CHAPTER 12

"Enough, gentlemen! You've had your fun," Tréville snapped. "Athos is not here; he is on a mission for the King."

Aramis and Porthos exchanged uneasy glances for it confirmed the idea that had occurred to both of them.

"Where is he?" Aramis asked this time.

"As of this moment?" Tréville answered. "I have absolutely no idea, but he is heading south. That is all I can tell you right now."

Aramis frowned. "Can or will? There is a subtle difference."

The Captain closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before he continued. "A bit of both. The business he is about is sensitive in nature."

"An' if it's sensitive, it's dangerous. Am I right?" Porthos' expression darkened.

Tréville hesitated. "It carries a certain element of risk, yes, but nearly all your assignments are not without their hazards."

"But under normal circumstances, we would have each other to rely upon for support but you have sent him alone," Aramis said. "Why? What is he doing?"

Tréville thought very carefully as he spoke as to how much he should divulge to them and decided he owed it to them to tell them as much as possible. "He is to infiltrate a group, ascertain some information and then get back here."

"What sort o' group?" Porthos demanded and, when the Captain did not immediately reply, he suddenly leaned heavily on the table, closing the gap between him and the man who commanded him. "What group?"

Aramis touched his shoulder in a silent communication to calm down and Porthos responded. Snorting his disgust, he slapped the desk's top with the palms of both hands and moved away to slouch angrily against a side wall, clenched fists flexing.

"Information suggests that a group of nobles are plotting something against the King. Athos has been tasked with verifying that claim and identifying those involved." Tréville hoped that this would be enough to placate them.

"So you've sent him to be a spy," Aramis summarised.

"That word again," the Captain mumbled under his breath.

"But that's good," d'Artagnan suddenly spoke up and then immediately flushed as he realised that he had drawn attention to himself.

"An' how d'you work that out?" Porthos growled slowly.

"Well, if Athos is going to pretend to be a noble, no-one could do it better than him. There's something about him, the way he carries himself and talks. They'd believe he was one of them."

Tréville held his breath. D'Artagnan's words, said in all innocence, could make things very difficult. He knew that Athos had not confided his real identity as Comte de la Fère to his brothers for reasons best known to himself, and although he had known the truth almost from the beginning, he was not about to betray the trust that Athos had bestowed upon him. The man was an enigma and even if Tréville did not agree with the secrecy, he had to honour and respect Athos' decision. Perhaps, one day, the troubled Musketeer would be able to tell his brothers more of his past.

"d'Artagnan has a point there," Aramis was talking to Porthos. "He has that air about him; we've said so often enough. If there's anyone who can rub shoulders with our betters and get away with it, it's Athos."

The tension in the air was palpable as Porthos considered what had been said. Eventually he nodded and all relaxed; Tréville hoped that none of them had heard his sigh of relief.

"How long will he be gone?" Aramis was concentrating on the practical now. His question was couched in the positive, but the underlying message was clearly there.

How long can Athos be gone before they should start worrying?

"He has four days travel and six days to make his contacts. There is to be a significant meeting and he must attend it. As soon as it is over, he can come back," Tréville explained, conscious of how easy it sounded in theory.

"He's a long way from home," Aramis said quietly, his mind now focused on all that could go wrong.

"He will send a written communication if need be and we have decided upon some codes if he has to send a messenger."

"If 'e's relyin' on writin' or a messenger, then he's in trouble," Porthos observed.

"He may not even get the opportunity to send either of those," Aramis added, his dark eyes filled with concern.

"A lot can 'appen to a man in the four days it'd take us to get to 'im." Porthos' previous anger had dissipated to a deep-seated worry.

"We could follow. He needn't know –" Aramis visibly brightened at his suggestion.

"No!" Tréville cut in. "Athos gave strict instructions that you were not to follow."

"He gave them?" Aramis was incredulous.

"Yes, and I agreed with him." Tréville prepared himself for the resurgence of the verbal storm. "Why else do you think I have waited to tell you he had gone? It was his stipulation that you be delayed as long as possible."

It was Aramis whose temper exploded. Snatching up his hat from where he had set it down on a chair, he swung it violently against the chair's back repeatedly.

"He's done it again!" he muttered angrily, his words in rhythm with the swiping of his hat.

"Hey!" Porthos called, striding across and grabbing Aramis by the shoulders, positioning himself between the man and the unfortunate chair. "You can't be thinkin' like that every time 'e does this!"

"Can't I?" Aramis hissed, his eyes blazing. "If he doesn't get himself killed this time, I'll do it for him." His mind was back on the Île de Ré when he thought Athos was lost to them, not once but twice.

"Thinking like what? Does what?" a voice said from near the door. D'Artagnan looked from one to the other, puzzled.

"Takes off on 'is own to do somethin' without sayin' anythin' to us!" Porthos ordered, never taking his eyes from Aramis' face.

D'Artagnan offered no protest but fell silent, although it was clear that he was absorbing the nugget of information, storing it away to be brought to the fore at a later date. He would eventually find out what he wanted to know. Tréville had seen him watching the three experienced Musketeers closely, copying them much of the time, his questions pouring from him like a river and hanging on their every word as they explained things to him and recounted stories of their past adventures. It was fair to say that Porthos and Aramis were the ones usually engaging in the anecdotes whilst Athos looked on with veiled amusement or rolling his eyes in that familiar way he had when they were spinning a yarn at his expense.

"Athos had little choice in the mission, nor the speed of his departure. The King and Richelieu pressed home the urgency and the Cardinal stressed he had more likelihood of success if he went alone."

Porthos lightly slapped Aramis on the shoulder and released him.

"The Cardinal? Why am I not surprised he is behind this?" Aramis commented.

"Because he often is, it comes with his position as First Minister," Tréville continued caustically. "You must not blame Athos."