Chapter 12

Athos could not believe what had just occurred, he must have been completely mad. Mad, and so consumed by her presence that now he could not think straight. What good would he be protecting the King, if she were also in harm's way? That, of course, bought up a whole new dilemma. Did he protect her? He had sentenced her to hang, but had failed to end her life. So should he be the one to ensure no harm befell her on the journey, or should he ignore her fate and consider justice had been done if she were killed? True, she was still his wife, and yet she was also a liar and a murderer. God it was a mess; but he had long since ceased to blame God – the fault was his alone.

Aramis walked beside Athos, aware of Porthos flanking the swordsman's other side. Both men were keenly aware that they had promised to protect him from the First Minister of France, even though he was a man who could so easily slip out from under their noses, and a man who was only willing to tell what he wanted others to know. If they had any chance of helping Athos against this new foe, then he was going to have to give them some answers. To begin with, why was the Cardinal so interested in him? Thinking back to the first time Athos had stood before the King, Richelieu had shown an unusual level of interest even then.

Porthos was the first to break the uneasy silence as the men mounted their horses.

'Perhaps we should rethink his look.' He gave Athos a considered appraisal and winked at Aramis.

Athos was determined not to be dragged into the conversation and simply scowled at the big Musketeer, his outrage not affecting the mischievous Porthos one bit. Aramis was thrilled at the prospect of taunting Athos, partly in revenge for his loss of sleep, and partly because it was simply entertaining.

'You might have a point, he is rather conspicuous. What did you have in mind?' Aramis contributed. Treville smiled at the two men's antics but said nothing.

'Well, for a start, the black would have to go, he looks far too… malevolent.' Pleased with his choice of words, Porthos attempted to look as serious as he could.

'Malevolent?' Aramis, pursed his lips and studied the stoic Athos, who was still staring straight ahead. 'I think perhaps brooding would be a better term, and enigmatic. Of course, the ladies like brooding and enigmatic, so that is a bonus, but probably not for Athos.' Aramis shook his head as if this were a missed opportunity.

'Needs to cut his hair, he looks like a pirate,' Porthos added, obviously now beginning to find it difficult to keep a straight face.

'That is not necessarily a bad thing, pirates have a certain romantic quality. Perhaps he should smile more. Look slightly less intimidating.'

'Nah,' Porthos shook his head, 'then he would just look simple.' Athos had had enough. As if he didn't have enough problems, now he had to listen to these two clowns as well.

Turning to Porthos, who had started this ridiculous debate, Athos delivered a most withering stare and, despite his amusement, Porthos had to admit he was glad they were on the same side.

'Do you wish to spar with me when we return to the garrison?' The smile that had hovered on Porthos' lips wavered, and for a moment he was not sure if Athos was indeed truly angry. Then he noticed the slight twinkle in the swordsman's eye and pretended to give the question due consideration.

'Well let's see, the last time you took on Aramis and me, you won. Perhaps I should consult my partner and see if we wish a return match.' Porthos pretended to lean around Athos who also turned his scrutiny upon Aramis.

'What do you think Aramis, shall we consider a wager with our friend? He wins, he can continue to dress as he sees fit, if we win, we get to… soften his look.' Aramis was struggling, and Athos cut him such a glare that the marksman had to hide his smile behind his hand. It was Treville who saved the moment.

'At this point, I think Athos might injure the pair of you, and you would deserve it. Though I must admit, it would be fun to watch. Unfortunately, I cannot afford to lose you, so I suggest you apologise and save your energy for tomorrow.' Though he made an effort to look severe, so put out did Athos appear, that he, too, was trying hard not to laugh. Aramis began to chuckle.

'I am sorry, mon ami, but I am ashamed to say I do enjoy teasing you, you do make it so easy.' Now he began to laugh in earnest, and Porthos and Treville finally joined in. Athos quirked a brow and tried to maintain his ill humour though, if he were honest, banter such as this saved him from himself when he was in danger of sinking deep into a pit of despair. He enjoyed their teasing far more than he would ever admit.

'I believe Porthos has a rather fine brandy he has been saving for a special occasion,' Athos stated, his voice deadpan and giving nothing away.

Porthos frowned. 'How do you know?' This time it was Athos' turn to snort – the closest to him laughing as they were likely to see.

'I do not, but there was a rather conspicuous clinking in your room when you made a fuss about tidying up the other evening, and I have never seen you so worried about cleaning before.' Porthos stared, open-mouthed.

'It might have been wine,' he pouted, noting the look of satisfaction upon Athos' face.

'It might have been, but now I know it was not.' He responded with a rather smug expression of his own and Porthos guffawed.

'You were fishin'! You 'ad no idea, did you?' It was Athos' turn to smile – something they had not seen much of just lately. Arriving at the garrison gates, the atmosphere was a much happier one than when they had left the Louvre. Whether it would last, remained to be seen. When the men had dismounted and handed the horses over, Treville turned to Athos and, to his surprise, placed a hand upon the man's shoulder.

