Chapter 27

Athos closed his eyes and listened to the silence. He doubted it would last long, though in fact he was glad, as this silence was like no other.

'What exactly just happened?' the King enquired, still able to attach an impressive note of disdain to his tone, despite his rather reduced circumstances.

'Mmm, I rather think Milady de Winter just happened.' Athos managed a hoarse reply, though he was surprised by the slight twitch of his lips, as he imagined Louis' face.

'And what, pray, does that mean?' the King demanded.

Athos sighed, wondering just how much to tell the obviously peeved King. 'We are old friends. She is somewhat… tenacious. It appears she was the only one who could be spared to follow our trail.'

'The only one they could spare? Where is Treville? Where are my Musketeers? Do not tell me they are not coming.' Louis' voice threatened a bout of hysterics, which Athos knew his headache would not stand.

'He is coming. Do you doubt that he would? Unfortunately, some of your Musketeers are now dead. Treville has to ensure the safety of the Queen and the Cardinal.' He had not intended to reply in so haughty a manner, but he was in no mood to pacify his King.

'Do you not fear your King, Athos?' The swordsman had to admit that it was not the question he had been expecting.

'Honestly, Your Majesty, at this moment in time, I believe I have more imminent enemies. You are my King and your safety is paramount. I will do everything in my power to see you survive this ordeal, but it will have to be on my terms.'

The King did not reply immediately, though Athos heard a sharp intake of breath in the darkness.

'Very well, but if I succumb to your lead, you had better get me out of this alive.'

All was silent once more, but this time Athos was glad. He closed his eyes and shut out the multiple aches and pains that pounded his body. He needed to think. At some point he must have slept, though how he was not sure. A noise woke him with a jolt – not a wise move, as pain shot down his arms and into his stiff, complaining shoulders. Hissing, he ground his teeth and strained to hear what had awoken him.

Cold grey light now filtered through the filthy windows, but it was enough to reveal that the sun had risen, and the smell of smoke began to seep under, and through, the cracks and the doorway. For a moment Athos panicked. Were they setting fire to the barn? The idea died as soon as it had flickered in his tired brain. No, there would be no point to that; so what was burning? Shuffling outside the door alerted him to a closer presence. Someone was about to enter, and remembering the box he was standing on, and with a reluctant groan, he kicked it with all the strength he could muster, biting down as his shoulders screamed in protest, his arms now taking his whole weight.

The noise must have awoken the sleeping King, for he called out in alarm.

'Who is there?'

Daylight flooded the dim interior of the barn, and Athos squinted as even the early morning gloom hit his eyes like pins.

'Good mornin', your almighty 'ighness. We 'ope you slept well. Time for a little trip.' With that, one of the men began to untie the King, whilst another came toward Athos. This man looked somewhat wary, though there was a coldness, a deliberation in his eyes, that had been lacking in many of the men from the night before. Fresh, so not part of last night's celebrations – interesting. Still, Athos took this as a good sign; if they considered him a threat, this could only work to his advantage.

The man made no effort to lessen Athos' discomfort, as with a quick slice he cut through both bindings, letting the swordsman fall to the floor. Athos was not sure what hurt most – it appeared that everything flared with agony at the same time. He was alive and, miraculously, nothing was broken, cracked, or injured enough to prevent him from performing.

The man yanked him to his feet. Athos took a second to gain his equilibrium, but that was all he was given, as his hands were pulled behind him and bound once again. He rolled his eyes as the rope bit into his already raw wrists.

The man smirked. 'That's gotta hurt,' he chuckled, and gave the rope a tug for good measure.

'Thank you for pointing out the obvious. I will make sure to kill you first,' Athos drawled, giving the man a glare from under hooded lids. The bastard gave a loud guffaw and pushed him toward the doorway. The King was mercifully quiet and looked to Athos for direction. The swordsman gave him a nod and what he hoped was a look of confidence. The King did not seem very reassured, but gave Athos a nod in return. As they were manhandled atop their horses, they both stared in amazement. The old house was now an inferno, with smoke belching out from the roof and the ancient timbers blazing.

