Chapter 30

Athos awoke with the headache from hell, not helped by the fact he was strapped across a horse that was moving at speed. His stomach roiled as the constant motion began to churn at his insides. He could not remember the last time he had eaten, but whenever it had been, he worried it might just make an appearance soon if they did not lessen the pace. His ribs protested, still bruised and sensitive from the previous night's fun.

He couldn't work out why he was so cold, and wet – he was very wet. From the angle he was lying, he could just make out his arm, but struggled to understand why he could only see his shirt sleeve, which was now clinging to him in the downpour. Confused, he tried to recall the last thing he could remember, but the increasing sensation of nausea refused to let him focus. Just when he thought he could not take much more of the continual jostling, he heard a shout from somewhere nearby and finally sensed the horse beginning to slow. He had no idea what was happening, but he was thankful, at least, for that small mercy.

The horse had hardly come to a stop when rough hands grabbed him and hauled him off the beast. He stumbled slightly, the world spinning as he was stood upright. Athos was glad they were holding him, as he suspected he would have fallen flat on his face had they not been there. Neither man spoke, just forced him to walk. There was water nearby – he could hear the tumbling sound as it journeyed over rocks and stone – but other than that there was no familiar sign. However, there was a ruin of some kind, an old house or farmstead. Athos was shoved into the crumbling remains of an old stable and secured to a ring on the wall, and he sighed with relief when he saw them drag the King into the stall next to him.

The men had only just left the building when the King called his name.

'Athos, are you awake? Are you well? What is happening?' He sounded far more unnerved than he had the last time they had spoken, but then Athos had no knowledge of what may have happened whilst he was unconscious. The nausea had failed to subside with the cessation of the ride, and he was now reluctant to admit he probably had a mild concussion – the banging inside his head a fair indication that he was correct.

'I am awake and well, Your Majesty. As to what is happening, I do not know. Someone hit me over the head and that is the last thing I remember, though I seem to have lost my jacket and my weapons belt, somewhere since I was last awake.' The facts as he related them to the King sunk in, and he frowned at the possible implications.

'That is most strange. They made me strip and then dress in peasant rags, though I was most grateful they left me my boots.' Athos almost smiled, amused by the genuine relief shown by the King over this one small concession.

'I, too, have kept my boots,' said Athos, silently thanking anyone who might be looking down upon him that that was the case. He could still feel the cold steel of Milady's dagger, though his flesh was almost too frozen to be unable to distinguish it as such just at the moment.

'What does it mean, Athos? Are we going to be able to escape?' The King's tone held a note of anguish, and Athos wished he could give the King the hope he so obviously needed.

'I will do everything in my power, Your Majesty, but at the moment, I fear such an opportunity will not arise.' The sound of men approaching put both men on their guard, and Athos and the King fell silent. Two men came into the stable and produced a bowl of something hot with a chunk of bread. One of them untied one of Athos' hands, allowing him to eat, then left them to it, with no conversation or any indication of their intent. Athos had considered asking, but with his head already throbbing and his vision poor at best, he was not sure he needed another beating. He scooped up the soup, glad of the heat that began to fill his body, though he doubted the respite would last long.

ooOoo

Milady almost sobbed with relief as she watched them lift the man from the horse, as she had presumed in the gloom, that the animal was merely loaded with baggage, as were the other horses. When the man stood, albeit with the need of assistance, she could hardly believe her eyes. He was dripping wet, clothed only in his shirt and trousers, the pale linen clinging to his body as he shivered in the chill of the night. She should have known. In fact, she felt she had known all along, due to the very fact she had felt nothing, when she had always suspected she would be aware on some deeper level when he was no more. Still, she could not help the euphoria that heated her within to see him alive and intact.

Having no time to dwell on emotions, Milady watched them take Athos and the King into an old dilapidated stable block. Whilst she sheltered beneath the trees, wrapped within her cloak, she watched the men stable the horses and baggage in a dry shed, before entering the only solid structure left of the farmhouse.

