I'm posting a little early today. I will post tomorrow, but it will be later than usual. Things start to move quickly!

Chapter 3

The early morning light shifted and cast its rays through the arched windows of the undercroft. The vaulted room beneath the chateau extended the length of the home and provided its foundation. Small, windowless windows ran along the front that overlooked the fields and the sides which provided views to the canal and the stables. To the left of the entry doors were wooden shelves filled with bags of grains, flours, and crates of vegetables. Meats covered in cloth hung from hooks next the shelves. Several buckets stood next to the door and were filled with sand and carrots.

Athos sat on the floor. His hands were cuffed together and attached to a support beam in the center of the room. The old shackles that were rusted but maintained their strength. His doublet was missing. Blood had dried along the left side of his face, dried within strands of his hair, and caused the hairs of his eyebrow to adhere to his brow. Athos' lashes clung together, and bruising of black and blue marred his left temple and forehead. He could feel the pulsing of his heart with the pounding of his head, and was sure he had vomited several times during the night. He had tried rinsing his mouth with the water they had left him, but he could still taste the bile. He shivered with the cold that continued to nip at his skin and chill his bones as the breeze caused his collar and sleeves of his blouse to flutter.

He yanked on the shackles, and only felt the cold, merciless iron abrade his wrists. He turned when he heard the heavy, slow squeak of the undercroft door swing open. Athos swallowed, closed his eyes, and waited.

Footsteps were amplified against the sandy soil. Fabrics rustled, and a powder tin clanged against the belt it was hooked to.

General Raboin grabbed a bucket, tossed the sand covered carrots to the floor, and then walked toward Athos when he turned the bucket upside down and took a seat in front of him. He rested his elbows on spread knees and then pressed his thumb beneath his chin as he contemplated his words. He inhaled deeply and caught the stench of sickness, old vegetables, and raw meat when the wind shifted. Raboin looked toward the windows and watched the sun's rays momentarily disappear behind several clouds that passed by, but quickly the light shined once more.

"I have children with a Spanish wife," Raboin said. "Did you know that?"

Athos kept his eyes closed and rested his head against the pillar. "I don't care."

"My son is seven — I've only seen him a few times," Raboin said. "The business of war keeps me from him… from my daughters, and my wife."

"Perhaps you should have moved them to France."

Raboin chuckled and nodded. He grew quiet as he looked around the room. "I had a revelation about you," he looked at Athos, "I believe King Louis has sent you to spy on me — it's the only reason he would send his best soldiers to war instead of keeping them close for his protection. I never wanted to believe that family would turn on me — even if we are only… cousins."

Athos frowned looked through narrowed eyes at the man before him. "You turned on him?"

"Not because I wanted to…" he cleared his throat. "When I hired Grimaud to be my lieutenant, I needed his particular skills. He knows where to find things, how to hide things, and he knows how to kill things — men of his talents are rare, but I've been disappointed in his lack of… shall I say… enthusiasm for killing a Musketeer — a captain to be specific."

Athos huffed, and then said, "You sound bitter?"

"He convinced me to wait to have you killed?" Raboin lowered his hands and folded his fingers together. "He suggested that killing you too soon would cause Minister Treville to question the legitimacy of your death." He nodded to himself. "Although I have paid him a hefty price to see your… shall we say… termination, I have requested a display of authority where you are concerned."

Athos swallowed, felt his nerves ignite, and listened to Raboin speak in a tone that was very calm, calculated, and overly confident. There was something to be said about a man whose choices were limited.

"I have found you to be insolent, derelict in your duty, and insubordinate to name a few infractions… my ultimate concern, however, is your relationship with the Spanish general." Raboin, relaxed, cleared his throat, and continued, "You were seen meeting with him. And just days ago you and your men arrived with supplies that I can only assume were provided by the Spanish."

"You're accusing me of treason?" Athos asked with a frown.

"I don't need to accuse you of anything, Captain. I have the evidence." Raboin stood, dusted his backside, and placed his right hand on his hip. "You'll stand before a military tribunal. You'll be convicted, and you'll hang for your crimes. I wouldn't waste a musket ball on the likes of a traitor."

"Minister Treville will never believe it — nor will the Musketeers."