Athos took in the men surrounding them. Only six and, from what he could see, they were not familiar to him. No sign of the giant from last night, or Piquer – it was as Milady had said, no loose ends.

'Athos?' the King asked, trepidation in his voice. 'Are there people in there?' His face had paled, and Athos was tempted to lie, but it would serve little purpose.

'I fear so, Your Majesty.' The horses began to move off, and Athos fell in beside the King. They were not crowded in by the others, and Athos deduced they were obviously confident of their own ability to prevent either of them escaping.

'Why? Why kill their own men?' the King asked, appalled at the concept. For a moment, Athos was tempted to make a comparison between Timot's cold indifference and that of the King toward the poor and downtrodden of France, but if he were to get Louis out of this, he would need to keep the man on his side.

'They were simple thugs, merely hired to do the kidnapping, acquired in such numbers to make any deaths irrelevant when they attacked your party. Now they are no longer needed, Timot wants nobody left alive to reveal his plans.' Louis listened intently, then sat quietly whilst he processed Athos' explanation.

'So, the men here now?' He looked at Athos, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

'They mean business,' was all the swordsman replied, but the nod from the King told him it was the answer the monarch had expected.

As they rode on, the morning was growing fine, the late spring deciding to make a real effort to establish itself at last. Though it was still early, the sun had warmth and promised a beautiful day. It meant little, but it was better than riding in the cold and rain.

Something suddenly rubbed against Athos' ankle, sparking a memory that had become lost in the fog of last night's pain. He smiled, and a glimmer of hope began to blossom. The dagger in his boot would be a constant reminder he was not as vulnerable as his captors assumed. He remembered now, and he was glad he had kissed her.

ooOoo

Milady had spent the night in a small shack behind the barn. She was used to sleeping in worse places, but she had in fact slept very little. Her brain had refused to relax as she ran scenario after scenario in her head, all of them beginning with her freeing Athos. Without him to aid her, there was no plan, and she was not sure just how injured he was. However, it was encouraging to know he had still been fighting and on his feet when that bastard Timot had finally called a halt to the sickening display.

As she gazed at the stars through the broken roof, Milady allowed herself a rare moment of reflection. Could it only have been a matter of months since she had seen him again for the first time? Could her feelings and plans – those festering wounds she had nursed and nurtured, his painful death being the ultimate desire – could those plans really have changed so much? She had believed herself stronger than that, more focused, more reliable. He had ruined her life and he should have paid, and lord knows she had had ample opportunities. The dark inn yard on a cold winter's night as he lay broken beneath the palace window; clandestine meetings beside the Seine; the infirmary, the stable, last night. So many chances, and she had not taken advantage of any one of them. Why not?

The cold night air made her shudder, then suddenly the memory of warm lips made her body flush with heat. Was this really the answer? Lust? Had lust made her stay her hand? No, even she was not that shallow. It was true that the very sight of the man made the blood thrum in her veins, but she had to concede that it was more than that. Damnation! She would not allow herself to admit just why she could not put an end to him. But dear god how she wished she could. As it was, she could not even allow anyone else to hurt him – if or when she ever had the courage to put an end to her burning torment, it would be by her hand. However, if that day ever came, she would have to be prepared to sacrifice herself too, for without him she feared she would be nothing.

Now she rode at a safe distance, stopping occasionally to make sure they would not see her following. Ironically, they had passed close to the road that led to Rambouillet. Was Treville behind her, or was he at the Château securing the Queen and the Cardinal? She could not wait for him; if she saw an opportunity, she would take it.

ooOoo

Athos and the King still rode side-by-side, and for once Athos wished the King would speak, as the questions the man was not asking were building to quite a crescendo. The monarch shuffled in his saddle and constantly gave Athos sidelong glances. If he kept this up much longer, Athos might let them shoot him after all.

