musketeer Athos?'

Milady managed to prevent herself from reacting to the question; it was not remotely the conversation she had been expecting.

'He has crossed my path.' She offered nothing further, only waited to see if he was aware of her most recent encounter with the Musketeers. His expression suggested not. 'Why do you ask?'

Rochefort studied her face, but continued to sip his wine, and with a shrug of his shoulders he continued to speak. 'He interests me, and he is getting in my way. Find out what you can.' He drained his glass and turned to leave, no explanation, no social graces – just that.

'Is that it?' she asked, keeping her voice disinterested despite the emotions bubbling within.

Rochefort paused. 'Until I say otherwise. I will see myself out.' The door closed and she heard the outer door to the street slam.

Rage boiled in her blood. How dare he talk to her like some common servant? As the request he had made filtered into her consciousness her anger quickly began to dissipate.

Of all the requests she had expected, his interest in Athos shocked her more than if he had asked her to stab someone in a dark alley. What was she supposed to do now? Of course, she could easily relate the story she knew Athos used as his Musketeer persona, but obviously he had crossed Rochefort's path recently, and what Rochefort wanted to know was quite possibly new to her too.

With a mixture of anger and trepidation, she reached again for the cloak only recently discarded and headed back out into the approaching gloom. Whatever had happened to bring Athos to the Comte's attention? She needed to know, or how else could she appease Rochefort's curiosity and at the same time ensure her and Athos' anonymity?

ooOoo

Athos reached the courtyard to see Porthos and Aramis approaching from the direction of the stables.

'Glad to see you are still in one piece,' Aramis observed smiling.

'No sign of a tongue lashin',' Porthos added.

'Would we be able to tell?' Aramis replied, eyeing Athos with a closer scrutiny.

'Nah, the Captain could 'ave thanked him profusely and 'e would still emerge looking miserable,' the big man decided.

'He, is standing right here, and intends to go for a drink,' was Athos' only rebuke.

The two Musketeers laughed and fell in beside him. Exiting the garrison they made their way in companionable silence to the King's Arms, though the two men's curiosity was deafening.

Even in the gathering gloom the impending storm was evident. The wind had risen and the moon flitted in and out of the rampaging clouds. Litter and detritus from the day's market scampered across the floor and gathered in the shelter of empty doorways. The stall holders themselves were busy securing their booths so they could hurry home before the onslaught broke over the city.

The tavern was busy and a group of men were already gathering to play a game of cards, laughing loudly and in good spirits – a state Athos doubted would last. Porthos eyed them with interest but followed Athos to his preferred spot at the rear of the inn where it was darker and less crowded.

It was a relief to get out of the wind and they made themselves comfortable, ordering a jug of wine and some beef stew. Porthos rubbed his large hands together. True to form, he wanted to join the gamblers at their table as soon as he could, ensuring he would make short work of his food.

'Come on then, out with it, what's goin' on?' the big man asked. He crossed his thick arms across his chest and stared at Athos, waiting for a reply. It was a sight that normally convinced sensible men to run for their life, but Athos merely drank his wine and stared back.

'We are having supper, you will play cards, cheat, and cause a brawl; Aramis will spend the remainder of the night in the arms of his latest amour, hoping her husband does not return. A perfectly normal night in town.'

Aramis had laughed at his friend's offence when Athos alluded to his cheating; it was no secret that Porthos employed some less than gentlemanly tactics on occasion. Only when his personal indiscretions were mentioned did he feign hurt of his own.

'And what about you? Will you stay until Porthos has to knock you out and carry you home?' Though said in jest, Aramis almost bit his own tongue as the words left his mouth. Athos' habit of drinking himself into oblivion was not unusual, but of late he had been better, though without doubt something had been on his mind.

Athos turned to Porthos with a look of reproach. 'Knock me out?' Aramis breathed a sigh of relief and laughed at Porthos' stubborn expression.

'Well I wasn't goin' to keep arguin' with your sorry arse. That way we both get to bed before sunrise.' Porthos gave his friend a belligerent stare, but Athos' lips merely twitched, hinting at the amusement behind the banter. For a moment, the swordsman thought he may have caused enough distraction for Porthos' original question to be forgotten – it was not to be.

'So, like I said, what's goin' on? Why are we riding off to God knows where to look for bandits? Not that I don't like the chance of showin' up the Red Guard's incompetence.'

