Chapter 11

Somewhere near the garrison a cock crowed – the creature was somewhat confused, as dawn had not yet lit the sky in morning glory.

Athos rose slowly. After a disturbed night he always awoke stiff and hurting, as though he has spent the darkened hours barroom brawling. Slowly, he stretched his back and arms, repeating the movements he followed as often as possible, if his stomach or head did not object. As if his thoughts had connected with the idea of sobriety, he cast a side-long glance at the bottle upon the table, still standing untouched from the night before. He gave a wry grin. He had been so tired, so distracted, he had fallen straight to sleep – if one could call the torture of the last few hours sleep – and he doubted that even the entire bottle would have made much difference.

As Athos gripped his sword, something made him wince and, remembering his machinations of the previous evening, he unwrapped the makeshift bandage around his left palm. He had had to slash it twice to produce enough blood to spook the horses, and even then it had been the power of his makeshift catapult that had upset the poor beasts. He had aimed low so as not to hit them, but he knew the noise and smell would have been enough to cause them to panic just enough to attract Aramis' attention. Now, in the sane light of day, his antics appeared somewhat overly dramatic, but at the time he had been rather preoccupied, and desperate to throw Aramis off his back. Luckily, it had worked, and he hoped the man would not judge him too harshly.

He focused once more on the two gashes. Though red, they did not worry him greatly, he had endured far, far worse. No, it was Aramis' wrath that he dreaded, followed by the inevitable questions. He wondered if he could make some excuse to leave the garrison, perhaps he could request leave to fetch Roger. It was a fair plan, though he knew he was only delaying the inevitable. Indeed, Athos rejected breakfast and gained permission from Treville to collect Roger from the kindly farrier; he would, after all, need him on the morrow for their journey, and this was probably his best opportunity; only his conscience nudged him and reminded him of his cowardice. Wincing, he remembered the details of last night's meeting and the torment he was about to be forced to endure.

When Aramis and Porthos realised Athos was still absent at morning muster, they became alarmed, halting Treville before he could retreat within his office.

'Where is Athos?' Aramis demanded. For a moment, Treville scowled at the Musketeers' lack of deference then, remembering Aramis' reaction last time Athos had left, his response softened.

'He arose early and requested permission to collect his horse ready for tomorrow,' Treville replied, Aramis interrupting almost before the Captain could finish his sentence.

'And you believed him?' the marksman asked, panic now evident in his voice. Porthos laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, preventing him from raining accusations down upon their superior.

Treville's eyes narrowed. 'Of course I believed him. It would not bode well for our future together if I interrogated him about his intentions every time, he left the garrison. Athos is his own man, Aramis, he will do what he chooses, and nothing you nor I can do will stop him. You need to show more faith and give him room to breathe, or you will drive him away.' With that, he turned abruptly and closed the door behind him, leaving a shocked Aramis and a thoughtful Porthos in his wake.

Porthos steered the silent Musketeer down the stairs to their bench in the courtyard. A silent Athos was one thing, a silent Aramis was not good at all.

'Want to tell me what that was all about?' Porthos asked kindly, having fetched them both a drink. Aramis looked up at his friend. His face attempted defiance, but those dark eyes showed he had recognised the truth behind Treville's words – even if he was afraid of the implications.

'Do you think we could push him away, make him run again?' He did not wait for Porthos to reply. 'Athos left the garrison last night; I have no idea where he went. I waited up and watched for him to go.' He shook his head sadly. 'Of course he knew, he managed to leave without me seeing. I was afraid he had chosen not to return.' Aramis focused on something far away that only he could see, unaware of the chattering cadets as they set about their training. With a deep sigh, Porthos began to speak.

