Chapter One
Porthos was a few yards ahead of Aramis, the Musketeer was obviously keen to get back to Paris. Aramis was content to savour the last few minutes before they had to be back on high alert. The freedom of the countryside they had been travelling through, with its wide-open spaces, would be replaced by blind corners and dark alleyways. People who were not what they seemed and a constant need to be on their guard. Not that they ever really switched off, but the peace of the rolling rural setting was always welcomed by Aramis.
He yawned; he was looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed. They had camped for three nights on the trot. He stretched his back, easing out the kinks that were threatening to leave him bent double when he finally dismounted at the garrison. Aramis was sure Porthos had managed to find them the most uncomfortable camping grounds possible each night.
'You coming?' asked Porthos over his shoulder, a slight impatience to his tone.
Aramis smiled, 'what is it that is calling you back to earnestly? A card game? A woman?'
Porthos grinned, 'a generous helping of Madam Laurant's stew…'
Aramis nodded, 'the lovely Anne-Sophie,' he gazed off into the distance for a few seconds. 'Her wayward husband is still...wayward?'
Porthos nodded with another grin.
'I think that tavern is actually doing better since he disappeared,' mused Aramis. 'Will you begrudge company?'
Porthos shook his head, 'I'm hoping to get Athos and d'Artagnan to visit as well. We've been away for a fortnight, there must be gossip to catch up on-'
'Gossip,' laughed Aramis, 'have you turned into an interfering washerwoman?'
Porthos shrugged. They continued towards the city enjoying their last moments of relative freedom. Aramis looked forward to an evening with his brothers. Good company, food and wine followed by a good night's sleep in his own bed were what he craved.
They pushed on into the city, the streets, quiet to begin with became increasingly busy with market stalls and Parisians going about their daily business. Aramis found his relaxing canter through the countryside all but forgotten as his horse slowly picked her way through the mass of people.
They were in uniform; they were marked out as the King's elite guard. People moved out of their way, but it was still slow progress. If there were more of them, they would have progressed quicker. They had to content themselves with the promise of Madam Laurant's stew. They would get to it, just not as quickly as they both would have liked.
Aramis watched the people, the young, the old, the people rushing, the people who could take their time. A group of three men caught Aramis' eyes. They were walking purposefully in loose formation. One, shorter and stockier than the other two walked a pace ahead. The following men appeared to be subordinate to the shorter man. One a giant brute of a man would probably give Porthos a run for his money in a brawl, while the other had lost an eye at some point in his life, although long enough ago for the wound to be fully healed and him to have no issue dealing with his reduced circumstances. As they disappeared around a corner Aramis wondered what nefarious business they were up to. He was sure they were not on a mission of welfare, at least not for anyone else's welfare.
As they neared the garrison Aramis knew it was not worth worrying about the suspicious men. At any one time in the city, evil was being played out in a dozen places. They simply could not deal with it all.
He put the suspicions from his mind as he and Porthos turned into the garrison.
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Treville shut the door to his office and turned back to Athos and d'Artagnan. His soldiers stood, not quite at attention, but they were certainly attentive. Athos, slightly turned to the side as if he expected his Captain to retreat behind his desk watched him carefully, Treville imagined the Musketeer trying to read his thoughts. D'Artagnan, standing slightly straighter, one hand fisted into the palm of the other, showed a keen interest in whatever was about to be said by his Captain.
He had given them the nod as the afternoon muster was ending. The other men had dispersed to the mess or assorted assignments for the night as the Captain led the two Musketeers to the steps. Neither man had spoken, neither man needed to. Treville knew they understood that they would be told what they needed to know when he deemed it safe to do so.
'Aramis and Porthos are due back soon, I want you to give them a few hours to rest before you start your investigations. I want the four of you able to concentrate. Take tonight to relax for a few hours, tomorrow you will begin.'
He paused, neither man felt the need to point out to him that he had not actually told them what they were to be investigating. They knew he would move onto the details.
'I have had information from a reliable source that there is a plot against the Royal family. We do not have full details; we only know that a member of the Court is very much involved. Tomorrow I want you to begin investigating this man. The King is unaware of the plot and I would like it to stay that way if possible. He has other concerns at the moment.'
Athos rolled his eyes.
'The King always has other concerns,' muttered the Musketeer.
Treville managed a wry smile. He moved around to stand on the other side of his desk, a glance at the papers strewn across it reminding him how preoccupied he had been since he had been updated by his informant. He had been in the middle of invoicing equipment; he would return to the laborious task once he knew his men were fully informed. At least fully informed with the limited information he had.
'This source-' started d'Artagnan.