'Athos, a minute if you do not mind.' He turned then and hurried across the courtyard toward the stairs. Athos frowned – the gesture was odd, and the Captain had not commanded him to follow or asked him to help with a problem. For some reason, he felt uneasy. He had been prepared for Aramis' questions, but he had not expected the interrogation to come from Treville. The yard was full of men preparing for the morrow's journey, and the occasional pair of cadets practising their fencing. In the distance, muskets could be heard, signifying practice taking place in the field beyond the garrison. Life was hurtling around them, but the three men stood still, tension crackling in the air once more. Shrugging his shoulders, Athos had turned and made to follow the Captain, when Aramis' voice rang out.

'We will be waiting, mon ami.' Athos faltered for a second before continuing, knowing they would indeed be there for him, when whatever Treville had to say was over.

Athos' feet felt heavy as he climbed the stairs, running various scenarios through his head. Treville might wish to know why the Cardinal had taken so much interest in him, or he might have discovered that he had left the garrison against his explicit orders, neither being issues he particularly wished to discuss. Reluctantly, he knocked upon the door and listened to the familiar call to enter. Drawing a deep breath, he stepped over the threshold.

Treville paced the floor of his office and wiped his brow, not even sure why he had asked Athos to come and see him. Something was bothering the Captain, but he was not certain what, and he rather hoped Athos would tell him what he wanted to know, before he himself managed to work it out. However, he understood that the chances of Athos volunteering information was as likely as Porthos giving up cards, or Aramis women. The knock upon the door made him start. Barking out his invitation, he sat behind his desk, not wanting to make Athos feel ill at ease.

The young man stood before him, tall and straight, but obviously uncomfortable and, as before, he identified a spot upon the wall and stared at it intently.

'Sit down Athos, I have not called you here to berate you.' Treville, kept his tone light, struggling to find the questions that would hopefully unlock Athos' tongue.

Treville decided to approach the matter from what he saw as a harmless angle.

'Did you know the Duke and his family? Is that why you were determined to place them in a good light?' Athos frowned and faced the Captain, the question had made him think, but he showed no sign of concern.

'The Duke was a friend of my father, they knew each other from childhood I believe. We stayed at their estate for several weeks when I was seventeen – it was the Lady Julienne's birthday I seem to recall.' Athos said nothing more, waiting for Treville to make the next move. The Captain considered the information, before he continued:

'She did not recognise you?' Athos looked somewhat wary as he contemplated his reply.

'She believed we had met before, but luckily she could not remember when. I doubt she would have made the connection between the boy she met briefly ten years ago and the man escorting Gaston.' He paused then shrugged his shoulders. 'I must admit, I was glad when she became distracted by the murder of Montmorency, as it was obvious she was trying hard to remember.' He decided there was no need to mention dancing – it was a moment he wished to forget.

Treville looked at the man who addressed him from the other side of the desk. He had lived another life before this, a life of luxury and comfort – the life of a gentleman. Yet this young man had left it all behind and embraced a very different existence. Without the intervention of Aramis and Porthos, Treville shuddered to think what would have happened to Athos had he been left to his own devices. However, one thing was for certain, Treville had met the lady Julienne on several occasions and, from what he had observed, he somehow doubted that she had forgotten the young viscount, and it was only a matter of time before she made the connection.

'Why do you think Richelieu is taking such an interest in you, it is not his usual style. I doubt he notes the expressions of either Musketeers or Red Guards normally, but he was taking far too much interest in you. Is there something I should know?' Now Athos felt his pulse race. He was about to lie to a man to whom he owed so much, a man who did not deserve his subterfuge.

'I can think of no reason, only the obvious, that my first encounter was not the most auspicious, and my actions since have not helped my case.' He hoped this was a reasonable offering, as he could not bring himself to admit his wife's connection with the First Minister, or the man's growing obsession over their possible connection.

'Athos, you must know that when you are addressed in court, you do not behave as an ordinary soldier would do. The Cardinal is no fool, he is beginning to realise you are not the man you were first suspected of being.' Athos locked eyes with Treville but merely sighed and shook his head.

'He cannot make any connection between me and the De la Fère title. It is not worth your time to worry about such a possibility.' Treville knew the end of a conversation when he heard one, though he had not managed to extract the information he had sought. Something had been bothering the young man in that throne room, but it was not the King, and apparently not the Cardinal. He was perplexed as ever but, much to Athos' relief, Treville changed the subject.

'There is something else you should know about tomorrow.' He watched Athos carefully as he passed on the information he had been dreading having to impart. 'Deveaux will be accompanying us. I tried to make a good excuse to leave him behind, but with so many men ill or absent, I did not want him to have any sway over the men left in the garrison – better to have him where I can see him. I do not believe he will cause any trouble, but you should be aware of his presence, as I know he dislikes you and you need to take care. I am afraid I do not trust him.'