'Yer know nobody was angrier than me when Athos up and left last time. 'E has explained 'is reasons, and I don't believe 'e would be cruel enough to do that again, particularly to you,' Aramis looked up at his friend in surprise, but eventually nodded his understanding. 'We just 'ave to face the fact that there may always be a level of uncertainty with Athos; with a little work it won't last forever. 'owever, until then, we 'ave to give 'im room. Treville 'ad a point, Athos is like a cornered animal, if 'e feels threatened or 'is private self is under attack 'e will simply fly. Give 'im time and space Aramis, 'e is quite capable of looking after 'imself.' At this, Aramis widened his eyes in amazement. 'Well, most of the time,' added Porthos, laughing and patting Aramis on the shoulder.

As if summoned by their concern, the sound of hooves echoed through the archway, horse and rider creating an impressive, if somewhat intimidating, sight. The large black stallion tossed his mane as if to announce his arrival, whilst the silent, imposing rider – in his recognisable black leather – made no sound or acknowledgment. He slid from the saddle, politely waving the stable boy away, indicating that he would attend to his own horse.

Porthos watched Aramis as he observed the swordsman vanish inside the stable.

'Give 'im a while, whatever ails 'im, an hour with Roger will soothe 'im. I swear that 'orse actually gives 'im advice.' Aramis laughed at Porthos' serious expression, as the big man pondered the possibility as he stared thoughtfully at the stable entrance.

The two men spent the next few hours helping pack and sort weapons and ammunition for their impending journey. Aramis had checked the infirmary, and was glad to discover that, though the men within were still ill, they were no longer considered in danger. As well as that, he was informed that Lemay and a nurse, had visited The Peacock. Unfortunately, the patron's wife and one of the girls had not survived the illness. However, the others were also out of danger and the well was being repaired, and its source checked to avoid reoccurrence of the terrible infection.

So, it was with a lighter heart that Aramis finally wandered into the stable. Though he had kept busy, he had also had one eye on the entrance throughout the morning. Athos had spent some time with Roger, before climbing the stairs to Treville's office, as the Captain had requested the evening before. Now, several hours later, he had observed Athos stride across the courtyard and re-enter the stable.

Approaching the doorway, Aramis was fully aware this was not the behaviour either Treville or Porthos had encouraged, but he felt powerless to stop himself. He, alone, had seen the look of despair in Athos' eyes when he had received that letter, and from what little the man had divulged about himself, Aramis suspected he knew who had sent it. If it was her, it could only bring Athos further heartache. Though Aramis might not be able to prevent it, he would support his friend if he needed it.

He found himself smiling at the sight that met his eyes. Athos stood between two stalls, hands outstretched between the bay mare and her larger neighbour. In his hands rested two shiny apples. As the horses greedily accepted the juicy treat, Athos fondled their noses and murmured softly. The marksman was in no doubt that the obstinate swordsman was delivering a sincere apology.

Aramis cleared his throat. Smiling as Athos turned, he noted the swordsman stiffen when he realised who it was. Avoiding all reference to the night before, he moved past Athos and stroked Roger's velvety nose.

'It is good to see you, boy, you have been missed, but you must not chatter so much to your master, he will go without his luncheon and Serge will throw a fit.' He nodded sagely to the horse, who appeared to be taking it all in, shaking his glossy, perfectly groomed head up and down, as if agreeing to play his part. Aramis gave the horse's neck one last pat.

'Shall we? Before Porthos consumes all of the ham?' Athos slapped Aramis on the shoulder and grinned, the relief on his face clear. He was aware Aramis had guessed of his night-time rendezvous, and that he did not ask any questions was a blessing Athos had not expected. Aramis was grateful now for the other's advice, as had he stormed in here demanding answers, Athos may well have left for good.

The three men ate their food in companionable silence, the tension from the previous evening no longer present. Much to Aramis' joy, Athos managed to consume a fair amount of bread, ham and cheese and, though he was hardly talkative, he was more sociable than he had been the night before. They were just leaning back, letting their meal digest, when Treville walked into the room. He sought out the three friends and barked his request.

