The Loss

Chapter 12

The day of the King's celebration arrived. Playing largely into the musketeers' plans, the King loudly announced that his elite Musketeers would be guarding the Persians' tent and goods throughout the celebration. Rumours and speculation spread quickly as courtiers guessed at what wares the traders may have brought the King. The entire city seemed to be chatting about the gifts from the east. Porthos' large and intimidating presence in front of the tent only added kindling to that fire.

Aramis helped Christine from her carriage. She looked beautiful dressed formally for court in an aubergine gown. She gave Cornet and Etienne a small smile as Aramis escorted her towards them.

"Once more I'm left speechless by your beauty, my lady," Cornet teased with a grin.

"Then perhaps miracles do exist, Cornet. I thought your silence was a thing of myth," she teased back. He grinned at her and she smiled back as if to show that she had her nerves in check.

"Is everything prepared?" Aramis asked Etienne who nodded.

"The others are awaiting you at the tent. Francois and Bernard are with Treville and the King and his courtiers and the rest of the musketeers are within. The party is expected to move towards the south lawn for the fireworks display just before midnight," he said.

Aramis squeezed Christine's hand. "I want you to stay near a musketeer at all times. Ramero knows who you are Christine. He may try to use you as leverage."

"We'll keep her safe Aramis," Cornet promised.

"One of us will have her in sight the whole time. If that villain tries anything…" Etienne warned.

"But what about you?" Christine interrupted. "I'll not have any of you acting rashly. How will we know if you've apprehended Ramero?"

"Trust me, my love, you'll know," Aramis replied.

She held his gaze for a moment, then kissed him passionately, stealing his breath away.

"Just in case," she breathed, then turned and led the way inside the palace with Etienne.

Cornet looked at the suddenly serious Aramis as he watched Christine climb the palace steps.

"Cornet…if anything happens…"

"I'll protect her with my life Aramis," the well-seasoned soldier affirmed.

With a shared look and a brief pat to the shoulder, Aramis turned and crossed the courtyard to where his brothers awaited him.

oOo

Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D'Artagnan patrolled the tent's perimeter as the revelry took place within the palace. The night sky was clear from clouds and sprinkled with starlight – a perfect night for a fireworks display. The King would be pleased.

"What if he doesn't show?" Porthos grumbled lowly to Athos.

"He will," said Athos confidently.

"How is your leg?" Aramis asked as he approached them, his eyes glancing across the lawns up towards the palace.

Athos frowned. "A faint memory. Nearly healed," he said. "Aramis, you need to stay focused. We need your instincts for danger on high alert."

Aramis' eyes snapped back to Athos; he nodded grimly. "I know," he said, and with a significant look at his brothers, he continued his patrol.

One, two hours passed with no action. Soon the King and his guests would be making their way outside to the pavilion erected for them to witness the fireworks.

Aramis approached Athos and Porthos moving quickly.

"Have you seen D'Artagnan?" he asked, his voice low, his eyes scanning the thick tree line that edged the park where the tent had been set up.

"No," said Athos. "He's supposed to be patrolling the south-east side near the tree line."

"I know…something doesn't feel right," said Aramis.

Porthos growled lowly, worry creeping into the eyes of his brothers. "Well unless he got lost, he should be coming around that corner at any moment."

"Get down!" shouted Aramis as a branch snapped and a pistol shot rang out.

The shot hit Porthos near the shoulder. He crumpled into Athos' arms on impact.

"Porthos!" cried Aramis as he knelt to assess the wound.

"I'm fine. It was just a graze," Porthos panted as Aramis quickly moved to tie the wound with Athos' scarf.

"The next shot will be your life," Ramero purred, emerging from the foliage with six men in tow.

A brute of a man pushed a bound and gagged D'Artagnan to his knees. A dark bruise was forming on the young man's cheekbone and blood could be seen at his hairline. He swayed slightly as he knelt, fighting the effects of the brutal blow that must have led to his capture.