Both Aramis and Porthos watched Athos carefully as he slowly drained his glass. Athos placed the empty cup on the table and studied it for a moment. He let out a long sigh and finally appraised his two brothers. He decided it was time for the truth.

'I want to go back to Pinot.'

Aramis and Porthos exchanged puzzled glances. 'That's it? You want to go home?' Porthos asked in astonishment.

'It is not home,' Athos growled, causing Aramis to silently shake his head at Porthos.

'That may be, mon ami, but it is your past, and we know how hard you try to keep it there. What do you hope to find?' The marksman's calm voice eased Athos' defensiveness. For a minute he did not speak, giving all his attention to his empty glass.

'In truth I do not know. However, I know the Beloirs' deaths, were the result of knowing me, and that goes back to Pinot. I must be missing something, and I do not know where else to seek the information I need.'

Porthos nodded in understanding. 'But why not just ask Treville for permission? He would have granted it.' His two friends looked to him for an explanation.

'I do not want anyone to know where we are going, not even Treville. This way, whatever happens he can remain blameless, and perhaps I can keep my connection with Pinot hidden.'

'And when were you planning to tell us, so we had the chance to remain blameless?' Porthos huffed.

Athos gave him a sidelong look. 'You know now. Are you staying behind?' he drawled.

'Don't be bloody stupid,' Porthos roared, slapping Athos on the back. 'Right, here comes supper. So what's the plan?' He attacked the marvellous smelling stew with vigour, whilst Athos pushed his around the bowl as he chewed over Porthos' question.

'They died protecting me, or more likely my identity. Jaques was an intelligent man. He hid that trunk for a very good reason, and perhaps only days before his death.'

'What did it contain?' Aramis asked quietly. He was aware how closely Athos guarded his past, even with them; only occasionally would he reveal details of growing up in Pinot and he rarely ever mentioned his marriage to Milady de Winter.

'Nothing of great value – some estate papers, odd personal effects. Sufficient to reveal a link to the de la Fère estate. The crest upon the lid would have been enough.'

Aramis remembered turning a blind eye to the small object Athos had slid into his pocket when they had emptied the trunk, but said nothing. 'But why would someone be looking for you? The estate is not in trouble?' Aramis asked.

Athos shook his head. 'No it is running perfectly fine without me. Though without Jaques, I no longer have a link to receive information.'

Porthos' face lightened. 'Perhaps that is it, maybe, someone doesn't want you to know what's goin' on back on the estate.' He dipped his bread into the remaining gravy and cleaned his plate.

Athos looked thoughtful. 'It is possible, but killing and torturing seems rather drastic. They could merely have come up with some ruse to get me to return by sending a note. No, I do not think that it is it, but we won't know until we get there.'

'Excellent, I will leave you two to plan whilst I go and lighten those gentlemen's pockets.' Porthos lifted his tankard of ale and left Aramis and Athos sharing an indulgent smile.

'There is one more thing before Porthos brings the wrath of his fellow card players down upon us.' Athos drank from his cup as Aramis stiffened, waiting for the bad news.

'Well better to be prepared,' Aramis added lightly.

'Mm, not in this case. Treville insists we take a cadet to give him some experience – Trousou.'

Aramis frowned before adding, 'Well he is a little older than some of the others, quiet but competent. He may prove useful.' He gave Athos a hopeful smile, but his friend did not appear mollified.

'I cannot let him get close to Pinot.' His eyes locked with Aramis and the marksman indicated his understanding.

'We will make sure he does not.' Decision made, Athos relaxed a little and leant back in his chair. He knew Aramis understood his desperate need for secrecy and he knew he could rely on him to keep Trousou away. He refilled his cup, allowing the topic to move on to garrison gossip.

Though Aramis' words floated around him, Athos did not take them in. Aramis was perfectly aware of his indifference but allowed his friend the space to drift to wherever he needed to be, and talked anyway.

ooOoo

Milady had moved from one tavern to another like a haunting spectre, looking for information on Athos and the Musketeers. It had taken quite a while to find what she had been seeking, bearing in mind she had set out with no real comprehension what that might be.

One of the serving girls in the Wolf's Head had once been in her employ, selling Milady information when she had been working for the Cardinal.

For a reasonable amount of coin she had eventually sifted through the everyday garrison intrigues to hear the account of Jaques and Marie Beloir. She, of course, was familiar with the couple, as they had still worked on the estate during her marriage to Athos. Sheri's description of the murders, including all the additional dressing added for affect, revolted her.

