The Musketeers spread out and looked at the area. Aramis stayed by Jacques, the secretary was trying to act as though he had not been shaken by the attack and what he had witnessed but he was pale and jumpy. He was looking around himself frequently.

'It's alright,' said Aramis quietly, so that the others could not hear, 'it will take you a little while to recover. Just because you have not been badly hurt physically doesn't mean you haven't been affected in other ways.'

Jacques nodded, 'nothing like that's ever happened to me before, I really didn't know what to do. I wanted to help them but couldn't.'

'Which way did the cart go?' asked Porthos from across the road, he was looking at the ground, studying the ruts the wheels had made.

Jacques pointed along the road. Aramis watched Porthos and Treville walk along the road, carefully looking at the ground and their immediate surroundings. Athos had wandered in the other direction.

A couple of men were unloading a cart in a side street, they were watching the Musketeers, one of them said something to the other who shook his head. Aramis walked towards them; Jacques followed him.

'Did you see something happen here earlier?' asked Aramis.

The two men looked at each other before the one that had shaken his head gestured for the other one to talk.

The older man turned to Aramis and Jacques.

'I saw the attack,' he said. 'I was up there,' he pointed to the upper floor of the large house at the end of the street. 'The owner's having furniture delivered. I'd been measuring the doors to see if we could get the chest into the room they want it in. We didn't want to have to get it up the stairs and find it didn't fit. I heard something and looked out of the window. I saw a soldier and a young woman being grabbed. Then I saw you try to help them and get beaten to the ground.'

The man looked at Jacques who looked guilty again.

'Can you describe the men, monsieur?' asked Aramis. 'Anything might be useful.'

The man thought for a moment before going on to describe everything Jacques had already told them. The only thing he was able to add was that the cart had turned left at the end of the road. By the time he had reached the Palace gate, Jacques had already stumbled off.

Aramis pressed a couple of coins into the man's hand, noting the slightly jealous look the other man had with a hidden smile and returned to the others.

Athos was looking back the way he had been searching, 'there are numerous footprints along the mud there. The other men must have hidden behind the cart as it was driven along here. I suspect d'Artagnan and Constance were spotted from the end of the road.'

'The cart turned left at the end of the road, according to a witness from that house,' reported Aramis with a nod towards the man who was now smugly showing his friend how much money he had made out of the brief conversation with Aramis.

Porthos looked back at the end of the road for a few seconds, 'that would lead them away from the centre of the city.'

They were forced to move to the side of the road to make room as more citizens started to go about their daily business. Any evidence that might have been left would soon disappear. Athos wandered back to the middle of the road to look at the drag marks and the footprints of the kidnappers before they were obliterated.

A shout from the direction the cart had gone in made them all look up. A man was galloping towards them on a big black horse, the man seemed to have no care for the people around him who were having to move out of the way. A woman rushed out of the way, losing her grip on her child's hand as she did so. Athos stepped forward and grabbed the child just as the horseman reached them. He lost his footing as he stepped back. Both Porthos and Aramis grabbed him and the little girl before they were knocked flat by the horse. The mother screamed causing the horse to rear up a little and whinny in protest.

'Watch what you're doing,' said Porthos loudly over the hubbub that had been caused by the irresponsible rider.

The man laughed before turning the horse around and pushing what had been slung across the horses back to the ground. The horse whinnied again as the man kicked the horse forward, back the way they had come.

A few moments of confusion followed as the little girl was reunited with a grateful mother and Athos was thanked for saving her. Aramis nudge Jacques who was staring after the rider.

'You alright?' he asked.

'I think that was one of them,' he said. 'The same dark clothes and the scarf over the face.'

A scream made them all look around. Porthos had been looking at the bundle that had been thrown from the horse. He had pulled the blankets back to reveal a burned body. A woman had screamed and nearly collapsed. Porthos quickly recovered the body and started to shoo people away.

Aramis knelt by the dead man and raised the blanket enough to see the burns. Jacques gasped and turned away, reaching out to steady himself on the ornate outer walls of the Palace gardens.

'What causes burns like that?' asked Treville from behind Aramis.

'It's the same as on the man's arms,' interjected Jacques who was looking distinctly green. 'Although a lot worse.'

'Whatever caused it, this man must have suffered,' said Aramis who was looking at the contorted pained face of the dead man.

The dead man was naked, his skin was covered in red splotched marks with blisters and green-grey patches where the blisters had burst or been rubbed off during the corpses transport.

'Athos?'

Aramis looked up at the concerned tone in Porthos' voice. Athos looked confused, he stared at the dead body for a few seconds before looking off into the distance.

'I… I am sure I have seen burns like that before. Not to that extent, and not on someone who has died. I cannot place it.'

Athos continued to pensively look off into the distance.

