Chapter 34

Milady watched and waited. The light faded and darkness wrapped itself around the château, as one-by-one the stars began to twinkle up above. With such a clear sky, the temperature had dropped, causing her to shiver. Milady was grateful that it had been Treville's horse she had taken, as the bags had proved to be extremely useful; not only had there been enough food to keep her going, but she now had a flint and candle. Not that it would help her move about, but luckily her eyesight was excellent in the dark, and the clear sky meant she had an almost full moon to aid her, but at least she would have extra light should she need it. The man she had killed at the gamekeeper's lodge had provided her with weaponry, and she had Athos' sword – all she had to do was get it into his hand.

She was starting to think nothing would happen, her patience beginning to wane, but as she crouched amongst the bushes, cramp setting into her stiffening limbs, a solitary light began to glow in a ground floor window. Milady had no choice but to get closer – close enough to see who sat within that light. She pushed her back against the brickwork, trying to make herself invisible, as step-by-step she approached the window, until her face was touching the rough lintel. Breathing heavily, she had to risk looking inside, for she could hear nothing through the thick walls.

Leaning hesitantly toward the glass, she peered into the candle-lit room. Two men were sitting around a fire, drinking. One appeared to be celebrating, whilst the other sat staring into the fire. She knew who they were, but more importantly she realised that they were here, and Athos and the King were elsewhere. She was wasting time, but where was she to search?

She tried to calm herself and think clearly. She knew they had taken the men inside the château, so there was no need to examine the outbuildings. The structure appeared to drop away at the rear, so it was possible that some of the lower floors may be accessible for her to gain entry; that was where she would head. Having reached a decision, she wasted no more time. At least she now felt as though she was doing something – the waiting had been excruciating.

Suspecting that no one else inhabited the almost derelict building, she did not bother attempting to be quiet. Not that she made much noise, as one of her many talents was to move amongst the shadows as though she were one of them; a person without substance. Porthos might have said that was a perfect description, but she wouldn't have cared, not from him anyway.

The château was huge, and it took a while for her to navigate the outside walls. She checked every window and every nook for some way in, but becoming more frustrated and angry, she found it hard to believe that it was far easier to gain entry into a wealthy merchant's house in Paris, than this dilapidated fortress. She fought the sensation as long as she could, but the growing sense of helplessness was threatening to overwhelm her. She picked up a rock, with the intention of using it to try and break the bars of a window, but when the jagged stone slipped, ripping at her skin, she howled in a mixture of pain and anger and flung it toward the moat.

Athos was awake in an instant. He had not been napping, but in a suspended state between complete wakefulness and sleep; the noise had him on his feet, straining to hear the slightest sound. He knew that noise, he had heard it before when he had had to dodge the occasional flying object, and right now it was magical. He pushed two crates toward the small opening near the ceiling, and gingerly he began to climb. They were fairly solid, but in the dark it was difficult to tell how well he had positioned them, and even on the top of both boxes he was only just able to touch the bars with his finger tips.

Still, he listened again, not ready to let go of the opportunity.

Milady sank to the ground, the blood running down her arm and her palm ripped in several places. She felt tears prick at the back of her eyes, but she was not a crier; she had cried too much, through too many nights, but it had achieved nothing and never solved any of her problems, so now she did not give in to the malady. She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve and glared at the moon.

'You evil bastard!' she shouted as loud as she dared. She had no faith, she was not sure she ever had, for she had fended for herself too hard and too long to believe in a higher order. However, right now she very much needed someone to blame. It felt as though everything was against them, nothing she did seemed to help.

Then she heard something. Her heart stilled, and when it moved again it hammered against her ribs as though it would burst.

'Anne, is that you?' Athos whispered as loud as he could.

'Athos?' She scrambled further along the wall, desperate to trace the source of his voice.

'Small grill, I cannot reach, only to touch the bars.' Athos looked around in irritation, he needed to help her, show her where he was. The moonlight caught the fabric of his shirt and he smiled. He tore at the fabric, the sound sharp as it rent apart, and when he had a chunk in his hand, he held it up and pushed it through the bars as best he could.

