Greetings and thanks for reviews and answers to my question. I am finding the shorter format really hard, I must confess.

We left Denali this morning as the hotel shut its doors for winter along with many surrounding businesses. The mountains had had a good 'dusting' of snow three nights ago whilst the first snows at lower levels have been forecast for two days' time so we are back in Anchorage until Saturday.

So, in this chapter, Treville is given a hard time from an unexpected quarter.

CHAPTER 7

Tréville had first disturbed Serge to make his requests, apologetic for dragging the old man from his sleep when he would be rousing in a few hours anyway to start preparations for the day's meals for the vast majority of the men. He told the former soldier enough regarding the need for supplies and food for Athos to break his fast but when he added the instruction regarding the secrecy from the other Inseparables, Serge tut-tutted loudly and rolled his eyes.

"You'll be wantin' me to lie then," he said, his displeasure plain.

"Well, I suppose when you put it like that," Tréville answered, "I suppose I do. But it is for a good cause," he added hurriedly.

"Pardon me for reservin' judgement on this supposed 'good cause'. I'd like to know more but I can tell by your face that you're not goin' to tell me an' I suppose I should be thankful. At least it means I won't 'ave to tell those boys any more lies than necessary. I don't know what kind of 'good cause' it is that makes a man ride off in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye or a word to 'is friends as to where 'e's goin', why an' for how long.

"I don't like it; I'm tellin' you that now. Don't like it at all an' if that boy's ridin' off on 'is own with 'is 'ead filled with some notion of bein' a hero, I definitely don't like it an' you should be stoppin' him from goin'." Serge eyed the officer suspiciously. "But then I get the feelin' e's doin' this with your blessin' an' on your orders."

Chagrined and feeling like the raw recruit he had once been when he first met Serge years before, Tréville could say nothing but silently withstood the angry cook's tirade for there was nothing but truth in the old man's words.

"I don't like it any more than you do, Serge. That I can assure you, but it is necessary. It wouldn't be happening otherwise. Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan are naturally going to be furious, even upset at the way this has been done but I have to know that you will support me in this. If not for my sake, then for Athos for this is his wish that we keep the others in ignorance for as long as possible."

Serge sniffed. "I'll do it, but only because 'e's asked for it, mind."

Tréville smiled. "Then for that I am thankful. Just bring everything to my office when you're ready and please don't involve the kitchen boy."

He had reached the door when Serge spoke again.

"This mission. Dangerous is it?"

Tréville hesitated as he considered how best to answer the old man. "Most missions have potential for danger, Serge; you know that."

"But 'e'll be on 'is own!"

"Yes," the Captain reluctantly agreed, wondering what else the cook could want from him.

"If our boy gets hurt, who'll be there to bring 'im 'ome?"

"Someone will, Serge. I promise you. If not me, then it'll be his brothers."

Suddenly, Serge fixed him with such a stare that he saw a return of a fire in the old soldier that he had not seen for a long time.

"I'll hold you to that promise, Captain." Gone was the familiarity of years of camaraderie. "If our boy doesn't come back or if the worst 'appens …" He left his threat unfinished.

It was not until he was outside in the cool night air that Tréville slumped against the wall to steady his own ragged breathing and the tremor in his hands. Many was the time that he had heard the mature, experienced soldiers speak before a battle, knowing that they or their friends were going into their last fight. They talked of omens and gut feelings and, more often than not, they were proved correct. Serge had turned so abruptly and become so vitriolic, that he could not help but wonder if the former soldier were sensing the same misgivings he had.

Bowing his head, he muttered a quick prayer to the Almighty that he and Serge were both wrong.

Recovering his composure, he pushed away from the wall and hurried to the Infirmary where he brushed aside the offer of help from the Musketeer on duty through the night hours to minister to the handful of sick soldiers who remained there. He made some excuse about looking for a potion to deal with a headache and was relieved that, in the first instance, he did not have to lie. Pain throbbed behind his left eye; it had started as he and Athos had left the palace and intensified as the plans developed. Alone in the store-room, he filled his pockets with bandages and a variety of potions to induce sleep and relieve pain and fever.

He inquired after the health of his men – all of whom were on the road to recovery – and bid goodnight to the Musketeer sitting with them. Back out into the darkness, he crossed to the stable and shook the boy awake. Jacques groaned for he had not long fallen sleep after the return of the Captain and Athos from the palace. He had had to unsaddle the horses, settle them in their stalls and give them food and water. Now the Captain was here requiring his services for a third time.

Tréville hoped that the boy had come to his senses enough to grasp that Athos' horse had to be re-saddled and waiting for him just before dawn at the bottom of the stairs leading to the Captain's office. It was when he pressed home the instruction that Jacques was to remain quiet about the sudden departure that he knew the boy would not be able to maintain his silence for long if Porthos were the one asking the questions. It had long been obvious that the stable boy hero-worshipped him and was also a little in awe of him so he would be quick to please the big Musketeer.

Tasks fulfilled, Tréville went back to his office and waited for Athos, who was taking an inordinate amount of time just changing his clothes. The reason for his delay was obvious when he eventually walked in without knocking and laid four sealed messages on the desk before the Captain.

"Please keep those with my pauldron," he requested. "They are only to be read if I do not return."

Tréville opened the drawer and picked them up to place them beside the pauldron he had already stowed there. As he expected, three were addressed to his brothers; he had taken his time to pen them a last letter in his tidy hand.

The fourth was addressed to Tréville.