Greetings. A slightly longer chapter today (a 'montage' chapter as I learned at the weekend!) to make up for my absence. Anybody who is anybody is now assembling somewhere at or around Versailles!
Once again, I am indebted to Beeblegirl for spotting an absolute howler on Friday. My thoughts were on heading north for the writing course and as I was writing ch 69, I was thinking of ch 70 and got the two confused.
Anyway,'all's well that ends well!' I seem to have heard that somewhere before (lol!)
In brief, the course was very intense, hard work, exhausting, definitely worth it … and brilliant. Especially Sunday on crime writing! Hopefully, I can consciously apply what I have learned and that you will all start reaping the benefits (or not!)
CHAPTER 70
I
Tréville did not slow the column when he saw the three riders approaching at speed, recognising them from a distance.
He greeted the men with a nod as Aramis fell in on one side of him, Porthos the other and d'Artagnan beyond him.
"Have you had a good journey so far?" Aramis asked.
"Uneventful," Tréville answered, "and I persuaded His Majesty that we could manage with only one stop, but I am sure you are not here just for the pleasantries."
"No," Aramis grinned. "We have good news. Six nobles with sizeable followings have arrived and they total about two hundred, all bearing arms."
"That is a goodly number."
"They're also expecting to meet with you later once the royal party is settled at the lodge. One noble also brought word that he knew of at least two more mobilising and heading our way. They are due to be with us this evening or tomorrow at the latest."
Tréville's cheeks puffed out with relief. "That betters the odds considerably, although it still depends upon how many the rebels can raise if they are so inclined to engage us."
Aramis nodded but his concentration was elsewhere as he twisted in his saddle to look back down the line for any glimpse of a familiar figure, only to find his view obscured by the King's carriage.
Tréville could guess the reason for the man's distraction.
"He's here, although he shouldn't be. He's towards the rear of the column, riding in the supply cart with Serge. Just keep him out of my way for the rest of the day. I am trying to decide between murder and court martial where he's concerned, and both are equally attractive!"
II
Athos sat with his eyes closed, partly to deter Serge's chatter but more to enable him to focus on riding out the waves of pain caused by each jolt of the cart. The last draught was still serving its purpose when they made a brief stop, so it had not occurred to him to ask for another dose, not even when the Captain rode the line during their brief stop and asked how he was faring. He normally liked to listen to Serge's tales but not when he was trying to endure such a miserable journey. Now he sought to divert himself by mulling over events as he knew them, preparing what he might say to L'Hernault should they come face to face, and remembering to breathe through the pain.
"You seem to have upset the Captain," an amused voice declared.
He opened one eye enough to take in Aramis riding beside the cart and closed it again, but not before he had seen the other two also arrive. There was a distinct satisfaction in the knowledge.
"He seemed to develop an unreasonable aversion to my accompanying the group, but a little gentle persuasion convinced him otherwise."
The loud snort was from Serge. "You call that 'gentle persuasion'?"
"What would you call it?" d'Artagnan wondered.
"'Ow about bribery, blackmail, open threat, outright defiance an' sheer bloody-mindedness?"
"Athos on a normal day then," Porthos observed, to which the men laughed. All except Athos, who rolled his eyes.
"I have to admit that I have enjoyed your absence," he added pointedly.
"Only because they weren't there to stop you getting' up to your tricks," Serge added.
Athos stared at him, aghast. "Whose side are you on?"
"The Captain's." There was no hesitation. "But I reckon I'm pleased to 'ave these three back again. I've decided I'm not cut out for nursemaid, not when you're the patient. This time last week I had a head o' dark hair."
It was, of course, a lie. The grizzled old-timer had had a shock of unruly, wiry grey hair for as long as they had known him, but he had made his point.
"Don't you worry, Serge. We're here now to sit on 'im if need be. When we get back to Paris, I'll stand you a drink or two at 'The Wren'. I reckon you've deserved it. Then you can tell us jus' what he's been getting' up to because 'e won't be admittin' it 'imself."
The old man grinned. "I'll keep you to that, Porthos."
III
The next few hours passed in a whirl of busyness. Tréville mounted the first duty watch of Musketeers in the lodge itself and Red Guard around the perimeter, whilst Richelieu ensured that the royal couple were settled comfortably. The rest of the hunting party were likewise accommodated, the more higher-ranking aristocracy within the lodge and others in the rapidly expanding city of tents that was growing up in the open land behind the building. They maintained some semblance of luxury, occupying spacious pavilions or curved marquees and if any paused to consider the increased number of attendant soldiers camped around them in a protective arc, none made mention of it. They probably deemed it a necessary compromise for, with some of them already identified as being among the 'untrustworthy', all had been discouraged from bringing a sizeable retinue. Those determined to fight would have sent their men in advance on a circuitous route to join with Gaston's force.
Richelieu and Tréville had attempted to minimise the risk of an uprising happening within the camp and had deliberately positioned their men between the hunting party and the rebel positions in the event of an attack.
A lull in proceedings before the evening's banquet gave Tréville the opportunity to meet with those nobles loyal to the King and he was already in his saddle ready to depart when Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan rode approached him on horseback.
"You are all accompanying me?" he asked.
"An' there's me thinkin' you'd been missin' us over the past few days. Sounds like you don't want us," Porthos quipped.
"It's not that," the Captain said, trying to make light of things. "I was thinking that, given your absence, one or two of you might have remained with Athos."
"No point; 'e's sleepin' like a babe."
The comment alarmed Tréville even more, given Athos' variety of ruses to escape from the infirmary.
"The journey exhausted him. Once we'd pitched a tent, we got him settled. I confess to adding a little something to his water to help him rest more easily. He won't wake until this evening," Aramis explained.
It was some reassurance. The sleeping draught would keep Athos immobile and Tréville could only hope that there had been no opportunity for L'Hernault to see that he was still alive. All should be well until they returned. After all, it was not as if Athos were alone; the tent in which he slept was amongst many more, all identical.
IV
Some distance from the edge of the Musketeer camp, a figure, concealed amongst the trees, pocketed the spy glass. Milady, wearing male clothing for ease of movement, knew exactly which tent Athos had entered, that he remained within it and that he was entirely alone for she had watched the others depart.
She took a deep breath and, checking the belt at her waist, felt the reassuring touch of the concealed dagger's hilt. There was little other movement at this particular end of the Musketeer camp for they were either on guard somewhere, or about their business as they settled at Versailles for the next few days. It would be so easy to move in for she had already identified those on watch around the camp. They were Richelieu's men and lackadaisical in their vigilance but, she sighed, she would have to curb her impatience to settle matters with her husband.
First, she had to get a message to Richelieu.
Riding alone, she had been able to move quickly. She had not wanted to follow the King's party but chose a parallel route further north and it was then that she saw them.
Four sizeable groups of men were riding in the general direction of Versailles and were trying, unsuccessfully, to appear inconspicuous. A significant distance remained between the units, but she knew instinctively that they were travelling together for some purpose. She continued to watch, waiting for them to change direction and veer south, an indication that they were joining the nobles Richelieu had contacted for she knew what he had done and where the men were mustering.
These riders continued on a path that would take them north of Versailles. So the discontented nobles had produced some sort of small army after all. The individual groups would be no problem for the highly trained Musketeers but giving them the chance to join together and align with Gaston's men would be another matter entirely.
She hoped that the Cardinal had garnered some strong support but, for now, she needed to warn him that the rebel forces were gathering.