'Will remain anonymous to you,' finished Treville with a half-smile. 'He is a man that has given me useful bits of information before. He has a knack for spotting things that are out of the ordinary. I trust him implicitly.'
D'Artagnan accepted what he said with a nod.
Treville pulled his chair away from his desk and sat down, resting his elbows on the edge of the table, avoiding the disorganised papers that required his attention. He looked up at his men.
'I want you to investigate Baron Phillipe de Gerard,' he said.
He paused trying to read their reactions. The Baron, a man in his forties was a strong influence at the Court, he had some outspoken views which riled the King but on the whole, was respected. Athos had narrowed his eyes, the question on his lips did not need to be asked.
'He was seen,' said Treville before Athos could speak, 'by my source talking to a Spaniard. They spoke briefly. But it was clear from their conversation that Gerard is involved in the plot. My source got the impression that he was important to the plot.'
'To kill the King?' asked d'Artagnan.
'So it would seem.'
Athos shifted uncomfortably, 'I know he has some different views to the King and his ministers, but not enough to warrant an assassination?'
Treville sighed, 'I believe his views have become more extreme. I remember him as a younger man before his wife died, he was idealistic then. Now, I think he is bitter and narrow-minded.'
'Losing his wife changed him?' asked d'Artagnan.
Treville nodded, 'she died in childbirth, the baby also died. His grief was almost his undoing. He shut himself away for a while only returning to the Court when ordered to do so by the King. He conducted himself correctly, but the man was changed. Broken.'
Treville watched Athos look away, his own look of grief bubbling to the surface for a few seconds, quickly suppressed. Treville wondered if they would ever fully learn what it was that made Athos who he was. What sort of man he would be if whatever troubled him stopped doing so? D'Artagnan had noticed the look but chose not to react. Treville approved.
'What do you want us to do?' asked Athos, his attention fully returned to the job at hand.
'That I will leave up to you. We need to know if the plot is credible. Who else is involved? The why's and how's, obviously. And. Can it be stopped?'
D'Artagnan nodded, 'you're sure this can wait until the morning? You don't want Athos and I to begin straight away'
Treville shook his head, 'my source said they indicated that there was time before anything would happen. I want the four of you working on this together, but I want Aramis and Porthos rested before they start.'
'We will brief them in the morning,' said Athos.
Treville nodded, 'report to me what you find out, but you have free rein to investigate the Baron as you see fit. I will smooth things with the King and Court if needs be.'
He knew it did not need to be said, but the reassurance that they could uphold their duty to protect the King without having to worry about the more delicate members of the court was welcomed by his men, he was sure.
'I do not envy you your job,' said Athos.
Treville smiled, he knew that despite being the obvious choice, Athos did not like his position as next in line for the Captaincy of the Musketeers. Although Treville equally hoped the position would not become available for several years.
He waved them from his office. Both men nodded respectfully before retreating back to the garrison yard. The dwindling light of the evening forcing Treville to look for more candles as the door was closed.
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Later that evening...
Madam Laurent had spotted them as they walked into the tavern, she smiled and nodded towards a table near the fire that was free. Porthos had wandered over to the attractive woman, who was busy wiping down the bar in front of the barrels of assorted wines and spirits she sold.
'Not seen you for a couple of weeks,' she said.
'Been busy on the King's business,' replied Porthos with a slight smile.
Madam Laurent leaned forward slightly, Porthos knew what she was doing, and he had every intention of letting her. Her hair was swept up loosely on top of her head with a few tantalising auburn tresses falling across her shoulders.
'And are you busy on the King's business tonight?' she asked, looking up at him through long eyelashes.
Porthos leaned closer to her and asked quietly, 'I take it Monsieur Laurent is still...away.'
Madam Laurent's smile increased, 'don't think he'll be back.'
Porthos straightened up, 'in which case, after my friends and I have enjoyed some of your excellent stew...I might find myself...not on the King's business for a few hours…'
'I might find myself with nothing to do either,' remarked Madame Laurent with a coy smile.
She turned from him and collected a bottle and cups, arranging them on a tray.
'I'll have your food brought over,' she said, her normal business-like attitude returning as another customer wandered up to the bar.
Porthos winked at her as he took the wine, the promise of a warm bed and pleasant company were a welcome distraction to the intrigue of their next assignment. D'Artagnan had indicated that Treville had given them some work to do but that it could wait until the morning.
Porthos returned to the table to find Aramis shaking his head.
'Are you jealous?' he asked as he put the tray down and began pouring them a cup of wine each.
'Not in the slightest, my friend,' chuckled Aramis.
They settled to an evening of wine and good company. The hearty stew was enjoyed by the four of them, with Madam Laurent providing Porthos with an extra helping and a wanton look as she turned from the table.