Soon lights could be seen, and smoke rose from the chimney. Their boldness was disturbing; they made no sign of attempting to avoid discovery. Strange, she would have thought Treville would be near at hand by now. Milady had not left any clues since leaving the burning house, for the party had left a clear trail even a child could follow. It was almost as if they wanted to be found.

She waited until all was quiet. Only two men sat around a fire, talking, and getting up occasionally, to stretch their legs, and wander around the perimeter. However, they were clearly not expecting company, for their manner was far too relaxed. Milady found their casual attitude disturbing – why were they not on the lookout for Treville? Some sixth sense made the hairs rise on the back of her neck. What did they know? Why did they think the Musketeers would not mount a rescue? Something was wrong, but she could not work out what, though some niggling feeling told her that the man she had killed at the hut in the woods, and the mysterious cart, both played some part in their delay.

Suddenly she was forced to accept a prospect she had formerly refused to acknowledge – that she was not going to receive any help at all, and that she was on her own. Milady had no doubt that it was possible to free Athos; even in his condition she knew he would still fight. The King, however, was an unknown quantity. She needed to speak to Athos, she needed his help. She could not do this alone; they needed a plan – this had gone on long enough.

The two men by the fire were engrossed in a heated debate, about what she did not care, as long as they remained preoccupied. She began to make her way between the trees toward the stable block, reassured that she could still hear earnest conversation in the background. Coming to the end of the trees, Milady had no choice now but to move into the open. She had removed her hood as it obscured her vision, and she could afford to miss nothing. The light drizzle had dampened her hair, and she could hear the fire hiss occasionally as it struggled to stay alight in such foul weather.

Fortunately, the two men were now laughing contentedly, impervious to the miserable night. Drawing in a long breath, she slid amongst the shadows, pressing herself close to the brickwork. Her breath caught in her throat as one of the men began to stand, but he had no interest in looking her way. He disappeared amongst the trees whilst his companion made some bawdy remark as he tended the fire and, taking advantage of his distraction, she slipped inside the entrance of the stable block.

The roof had long fallen in, and beams were strewn about the floor. Wooden doors from the horses' stalls now hung from rusted hinges, creaking like old bones as they moved now and again in the night breeze. It was cold, the rain having come with a sharp drop in temperature `– a harsh comparison to the sunshine of earlier. A whispered voice caught her attention, followed by another, much deeper and more abrupt. She smiled to herself, she knew that voice; at least he was awake. As stealthy as a cat, she peered over the low partitions between the stalls. Athos was in the one closest to her, and she guessed the King was in the one next to him.

ooOoo

'Athos,' she whispered, keeping her voice as low and calm as possible, despite the frantic beating of her heart. 'Can you hear me?' For a moment there was a delay, then Athos looked up, peering into the darkness.

'Anne, is that you?' Athos asked, his voice low and earnest. She crept around the edge of the stall and crouched in front of him, managing a smile as she attempted to appear far more confident than she felt.

'Why, what other woman were you expecting? This is hardly the place for a romantic rendezvous.' She tilted her head and Athos managed a quirk of his lips.

'One should always be prepared,' Athos quipped. 'What is happening? Is there no sign of Treville?' He scowled – he, too, was worried by the Captain's delay.

'I do not know. I left plenty of clues so he would find the last camp, but I suppose he may not have found them.' She frowned.

'Porthos would have found them,' Athos smiled.

She nodded. 'Let us hope so. Still, they should have caught up with me by now; the trail from there to here was simple by comparison. I cannot help but feel I have missed something; I just do not know what.'

'They took the King's clothes, my jacket and weapons belt. I have my suspicions as to why, but I am not certain.' He shook his head in frustration.

'I can add to that. I stopped a man in an outbuilding at the spot where they hit you and dragged you away. He had just released his brother – whom he was supposed to kill – given him the King's clothes and told him to ride as fast as he could. He was then meant to join them on the road to the Château de Bois.' She let the information hang in the air, knowing Athos would make the connection to Gaston. When the King spoke, she wished she had spoken more quietly.