Milady searched the wall in vain, she could see nothing, and Athos had stopped speaking, had someone caught him? She looked around, more careful now. Perhaps there were more of them than she had thought, perhaps there had been men awaiting Timot's arrival.

She stood silently, listening for any sign of the approach of another, but there was nothing, just the chill breeze in the grass. Suddenly, something caught the corner of her eye, something fluttering in the gentle wind. She hurried toward the opening. It was small, perhaps the span of both her hands; thick bars blocked the gap, and a strip of white fabric moved slightly as it was caught by the wind.

It was just about level with her shoulder and she had to reach up. 'Athos.' She put her hand to the bars and flinched when her fingers touched flesh. 'Athos,' she sighed, and twined her fingers through his. 'I found you.' Athos heard a sound; it could have been a sob, but he pretended he had heard nothing.

'You are not bound?' Milady queried, the idea filling her with new hope.

'No, but I am not sure that will be enough,' Athos told her. 'If the others arrive tomorrow there will be five of them against the two of us, and I am not sure how the King would manage in a fist fight.'

She smiled as she pulled the sword from her belt. 'I think I may have just what you need.' She slid the hilt through the bars into Athos' hand. She heard a brief snort, and her heart soared; she could clearly see the wry grin on her husband's face that accompanied his idea of laughter.

'Anne… thank you.' Athos' voice sounded choked, and once more she reached her hands to the bars, and as strong fingers gripped hers, she wanted to hold on so tight. She let his strength run through her and turned her head to the sky. Why was it that when they were together, she felt invincible?

She turned back to the bars, wishing she could see as well as touch. She passed the smaller dagger with it, already more at ease now he was armed. 'What will you do?' she asked.

'I am not sure. Timing will be crucial. Gaston is supposed to bring money at first light, and if he does, they may relax a little once he has left – that will be the best time to strike.' He did not add if the King is still alive. 'Anne, I need you to do something for me.' Athos' tone was serious, and she nibbled her lip, frowning in the darkness.

'What?' was all she could manage, when she wanted to scream anything!

'I want you to go and find Treville. He cannot be far behind, and I wouldn't mind some extra help.' The wry note in his voice did not lighten her heart; he wanted their help, not hers.

'I can fight too,' she protested.

'I know, and I am grateful, but this is one fight I cannot afford to lose. Five against five is much better odds, do you not think… and I am not including the King.' He waited and let his words sink in.

He was including her. He wanted her to return with them. She let her fingers brush the hand holding hers then pulled them away.

'I will be back as soon as I can. If I have not found Treville by morning, I will return without him. Two against the world cannot be bad odds either.' She slipped away, the lump in her throat threatening to choke her. But she had a purpose, and she would find the Musketeers if that was what he needed. If not, she would fight by his side alone, for no other would fight as hard as she to protect him – she was beginning to see that now.

Athos held the sword in his hand and jumped down from the tower of crates, his mind and heart both racing, and he was glad the room was in complete darkness.

From somewhere in the room Louis asked: 'Was that Milady de Winter?' His voice was sleepy and almost a whisper.

'Yes,' Athos replied, slowly lowering himself to the floor, no longer able to deny the deep tiredness that overwhelmed him. Most of the pain had dulled to an ache, but he felt warm and his arm throbbed. He was glad he could not see the condition of his left wrist right now, as he had no doubt it would tell its own tale.

'What did she say?' Louis continued.

'She had something for me.' He half hoped the King would let the matter drop, but it was not to be.

'What? What did she give you?' The King sounded more awake and Athos almost moaned, so heavy were his own eyes.

'My sword, she gave me my sword.' His lips twitched and his fingers gripped the familiar hilt with relief. Now he could take them on, and he would, whatever the odds.

'So, we are armed. What are you waiting for?' Louis sounded agitated but Athos did not care.

