A/N: Many thanks for reading and reviewing, and to those I cannot thank personally, its very much appreciated.

oOo

Chapter Three

Inside the barn, Athos was waiting for Raymond to enter.

Standing in the shadows, Athos had the advantage. Outside, Raymond, who had fought in many battles, knew he would either die the instant he entered, or would immediately be engaged in a sword fight. He had seen the stranger roll away - a classic move - and so was alerted that this was a man who could handle himself.

Therefore, when he entered, pushing the door open just enough to step through, he himself rolled inside the barn toward the left, holding his sword over his head as protection as he came up into a crouch. Sure enough, it was met with a hard downward strike that almost decapitated him. Falling backward, he scrambled to the side, as the side of the stranger's blade skimmed off his arm and into the earth at his side. He kicked out instinctively, catching the stranger in the knee.

Athos appeared to stagger back and the man stepped forward, only to find it was a feint, and the sword came again. There then followed a flurry of vicious thrusts and parries, each man gaining a few inches, only to fall back. They were evenly matched and both wanted to win.

They pushed each other to the end of the barn, where a bank of empty animal stalls stood, built of thick wooden planks and metal work. At the other end of the barn, the door opened once more, but neither man could take their eyes off the other and the fight continued.

Raymond pulled a length of thick coiled rope from a hook on a nearby post and, holding the end in his hand, he uncoiled it with a shake and whipped it toward Athos, who avoided it by a whisper. Raymond tried again, this time aiming for Athos's legs, but, although he had discarded his uniform, Athos still wore his boots, which absorbed what could have otherwise been a devastating impact.

Raymond was quickly becoming incandescent with rage, shouting obscenities and sweating profusely. Athos took advantage of his loss of control and came at him with a swift flurry of text book manoeuvres that had the man forced into the animal stalls, his back to the wooden slats.

Just as Athos raised his sword to claim victory, Raymond broke eye contact and shouted to his side.

Athos paused, his hand at the man's throat and his sword raised, only to see the other two men had come into the barn. One of them had his arm around Silas's throat and the other had his sword at the old man's heart.

"Give up your sword, or he dies," the one choking the old man snarled, tightening his hold.

Athos dropped his hand and took a step back and with a sigh, dropped the point of his sword to the earth. The old man was released and pushed forward. He reached up his hand to massage his throat as he struggled to even his breathing.

"I am sorry, Monsieur," he gasped, his head hanging.

"Not your fault," Athos said.

Suddenly, Raymond kicked his knee. As Athos staggered, Raymond kicked his sword away, and punched him into unconsciousness.

oOo

Noon:

"What are we going to do with him?"

The first words Athos heard when he came back to his senses did not bode well.

The three figures swam unsteadily into view as he tried to lift his hand to probe his eye, which was unfocussed and painful. However, a rope tied around his wrist impeded him, and when he turned his head, he saw that he was slumped on the ground at the base of a supporting post, to which he was tied.

"Whatever we want," Raymond replied with a feral grin, watching reality dawn on his prisoner.

"Might take a while," the man added, "But I reckon that we can wear him down."

Athos stared up at him, not breaking eye contact.

"He's a bold one," one of the men said.

"He might be now, Henri," Raymond replied. "But we'll take our time with this one, hear me? You are both too fast in slitting throats," he added, looking Athos up and down.

"This time, we take our time," he repeated.

Athos sighed inwardly. He would need all his strength to endure this ordeal. He wondered vaguely when Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan would start to look for him. Regrettably, he was not due back until after them and he had deviated from the road a way back, he remembered, because of his horse. Again, he wondered where his horse was. At least they would not find his despatches if they searched his saddlebags.

Then, there was the old man. What would become of him if Athos died? They had already threatened him, and no doubt had done so before. They were on first name terms, after all.

Athos was aware that his attitude could sometimes be construed as arrogant, and in this, he would need to hold his tongue. These men were dangerous and unpredictable, that was certain. They spoke of slitting throats with an ease of men who had crossed a line.

However, he fell at the first fence when Raymond approached him and stared at him.

It was nigh on impossible to intimidate Athos, and when Raymond asked him how he felt about dying slowly, he had rolled his eyes and sighed. The man had no idea of how many deaths Athos had thought up for himself and how self destructive he had been and perhaps, truth be told, when the melancholy settled about him, still was. Death held no fear for him but he would learn over the following days to hold his tongue, for his reply that it was of "no particular interest to him, and if he was going to do it, he should get on with it, and save them all time," apparently wreaked of arrogance in Raymond's eyes and it earned him a blow to his gut that took his breath away.

Raymond took a fistful of Athos's hair and pulled his head up.

"Like I said," he hissed. "We intend to take our time, so get used to it."

Athos looked away from him, his gaze falling on the two men behind him.

Alerted, Raymond twisted his hand, and it was Athos's turn to hiss.

"And if you think you can use your fancy tone to cause a rift between us in the days to come," he said, "You should think again. These are not just men in my employ; they are my brothers. Younger than me, and led by me. Think on that," he growled as he threw Athos's head to the side and walked away.

"Of course they are," Athos could not help replying, disdainfully. "They have the same inbred look of vacancy."

He silently cursed himself when Raymond turned slowly around and advanced on him. Aramis would have something to say to him about it, no doubt.

If they ever saw each other again.

oOo

Raymond Vachon had grown up on a farmstead, but his father had left when he was eight years old to find more work, never to return.

He and his two brothers, Henri and Phillipe, had done their best as boys but a series of setbacks and a long dry spell had had devastating consequences on the farm. When their mother died, they were twelve, fifteen and seventeen years old.

The old King, Henry IV, was assassinated the following year and his heir's mother took regency over his nine year old son until he reached his majority. Times were hard for the Vachon brothers but they had a roof over their heads.

Marie de Medici, however, was no friend to her people and taxes rose to pay for her grand schemes. The people became increasingly embittered, no more so than Raymond and his two brothers, who were earning a reputation for fighting and cruelty. When Louis came to the throne, his people were mostly illiterate, hungry and bitter. Moreover, Louis seemed to have inherited his mother's desire for taxing the populace to pay for buildings they would not be allowed into and schemes that would not benefit them in their lifetimes.

Added to that, the King's first minister, Cardinal Armand Richelieu had the King's ear and a heart of stone.

Money spoke in the new Paris and if no money was to be had, it was frequently taken by force. Brigands and rogues took what they wanted and not just from the rich. A criminal underclass was spawned whose main aim in life was to survive, often by any means possible. So it was that Raymond, Henri and Phillipe Vachon became the scourge of the region. They drank, fought, stole and murdered and for the last year, they had gradually assumed control of Silas's village. The people had been either driven away or had fled and the crops had failed.

It was into the Vachon brother's hands that Athos had now fallen.

To be continued ...