It was one thing to stab an enemy in the dark, but torturing an elderly couple was repulsive even to her. When the girl had gone on to explain a Musketeer had been charged with murder, Milady knew this was the information she had been hoping to find.

'Was he arrested?' Milady asked, urging the girl to hurry.

'Not that I know of. If one of them had been arrested and hung we would have heard.' Milady knew that to be a fact, and as she had seen Athos for herself, alive and well, suspected he had been released.

The girl had little else to say that interested Milady. She paid her dues and made a hasty exit. Gripping her hood to prevent the wind from tearing it from her head, she stood in the darkened street contemplating her next move. The evening was wearing on and those passing by were no longer merchants on their way home from a day's work; these were mostly drinkers and chancers looking for a good time, or some drunken sot they could rob undetected.

Milady kept to the shifting shadows, and slid down an accommodating alleyway that brought her out closer to the garrison, now only a few streets away. As she emerged near the Scarlet Arms, she saw another figure almost as shifty as herself. The man was just leaving the cover of a parked waggon. He had a hood over his face, but she could see the light reflected in his eyes as the stuttering lamp light caught his face, and even in that diminished haze she could make out that he was scarred. All in all, it was enough for her to realise he was one of the men she had seen talking with Suzanne Anjou earlier in the day. It would seem her next move had been decided for her.

She waited a couple of minutes after he entered the tavern before following him inside. This establishment was not only nearer the garrison but also near to the market. This made it the ideal stop after a long day's work, and tonight was no exception. She wasn't sure what assaulted her the most, the noise, the heat or the scent of unwashed bodies. She wrinkled her nose and indicated for a girl to bring her wine. She pushed through the crowd around the bar and found a table near the back. Funnily enough, her quarry had also procured a table at the rear, and carefully watched the door to see who entered.

He gave her no more than a passing glance as she sat, though she kept her hood over her head – despite his preoccupation it would not pay to lower her guard. The fact that she, too, knew the Beloirs made her nervous.

A few moments later she was glad she had taken precautions, for who should enter next but Giroux and the young Musketeer she had seen with them that morning. The young man appeared somewhat uncomfortable and gazed from left to right as he and the Red Guard Captain hurried toward the scarred man at the rear of the tavern. The men nodded in greeting to each other then sat and began to talk.

The young Musketeer was holding sway, gesticulating his anxiety, but she could not quite make out what he said. However, when she heard the name Athos, Milady grew desperate to hear more. She appraised those standing around her and spotted a large, inebriated man talking with another couple of market stall holders. She waited for the right moment and as he made to shift his position, she reached out her foot, causing him to lose his balance. To the amusement of his friends he pitched forward like a felled oak – straight across her table. She rose quickly, making a show of chastising the man before moving to another table, right next to Giroux.

She knew she was taking a risk, as Giroux would recognise her instantly if he saw her face. Luckily the cloak she was wearing was not one of her best, designed to make her fairly invisible on the streets of Paris. She ensured she sat with her back to him, content she could hear exactly what was being said.

'It worked perfectly,' Giroux growled. 'Just the thought of finding something we couldn't had him panting to get on the road, arrogant bastard.'

'Do you think he will go?' the scarred man asked the Guard Captain.

'Of course. He won't have forgotten the deaths of the old couple, and if he has a link to the place, like you say he has, then he will be too close to ignore it. What I don't understand is why it is such a big secret. So what if he lived near there?'

'You don't need to know anything more. All you had to do was pretend to look for something that wasn't really there. I'll deal with Athos.' They both turned to the boy.

'You need to go with them. Your father wants proof. You need to get it, do you understand?' Though she could not see his reaction, she could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

'I have not been chosen to accompany them, Trousou is going. I do not see how I can change that.'

'Well think of something. Put him out of action – whatever you have to do, do it. Make sure you go with Athos.'

Milady tensed as the man seated behind her stood. 'I have men attending a card game at the King's Arms, I suppose I should go and make sure they are behaving. It is close to the garrison, so with a bit of luck we might find some sport as well.' He gave a ruthless chuckle before continuing. 'I can't send any more men on a pretend hunt for highway robbers. Make sure you take advantage of this Beau. Get what you need and get the Cardinal off my back.'