Aramis, Athos and Porthos stood silently and gazed at their younger brother where he knelt at the mercy of Ramero and his cronies.

"You should surrender now and the King might spare your life," Athos said coldly.

"We may not be as merciful," growled Porthos, his voice full of deadly menace.

Ramero smiled. "Seven men…against three and another who's bound and trussed like a pig?"

"The odds don't look good for you," said Athos. One or two of the men behind Ramero glanced at each other nervously. Clearly these thugs were not of Ramero's typical calibre.

Ramero drew his dagger, "Perhaps I should better even the odds then?" he growled and pulled D'Artagnan's head back by his hair.

"You would be dead before you could draw breath," spat Aramis, pulling his pistol in the blink of an eye and levelling it at the assassin.

All the men tensed. D'Artagnan's eyelids flickered.

Ramero stared down the barrel of Aramis' pistol and laughed lowly.

"This is only going to go one of two ways, hermano," sneered Ramero. "I'll look forward to offering my condolences to your lady. She's sure to be lonely in that big home all by herself and I know she has a taste for Spanish blood."

It happened in an instant.

D'Artagnan leapt to his feet and threw his head backwards into the unsuspecting face of Ramero who fell backwards in pain as blood began to pour from his nose. Aramis fired his pistol at the large brute who had held D'Artagnan captive so he crumpled to the ground in a heap. Athos, Porthos and Aramis drew their blades and leapt into battle.

Aramis pushed forward and slit the bonds on D'Artagnan's wrists with his rapier. D'Artagnan pulled the rag from his mouth and relieved his dead guard of his blade before joining the fray.

Porthos' blade flashed mightily as he faced two men at once. He laughed menacingly at the men as they exchanged blows, which seemed to unnerve one of his combatants. A moment's hesitation and Porthos capitalized, plunging his blade deep into the chest of his opponent. His wide eyes saw no more. Porthos was tackled from the side by his other opponent before he could pull his blade free, and the two large men went crashing to the ground taking one of the torches that lit the area down with them.

From over his shoulder Athos saw Porthos and the man fall, as he ducked under the swipe of an enemy's blade. He threw his elbow into that man's face and turned to confront the new thug that stepped up to continue the battle. This man had some skill and deftly wielded both a rapier and his parrying dagger. Athos managed to block the lunge of the rapier, but was unable to fully stop the parrying dagger from glancing off his side. The stroke stung, but Athos knew it was a superficial wound at most and began to levy his own attack at the man.

D'Artagnan shook his head to try to clear the dark spots from his eyes just as the last of Ramero's henchmen decided to challenge the young musketeer. It took all of two heartbeats for D'Artagnan to recognize and act on the danger he was in, raising the rapier he had taken over his head to block the heavy stroke of his opponent. Again and again the blows rained down upon him and his arm shook under their impact. D'Artagnan's head throbbed but he held himself together and waited as the man began to show signs of tiring slightly. D'Artagnan stepped forward and using a quick ball-change to pivot, he stepped within the lout's defences and plunged his blade into the man's neck. He spun out as the man fell, clutching his neck in surprise as his life left him.

Aramis through this battle had eyes only for Ramero. Behind him, he was vaguely aware of the tent beginning to catch fire – the flames of the fallen torch had climbed one of the tethering ropes and had set fire to the canvas sheets.

Ramero wiped the blood from his nose and laughed as he pulled his rapier into his free hand, the dagger still held in the other.

"You could have joined me hermano! Think what we could have accomplished together! Think of the gold we could have made," he said as he and Aramis crossed blades. A stroke from Ramero cut Aramis' arm and he hissed in anger. Ramero laughed again.

"Perhaps your lady's love has made you soft though," he sneered and continued his attack. Incensed, Ramero furiously drove Aramis backwards towards the flaming tent.

oOo

A/N: Sorry, i fell behind in my posting a bit...Hope this makes up for it! Thanks for reading!