Suddenly the King spoke, and Athos held his breath.

'Why do you do it Athos? Why do you put yourself in harm's way to protect me? I understand what you were doing last night.' The King spoke with genuine puzzlement, and just a little awe.

'You are my King, Sire, it is my duty,' was all Athos could say. The King seemed to draw in a long breath before he continued.

'But I refused you as a Musketeer. You are their swordmaster, is that correct?' Athos could only marvel at how protected and childlike the monarch could appear at times – a man responsible for an entire nation could not recognise something as simple as duty. Athos tried to offer an explanation, but he was not really sure what he could say. Unfortunately, it appeared Louis was only just getting warmed up.

'I have watched and listened, and I am no fool, despite what people think. Treville listens to you. You do not stop to ask permission before you speak – even to me. The other men, they defer to you. Why?'

Now Athos really could not answer. He had never even considered how others reacted to him, but he felt he may be treading on uncomfortable ground. He gave a nonchalant shrug before he finally answered. 'Treville uses his men as he sees fit. I have a certain flair for strategy, and he finds this useful. As to the other men, I cannot say.' Louis frowned but fell silent whilst he gave the reply further thought. Athos was beginning to wish the man was the fool people thought he was.

After a while, the King spoke once more. 'I meet many people – those who fawn and wish to reap rewards for their fealty, those who think I am a puppet to be manipulated, those who despise what I am and seek to depose me. But I recognise their methods, their speech, their deference or lack of it. You have a manner I recognise also. You are not uncomfortable in front of me, Athos, you never were, not even dressed in rags and bloodied from the Bastille. Again, I ask myself why? No common man behaves such. Who are you?'

Athos' mouth was dry; this was not a conversation he wished to have with the King. But it appeared the gods were looking down on him for once, for just then Timot halted the party and ordered the men to water the horses. Athos was surprised to hear the King chuckle. 'Keep your secrets Athos… for now.' But as he glanced at Louis to confirm what he had heard, Athos noted the King's searching gaze and realised he would have to be careful.

ooOoo

Milady crept as close to the men as she dared; any conversation may give her some clue as to their intention. Timot was sat on the floor drawing a diagram with a stick in the dirt. The man who stood over him was the same man who had freed Athos. His cold grey eyes, showing no sign of emotion, made her shudder. One to be wary of.

'If everything goes to plan, we head for Château de Blois, deal with the King, then turn Athos over to Gizzard. He should fetch a tidy penny.' The two men snorted with amusement and Milady's heart flipped. Were they selling him to slavery? It was not unheard of, and in fact kidnapping for slavery to power galleons was rife, but somehow this was not what she felt they referred to. No, it was his fighting that had saved him from a more thorough beating – and there were many who would pay for a skill such as his. Though she hated the thought, it did mean they would want him unharmed, which in turn gave her hope, and perhaps time. She watched them mount up once more and prepared to follow.

ooOoo

The three men rode side-by-side. Nobody had said a word since they had left the burning remains, riding away at speed as though distance would rid them of the stench of death. The recent weather meant they had needed no further clues – the ground clearly showed signs of a large party of riders having passed before them.

'What do you think their intentions are?' Porthos asked finally. The fact Aramis had remained silent this long made him nervous.

Treville shook his head. 'I do not know, but we are heading toward Château de Blois, and that is one of Gaston's residences, so perhaps the Cardinal's intelligence is wrong. Perhaps it is some warped assassination attempt, though it is not Gaston's style to be so hands-on – he normally prefers to be well away from the actual deed.' The other two Musketeers nodded in agreement. The warmth of the sun should have raised their mood, but the newly arrived spring hardly registered as, despite their urgency, they slowed their pace at last, needing to ensure the horses would not over-tire.

'Wot's up?' Porthos eventually asked Aramis. 'You've bin far too quiet, it's not normal.' He scowled at the marksman, who had never before ridden so far and remained so silent.