The tavern was busy, Madam Laurent and her staff were kept busy serving the customers. He almost felt the need to intervene when one of the market traders started to get too friendly towards the landlady, his worry was unfounded when two of the regulars simply grabbed the drunk man and threw him out earning themselves a free drink each as thanks.
A couple of young boys snuck their way around the tables trying to steal coins where they could. Porthos made eye contact with them and shook his head, they stared at the Musketeer wide-eyed, before scampering out the door, into the night no doubt to pick the pockets of passers-by instead.
Porthos watched Aramis and d'Artagnan refilling their cups knowing that neither man was particularly good at holding their drink. He glanced at Athos who shook his head but did not say anything, his friend was behaving as usual. Athos was generally the quietest of them all, at least, thought Porthos, he had not stalked off to sit alone brooding over things he would not share with the rest of them.
D'Artagnan put down his cup and stared across the tavern, Porthos followed his gaze. The men his friend was staring at were of a similar age and all smiling broadly at d'Artagnan. The young Musketeer pushed himself up to stand and walk across the room, grabbing one of the men in a quick embrace. The men were well dressed, Porthos got the impression they were traders of something expensive. He wondered how d'Artagnan knew them. D'Artagnan had a brief conversation with the men before returning to the table.
'Sorry,' he said, unable to keep the smile from his face, 'that's an old friend of mine and his brothers. Will you excuse me? I've not seen them in years.'
'Of course,' said Porthos, 'just don't stay out too late, we've got mystery work to do in the morning.'
D'Artagnan chuckled, nodded a farewell to them each and returned to his friend's side. The group wandered to the far corner of the tavern and were soon deep in conversation. Drinks were ordered and the occasional bout of raucous laughter could be heard.
Athos was watching Aramis who was draining another cup of wine and about to reach for the bottle.
'I think,' said Athos, his usual considered voice almost drowned out by the laughter from d'Artagnan and his friends, 'that we should call it a night.'
Porthos nodded with a glance at Madam Laurent who was busy organising more drinks for d'Artagnan and his friends.
'Aramis,' said Athos, 'much as I dislike ever having to mother you, but you need to go to bed.'
Porthos smirked, Aramis looked at them both, his attempts to focus on them failing almost instantly. He looked at his cup for a few seconds before pushing it away.
'I suppose I could accompany you back to the garrison,' said Aramis, a knowing look in his eye, 'we wouldn't want anything happening to you.'
Athos rose from the table, taking his hat and placing it on his head.
'I take it you will not be retiring back to the garrison?' asked Athos.
Porthos smiled, glanced at Madam Laurent who was watching as the group broke up for the evening, and shook his head.
'I'll be retiring, but not at the garrison.'
Aramis chuckled as he pushed himself up to stand, trying to hide the fact he was steadying himself on the table.
'Enjoy your evening,' said Athos as he guided Aramis from the tavern.
Porthos was sure he would.
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D'Artagnan finally left his friends a couple of hours after Athos had escorted a slightly drunk Aramis from the tavern and Porthos had slyly disappeared with Madam Laurent into the back of the tavern. He had enjoyed his time catching up with his friends who had made money trading with other countries and were looking to invest in further trading opportunities in the city. After a few minutes trying to persuade d'Artagnan to join them in their business, the visitors to the city had acquiesced and accepted that d'Artagnan was happy with his new commission as a Musketeer.
When they had parted his friend had hurriedly written his new address down and thrust it into d'Artagnan's hand, telling him that if he was ever in the area, he would be more than welcome. D'Artagnan smiled saying he hoped he could take him up on the offer.
He stepped out into the crisp night air, the coolness helping to sober him. He had not drunk much after he moved to sit with his friends, the conversation such that they forgot the wine that sat in front of them.
A carriage passed in front of him causing a couple of shuffling beggars to move out of the way quickly, cursing the driver for urging the horses on too quickly for the narrow street.
D'Artagnan watched the beggars move off, once he was satisfied that neither beggar was hurt, he turned to walk towards the garrison. As he passed a side street, he noticed a group of men in dark clothes huddled together. D'Artagnan continued to walk past before ducking into a doorway and watching the entrance to the side street as the men appeared. They walked across the road and into the opposite street. Something about them was suspicious. D'Artagnan could not work out what it was but he knew he would not be able to ignore the feeling.
Following at a distance, d'Artagnan watched the group of men, five in all, walking along the street towards an area of the city that was largely deserted and derelict. He knew there would be people living there, the beggars and the destitute. It was not on a par with the court of Miracles but had the potential to go that way. Richelieu was very much of the opinion the area should be razed to the ground and rebuilt, d'Artagnan was tempted to agree, although it needed to be done sooner rather than later.
