Now…

The Musketeers followed their Captain toward the Queen's private rooms. Porthos surreptitiously watched the faces of the staff and nobles that they passed as they walked, none of the men and women seemed to be acting differently. He quickly concluded that they were the only ones that knew something untoward had happened.

Treville did not pause at the double door that signified the start of the Queen's apartment. He pushed the door open and walked straight in. Porthos stepped around the Captain and Athos who had stopped a few feet into the room. He was aware of Aramis quietly closing the door behind them. The sight in front of them was not what they had been expecting.

The Queen was sat by a chaise longue with a dampened cloth in her hands, she was using it to dab at the cuts and grazes that covered the face of the young man lying on the regal furniture. The man, who Porthos knew as Jacques, the Queen's private secretary, looked dazed and a little perturbed to be receiving the attention he was from the Queen herself.

Aramis walked forward and knelt beside the obviously beaten man, he took the cloth from the Queen's hand and took over the ministrations without a word. The Queen nodded her thanks and after a gentle squeeze of the secretary's arm, she rose from the chair and turned to the Musketeers.

'Jacques wanted to take the message to the garrison himself, but as you can see, he is in no state to help at the moment.'

'What happened, Majesty?' asked Treville.

The Queen turned and looked at Jacques who nodded, with Aramis' help he managed to sit up.

'I saw them leaving this morning. I had been to the rose garden to collect a couple of flowers for the breakfast trays, I like to take the air first thing in the morning,' said the secretary, pausing for a few seconds as Aramis turned his head so that he could better see the injuries he had received. 'I saw them at the gate, I thought I would accompany Constance back to her room, I wanted to ask her what her Majesty would be doing today so that I could plan my work.'

'Jacques is very good at keeping people away if I want to have some time alone,' said the Queen with a smile, 'sometimes the ladies cannot manage to persuade the visitors that I do not want to be disturbed.'

Jacques smiled at his mistress before continuing, 'they were saying goodbye. A cart stopped by them. Several men – they were all wearing masks – grabbed them. D'Artagnan tried to fight them off, but he was beaten. I tried to pull them off him, but… I'm no fighter.'

The secretary looked down for a few seconds, the guilt obvious on his face.

'What happened next?' asked Aramis.

'One of them hit me, it didn't take much to leave me unable to do much… They pushed them both onto the cart and went.'

'Jacques knew that d'Artagnan would be in trouble for staying the night here, so he managed to come to me – '

'I'm sorry, Majesty… I didn't know what else to do…'

The Queen returned to the chaise longue and sat next to her secretary; she took his hand in hers.

'You did the right thing, Jacques,' she said with a kind smile before turning to look at the Musketeers. 'The men that took Constance and d'Artagnan left a note. A demand.'

She held up the crumpled piece of paper. Porthos glanced at his Captain who nodded. He stepped forward and took the note, holding it so that both the Captain and Athos could read it over his shoulder.

'Better conditions and wages,' said Treville. 'They've taken a ladies maid and a Musketeer in the hope that the King will grant them more money?'

'I fear they do not understand how the King will react to this,' said the Queen. 'The King will be annoyed but he will certainly not give in to their demands. I believe you are going to be their best hope.'

Porthos agreed with the Queen's assessment of the situation. The men that had taken their friends probably did know much about the politics of their country and were not considering the larger-scale problems faced by the court. Although it was true that a lot of people could very easily live a better life with a little extra money in their pockets.

'We need as much detail as you can remember. The smallest thing. If we are going to find our friend's, you are going to help us. You might think something is unimportant, but it might be vital.'

Jacques nodded. Porthos waited patiently for the young noble to gather his thoughts.

'How many men were there?'

He watched as Jacques mentally tallied the number, his eyes moving around as though he was seeing he attack again.

'There were two on the cart and six that accompanied it. I didn't see where they came from. They could have hidden on the other side of the cart as it travelled along the road. The cart was pulled by two horses, a dark bay one and a chestnut one.'

Porthos smiled and nodded his encouragement at the offered detail.

Jacques continued, 'the men all wore dark clothes, they looked like labourers, the clothing was not too tatty. A couple of them were quite thin, their clothes didn't fit properly.'

'Thin because they were malnourished?' asked Aramis.

The secretary shook his head, 'no I think the clothes were just too big for them. They all seemed capable, fit men.'

He paused again.

'Their faces were covered, but did you see anything else about them that might identify them?' asked Treville.

Jacques thought for a moment, 'the man that attacked me, I think he was a bit older, his hair, what I could see of it, was grey… I didn't really get a chance to look at the others.'

'That's alright,' said Treville, 'you are doing well. Did you see which way they went? Was there anything else about the cart?'

'The cart carried on along the road, I was too stunned to see which way it went at the end of the road, I'm sorry. The cart was good quality, new, I'd say. I think it looked a bit like the ones that Monsieur LeBrun makes.'

Porthos asked, 'how would you know that?'

'I occasionally drink at the same tavern as he does – '

'I do not keep my secretary prisoner, Porthos, he is allowed some free time,' said the Queen with a hint of a smile.

Porthos acknowledged the point with a nod to his Queen.