It took a great deal for Treville to admit such a thing about one of his own men, but he knew of the history between Athos and the surly Musketeer. It had been Deveaux who had allowed the scarred man access to the infirmary when Athos was recovering from the incident with the bomb. Aramis had dealt with the disgraced Musketeer, so Treville had heard through the grapevine, but he still worried about the dynamics between the two men. Deveaux had never forgiven Athos – someone he regarded as a mere nobody – from showing him up in front of the other men and a group of cadets, whilst sparring with him when he had first arrived. Treville suspected his hate for the swordsman had only festered and grown since then.

Athos nodded, 'Do not concern yourself, I can manage Deveaux.' Satisfied he had given the young man due warning, Treville began to explain his arrangements for the upcoming tour.

The two men discussed the placement of men and the royal party, and what might be necessary to ensure a smooth journey from Paris to Versailles. The hunting lodge was small in comparison to many royal properties, but the Musketeers would make camp outside, with only a small contingent within; after all, it was only for one night. The two men made plans, their conversation now relaxed and productive, with Athos fully participating in the logistics of such an endeavour, and Treville enjoying having someone of Athos' calibre to question his own strategies and offer ones of his own. In all, he was very glad to have the young man back in the garrison, and this time he would do everything possible to ensure he stayed.

When the two men had considered the route from every angle and debated every eventuality, they decided they had done all they could; night was well underway and Treville had watched Athos try to stifle a yawn. The Captain thanked him for his input and sent Athos on his way, with instructions to eat well and get plenty of rest. Despite the King's concerns over an early departure, the Musketeers would be up a little after dawn to make their preparations, before travelling to the palace to await His Majesty's arrival.

Tired, and with the beginnings of a headache, Athos made his way down the stairs, and was just debating whether to retreat to his room and the waiting bottle of wine when he heard a familiar voice.

'So, you have returned. It did not take you long to worm your way back into the Captain's good books, did it? Still, it is early days, and a long way between Paris and our various destinations. A lot can happen on the road – it can be a very dangerous place.' Athos turned to see Deveaux leering out of the darkness, cup in hand. For a second, he debated whether he should point out that drinking in excess was not such a good idea before a mission, but instead he simply turned his back and walked away.

'That is it, you coward, walk away! That is what you are good at after all!' The snide remark, stung, even though it had come from the mouth of a man such as Deveaux. But the Musketeer did not realise how true his remark had been – that was exactly what he was good at.

Athos had just decided the bottle of wine beside his bed was a siren calling out to him, when yet another voice interrupted his thoughts. This time the gentle tone was all too familiar, and yet it made his heart hitch far more than the spite and aggression of Deveaux.

'Were you not going to join us for supper?' Aramis questioned. His dark eyes showed a hint of sorrow, even in the poor light of the courtyard. Athos looked at his friend and managed the ghost of a smile.

'Treville and I have talked a great deal, I thought I would retire early,' Athos offered, though he knew it sounded weak. Aramis nodded.

'It will be an early start, and I suspect we will be kept waiting for some time before we finally set off. I would recommend a good meal now, for who knows what might occur before our next one.' Athos knew the man's words made sense, after all the Musketeer was a veteran campaigner and his advice was sound. Deciding Aramis would not let him go to his room without food, he smiled, changed direction, and headed toward the refectory.

Aramis had clearly heard what Deveaux had said to Athos, but had decided to say nothing. He would inform Porthos, and between them they would keep an eye on the man they saw as a traitor. Athos had other things on his mind and, if conversations were to be had, Aramis had more important questions than Deveaux and his antics.

oOo

Milady watched the Queen retire to her private rooms. She was desperate to retire too, exhausted by all the inane chatter and excitement caused by tomorrow's journey. Not all of the ladies-in-waiting were to accompany the royal party, and she was not sure what the Cardinal had said to ensure she was included following such short acquaintance. Still, she had smiled, shared interesting anecdotes and listened to the Queen's every word, thankful that the woman was at least intelligent and witty; she would have gone mad if she had been as empty-headed as some of the others within her entourage. However, it was not to be, and a message from the Cardinal had her moving swiftly down the silent corridors toward her meeting. Tonight, he had summoned her to his office within the Louvre, where she had not been before, always having attended him in his private apartments.

Milady knocked gently and listened for the answering summons. Walking into the room, she was surprised by its warmth and ambience. Compared to his usual surroundings, this office was much smaller and far more intimate. A large desk dominated the compact study, and the walls were lined with volumes of books and ledgers, their rich bindings glowing jewel-like in the warm light radiating from the candles. Had not been for the chilly presence of the First Minister, she thought to herself, it would almost have been a comfortable room.