'Do you think that is what is going to happen to Constance and d'Artagnan?' asked Jacques who had managed to compose himself a little but was not looking at the dead man. 'The note that was left… it said they were being taken to use as an example to get the King to meet the demands.'

They all looked at each other for a few seconds. Treville was the one to break the silence.

'We need to find them. We know the King will not meet the demands,' he said. 'Athos and I will visit LeBrun and find out who he has sold carts to recently. Aramis, have you anything that will help with burns like this? I would like us to go prepared for the worst.'

The grim thought of what might happen to their friends was at the front of all of their minds. Aramis looked at the dead man for a few seconds.

'There are balms and ointments, but I do not believe they are particularly effective. It is the pain that would be caused by this that is probably more of a worry.'

Aramis was sure he would not forget the twisted face of terror on the victim lying in front of him for a long time.

'I might know someone who could help. Who could make something to deal with bad burns and the pain that would go with them.'

'Where are they? I'll need to talk to them,' said Aramis as he covered the body again.

'You ain't going alone.'

Aramis looked at Porthos unable to hide his annoyance.

'I know them from the court,' said Porthos with a raised eyebrow. 'And you ain't popular in there.'

Aramis nodded his understanding. Ever since he had saved Porthos from an untimely death at the hands of his former friend whilst the Musketeer was in hiding in the Court of Miracles there had been an uneasy relationship between them and the residents of the court. Porthos had returned a couple of weeks after the incident to check on Flea, the new leader of the city within a city. She had told him that there had been talk of revenge for the death of Charon, but she had put a stop to it. Porthos had told Aramis in no uncertain terms he was never to go near the Court alone. It was one piece of advice Aramis was prepared to take seriously.

'Will he be safe with you?' asked Treville.

Aramis looked at his Captain, 'he is standing right here.'

Porthos slung his arm around Aramis' shoulders, 'I will keep him safe,' he said with a smile. 'Flea respects us for what we did and I'm sure she would want to help when we tell her that d'Artagnan is in danger. She at least appreciates what you all did for them.'

Treville nodded, 'I'll leave him in your care then,' he said with a glance at Aramis who sighed with indignation. 'We will deal with the body before going to the cartwright. Jacques, perhaps you could come with us as you are acquainted with him?'

Jacques nodded, 'anything I can do to help,' he said.

'Good,' said the Captain, 'we'll meet back at the garrison.'

The five men quickly moved to take on their allotted tasks.

MMMM

After Henri had been sent on his way with the body the other men had walked away out of sight. D'Artagnan had tried to sit straighter to see where they had gone but not been able to see from his position in the lime pit. They could hear orders being given out and building work starting up. A saw could be heard in the distance and the sound of wood being chopped.

D'Artagnan turned to Constance who was pulling at the chain on the post. His lover was scared, she hid it well, but she was worried and d'Artagnan was not beyond admitting that he had concerns. The fact that they had been left unguarded implied to d'Artagnan that their restraints were sound, they would not be escaping easily. Constance had not been hurt, other than the manhandling she had received, a few bruises were forming on her arms but otherwise, she had been treated well by the men. He assessed his own injuries. He knew he was badly bruised and would feel more pain as the bruises came out, he had several deep grazes on his legs where he had fallen in the pit and he had been cut in several places when the men were slicing his doublet off him. None of the injuries would stop him fighting or fleeing, but he was not comfortable.

'These aren't going to come loose,' said Constance after some more tugging on the chains.

D'Artagnan shook his head, 'no, we're not going anywhere,' he said. 'When we were taken, I saw the Queen's secretary – '

'Jacques? I saw him as well.'

'He tried to help but got beaten to the ground… but at least people will know what's happened.'

'I think that… message, they just sent will tell people what has happened,' said Constance.

They lapsed into silence for a few seconds before Constance spoke again.

'When they were talking, telling us what they were going to do. One of the younger ones, the one with the shirt that's too big for him, that spilt the water, he did not look happy with what was going on.'

D'Artagnan nodded, 'I noticed that. I think he was trying not to cry, he looked scared. We might be able to persuade him that what they are doing is wrong.'

'It's something,' said Constance with a slight smile.

D'Artagnan managed to return the smile although he knew that neither of them meant it.

MMMM

Porthos was not particularly happy about taking Aramis into the Court of Miracles, but it would certainly be easier than trying to persuade the old healer to leave. The man, who Porthos was sure was the oldest person he had ever known, lived a few streets into the court in a small house. Many of the inhabitants would visit him daily for cures and help with assorted ailments. The man never asked for anything in return but was rewarded with food and clothing by grateful residents.

As they had walked over the invisible border between Paris and the Court of Miracles Porthos could feel a change in the atmosphere. The sun did not seem to penetrate as well down to the narrow streets. The chaotic layout of the area made it a hive of danger. There were many places to hide or to lay in wait for an ambush. Porthos well remembered most of the spots. He had hidden in a few in his time, laid in wait for the curious people who ventured into the court unaware of how dangerous it really was.