"They don't have to. You may be the King's Captain of the Musketeers, but I'm his cousin. His father adored me, and he has kept me in this position for a reason… He may have sent you to spy on me — perhaps because of an unknown influence — to test my fortitude, but I will not disparage him. I will, however, prove my worth by identifying the man who nearly allowed Spain to cross onto French lands."

Athos chuckled, coughed, and then chuckled again. "If you had fought for France like you fight for yourself, General, you might have been a prominent leader, but what I see, and what so many others see, is a man without a country… a man without conviction or dedication." He raised his eyebrows. "You're conflicted because of your relationship with King Henri and his son, and you love your Spanish family." Athos shrugged his right shoulder and rested his head against the pillar. "You cannot have both, not as a general leading a French army, and not as a father protecting his Spanish children." He shifted his wrists and the iron shackles clattered against the chain. "No matter what happens to me, General, the Musketeers, King Louis, and Minister Treville will recognize the traitor within their midst… It will not be me."

Raboin flared his nostrils and clinched his jaw. His eyes hardened, and he tightened his fists until his fingernails dug into the palms of his hands. He held his temper, the sudden rage he felt, and the desire to pull his sword from his side and murder the man before him in cold blood. His heart pumped and he could feel his veins grow large as his anger increased.

In a moment of clarity, when the stillness of the room became too much to bear, Raboin looked at Athos and simply asked, "When did you know?"

Athos frowned for a brief moment, shifted his feet, and dug a shallow trench through the sand that covered the travertine floor as he moved. The simple question was loaded with possible answers, but he doubted Raboin wanted to discuss his family, his relationship with the king, or his need to hire an assassin. Instead, Athos took a deep breath, shivered against the chill, and said with an exhausted tone, "The moment you tried to have King Louis assassinated during the hunting trip."

General Raboin relaxed his hand and removed the knife he kept within his belt. The short blade was slightly curved, and the ivory handle had been carved into the shape of a stag. He gently ran his thumb over the sharp edge of the blade and watched the blood surface. He then sucked the blood from his thumb. "A few years ago," he looked at Athos, "you would have been proud to serve under me." He retook his seat and continued to handle the blade. "I met my wife when I escorted a Spanish Noble, on Louis' behalf, to Madrid." He shrugged as his voice softened. "She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen… I knew when I saw her, I would marry her." He paused and scraped dirt from beneath his thumbnail with the tip of the blade.

"Three months later, we were married — secretly of course, and in Spain." Raboin swallowed, looked out the window as the sun's rays were once again hidden from view, and then looked at his hand as blood continued to drip from the cut on his finger. "I knew my old life was over… I knew once I married her that my devotion to France had been lost." He watched several drops of blood pool on the floor nest to his boot heel. "Have you ever been with a woman that made you question your duty? Question the very blood that flowed through your veins? A woman you would give everything up for?" He looked at Athos in question.

Athos listened, watched Raboin's actions, and said, "No."

Raboin pulled his eyebrows together. "That's a shame, son… that's…" he shook his head with a long sigh, "a shame." He looked up and said, "I don't fear death, Captain Athos," Raboin's eyes flashed, and he licked his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. "I fear not knowing what will happen to my family. Will they be shunned? What would happen to my wife… she's alone in Spain with the children… How would she survive without me?" He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and scratched his chin. "I never wanted to betray my king… But everything happened so fast." He paused for a long moment. "King Philip promised me and my family lands, money, and a position of nobility if I just…" He hitched his breath. "If I just turned a blind eye." He looked at Athos and shook his head. "I never expected you to thwart my plans."

Raboin stood, slipped the blade back into his belt, and looked at Athos. "I must complete this… for my family's sake." He pushed his shoulders back, took a deep breath, and nodded to himself once more.

"You'll never succeed," Athos said.

Raboin frowned, shook his head, and then curved his lips into a smile. "I will. Mark my words, Captain Athos, I will succeed." He turned and walked to the door.

"You should leave," Athos said toward Raboin's retreating back. "If you care for your family… leave France, leave Spain… just… disappear."

General Raboin paused in his steps and looked toward the door. The rays of the sun surrounded his head as he looked over his shoulder and said, "I can't."