'I am not sure, mon ami.' Aramis gazed at the blue sky above and wondered what it was that worried him most – losing the King, Athos' current situation, or Milady. He still did not trust her, and doubted he ever would, but she had wasted no time in following Athos's trail, and she had almost kept her word to keep them informed. It was her agenda that worried him. What did she really want from Athos? Was it enough to keep him dangling on a string, to play with as a cat would a mouse? Did she hope for a reconciliation? Or could she simply not keep away? He really could not answer his own questions, but he was not sure how her constant presence would affect his friend.

''E may be an idiot, but 'es got more lives than a cat, 'e'll find a way out.' Porthos attempted to be optimistic, but this terrified Aramis all the more.

'Is your optimism supposed to make me feel better? I've heard bad news broken with more sincerity,' Aramis snorted, though he could not help a smile.

'Well, we're probably worryin' over nothin'. We'll get there and 'e'll come swaggerin' over as though nothin' 'as 'appened.' Again Aramis smiled, though there was a touch of sadness in his expression.

'Let us hope so, mon ami, let us hope it is that easy.' But he knew deep down it would never happen.

'They cannot be too far ahead of us,' Treville interrupted. Though he had not taken part in the men's conversation, he had heard every word. His main concern was for the King, but he had to admit that he, too, worried how far Athos would go to protect the monarch from harm.

ooOoo

Athos was worried. There were only five men riding with them – one had turned off some time ago and still had not returned. He could have ridden ahead to ensure they were not riding into anything unexpected, but he was more concerned that the man had doubled back to see if they were being followed. Would she see him? He suspected she had not survived as long as she had without skills – she had certainly used them on him. He scolded himself for allowing her to distract him from the matter in hand. How could he ever trust her intentions? One minute she was kissing him and the next sneaking up behind him, dagger in hand. Was she too trapped in an endless circle of love and hate, need and revulsion? They could not turn back time, and it seemed they could neither move forward. It was as though fate had conjured some twisted future, where they would spend their lives pushing and pulling on each other until the rope eventually frayed and snapped.

The pounding of hooves caught his attention, and Athos whipped his head around to see who had arrived. As he suspected, the missing man approached from the rear, and in a hurry.

'Three men, mounted. A couple of hours behind, that is all.' He had ridden hard and his words were breathless. Timot frowned, then smiled. He was not surprised, but it did not mean he was not annoyed.

'Gizzard, take two men, you know what to do.' With that, he turned and spurred his horse to move a little faster. Athos and the King were flanked on each side by the remaining two men. Athos could not believe his luck – only three of them, and the Captain, Aramis and Porthos hot on the trail. He knew it was them, he could feel it, and for once he had to admit he was relieved.

'Athos?' the King asked, as the three men rode away. 'Is this good news?' The hope in his voice was transparent.

'It might just be, Your Majesty.' Athos nodded with a twitch of his brow. The King gave a broad grin, though it looked slightly more brittle than usual. Still, Athos was relieved – the King had surprised him so far with his resilience. He just hoped Louis could maintain the façade, for he had no doubt that inside the man was terrified.

They rode harder now, and Athos had to grip with his knees to prevent himself from falling. At least the King was a good horseman; that was one less worry.

ooOoo

Milady had indeed seen the man whip past her. For all his stealth, she had heard him coming from a distance, and did not doubt where he was headed. For a moment she faltered. What could she do to help the Musketeers? However, her concern was half-hearted. If she had seen him, then she assumed they would not remain ignorant. They were more than capable of looking after themselves, whereas Athos and the King needed a little help. No, she would continue on her way. To be honest, she did not care a damn about the men behind her – as far as she was concerned she would be better off without her husband's bodyguards constantly breathing condescension down her neck every time she saw them.

ooOoo

Aramis spoke quietly. 'It seems we have a visitor.' Treville nodded and Porthos sat a little straighter in his saddle, whilst Aramis reached for his pistol, but made no sudden moves. They could see only the slightest change amongst the trees on the far side of the road, the black becoming a slightly lighter shade of grey before resuming the black density of before.