'The morning, Sire. We will wait till then.' With that he closed his eyes, and whether or not Louis spoke again he did not know, he was fast asleep. However, rest it was not to be.

His mind was too alert, he could hear laughter… her laughter, Thomas' laughter, then the laughter stopped and he wanted to warn him, wanted to reach out and save his little brother… but he could not. Suddenly he was cold, standing alone in the dark, the light in the distance began to fill with figures, his father... I knew you would fail… I knew you were not strong enough...Thomas... Why, Athos? … Why did you marry her? … Then her, she left the darkened silhouettes behind and came closer… Athos, I love you Athos, her eyes were hooded and she reached out for him, her tongue slowly wetting her red lips… then her expression changed, she was being sucked backward away from him... Save me, Athos… it was not I… I love you… please… save me… the scream died down… she was gone, but her voice was not… now it came gentle and soothing. Two against the world are not bad odds either... His heart squeezed and he tried to see her smile, but he could not… he could only see her swinging from a rope on a summer's breeze.

Athos awoke with a start. He stilled, his body stiffening as he strained to hear what, if anything had awoken him. Nothing. He calmed a little. He feared he had slept too long but, looking up at the window he was relieved to see dawn had not yet broken, though the sky was now lighter, and the stars less prevalent. He suspected they would be left alone until Gaston arrived; Timot would want witnesses, he would want a spectacle – Athos just hoped he would not want the King's death to be part of that.

Athos was banking on the fact that Gaston was a coward, he would not wish to be present to see his brother's blood spilt. He would like to have given the Duke the benefit of the doubt, imbued his reluctance with some finer feeling, but no, it was just cowardice, and guilt at his own greed. Athos had to settle on a plan of action, and for once he was uncertain. If he risked waiting for the others it could all go horribly wrong, but alone he could not hope to take on both Timot's and Gaston's men. If Treville came, then the decision would be simple; if he did not, then Athos would have to take the risk and act alone.

ooOoo

Just as it had during many of the events over the last few days, it seemed luck was still looking in the other direction. Milady rode from the château as soon as the darkness lifted enough for her to see her way. She had fought the urge to return to the small window; there was so much she wanted to say and yet she understood deep down that she would say nothing. So, with a heavy heart, she galloped through the slight frost and set about fetching the rescue party Athos so badly needed.

She was aware there were still men back at Gaston's estate, so she rode not on the road, but a little way off behind the row of trees. This at least proved to be the right decision. She had not been travelling long when she heard the gallop of hooves, and stopping, she stroked her horse's neck and crouched low, keeping her eyes on the road. There they were – two men only, but leading three horses between them, each one loaded up with small bags on each side of their saddles. She waited until they were out of sight then moved on. It had not been Gaston, and for some reason she was glad. Milady did not want to ride away if the Duke was about to deliver the money, for she knew as well as Athos what that would mean for the King.

ooOoo

Aramis was sat watching the day begin to break, when he heard the rumble of hooves. Standing quickly, he took a position where he could see the main road, but the pounding gradually diminished. Thinking he must have missed them, he stepped out into the road, looking in both directions. The way they had approached last night was a long straight stretch, now void of any life form, and in the other direction there was a sharp bend in the road up ahead, which cut off his view.

Treville's gravelly voice sounded behind Aramis. 'Was that horses?'

The marksman turned and nodded. 'They did not come from that direction, I would have seen them pass,' he replied, indicating the vacant stretch of road. 'And yet they were riding away from us, so they must have come from nearby.' He looked up at the Captain; the realisation that they had been sitting on top of either Gaston or the kidnappers all night horrified them both.

'Let us see if the Duke has returned,' Treville barked, not wanting to consider what the error might mean for Athos and the King. All three men were ready in minutes, their horses thundering up the driveway, arriving at the ornate fountain and entrance in the blink of an eye.

Porthos hammered on the door, then took a step backward behind the Captain. When it opened, he thought he saw a flicker of relief upon the old major domo's face.