Two of the men were slightly ahead of the other three, one tall and slim the other shorter and stockier. Their dark clothes and hooded cloaks made it difficult for d'Artagnan to catch anything distinguishing about them. The three men walking at the back could be told apart, one was a tall, broad giant like man who seemed to lumber along. The second was slender and walked smoothly, almost cat-like. The third had the countenance of a soldier. But d'Artagnan knew that if the men were to walk amongst a crowd, he would struggle to pick them out without having seen their faces.
The man who d'Artagnan had decided was the leader stopped at the door to a boarded-up house. D'Artagnan darted into a recessed doorway opposite, pressing himself as far out of sight as he could. The group disappeared into the house, after a pause to look up and down the road. D'Artagnan crept across the road and peered through a gap in the boarding of the nearest window.
The room he was looking into was empty, he tentatively pulled at the boarding and found it to be loose. His heart thumping, he eased the boarding away from the window and looked further into the room. The door connecting the room to the hallway was closed, he could see light flickering under the door and the occasional shadow pass. As quietly as he could d'Artagnan pulled the boarding away and hopped up to the windowsill before swinging his legs into the room. He looked at the floor, wondering how many of the ancient floorboards would creak if he walked across them.
With slow, careful steps, d'Artagnan managed to make his way across to the door. He leaned as close as he could and listened to the conversation going on beyond the rotting wood.
'I told you that the plans are ready. We just need the perfect moment to strike, Senor, and you are to provide us with that.'
The man that spoke had a good French accent, but he was unmistakably Spanish.
The response came from a man who could only have come from the upper classes.
'Gallo, I have said before that the perfect time will be when they leave the cathedral, they are always at their most vulnerable.'
'Bueno,' said the Spaniard. 'You are doing your country a great service and will continue to do so as her leader.'
D'Artagnan detected a hint of sarcasm in the words. The sarcasm seemed to be lost on the upper-class man.
'I will lead the people well. We will unite our two countries. Together we will be stronger.'
The upper-class man seemed very proud of an achievement he had yet to make.
'Give me the details,' said the Spaniard, 'I want to know what they will do when they go to the Cathedral.'
D'Artagnan glanced around the musty room he was standing in, he looked at a dusty desk by the door. He could not help a smile as he looked at the paper and ink that lay on the desk. The paper was curled with damp with age but still good enough for his purposes. The inkwell had not dried out and the quill was still sharp. He grabbed the paper and began to write. He made notes of what was being said in the next room. He knew he would be able to remember most of what was being said but he wanted to be sure all the pertinent information reached the right people. The men he was listening to were obviously involved in the plot against the King that Treville had told them about. D'Artagnan was sure the upper-class man was Gerard.
It annoyed him that he could not simply step into the room and arrest the men for treason, but he was on his own and would stand no chance against five men who were probably well armed and prepared to kill for their cause.
'This is Dubois,' said the Spaniard who Gerard had referred to as Gallo, 'he is the best man with explosives that I know.'
Gerard chuckled, 'I like that you are prepared to employ a Frenchman for the task.'
'As I said,' replied Gallo, 'he is the best.'
'The demonstration will be quite dramatic,' said another man, d'Artagnan guessed the explosive expert. 'I would suggest we leave and watch from the end of the street. It will take twenty seconds.'
'I will enjoy the show from further away than that,' said Gerard. 'I will meet you again in a week in our usual place.'
Gallo replied, 'as you wish Senor.'
D'Artagnan heard footsteps pass the room he was hiding in. There was a pause as the front door was opened, an ominous creak highlighting its lack of use. As the door closed and Gerard could be heard hastening away d'Artagnan turned his attention back to the other men.
'It will not last long,' Dubois said. 'I take it you are only using him to get the other elites on your side before ousting him and taking over yourself?'
Gallo chuckled, 'typical of the lower classes to be more astute than the idiots at the top,' he said. 'Yes. We only need him long enough to ensure the King's brother does not try to take the throne. He will be a mouthpiece, a puppet, nothing more. My employer is paying him well to do as he is told, and he is thick enough to think that he is an equal partner in our work.'
'The fuses are set, I suggest you all retreat,' said Dubois after a few seconds his voice muffled slightly. 'I am pleased to help with your cause and am pleased to offer this demonstration.'
D'Artagnan heard several sets of booted feet moving passed, making their way to the door which was pulled open. With shock d'Artagnan realised the demonstration of Dubois' ability was to be made by destroying the house they had met in.
The house d'Artagnan was still standing in.
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Authors note: More tomorrow.