'Monsieur LeBrun told me a couple of weeks ago that he had two new carts nearing completion.'

'That might be a good place to start looking for further clues,' suggested Athos.

Porthos said, 'I'd like a look at where this happened.'

Treville and Aramis nodded their agreement.

'I can show you,' said Jacques as he eased himself up to stand.

Aramis steadied the young man when he wavered slightly.

'Are you sure you should?' asked the Queen with concern.

Jacques turned to his mistress, 'I want to help.'

'We'll keep an eye on him and he may remember something else when he goes back there,' said Porthos.

The Queen looked a little placated, 'please be careful,' she said.

As they walked back through the Palace Jacques continued to describe what had happened. From what they could gather, d'Artagnan put up a fight but had been overpowered. They had both been tied up and forced into the cart.

'One thing I did notice,' said Jacques as they reached the gate and he pulled it open. 'The man that was hitting me, he had a gillet on, I could see his arms, he had burns on his arms – '

'Like a baker?' asked Aramis who was walking beside Jacques, keeping an eye on him.

'No,' said the secretary, 'I've seen the sorts of burns bakers get when I've spoken to the kitchen staff in the Palace. These were different.'

'Interesting,' said Athos. 'The burns might help us to narrow down the professions of the men that took them.'

Porthos looked at Jacques, 'see what I mean,' he said. 'Any details could be the thing we need to find them.'

MMMM

Constance had watched as her lover tried to sit up several times during the bumpy ride in the cart. He had been pushed back down each time, only desisting completely when the man holding her down pulled a dagger from his belt and used it to threaten her. D'Artagnan remained still after that, looking at her, apologies in his eyes.

She had watched the larger, closer, buildings of the centre of the city give way to the smaller ones as they were driven further from the Palace. She had quickly lost track of where they were. From the angle she was looking she struggled to recognise the buildings. It was still early, there were not many people around, Constance doubted anyone had really paid the cart any attention, they were not visible where they were.

She could tell when they went from the firm roads of the city to the rural tracks. The brightening sky was cloudless, it was going to be a pleasant day. At least it would probably be pleasant to people who had not been grabbed off the streets and forcibly taken away. The men had not spoken to them, she had no idea why they had been taken.

The cart took a sharp turn off the track going over bumpier ground, the uncomfortable journey ended a few minutes later. The two men sat at the front of the cart jumped down, she could see them moving to the back.

'If you behave you won't get hurt,' said one of the men as he pulled his scarf from his face.

Constance glanced at d'Artagnan; they both knew the significance of the man showing them his face. They would be able to recognise him. The man did not intend to let them go.

They were roughly pulled from the cart. D'Artagnan resisted for a few seconds before the knife was again pointed towards Constance. He remained still, glaring at the men. His expression changed to one of shock and confusion as he was forced to the ground and pinned there. One of the men pulled a black-handled dagger from the back of his belt as two of the other men unstrapped d'Artagnan's belts, yanking them away from the prone Musketeer. The collar of his doublet was pulled back causing d'Artagnan to struggle for breath for a few seconds. The blade of the dagger was slipped under the collar and drawn down the back of the jacket. Constance could not help trying to pull away from the man that was firmly holding her, she wanted to do all she could to stop her loving being assaulted. It took the men a few minutes to completely cut d'Artagnan's doublet from him, he had been left with several rips to his shirt and a few cuts to his back and arms. Constance was relieved to see that none of the cuts were bleeding badly.

The men had not finished with her lover, next one of them knelt across the backs of his thighs causing him to cry out through the gag, Constance could not imagine how much pain d'Artagnan was caused by the move. The man with the knife pulled d'Artagnan's boots and stockings off.

When the men stood up, they pulled the gag from d'Artagnan's mouth and left him lying on the ground gasping for breath after the assault. One of the men placed his booted foot on d'Artagnan's back, keeping him where he was as the other's turned their attention to Constance.

'Wha'dya reckon?' asked one of the men who was very obviously looking her up and down, his eyes raking over her body.

Suddenly Constance felt very exposed, her lover was with her, but in no shape to keep her from coming to harm. She knew she was capable and could probably have seen off one or two of the men if they had approached her, but she was restrained, and several men were staring at her.

'Her arms are bare, that oughta do,' said one of the other men as he pulled his scarf down, revealing a weather-worn face leaving it impossible to gauge the man's age.

The first man nodded.

The man that had told them they would not be hurt moved to stand by d'Artagnan, he crouched down and helped the first man to haul the Musketeer to his feet.

'What do you want with us?' demanded d'Artagnan, who was still breathing hard.

'All in good time,' said the man that was obviously the leader of the gang before he turned to the others, 'put them in the pit, it'll be easier to keep an eye on them and he can be tied to the posts in there… It might be an idea to tie 'er up as well, she looks like she could cause us trouble.'

The man holding Constance chuckled before forcing her to walk past d'Artagnan, who still did not look entirely focused after the beating and rough treatment he had taken.