'I knew it! I knew that ungrateful wretch of a brother of mine was behind this. I should never have believed rumours of his departure to the continent.' Louis was about to continue his panicked diatribe when Athos intervened.

'Silence, Sire, I fear you will attract attention. Milady de Winter is the only person we have on the outside at this moment, and we cannot afford for her to be captured or killed. This information was enough to silence the King.

'I apologise for my outburst. Pray continue, Milady.' And with that the King fell silent.

Milady looked at Athos – she could almost hear his brilliant mind digesting the information and deciding what they should do. Suddenly she felt tired – she had not slept for almost two days, and the final removal of responsibility was very welcome. Athos looked at her, his eyes narrowing.

'How many of them now?' he asked, a calculating look upon his face.

'Only five,' she answered, trying to sound positive. 'Two of them are sat on guard outside.' Athos quickly worked through a variety of scenarios that might allow them to make an escape. He doubted they would have time to steal a horse, but if the King and Anne could get away, he could hold them off. Milady watched as she saw him reach a decision.

'Take back your knife, you need to untie us, then distract the two men. I will then divert their attention whilst you get the King away.' He looked her in the eye as she slid her hand down his leg to retrieve the hidden dagger and watching closely, he saw understanding register in her face.

'I only have the one horse, the others are in the stable,' she said. 'I shall send the King for mine, whilst I obtain another.' She breathed hard, not wanting to hear his expected refusal.

'No!' Athos hissed. 'There is no time. Your job is to get the King to Treville. I think they are coming, but the business with the clothes smells of a decoy trap of some kind, and I am assuming that is what has caused the delay. Ride hard and find them. I can look after myself.' Athos gave her a haughty stare, but she was used to that and it did not intimidate her, in fact just the opposite.

'Athos…' She had cut through his bindings and he suddenly bought a finger up to her lips.

'There is no time to argue. For once, Anne, please just do as I say.' There was a look in his eyes that made her heart ache, and she could not help but put her hand over his, trapping his hand as she gently kissed his fingers.

'There is no need for dramatic gestures either,' she whispered, even though she knew her protest would be in vain.

Athos gave a faint smile. 'I thought women liked heroic gestures? Aramis will be most disappointed.' His voice was almost a whisper, and there was a sadness in his eyes – Milady wanted to rage at him to stop being so self-sacrificing.

But there was little left to be said. She knew her husband would not back down, and she also realised though this was the most reliable plan, that did not mean she had to like it.

'Athos!' This time she did not try to stop him – not unless you could count the burning kiss, for the briefest of moments, when they held onto each other as though this was their last second alive. If she could have, she would gladly have left this earth caught in such a moment. Breathlessly, they broke apart, so many unspoken words between them. Even now, there was too much of everything, too much past for either of them to apologise, or attempt to make things right.

'Athos, Milady de Winter, are you still there? I do not wish to complain, but if we are to move, perhaps we should begin.' The King managed to remain remarkably calm and obliging, and it was enough to break the spell between the two. Milady pulled slowly away, though she allowed her hands to slide down his arms, as though delaying the moment she would have to let go. She watched Athos pull himself to his feet, and a shiver of fear shot through her.

'You are hurt?' she queried. 'Where?' She searched his body for signs of damage; the damp clinging shirt hid nothing, but she could see no sign of a wound. She made to touch him again, but he backed away.

'I am fine, a bump to the head, it is nothing. I am more than equal to a headache.' His sharp tone made her arch her brow, but she said nothing. Had Aramis have heard those words, alarm bells would be ringing loud and clear but, as it was, she simply turned, hurrying to the King's stall to cut through his bonds.

'My lady, I thank you. I must say I am most surprised by your behaviour, but I suppose I should be grateful someone is trying to help.' He rolled his eyes, inferring his annoyance at Treville's laxity.

