Morning, I did promise daily updates for a few days at least. Thank you again to readers and reviewers.

Tension mounts at the royal court when an unpopular visitor arrives!

CHAPTER 24

"Day nine," Porthos whispered from the side of his mouth as he stood to attention in the King's throne room with his friends, Treville and several other Musketeers. They constituted more than the usual number for a reception duty but Louis had demanded a show of strength to convey a silent message of warning to Gaston. He was not to think that he could attempt some nefarious business. A messenger had arrived ahead of the Duc to inform the King that his brother had reached the outskirts of Paris and would be attending upon him shortly.

Richelieu, his face dark at the prospect of again seeing the man who had once wanted him assassinated, stood to the right of the two empty thrones, ready to send for Their Majesties as soon as the Duc's entourage reached the palace. It was not becoming of their royal personages to sit and wait; Gaston would be expected to wait for them. Treville and his guard detail, more of whom extended throughout the palace, had been in place for an hour or more already and suspected that the King would delay appearing for as long as possible.

"Stop that!" Aramis hissed, eyes firmly fixed straight ahead. "You're doing that every day, counting them."

"An' I'll continue to count 'em until we have Athos back with us safe an' sound. It's a reminder to me an' you just how long he's been gone."

"I don't need reminding," Aramis bit back irritably. "I am well aware every minute of every day just how long he's been gone and how much longer we have to wait before we can head off after him – if necessary."

A figure appeared in their peripheral vision.

"A problem, gentlemen?"

Treville. He had heard their mutterings.

Aramis allowed his eyes to swivel sideways to look directly at the officer.

"No, Captain."

Treville frowned. "I appreciate that you are both worried about Athos, gentlemen, but now is neither the time nor the place. We have more pressing issues that demand our attention." A sudden increase in volume outside the doors of the throne room indicated that something was happening. Treville sighed. "And I think that pressing issue has just arrived!"

The doors opened and a disembodied voice made the formal announcement. "Monsieur Gaston, Duc d'Orleans." There was no implied insult. Gaston was not referred to as a prince but by the royal 'Monsieur' as the King's younger brother.

Gaston swept through the opening, some four attendants in tow, and crossed half the room in quick, easy strides. He was resplendently attired in a navy blue and white doublet and breeches, edged with a filigree stitching in silver. A cape in silver grey was worn over one shoulder and tied beneath the opposite armpit. His matching hat was used to exacerbate his arm gesture in a deliberate, low bow. As he kept his eyes firmly on the floor in a show of humility – real or fake - clumps of frizzy, curling hair fell about his face.

"Greetings, Your Majesty, my brother. I thank you for receiving me and am relieved to find you in good health," he said, his voice thin and resembling a boy's.

Shorter than Louis and significantly more so than most of the Musketeers within the room, he cut a deceptive, waif-like figure. It was hard to believe that so much mischief could be wrapped in such a small frame.

Louis stared at him as if he had never seen him before but the Queen leaned towards him and whispered in his ear. Whatever her message, it galvanised the King who leaped to his feet in exaggerated bonhomie and moved to greet the man.

"Gaston, my dear brother," he began, arms outstretched to engulf his younger sibling, who was forced to reciprocate. "It has been too long but you needn't have troubled yourself by coming in person to see that I am well. A simple letter would have sufficed."

"First hit to the King," Aramis muttered.

Once released from the royal embrace, it was clear to all from Gaston's flushed face that he had not missed the barb within the comment.

"Forgive me, brother. I am not known for being a reliable correspondent," he said by way of excuse.

Louis continued to smile but there was no warmth in his eyes. "Really? I am sure that you maintain communication with some."

"Hit two," whispered Porthos.

Richelieu cleared his throat and stepped forward wanting to prevent the King from saying too much that might warn Gaston.

"If I may, Your Majesty ..." he let his words trail off as Louis resumed his seat and airily waved a hand for him to continue. He had said all that he wanted to his younger brother for the time being; now someone else could take over and who better than his First Minister?

"Richelieu," Gaston said by way of greeting. "You are still in your eminent position, I see." His sarcasm was unmistakable.

The Cardinal winced but would not be deterred as his head dipped slightly in deference.

"But of course, Your Grace. I am unlikely to be elsewhere," Richelieu countered.

"Loving this," Porthos said quietly. "Can't believe I'm wantin' the Cardinal to win."

"And I can't believe you just said that," Aramis added.

"Whilst I can't believe I have to keep reminding the pair of you to stop talking," Treville commented as he walked past them to take up a position closer to the dais so that he had a better view of Gaston.

"His Majesty is a little surprised by this visit, Your Grace, and wonders if there is anything specific that has occasioned it," Richelieu continued.

"Thank you, Richelieu," Gaston replied haughtily, "but I am sure that my brother is more than capable of speaking for himself," and he turned slightly so that he was, in effect, ignoring the Cardinal as he focused his attention upon the King.

"I know that we did not part on good terms the last time we saw each other," he began.

Louis huffed loudly at the understatement and rolled his eyes.

"But I am sorry and wish to make amends. As a gesture towards reconciliation, I am here on business that is very personal to your Majesty."

Louis sighed in affectation; he wanted Gaston to know that he was merely being tolerated at best.

"You may speak," he instructed but Gaston looked around him guardedly at the few courtiers who had been admitted for his reception.

"I would prefer a private audience with Your Majesty for reasons that will become very clear but perhaps the Cardinal would like to be in attendance?" Gaston offered.

The King and First Minister shared a glance; a silent communication confirming that Gaston would be granted his request.

Louis rose to his feet. "We will retire to the next room but Captain Tréville will also join us." He looked pointedly beyond Gaston to the men who had accompanied him. "Your people can remain here."

As Louis left the room, those gathered – courtiers, Musketeers and servants -bowed low.