'Captain, I am afraid the Duke never came home last night, and the Marchioness is still asleep.' His expression pleaded with the Musketeer not to request he wake the old lady.

'Very well, but could you tell me what other buildings or property there are nearby?' Treville asked, attempting to appear calm. The man gave the question some consideration, before he nodded to himself, as though he was satisfied with his own thought process.

'Well if you mean what I think, then there is an old estate workers' cottage just beyond the trees at the bottom of the drive. No one has lived there this past year. Then there is nothing for miles, unless you count the old Château de Brun. It was abandoned these ten years past when the old Marquess died. He had no family, and the château reverted to the Crown.'

'Where is it?' Treville shouted, no longer trying to be affable.

'Er, just a little further along the road. It will not take you long, about an hour perhaps. Look closely, the entrance is almost obscured by foliage now.' But he was talking to himself, the three men having already mounted their horses as he finished his explanation to an empty space.

ooOoo

Milady had just passed a minor track that intersected the main road as she approached the area around Gaston's home, when once again she heard horses. She almost rolled her eyes as she was forced to take cover once more. The sight that greeted her made her stomach clench – this time it was indeed Gaston, with four other men, all heavily armed. She heard Athos' words in her head – fetch Treville – but she simply could not do it. She had not passed the Musketeers on the road and if she did not turn back now, he would be alone. What good would finding the Musketeers be if they only arrived too late for Athos and the King?

On this occasion she did not hesitate and taking a path parallel to the road she rode like the wind, urging her horse faster and faster, back toward the fortress.

ooOoo

Athos and the King were both awake. Athos had told the monarch of his plan and, though the King had looked worried, he had agreed to follow Athos' instruction and play the part he was asked. It had sounded rather vague, open to a myriad of disasters, but Athos had strived to put a positive tilt to the plan, trying to bolster up the part of the King, in a vain attempt to play to his ego.

Now all they could do was wait, but as they sat in the small room, watching the sky lighten outside, the floor began to shake and their hearing was assaulted by thudding and thumping emanating from the rooms below them. The heavy banging reverberated through the very fibre of the building and Athos could feel it in his feet, sending vibrations up his legs. Whatever they were doing, it sounded heavy. The thudding ceased, the silence so heavy, but not for long; it was followed by banging, a noise far more distinctive, sounding very much like the hammering of nails.

'What mischief are they up to now, do you suppose?' Louis asked. He had now dropped any form of decorum and spoke to Athos as he would have done any other man of his court.

'It is difficult to say, Your Majesty. They are nailing something up, but what I could not say.' Louis nodded. He could hardly expect Athos to have any clearer an idea than he, but somehow, he had faith in the soldier, and found his calmness and solidity reassuring.

'Athos, about Paris…' Whatever the King had been going to say was left unfinished as they were interrupted by a key turning in the door.

As one of them swung the door wide, Bisset and Fabre appeared together. Someone to see you, Your Majesty.' Bissett bowed in a mocking gesture, before gesticulating they should come out of the cell. Athos had hidden his sword beneath the crates, but the dagger was safely inside his boot. As they had gun barrels pressed to their heads, both men walked carefully, and for the thousandth time Athos wished he had been alone. He could have acted under such conditions if he had only himself to consider, but not with Louis.

They did not walk far, only to the end of the corridor and, as they arrived where the junction merged for the staircase going up and down, Athos could hear the banging more clearly Whatever they were working on was on the floor below and, judging by the vibrations, he guessed beneath the room in which they had been kept.

Coming down the staircase toward them was Gaston, followed by four of his own soldiers. Athos could tell by the way they moved that they knew their business. Hired mercenaries. With enough coin you could buy an entire army of such men from around the world, mostly bitter creatures who had been disowned by the very nations they had fought to protect – or at least their monarchs. They were not the type of men Athos wanted to fight, not with these odds.

'Good morning, brother,' Louis announced, straightening his shoulders and adopting the most arrogant stance he could under such conditions.

'Louis,' Gaston acknowledged, though he did not look at the King directly, a slight Louis did not miss.