'You three, prepare for the palace now!' Surprised, all of them stood in unison. Athos appeared the most shocked, before his emotional walls dropped back into place. He walked purposefully from the room, with no hint as to his thoughts, unaware that familiar eyes were watching his every move, horrified to see the swordmaster's return.

There was little he could do to prepare for the King; he tidied his hair, wishing now he had trimmed it, as it was too long for fashion and rather wild for a soldier. Still, his equipment was always in good order and his elegant sword hung at his side, a reassuring presence and the only remaining link to his former life that he allowed into the life he had now chosen. However, it was not the most valuable weapon he owned, that being his grandfather's sword, currently stored at the bottom of his trunk. The sword he now carried had been a gift from his father, not long before he had died. The man had almost complimented his son on his growing prowess but, as always, at the last minute had somehow turned it into a bitter failing. Still, it was a beautifully-crafted weapon, well balanced and made by a master, here in Paris. It was understated by most noblemen's standards, but deadly – not unlike its owner; and like the man who wielded it, the sword had surprised and dealt with many who had been fool enough to think themselves superior.

Satisfied that he could do little more, not having the advantage of an actual uniform, he would have to hope the King gave him no more than a cursory glance.

He strode across the yard to where the others were already mounted, and the stable boy passed Athos Roger's reins, as the man thanked him and pulled himself into the saddle. All four men rode in silence, Athos and Treville up front with Aramis and Porthos behind. Athos was aware that every now and again he would espy a dark head amidst the crowd, or a green cloak, that made his pulse race. Would he see her at the palace? Would Richelieu be watching his every move, hoping Athos would give the First Minister some sliver of information he could use to his advantage? Athos almost groaned aloud, cloaking his expression with a cough at the last moment. Added to that, he could still feel Aramis' desperation to discover his whereabouts last night emanating from the silent marksman, despite his earlier show of restraint. Aramis had witnessed Athos' reaction to her missive and, if he knew the marksman as well as he thought he did, then Aramis already suspected the source of the note.

The concerns spinning around in Athos' head made the journey pass quickly, and in no time at all they were dismounting and handing over their mounts to the waiting stable hands. They entered the palace, with Treville leading the way through the elaborate maze of corridors. Porthos noted how Athos now walked at the back of their group, and he could only guess what was going through the man's head after his last encounter with the King.

'Keep your head down, Athos, and try to go unnoticed,' Treville advised through gritted teeth, as they reached the double doors to the throne room. Porthos and Aramis exchanged worried glances, but Athos merely nodded. The large Musketeer appraised his friend – for a man who said little, his presence was almost too loud. Porthos had a sinking feeling that Athos did not know how to keep a low profile. Treville pushed open the large ornate doors, and Athos took a deep breath as images of the three of them bursting through these same doors only a few months ago flooded his memory.

'Ah, Treville,' grinned the King, 'at last you are here. We are most anxious to know if we are ready to begin our journey, are we not, my dear?' Louis took his wife's hand, awaiting her response.

'Indeed, Sire, if Captain Treville says we are ready, I shall be most reassured.' The Queen held Treville's gaze, managing to convey much in such a short sentence. The Musketeers were not sure whether she truly sought his reassurance, or whether she was hoping he would claim he needed longer. Still, whichever was the case, when he answered, her sweet smile did not falter.

'Then I am glad to inform Your Majesty that all is in order. Though my numbers are slightly depleted we are as prepared as we can be.'

For a second, the King's smile faded, and Aramis thought he saw a flicker of amusement in the Cardinal's smug expression; as always, he stood to the King's side, a little way behind to signify the loyal but lowly servant he was.

As Louis began to pout, his gaze fell upon Athos, for despite both Treville's and Athos' intentions, the swordsman stood out easily from the rest of the Musketeers. His dark leather, and his rather unruly hair, along with the arrogant stance he so easily adopted, made him anything but invisible. Athos' heart skipped a beat as his eyes locked with the King, but to his surprise, Louis beamed.

Monsieur Athos, step forward.' Unflustered, and with more aplomb than the others would have expected, Athos moved toward the King and offered a courtly bow.

