Okay, greetings from a hotel in Laughlin!

After my experience with water and leaks last year (that I am still trying to sort myself out from), we went out for a Veterans Day brunch Monday and came home after two hours to a washing machine malfunction and the water meeting us at the end of the drive! We spent the first night there but my bedroom was unusable so I slept on the sofa bed amidst moved furniture (definitely familiar) but the noise of 14 fan dryers wore us down and we sought sanctuary last night elsewhere. News is good in that no demolition work is needed!

Here, Serge does his best ...

CHAPTER 31

Thursday, 16th August, dawned and promised to be another uncomfortably hot day in the city. There was no escaping the miasma of unpleasant smells of rubbish, sewage and the great unwashed bodies and it would only get worse as the day's heat continued to climb.

Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan sat at their normal table in the yard breaking their fast. Serge eyed them worriedly as he set food before them. He did not usually pamper to the needs of the men; if they wanted food, they had to line up like everyone else and fetch it for themselves. There were occasions though – and this was one of them – when he wanted to show his support anyway that he could and if that meant spoiling some of the men, he would gladly do it. He knew the three were concerned about their absent brother and he fully appreciated the importance of this day.

At some point over the next few hours, Athos should come riding through the archway and put an end to their misery.

If he didn't, then those three boys would be on the road at first light the next day and Serge was already deciding in his head what victuals he would be packing for their journey. He had no words of comfort for them; there were none. They were eaten up with anxiety, as was the Captain. He could see it in all their faces and that concern was being silently communicated to the rest of the garrison.

The atmosphere was uncomfortable, the tension tangible and it was not helped by the fresh string of orders Treville was issuing with each new day. They were going to be on the move, to Versailles, but that was usual for this time of year. Everyone was familiar with the King's annual trip to his hunting lodge in the late summer but the preparations for this one were unprecedented.

There was nothing normal about this proposed hunting trip and Serge had been a soldier long enough to realise that the Captain was preparing for a battle. He was at the Palace for the greater part of each day, returning late afternoon or early evening to monitor the progress of his instructions and then he would disappear again.

The intention was clear that the vast majority of Musketeers were going to accompany the royal party on this occasion, leaving only a skeleton force to man the garrison. Serge had had his own orders to ensure that there was enough food for those remaining to fend for themselves as he was expected to join those on the move and cater for them wherever they were to camp. He had spent the past few days doing a full inventory of food reserves and had had Treville's permission to requisition more. The Captain had signed off on every list that Serge had set before him without question and that alone told the old soldier that things were serious.

The blacksmith had been instructed to check the shoes of all mounts and other horses needed to pull wagons. All halters and bridles were subjected to the same level of scrutiny and repairs made or leatherwork re-stitched. Treville demanded a reserve stock of everything.

In the armoury, all weapons were sharpened, cleaned, oiled and carefully packed. There was a regular inventory completed but this was updated and whilst the Captain ordered additional powder kegs, more musket balls were being cast.

Carpenters and wheelwrights were tasked with maintaining and doing any necessary repairs to the carts that were kept by the garrison for they would need to be loaded with everything required for an army on the move.

Serge watched and listened and said nothing but he knew of the late night conversations between Treville and the three remaining Inseparables because he always provided refreshments for the group. Whenever he carried a loaded tray into the Captain's office, the four of them would be pouring over documents and lists and maps.

Something was happening and it was not good. He wondered how much of it was linked with the absence of Athos and he could not help but worry all the more, although he kept his fears close to his heart. There was no asking anything of the Captain and the three friends as he could see their suffering and he did not want to add to it but late one night he overheard Porthos again asserting that he would do all he could before the end of the fourteenth day but then he would leave to search for Athos.

Today was the fourteenth day since the boy had left for wherever he was bound and for whatever it was that he had to do. In his head, Serge muttered a prayer; it was not his first and it would not be his last.

Please, God, let Athos ride through those gates today.

As much as Treville was occupied, so he also kept the Inseparables busy; anything that might stop them thinking too much about what Athos might be doing or what might be happening to him.

For several days, they had been up and out early in the morning and returning past midnight to be shut up with the Captain in his office and reporting on whatever it was that they had to report. Things had changed in the last two days though. Whilst d'Artagnan was still leaving the garrison, Aramis had been ordered to check the stores in the infirmary. He had been busy packing up jars of herbs and ointments, procuring additional liniments and making bandages.

An army always needed medical supplies. The occasional accident was unavoidable and a group of men in the field for any length of time might succumb to illness and every means possible had to be employed to prevent it spreading but it was inevitable that injuries would result if battle ensued.

Porthos was responsible for supervising the recruits. They were not making up the force going to Versailles but they were involved in getting the rest of the regiment ready for departure. They were tasked in taking all the tents onto the training area behind the garrison and erecting every single one, checking for wear and tear, making those repairs when necessary. They aired the bedrolls and then scrutinised, cleaned, counted and packed up all the other camping equipment used by soldiers on the move.

Serge heard footsteps on the wooden balcony above him and knew without looking that the Captain was up and about and probably had been for some time. The steps halted and Serge could imagine him standing still, hands on the balustrade, arms straight and surveying the world that was his.

Tutting to himself, Serge went back inside the mess room to the kitchen, the world that was his domain, and he started loading another tray for it was his duty to ensure that the commanding officer of this regiment was well enough to keep body and soul together. He had known Treville for years, had seen him flourish from a raw recruit, through the ranks and to the fine Captain he now was. With rank came responsibility and Serge had seen the man brooding over decisions he had had to make and the consequences he had had to face. He was a leader who cared about his men, earning their trust and loyalty, which was why they would follow him through the very gates of hell if that's what he required of them.

No, Serge decided as he picked up the loaded tray, whatever it was that Tréville was getting ready for was not good. He might be a seasoned soldier and an experienced commander but that did not mean the man did not worry and he was definitely worried. You only had to look at him to see the exhaustion and pinched lines around his eyes, the grim expression and brow perpetually furrowed the way it did when he had a headache.

Serge could not do anything to prevent what was going to happen, but he could do his best to make sure that Tréville was looked after if he was too busy to look after himself and that care would be extended to those boys, worried as they were about their brother.

"Please, God," Serge muttered aloud this time, "I know I'm not a prayin' man but I'm prayin' now and hopin' you're listenin'. Let Athos ride in through those gates today. I'm not askin' for me – though I admit I want to see that he is fine – but for that man up those stairs and those boys out there because I couldn't stand to see 'em hurtin' anymore than they are right now."