There was a heaviness in the air and small clouds had begun to hide the sun, causing the air to cool.

'Are you sure?' Porthos asked. There was nothing he could see. The leaves moved as before, the birds sang in the trees, only Aramis' sharp eyes had spotted an anomaly in the forest.

'Yes, but they are no longer there. Could just be a passing traveller, but why would they not be on the road? We need to be vigilant,' Aramis advised, and the men primed and readied their weapons, slowing just a little so as not to gallop headlong into an ambush.

Nothing happened, and there was no further sign of anyone in the trees. It was a sound in the distance which made the marksman stiffen, a whiney from a horse perhaps. Before he could share his suspicions, a shot rang out and Treville spun, falling to the ground. With reflexes born of experience, both men instantly slid from their mounts. 'I was just about to suggest I could hear horses,' Aramis intoned.

'Really? Pity you hadn't been a bit quicker,' Porthos bantered, as he covered Aramis so he could make his way toward the Captain. Another shot rang out but did not hit home.

'Get down, Aramis, I am only scratched,' Treville assured the medic. He was on his knees and making for a slight dip in the ground. They did not have much in the way of protection, only the horses, and they shuddered at the thought of losing any of them. A twitch between the trees and Aramis aimed and fired. A cry made him smile.

'Nice shot,' Porthos grinned.

'It was, was it not?' Aramis crowed, reloading with a touch of pride. 'Where are you hurt, Captain?' he asked, not trusting Treville's initial description of his wound.

'Luckily, my left arm, but it has gone straight through and not hit bone. I will survive,' came the gruff reply. Aramis nodded. Unlike Athos, Treville knew better than lie about an injury.

Firing down on them, the three men rode out of the trees. One was obviously injured, but not badly enough. Aramis aimed and fired again, taking the man out for good.

'Couldn't you have hit one of the others instead?' Porthos grumbled as he pulled his sword ready.

'I do not like to leave a job half finished,' Aramis smiled. The other two men had hunkered down behind a fallen log, and the Musketeers, feeling exposed in the shallow dip, wished they had been so lucky. However, they now outnumbered the other two men, which improved the odds in their favour – this was just a matter of time and strategy. As Aramis was about to risk a look at their opponents, a shot rang out, missing his hat by a hair's breadth. Ducking down quickly, he arched his brow and gave Porthos a look which told its own tale.

'Don't stick your 'ead up then,' was Porthos' smirking response.

'I do not intend to,' Aramis replied, as he raised his hand and took a shot. There was no response, but at this distance they would not know if he had been successful or not.

'Now that was either brilliant, or a waste of ammunition,' Porthos growled, as another shot rang out.

Aramis shrugged. 'I like to think it was a tactical risk.' Once again, he raised his head above the slight ridge, but nothing happened. There was no movement and, though he could clearly see the log, no evidence of a pistol barrel or anything else gave the man away.

'Anything?' Treville had taken advantage of the break in fire to inch his way closer to the other two.

'No sign. They cannot hope to make their way behind us as we would see them.' Another shot rang out and they forced themselves lower still.

'Well, they're still there,' growled Porthos. 'And my leg's getting stiff.' This time, the big Musketeer lifted his head to see for himself what was happening. Luckily for them, just at that moment, an object dropped from the sky and rolled toward the hollow.

'Down!' he cried, and practically dived on top of the two men below him. The earth shook and they were showered with dirt and tufts of grass, where the small bomb had gouged out the earth.