'Your Majesties,' Athos addressed the King and Queen. He dared not move his eyes away from the royal pair, where he had kept his gaze transfixed since he had entered the room. He was far too aware of the group of women standing near to the Queen; all his senses screamed she was there, and he did not want to see her.

'Why, Monsieur Athos, I hear tell tales of your great talent with a sword. The greatest swordsman in all of France, apart from me of course!' Louis gave a childish grin, feigning humility as he addressed his court, those witnessing the remark laughing appropriately as they were expected to.

'I am flattered, Your Majesty. I shall endeavour to honour your faith in me, though I hope such a display of prowess will not be necessary.' The King's smile faded, and he considered Athos' words.

'Indeed. It is true we anticipate an uneventful journey, but perhaps you might be persuaded at some point to display your skill.' Louis clapped his hands at his idea and Athos bowed low.

'At Your Majesty's pleasure.' Athos backed away and melted into the background as well as he was able. Watching Athos interact with the King – the confident tone, no sign of intimidation or discomfort – Treville wondered how anybody present could not realise Athos was high born, for it screamed from every tilt of his head and the tone of his voice. As the King began to chatter with some other minor courtier, he glanced toward the Cardinal. Following the First Minister's cold stare, to his alarm, he realised Richelieu was watching Athos carefully. It was not the first time Treville had observed Athos come under the bastard's scrutiny, but the man was not a fool, and if Treville thought Athos' breeding obvious, then the Cardinal would surely reach the same conclusion.

Treville shivered as a thought occurred to him. Richelieu had been at court for many years, so could he have known the former Comte de la Fère? Did he, too, recognise Athos' noble bearing and eloquence for what it was, and make the connection? The regiment was full of second and third sons of the nobility, though none were as high born, or held a title as important as Athos', and none of them sought to hide their situation and behave as a lowly soldier.

As Treville shifted his attention back to Athos, he saw that the confident, superior man who had addressed the King as his equal was gone. Now there stood a man rigid and uncomfortable, his concentration fixed upon a far point on the ceiling. It was not royalty, or fine surroundings that bothered him, but something in the room was making the young man distinctly uneasy, and his complexion had visibly paled.

oOo

Milady had dressed in her most suitable gown to meet the Queen – no, that was not strictly true, the gown had not been hers, but she had appropriated it out of necessity. It was not a style she favoured, but then she was about to serve, not seduce – at least not yet. She walked into the elaborate apartment that belonged to the Queen and curtsied low.

'Please stand, my dear Anne. I am most pleased to welcome you home to France, and of course we are most sorry for your loss.' The Queen helped the woman before her to her feet.

Milady kept her eyes lowered, her demeanour meek and subservient. 'You do me a great honour, Your Majesty. When my husband passed, I am afraid he left me in rather reduced circumstance, and I did not know what my future would hold. To be back in my beloved France, and to be given such an opportunity, is surely a wonderful gift.' She managed to squeeze a few delicate tears, a trick she had used many, many times.

'And we are delighted to have you. We are about to embark upon a most interesting journey, so we will have plenty of time to get to know each other.' Milady curtsied again as the Queen walked past. Though Her Majesty was young and beautiful, she was no fool, and Milady understood she would have to be on her guard.

She followed the entourage down the corridor and into a large room. The King rose to greet his wife, and Milady took in the finery and jewels that dripped from every person present, man and woman alike. Rich pickings indeed, perhaps the journey would have its perks after all. The Queen took her seat beside her husband and the women gathered to one side. At that moment, the doors opened and in strode Treville and his men, but her eyes were glued on Athos. She could not help a small gasp as he entered; as always, he walked with a cocky swagger, no deference in his bearing at all. The young woman next to her began to giggle, assuming Milady's reaction was to the Musketeers' arrival.

'They are all very handsome are they not?' she whispered. Playing along, Milady replied, hoping the irony in her voice was well concealed.