He was aware of Aramis watching their surroundings carefully.

'Is my life really in danger here?' Aramis asked quietly.

'Yes, Aramis, it really is,' replied Porthos without taking his eyes off the road ahead, watching a boy of about five scampering off.

The boy would be reporting to someone that two Musketeers had entered the court. The boy would probably know who he was, word would get around quickly that they were there. Porthos hoped they could talk to the healer and be gone before any of the angrier residents could find them. They were already on borrowed time.

They rounded a corner to be confronted by two men blocking their path. The men were carrying guns which were already levelled in their direction.

'We don't want any trouble,' said Porthos as he moved to stand slightly in front of Aramis who huffed slightly with annoyance at the move. 'We just want to talk to Old Jean and then we'll be gone.'

'He killed our King,' said one of the men.

'Felix,' said Porthos calmly, 'Charon was about to stab me in the back. Aramis only killed Charon to save me. Wouldn't you kill to save your best mate, your brother?'

Felix glanced at the man standing next to him who looked back. The two men looked a little unsure of themselves.

'After all that Porthos has done for you,' came a commanding female voice, 'and this is how you repay him?'

Flea stepped out of the shadows; despite her diminutive form, she held a position of authority over the armed men. The two men looked guilty, they stepped back, lowering their guns.

'You know that the soldiers saved our community that day?' Flea continued.

She was standing straight and tall, glaring at the two men. Porthos spotted another couple of men standing a few yards behind her. She was not a fool she had her own protection. The two guards were armed but did not approach, Porthos guessed Flea had a signal she would give if she needed them to help her.

'Go and get on with what you should be doing.'

The two men glanced at her and after muttering something which might have been an apology they walked away, pushing their guns into their belts as they went.

Flea turned to the Musketeers.

'What kind of fool are you, bringing him here? You know they want revenge for Charon's death. I can only do so much. They know that he's not to be touched outside of the court, but I cannot be held responsible if he comes to the people that want to cause him harm.'

'My apologies,' said Aramis with a touch of his hat, 'we are only here to seek help from one of your residents.'

Flea looked at him for a few seconds before looking back at Porthos.

'We need to see Old Jean, and Aramis is a field medic. Our friends are in danger and we believe Old Jean will be able to help with potential injuries. Aramis needs to talk to him because he'll understand better.'

Flea looked thoughtful for a few moments before turning to one of the men that was lingering a few yards away.

'Go with them,' she said, 'they are not to be touched.'

The man nodded.

'Be quick,' she said to Porthos, 'those two will talk. Word will spread quickly.'

Porthos stepped forward, he reached for Flea's hand, 'thank you. Your help is appreciated. I'll make it up to you.'

Flea tilted her head slightly, 'I'll look forward to that,' she said with the hint of a smile.

She turned and walked away, Porthos was sure she was exaggerating the sway of her hips as she walked. She disappeared into the gloom of one of the darker side streets, her bodyguard following at a respectful distance.

'Perhaps you should have come on your own,' remarked Aramis, 'I didn't realise how much I was disliked in here.'

Porthos sighed, 'Charon was their leader, you killed him, the fact that you were saving me has been forgotten.'

'Are you two coming?' asked their escort, who was a few yards ahead of them.

Porthos did not recognise the man, but he had been away from the court for long enough that many of her residents had changed, moved on or died.

They followed the man through the maze of streets, Porthos knew where he was, knew their guide was taking them by the most direct route, even though that meant walking along a couple of narrow alleyways. They had to push dangling clothing aside in places, losing sight of each other momentarily. Even with Flea's assurance that they would be safe, he did not want to stay any longer than necessary. The two of them would be overwhelmed in no time, and then there would be more than one Musketeer that needed help.

Old Jean was waiting for them, the young boy that had run off to warn Flea of their arrival had been despatched to alert the healer that he was needed. The boy was sat, cross-legged, a few feet away eating a piece of cheese. Porthos remembered doing the same a few times when he had run errands as a child.

The old man, a brown shawl clutched tightly around his thin bony shoulders, was almost bent double. His watery eyes still held the spark of intelligence that Porthos remembered. The man smiled as they approached.

'What you seek must be important to risk coming here,' said Old Jean to Aramis.

'It is Monsieur, Porthos speaks highly of you and I hope that you will be able to offer me advice that could help save our friends.'

The man nodded, 'come in, young man, come in.'

The man turned and shuffled into his small house; Aramis turned to Porthos who gestured for him to follow.

'I'll wait here, you get what you need.'

'I'll be as quick as I can,' said Aramis before disappearing into the gloom of Old Jean's house.

MMMM