Porthos shook the debris from himself and tried to peer through the smoke and dust. He could see nothing, but his gun was ready anyway, just in case anyone should emerge from the gloom. Then he realised that Aramis was tugging at his jacket. His friend was saying something, but all he could hear was ringing in his ears. He growled, but even that felt like a rumble inside his skull, nothing more. Treville had gone white and just a little green – having Porthos jump on top of his bullet wound had left him more than slightly nauseous. Another shot rang out, and Aramis frowned. He saw the earth above him fly into the air, though he, too, heard little of the noise that accompanied the shot.

The Captain had faired a little better. Having been on the bottom, his head had been shielded the most from the blast, leaving his hearing almost intact. He clearly heard the next shot, but noted once again that Aramis looked somewhat surprised.

'What is it Aramis?' Treville asked, raising his voice to a shout so the marksman could hear him.

'Something wrong with the shot,' Aramis yelled back, causing the Captain to flinch. He shrugged an apology and tried to lower his voice. 'That fell short, as did the one before. I think they have moved back.'

'I'm not bloody surprised,' Porthos yelled. 'I'd 'ave moved back too if I'd known a bomb was about to go off.' There was logic in the remark, and yet…

'Give it a few more minutes.' Treville managed to convey the message with the aid of his hands, without having to inform anyone else within twenty feet. So they kept still, watched, and waited.

ooOoo

Timot and the others had kept up a fast pace for some time. Eventually they began to slow, searching the woods for some sign or familiar landmark. Athos had noted no such place, but now the leaders turned and rode into the wood. Buried amongst the trees was a small hut. Timot ordered them to dismount, though it was more a case of Athos and the King being dragged to the ground. Bisset walked over to the swordsman and smirked.

'I've really bin looking forward to this bit. Night, night, Athos.' Before he could work out what was happening, Athos' world went black.

ooOoo

Treville and his two men had waited far longer than they should have, but with only the three of them, and so much at stake, he did not want to lose anyone. Eventually, after what seemed like hours, they risked leaving the shallow hole, only to find they were alone.

'I knew it!' Aramis threw down his hat. 'I knew that shot came from too far away, we have lost an age since we stopped.'

'I had no intention of losing one of us, we are the King's only hope,' Treville barked. 'We are still alive, not what they hoped I am sure. Perhaps if they have assumed we are dead, we might now have the element of surprise.' They found their horses amongst the trees; even these battle- hardened animals had balked at standing by the three men whilst they were being blown up.

They rode like the wind, though even with the enforced break, the horses were beginning to tire. It was late in the afternoon now and the sun was well on the wane, they had risen early and knew they could not keep this pace up for long.

'Smoke,' Porthos pointed out. For a man who had grown up in the foulest part of Paris, he had a remarkable sense of smell. They rode for several more minutes without any sign, and Aramis was beginning to doubt his friend's rash claim. But then they saw it – a thin spiral of smoke through the trees.

'Not large enough for another house,' Treville suggested. 'A smallholding perhaps.' They looked at each other with a sense of reluctance. However, despite their misgivings, they urged their horses into a gentle canter. Better to err on the side of caution; these men had shown they were not messing around.

Suddenly the trees thinned, and they found themselves entering another clearing, though this one was much smaller. A few standing stones marked the edge of the glade, though some had long since fallen and now lay amidst the grass and brambles. One stone in particular was larger than the others, and rested in the middle of the opening like an altar. It was upon this stone that the fire had been set, though how long it had burnt they could not tell. Smoke rose in a black plume, and small flames licked around the base of the stone, where wood piled against the side still burnt.

Aramis felt a sick jolt of fear surge through his veins, whilst, as he moved out of the trees, Porthos began to make a noise that sounded more feral than human. Treville pulled him back.

'You know what that is out there don't you?' the big man yelled, as he swivelled to face his Captain.

'I know it could well be an ambush, and rushing to whatever, or whoever, is on that stone could get us killed, and as to that…' he nodded toward the blackened shape on the stone. '…that is burnt beyond anything we could hope to save.'

Both Aramis and Porthos looked at the Captain in horror. They could hope they were wrong, but they knew deep down that what they were looking at was a funeral pyre.