'Yes, indeed they are. Are they Musketeers? I have heard so much about the King's regiment.'

'Oh yes,' the girl replied, 'The one over there is Aramis,' she giggled again. 'Very popular with the ladies. The big one is Porthos, he looks rather frightening, but he has a wonderful smile.' She stopped then, but Milady could not help but ask.

'What about the one in black?'

'Ooh, that is Athos, he is rather mysterious. They say he saved the King and Queen's lives by leaping from that very window over there on Her Majesty's birthday, with a bomb no less – so brave.' She paused for just a moment, then added: 'He is very handsome, but rather serious.'

'And just a little sad,' Milady responded, wrapped up in the moment, simply stating what she saw.

'Yes, you are right, he does have a sadness about him. I wonder who broke his heart?' Both women watched the man as he conversed with the King, then stepped toward the back of the room.

'He has a rather fine voice,' sighed the woman on the other side of Milady. Mischief throbbed in her veins and she was sorely tempted to add: indeed, especially when he is telling you what he is planning to do to you, once he gets you into his bed.

Though the thought made her smile, she simply replied: 'Indeed!'

The King remembered the Musketeer Captain was standing before him, the man becoming increasingly impatient.

'So, Captain tell us, what can we expect tomorrow?' Treville was somewhat taken unawares by the sudden change of conversation – what exactly did the King think was happening?

'We will leave early in the morning to make the most of the daylight, Sire. We should make good time, and there have been no reports of bandits.' At this, there was a faint gasp, as the court ladies huddled slightly closer together. As her companions reacted to the Captain's words, it was all Milady could do not to roll her eyes. Aramis looked over toward the Queen's retinue and gave them his most charming smile. He could not help noticing a new face amongst them, particularly as its owner appeared rather irritated by the reaction of the women around her. The woman was tall and willowy, dark hair piled on top of her head, small pearls threaded through her shiny curls. She turned and caught him looking, but there was no coy smile or fluttering lashes – no, this woman responded with an arched brow and a smile that spoke of sin. Yet some memory stirred in Aramis' head; he was not one to forget a beautiful face, and this woman was undoubtedly beautiful, but he could not help but feel they had met before.

Treville had resumed talking once more. 'We should reach Versailles by late afternoon, in time for Your Majesty to take his rest before dinner. The morning after, we will travel to the home of the Baron de Bruyères. The Baron is not on your list, as he attended your party, indeed, he sustained a slight injury. He is the younger brother of the Duke de Berry, a member of your council, Sire, and a loyal subject. It was not possible to make Rambouillet in less than three days with so large a party travelling by carriage.' If he had hoped to put the King off, it did not work, in fact he seemed all the more excited. Treville paused whilst the King clapped his hands in delight, before adding:

'The Duke d'Angennes has received word of your impending arrival.' Louis smiled, and now rubbed his hands together like a child with a naughty secret.

'Excellent! Now we shall see what the Duke has to say about his absence from our party, will we not, Cardinal?'

'Yes, Sire, we will indeed.' It was the first time the Cardinal had spoken, but his next words surprised even the King. 'Monsieur Athos, you look most perturbed, is something amiss? Do you have something you wish to say?' Treville and the others turned in shock as the Cardinal addressed Athos; it was most irregular, and the entire court appeared to hold its breath. Athos was furious with himself – of all the times to allow his thoughts to show, now was not one of them. He had been thinking of Julienne and their stay at the Château Rambouillet. He knew her parents, the Duke and Duchess d'Angennes, as they had been friends of his parents, though he had not seen Julienne since he was a boy. He had been concerned she would identify him during their last visit, but she had said nothing.

'No, Your Eminence. I have nothing to add.' Athos held the Cardinal's glare, he should have lowered his eyes or showed some deference, but breeding will out, and he could not bring himself to do so.