'Can you not face me, brother? You have come to sign my death warrant and yet you do not have the courage to look me in the eye. How then do you believe you will ever have the courage to be King of all France?' That got the Duke's attention.

'King? You call yourself a King? You are merely a puppet of that foul creature Richelieu. I will be my own man; I will make my own decisions, not whimper and hide behind the Cardinal's skirts. I can fight my own battles.' He gave the King a smug smile, but Athos had other ideas.

'Like you are doing now?' the swordsman broke in, his voice as haughty and condescending as he could possibly make it. Athos adopted a casual stance but gave the surprised Duke one of his most glacial stares. Gaston, taken aback, looked Athos up and down – then his eyes alighted on his face with recognition.

'You!' he gasped. 'You ruined everything. You were rude, disrespectful, and a bloody nuisance. Had it not been for you, I would already be King.' The stupefied Duke took a step forward, but Timot stopped him.

'He is mine.' The man spoke quietly but with authority.

'What do you mean, yours?' Gaston asked, incredulous.

'Gentleman, gentleman, please, do not fight over me,' Athos drawled. Both men glowered at him and Timot continued.

'He is worth money; he has a certain skill set that others will pay for.' He glanced at the four men on the stairs and smirked.

'You are going to let him go?' Gaston was slowly turning purple with fury.

'Believe me, Your Grace, killing him would be a mercy compared to what I have in mind,' Timot added, no sign of amusement now.

'No, no, no!' Gaston was jumping up and down like a child having a full-blown tantrum. 'I want him dead! Dead, do you hear me? I do not want him to leave here alive.' Everyone was looking at the Duke, who was now beside himself with rage. Suddenly the tantrum stopped, just like that; a situation which Athos found even more unnerving, but Gaston was about to play right into his hands.

'I will pay extra. Whatever you think you will get for him I will give you, and more, for killing him here with my brother.' Gaston thrust out his weak chin and eyed Timot with an expression glazed with bloodlust.

Timot shrugged his shoulders. 'Money is money, Your Grace. Lead on.' He waved his hand toward the stairs and Gaston turned to climb, with not a word to the King. 'Take them back to the room, then carry on. You know what to do.' Fabre and Bisset pushed Athos and the King back to their cell.

'What are you doing down there, tunnelling?' Athos asked, keeping his tone bland.

'Oh, wouldn't yer like to know? Well you will soon enough by the sounds of it. But then you're mighty fond of explosions, now aren't yer?' Bisset added as he stood in the doorway laughing.

Then suddenly he wasn't, and Fabre could do nothing but stare. Athos had appeared to wilt beneath Bisset's derision, dropping his head into his hands and crouching on the floor. Next, the man sprang like a cat and there was a knife in Bisset's chest, but for once the act alone was not enough and, before Bissett hit the floor, Athos gave him a full right hook, grabbing his knife as the man fell backward, and pulling it from his chest. Fabre was about to run when the knife flashed again, this time catching him in the neck. Blood gushed freely, but he was not dead. Athos kicked Bisset out of the way and leant over the dying Fabre. He put his mouth by the man's ear and whispered: 'Her eyes are green, thank you… but this is for if they had been brown.' With that, he gave the knife a slow twist before pulling it free, wiping it clean beneath the scrutiny of two pairs of sightless eyes.

Athos pulled his sword from under the crates, swinging it in his hand and grinning at the shocked King.

'That was marvellous,' grinned Louis like a happy child. He clapped his hands in excitement, sobering up slightly when Athos passed him the dagger. The King gave it a look of revulsion but accepted it anyway.

'Now for the rest, Your Majesty. Follow me.' Athos quirked a brow and placed his hand on the King's shoulder and, despite the impertinence, Louis never flinched.

'With pleasure, Athos.' Louis threw his cloak over his shoulders and held the dagger before him, nodding that he was quite prepared.

Together they began to make their way up the corridor, not sure what was happening either above or below them, but knowing with certainty that neither would be good.