Gritting her teeth, she replied, smiling deferentially. 'I am at your disposal, Your Majesty, though I believe Captain Treville and his men cannot be far behind.' The King stood and rubbed at his chaffed wrists, and moving slowly, she led him out of the stall to where Athos stood near the doorway.

'Here, you had better have this.' She passed Athos the dagger and then drew a gun from her skirts. The King raised his brow, but Athos did not blink, just slightly quirked his lips.

'It would be best if you did not fire that, not until you are sure of your escape. If I only have to deal with two men…' He left the sentence unfinished, but she understood. He may have a chance if he only had to deal with the two by the fire, but if those inside joined in, without his sword his chances would be slim. She gave a brief nod of her head, to show she understood and then slipped past Athos into the dark. He waited for a moment, until he heard her voice, then pulled the King beside him and slipped outside, scurrying through the shadows into the trees.

That is when their luck ran out. Milady had approached the two men and spoken quietly, hoping not to make them jump and fire first.

'Gentlemen, may I avail myself of your fire?' she asked, her voice low and breathy. The two men turned as one. The taller of the two was obviously shocked, though it did not stop him reaching for his gun, though when he realised it was only a woman he began to smirk. The other man unfortunately did not.

'I know you, I've seen you before. You was with the Queen.' Milady tried not to register her surprise; it had never occurred to her the men might recognise her.

She smiled and wrinkled her brow in surprise. 'I am sorry, I do not understand. I was passing and my horse went lame, I am afraid I do not know the area, and I appear to be lost.' Again, she smiled, a slow seductive smile, though every inch of her screamed to simply shoot them and run after Athos and the King.

'Watch 'er. I tell you somat ain't right about this.' The sceptical, and obviously more intelligent one of the two, began to walk toward the stable block. His colleague was now scowling down at her, his hand hovering once more over his gun.

Milady began to panic. If she shot Mr Sceptic, it would alert the others, and as Athos had her dagger, she could not kill quietly. She cursed herself for not trying a different tack. Movement in the darkness made her gasp, as a dagger flew past her head and imbedded itself in the man's throat. Athos appeared from nowhere and prevented him from falling, holding the inert body before him.

'Go! The King is over there in the tree line, there is no time. GO!' Suddenly he reached grabbing the corpse's gun and fired over her shoulder. He was not Aramis, but he managed to wound the man in the arm. Without being further urged, Milady took off, and finding the King hiding amongst the trees she grabbed his arm.

'Come, Sire, we must go.' But surprisingly Louis stalled.

'Athos, we cannot leave him,' he appealed to Milady, but she was already tugging at his arm.

'Athos knows what he is doing. Come.' The King gave Athos one last look, then followed the woman into the trees.

Athos knew he had lost any element of surprise. However, there were now only three men left, and even if Timot and Bisset were amongst them, he had fought and survived worse odds; but then he had been able to see, and at the moment, unless they were really close to him, one man looked like two. The door to the farmhouse flew open and the three men filed out, their expressions one of shock as they saw Athos standing over the dead body of one of their number. Those looks soon turned to anger. Athos pulled the sword from the dead man and prepared, he only had to keep them busy.

However, Timot, ever the cunning bastard, had other ideas. 'Bissett, the King cannot be far, go search the wood.' Bissett nodded and ran for the trees. Athos glared but there was nothing he could do. He marched forward and indicated they should advance. He then bowed, raised his sword to his forehead - the recognised pledge of honour -and with a wicked grin, made the first move.

ooOoo

Milady pulled the King after her, but he was tired and undernourished, his breath already coming in gasps. Her own breathing hitched as she heard the sound of someone breaking through the undergrowth behind her.

'Come, Your Majesty, someone is behind us, we must hurry. The horse is just a little ahead. Come, Sire.' She pulled and tugged, but the King was tiring, his lungs labouring. The ground was slippery, and they struggled to keep their footing; the King's boots, though fine, were never intended for such terrain.