'Oh please, Monsieur, I can see you have something on your mind, please share.' Richelieu oozed encouragement, as his cold eyes swept from Athos to Milady. However, she was waiting and, though her heart hammered in her chest, she schooled her features, showing nothing more than mild interest, keeping her gaze on Aramis. Still not satisfied and irked to find Milady de Winter refusing to take the bait, he tried once more.

'If you know something, you are obliged to tell your King.' Now Louis showed more interest, deciding that somehow, a refusal to speak was a slight to his position.

With a rather fragile smile the King spoke. 'Surely you do not refuse your King, Athos?' The swordsman bowed low once more, his mind working furiously to limit the damage of the situation.

'Nothing could be further from the truth, Your Majesty, I was simply following the conversation with interest.' The King examined Athos for a moment, unfortunately deciding that, today of all days, he was going to show an intelligent connection to the subject Athos so desperately wished to avoid.

'You stayed at the Château briefly when you escorted my brother to Paris, did you not?' Louis asked. The Cardinal narrowed his eyes, not sure where the conversation was heading.

'Indeed, Sire, we stayed for one night, but the Duke and Duchess were not in residence. They were purported to be on their way to Paris. The Lady Julienne was hosting a ball that had been planned prior to Your Highness's invitation, enabling the event to go ahead despite her parents' absence.' Aramis, Porthos and Treville were aware that this was a lengthy speech for Athos, and to them it was clear he was attempting to make a point.

The King frowned. 'If that is the case, why did they never arrive, Cardinal?' Richelieu shuffled, casting daggers in Athos' direction.

'There was a note from the Duke, Your Majesty, something about illness halting their journey. But of course, by the time it arrived the celebrations had… been abandoned, so it carried very little weight.'

'Still, Cardinal, we must give the Duke the opportunity to explain. It is possible his absence was genuine. Thank you, Monsieur Athos, for bringing this to our attention. Now, I have much to prepare before the morrow. By the way Treville, when you said early, you did not mean before I have broken my fast?'

Treville gave a reassuring smile, he had anticipated such a question. 'No, Sire, you will not be disturbed until you have finished your repast.' The King looked relieved and flashed the Captain a beaming smile.

'Excellent. I bid you good day Treville.' He gave Athos a small nod of his head as he left, the Queen pausing as she reached the spot where the swordsman stood.

'Thank you for your insight, Monsieur Athos. The Duke and Duchess have always been most loyal, and dear Julienne is a good friend. I am most pleased to hear there may be a genuine reason for their absence. I am glad you will be joining our party.' Athos bowed low and wondered what had possessed him to bring himself to the King's attention, especially as he noted the parting look the Cardinal gave him. But he stood firm and faced the First Minister down, pride preventing him from allowing this man to get the better of him. As he held his ground, the scent of jasmine filled his senses and he knew she was close. Luckily, the Cardinal turned and flounced from the room just as Athos locked eyes with Milady. The look on her face was odd, and he almost believed she was afraid.

Treville nodded his head to his men and they turned to follow his lead as he strode purposefully from the room.

Porthos grinned. Always one to speak his mind, he slapped Athos on the back and said: 'That went well. The King was pleased, and the Queen was delighted.' Athos was grateful for his friend's enthusiasm, yet he turned to Treville, already anticipating the man's response.

'What part of keep your head down did you not understand? The last time I told you to mingle quietly, you jumped out of the window with a bomb. Now you deliberately annoy the second most powerful man in France and practically flout your low opinion of him. For God's sake, man, what would you do if I told you to make an impression?' Despite the accuracy of Treville's statement, Porthos and Aramis were hardly able to withhold their mirth. The look on Athos' face finally changed to one of dismay, as he allowed himself to admit the arrogance of his actions, and painfully accepted the Captain's admonishment. 'You have made an enemy today, Athos – not that I think he was not one before. Just what you have done to annoy him I do not know, but you need to watch your back, son.'

'Do not worry Captain,' said Aramis, 'that is mine and Porthos' job.' The two men strode either side of Athos, and for once the man was extremely grateful for their presence.