As she was pushed along Constance tried to take in her surroundings. They were in a clearing that had been created by the cutting down of several trees. The trunks of the trees had been piled up on one side, the ground had been dug over and marked out. Constance had not seen a large house being built before, but she could guess that was what was happening in the clearing. A couple of large tents had been erected on the other side of the clearing with a campfire and evidence of the group of men living by the building works for a while. There was no sign of any other buildings nearby and they were far enough from the road that they would not be seen by anyone passing by. Constance did not think help would find them easily.

The pit, when they reached it was a couple of feet deep and several yards wide, but only a few feet wide. White stones had been uncovered after the soil had been dug, Constance could see that the stones had been extracted in places. Four posts had been driven into the ground at the edges of the pit, she guessed to act as anchors for any shoring up that would be done if the pit was dug any deeper.

Two of the men jumped into the pit before turning and grabbing d'Artagnan as he was pushed forward. The Musketeers stumbled to his knees, the men did nothing to stop his fall, they dragged him to the far side of the pit and used a chain to secure his wrists to one of the posts before wrapping a second chain around his ankles, the second chain was already attached to the post opposite. D'Artagnan had enough slack on the chains to sit up but did not look particularly comfortable.

'Leave her alone,' he said as Constance was pushed to the edge of the pit.

'No, Musketeer,' said the leader, 'she is as valuable as you are. A King's Musketeer and a lady's maid, the Queen's maid, no less. You two are both staying right here.'

Constance was pulled into the pit, the men did not let her fall, some modicum of chivalry remained despite what they had already done to her. She was forced to the other side of the pit. A chain which was already attached to the post was wrapped around her wrists and secured with a lock pushed through several of the links. Constance pulled at the chain a little quickly realising she could not slip her hands out all she would do was bruise and cut her wrists. She glanced at d'Artagnan who was watching her, she shook her head subtly, he nodded his understanding.

Firm hands on her shoulders forced her to her knees, she leaned back against the wall of the pit and watched as the group of men climbed back out and turned to look at their captives.

The leader stepped forward, he was not the oldest or the burliest of the group of men but had an air of authority about him. He paused at the edge of the pit, a slight grin playing on his lips.

'You two were in the wrong place at the wrong time,' he said. 'We hadn't really planned on who we would take. A minor noble would have done, a senior noble would have been better. But one of the King's Musketeers, a man who should be protecting him.'

The man shook his head and chuckled before continuing.

'And you,' he looked at Constance, 'one of the Queen's companions. We know who you are, we've watched you with her. We've been watching and planning for a while now.'

'They won't pay anything for us,' said d'Artagnan, 'the King won't pay.'

'He will listen though when he sees what we are capable of. He will listen to our demands. A message is going to be taken to underline our issues… and then you two will be used to make it very clear… to make them know what it is to be one of the working classes, to know what we have to live with day in and day out. We don't want much just the means to live a safer life.'

'By hurting people,' said Constance, 'you think that by hurting us you will get sympathy?'

'No. I think that by hurting you we will show them what it is to be the ones doing the hard graft so that they can live the lives they want to.'

'What are you going to do?' asked d'Artagnan.

The leader looked at two of the men. The grey-haired man and one of the two younger men walked off. They returned a few seconds later carrying buckets, as one of the buckets was set down a splash of water sloshed up. The grey-haired man slapped the younger man on the back of the head. The younger man looked down but did not otherwise react to the admonishment other than taking a couple of steps back, away from the other men.

The leader reached into the other bucket when he raised his hand Constance could see a white powdery substance falling back in.

'This is what we use to build their fancy Chateaux's,' he said. 'This is what happens to what you are lying on when it has been put through a kiln. It's very useful stuff, but it's also very dangerous when it's mixed with water, it burns the skin.'

A couple of the men pushed their sleeves up, Constance could see the burn marks up the men's arms.

'All we want is more money to be able to manage this useful substance better. And we are going to get that by showing them how dangerous it is. I know of a lot of other masons who are willing to refuse further work until our livelihoods are improved. Without us, many, many things would stop.'

Constance could sympathise with the man's cause, but not his methods.

'You'll be kept for a couple of days, if our demands are not met you will be returned, but without your perfect pale skin,' the man smiled at Constance. 'You will be too ugly to be seen near the Queen. And you,' he looked at d'Artagnan, 'will be maimed badly enough to no longer wield a sword or musket.'

'You're mad,' said d'Artagnan.

The man laughed and turned away from them.

'Marcel, Henri,' said the man, 'you know what to do. Henri, make sure you are not caught.'

The man with the weather-worn face nodded before walking off with one of the younger men whose clothes appeared to have been handed down by an older relative.

By kneeling up slightly Constance could see the two men walk up to a black horse. They picked something up off the ground and slung it across the horses back. It was a body wrapped in a blanket, Constance felt sick when she caught glimpse of a dangling arm, burn marks completely covered the skin. She looked back at the leader who was watching her.

'Yes,' he said, 'we killed him by burning him with the lime, it was… horrific. But he had been stealing from us and therefore had to be dealt with. At least his death now has a use. He is the first message… You two will be the second and third messages. The King will listen to us.'

Henri had mounted up and after a final check that the body was secure kicked the horse into a canter. Constance watched the man disappear with the unfortunate victim.

MMMM

Authors note: More tomorrow.