'Oh, do not worry, I will have a nice welcome home party awaiting Athos. I will get what the Cardinal needs.' He spat at the floor and both he and the young Musketeer stood.

'I must get back, Deveaux will not cover for me for long,' the young man stated.

'Don't forget what we said, make sure you accompany those Musketeers, or neither of us will be happy,' Giroux added. There was no reply as all three men pushed past her chair and headed for the door.

Milady sipped her drink and debated what she should do.

ooOoo

Despite Athos foretelling of Porthos' inevitable brawl, activities around the card table came to an amicable close. Considering both Red Guard and Musketeer were part of the group this was almost unheard of. However, neither Aramis or Athos were going to question the outcome, and all three headed out into the chilly evening inhaling the fresh air after the heat of the tavern.

'I will say goodnight, gentlemen, I have an appointment I cannot miss. I will see you in the morning.' Aramis doffed his hat and headed off in the opposite direction of the tavern. Just as Athos and Porthos turned the corner, they stumbled to an abrupt halt to prevent barrelling into Giroux, who was heading toward them.

'You!' the Guard Captain hissed. His hand clutched at his sword handle and Athos did the same.

Porthos laid a restraining hand on Athos' arm. 'As far as I know, Giroux, Athos is no longer suspected of the Beloirs' murder.' He glowered at the shorter man but did not remove his hand from Athos' arm.

'Well it's a pity nobody thought to rescind the warrant for his arrest. Nobody told me he was no longer wanted – officially.' The man grinned and his eyes slid to Athos sword, still half sheathed.

'If you get hurt tonight, you won't be able to go to Pinot,' Porthos whispered in Athos' ear.

Athos shrugged his friend's arm from his. 'I won't get hurt,' was the swordsman's only reply.

Porthos stood back, knowing that he could not prevent Athos from fighting unless he knocked him out, and how that would go down he dared not contemplate.

It was a dark night, with no moon at all now giving a glow to light their way. The wind whistled and Porthos felt the first heavy drops of rain begin to fall. The two men circled each other, Athos totally in black becoming one with his background, whilst only the faintest hint of red on Giroux's jacket broke the effect of two shadows merging with the night. When steel finally hit steel, so heavy was the preceding silence that even Porthos flinched.

Once the swords came into play it was easier for each man to see where the other stood. Both fought hard, there being no suggestion that they were fighting for anything other than injury or death. A hiss of pain rang out above the clang of metal. Porthos knew it was Giroux; so engrossed was he with his swordplay, Athos rarely noted his own injuries, let alone made any verbal acknowledgment. As if to prove Porthos' theory correct, Giroux staggered back a little and felt his chest.

'You're nothing but a cheap thug Athos. You'll get what's coming to you, so sure you will.' He lunged at the Musketeer as both their blades slid along the other until they were face-to-face with one another. Athos snarled and whipped his head back, bringing it down heavily on the bridge of Giroux's nose. There was an uncomfortable crack and the Guard howled as he dropped to his knees.

'Sounds like we have company,' Porthos whispered as another two guards came around the corner. Luckily they had imbibed several tankards of ale, and so the vision of a towering Porthos came as something of a surprise. Giroux was struggling to his feet, cursing Athos, as the two men finally understood the drama before them.

'Oi, what's going on with the Captain, what 'ave you done?' They made to pull their weapons and Porthos groaned. He grasped each man by the ears and brought their two heads together with a sick thud, dropping both of them to the floor. He wiped his hands together and yelled to Athos.

'If you think I'm keepin' this up all night you can think again, we've got work to do in the mornin'.' Giroux glanced at Porthos and backed slightly away from Athos.

'This isn't the end you bastard. I'll finish this, don't think I won't.' With that Giroux turned and walked around Porthos, eyeing the big man with trepidation. He gave the two men on the ground each a swift kick. 'Get up you two idiots, come with me.' A slight moan emanated from the two bodies, and they made a feeble and utterly ineffective effort to stand.

Porthos grabbed Athos' arm. 'Come on, we need some sleep tonight and I for one am tired.' Athos nodded and reluctantly sheathed his weapon.

The garrison was quiet as they passed through the gate, the rain was coming down heavily now and they murmured a hurried goodnight to the two seasoned Musketeers on watch. But so keen were they to get out of the foul weather, they failed to notice the slight figure hiding in the shadows at the corner of the wall.