Whoever was chasing them was getting closer, and Milady knew they may not reach the horse in time. Changing her mind, she pushed the King behind her, just as a shot rang out and chunks of wood shot into the air, and she felt a sharp sting as splinters caught her face and neck. Angry, she crouched and fired. A slight grunt was the only reply, and she knew she had not inflicted any severe damage. Turning to climb the small rise, she pulled the now terrified King behind her. Unable to find any grip in the mud, Louis slipped, pulling her with him. She lunged for an overhanging branch and managed to hold on, but the hand that was holding hers slipped, and the King was unable to regain his footing on the slick slope. Suddenly, the man following them broke cover. Blood ran down his face, but only from a graze on his head. He threw himself at the King, managing to grab his ankle, just as Milady reached for him.

'Your Majesty, take my hand, NOW!' she cried, trying to grab at the hand flailing toward her. When the King was jerked back down the slope, she picked up a rock close to hand, and hurled it at the attacker. It caught him on the side of the head, but he managed to hold on – if anything, he seemed to gain a tighter grip and the King was slowly being pulled out of her reach. The sound of swordplay in the background told her Athos was still alive, but for how long she did not know. She was about to go after the monarch, when a flash of light glinted in the dark. Bissett had produced a knife from somewhere, and was trying to threaten Louis, but he, too, was struggling in the mud, which was only being made worse by their struggles.

Louis saw the knife in his peripheral vision and made a harsh choice. 'Run, Milady, there is nothing you can do here. Find Treville, FIND HIM!' Having made his decision, Louis rolled over and began to struggle with the man, buying her time to run. She did not waste it. One thing she had learnt that had kept her alive was knowing when to retreat, and that time was now. Everything had gone wrong. She found firm ground and heard the gentle snort of her horse. She almost flew onto his back, pulling at the reins and urging him into a gallop. This was no time to be squeamish about low lying branches, there was far too much at stake.

ooOoo

'Keep still, you privileged bastard, or I will slice your royal throat,' Bissett growled, finally bringing the knife to the King's neck. Louis froze, and the man cried out, 'I've got the King, I've got 'im.'

Athos heard the cry and stilled for a second. Timot backed off, the other man now lying on the ground in a pool of blood. Athos growled; as if things were not bad enough, Timot had taunted him with his own sword. Blood bubbled in the swordsman's veins, but he had kept it controlled and let it flow down his arm and through his weapon. Timot would have been dead by now, but he had merely danced around, keeping beyond Athos' reach, and with Athos' concussion and poor visibility, he needed his opponents up close in order to be accurate. When Bisset shouted, he knew the chance for escape had passed. Reluctantly, Athos dropped his weapon and waited for Timot's response. The man walked up to the swordsman and placed Athos' own sword at his throat.

'I am beginning to think you are not worth the money I could get from you. Still, before I kill you, you can explain how you managed to escape… and who helped you.' With that, he landed a crunching right hook underneath Athos' chin, making his head explode, stars blinding his already diminished sight. The man with the gunshot wound to the arm who had held back from the fighting, now arrived and, pushing his own gun into Athos' side, he prodded him back toward the stable. When they reached the stall, the man looked at the ring, then back at Athos. His one arm had limited use and Athos groaned as he guessed what was about to follow. He recoiled and in doing so may have saved his life, as he feared he would not have withstood another harsh blow without permanent damage. The blow when it came was a glancing one, though it was enough to drive him to his knees, his vision disappearing to a pin prick. By the time he regained his senses, his hands were re-tied – tight.

ooOoo

At some point the rain had fallen once more. The downpour had not long ceased, and the ground was boggy. Damp leaves and mud clung to her where she had fallen, leaves scratched at her neck where they had caught in her hair, and traces of blood remained where the splinters had entered her skin, but she ignored it all. Milady had allowed her horse to slow to a trot, and though she held the reins, she no longer guided the animal. Staring at some point in the distance, though seeing nothing, she had not even noticed he had come to a stop until he dipped his head to chew the wet grass, causing her to sway just a little. Drops still fell from the canopy above, running down her cheeks, but at least that meant she did not have to acknowledge the tears that now mingled with them.