'You took your time, it is late,' Richelieu hissed. Obviously he was upset, and she would be on the receiving end of his dark mood.

'I could hardly tell the Queen I had other things to do. You placed me in this role, and you understand the expectations of such a position. I came as soon as the Queen retired. Believe me, I would have come sooner had I been able. I may have to smother some of them in their sleep if I have to listen to their stupid chatter every day,' she added, raising a brow, and the Cardinal smiled, amused by her irritation.

'Yes, I am sure it must be purgatory for one such as you. Still, do not worry, I am sure we can find something for you to do to relieve the boredom of such a journey.' Richelieu's face became serious, his brow wrinkling in frustration, his narrow face taking on a demonic quality in the flickering shadows. Milady shivered, as if the man himself exuded an evil chill.

'Cold, my dear? I am surprised. I note there is rather more to the dress you are wearing than usual. Still, I doubt it will reduce your charms if such a skill be needed.' Milady would love to have reached out and slapped his smug face. She thought back to Athos' reaction when he had realised the depth of her betrayal, how he had recoiled at the idea that she had been this man's mistress. Though she hated her husband for his holier than thou judgement, she could hardly blame him, and how she had tolerated Richelieu in her bed at all she could no longer remember. She was just glad that he had now found far better ways to occupy her time, even if that meant she had to share the bed of someone else, in order to make sure the First Minister got what he needed.

'I will travel in the coach with the King and Queen, you will follow with some of your new friends.' He again stretched those narrow lips into a terrifying grin, visibly enjoying the prospect of her discomfort. 'The third carriage will hold several other courtiers and the King's wardrobe master. Keep your eyes and ears open, there are rumblings that Gaston has returned from Belgium, where his mother is staying with friends. There are too many loose ends from the party debacle for my liking. The man who fled with Gaston from Paris has never been identified and could be anyone, possibly lurking at any of the locations on our itinerary. I have also ensured a small party of Red Guard accompany us. Treville does not know – I could not bear to hear him whine about how it was the Musketeers' duty to guard the King. Anyhow, they are guarding me, so it is not his concern.' He grew thoughtful but said nothing.

'I believe a large number of the Musketeers are only cadets,' she said, wanting to add that she had more faith in those young men than the Cardinal's guards, but she knew better. Richelieu appeared pleased by the information.

'Indeed, excellent, but then he does have the finest swordsman in all of France as his secret weapon, so I suppose he can afford a few wet behind the ears cadets.' He watched her face, but she gave him no satisfaction. However, she could not help baiting him slightly.

'The King appeared to listen to him this morning and is eager to see if his skill is as good as it has been described.' She gazed wide-eyed at the Cardinal, her practised air of indifference masking her very real interest.

Richelieu hissed, 'Let us hope it is true, though I very much doubt it. In any case, with a little luck, we may never make it as far as Rambouillet. The King is easily put off under the right circumstances. So, we may have need of Monsieur Athos yet – an exhibition we are all eagerly awaiting.' Milady tossed her hair.

'I can assure you that men posturing with their weapon of choice have long ceased to interest me. Now if there is nothing else, I am tired.' The Cardinal chuckled at her statement.

'We will see, will we not, Milady de Winter?' There was something about the way his eyes narrowed and the manner in which he emphasised her name as she turned to leave, that filled her with dread. He was a ruthless man, and when she no longer provided a useful service, she was sure she would become one of those loose ends he so hated.

oOo

Athos had surprised himself; he had eaten most of a bowl of soup and all of the accompanying bread and cheese. For the first time in days, nobody had interrupted him, and his discussion with Treville had taken his mind of his troubles, allowing him to make up for all those missed and spoilt meals of recent days. Now he was full and tired, his headache had worsened, and he knew he needed rest. Hopefully, his level of exhaustion, a full stomach and the bottle beside his bed, would ensure he had at least a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. He was considering this when he heard his name being called.

'Athos! Are you listening, or have you fallen asleep at the table? It would not be the first time.' The two Musketeers chuckled. Indeed, Athos had in the past become so tired, and had refused to rest to such an extent, that he had practically needed to be carried to his room, too tired to walk unaided.

'I assure you I am awake, though perhaps not for much longer.' He managed a small grin, but it was clear he was struggling against fatigue. If Aramis had hoped to discuss the swordsman's whereabouts the previous evening, it was not going to be tonight. Still, there were many miles of riding over the next few weeks, or months, and Aramis was nothing if not persistent. Anyway, Athos would be in a much better frame of mind once the tour began. What was the worst that could happen? They could be attacked, the King's life threatened, damaged coaches might cause them to be stranded in the middle of nowhere – all being events which Athos would thrive upon. Aramis had to admit that it was rather worrying that such a dismal set of circumstances were needed to bring out the best in someone, but then he had never met anyone like Athos.