Very early next morning, everyone was asleep when Jehanne flung open the door and began racing down the steps.
"They're here! They have Denis! Oh, please help!" tears streaming down her face.
Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan leaped to thelr feet, already reaching for their weapons.
"How many, Madame?" Athos asked.
"I don't know," she answered. "I just saw Denis being held by two men. His face was all bloody. One of the men had a gun pointed at his head!"
Athos,.speaking to her in a calm, soft voice, the exact opposite of the emotions raging inside of him, said to her, "Madame, will you please take care of our brother? We will deal with the situation, but no matter what you hear, do not come up the stairs. Do you understand?"
Nodding mutely, Jehanne slowly moved across to Aramis, who had not stirred while they were speaking, and sat down at the edge of the bed. She took his hand in hers, head bowed and tears continuing to flow.
The Musketeers headed up the steps, and as they approached the door, drew their pistols. Each also carried a musket under their other arm. Because of the size of their enemy, they had brought with them several extra firearms when they had gone in search of Aramis, and now they were extremely glad they had done so.
Moving swiftly across the main room of the house, Athos dropped down under the front window, d'Artagnan under the one facing east, and Porthos under the window in the back door, of the kitchen attached to the living room, the two rooms actually one large area.
Athos could see the group of men standing at some distance from the house, Denis in their midst, held securely with a gun aimed at his head. He did not look good.
"Woman, let us in or your husband will be killed before your eyes!" Mattieu threatened.
"Surrender, and you will not be killed," Athos responded. There was a moment of silence, their attackers surprised at the different voice now coming from the house.
"You will never leave that house alive!" Mattieu retorted.
Silence reigned for several moments. Then, Mattieu again shouted, "Woman, your husband is a dead man," assuming Jehanne was with the Musketeers and could hear him. "After we kill him and the Musketeers, you don't want to know the fun we will have…"
He got no further, as an enraged Denis somehow found the strength to swing his bound hands at one of the men restraining him. Mattieu, seeing the movement out of the corner of his eye, grabbed and stabbed the distraught farmer, who crumpled to the ground.
This distraction gave the Musketeers the opportunity they needed and they all fired at once, three men dropping almost simultaneously.
Mattieu, however, angry with himself for letting himself be distracted, signaled to his men, all of them beginning to move rapidly towards the house.
The Musketeers took out three more men in deadly succession, but the rest of them reached the house.
Drawing their swords and main gauches, the Musketeers prepared to defend themselves, and Aramis and Jehanne belowstairs. They were determined to be an impenetrable barrier to keep them safe.
Once the invaders were inside the door, fighting became brutal and intense. No longer having room for using their swords, both sides resorted to their fists and unsheathed their main gauches in a deadly array of blades.
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In the cellar, Jehanne began to hear faint sounds of metal hitting metal abovestairs. She was a brave woman, but she knew her husband was helpless and held by those very evil men, and the injured Musketeer was lying defenseless and asleep beside her.
Even as these thoughts ran through her head, she felt him stirring beside her. Turning, she found sleepy eyes regarding her.
His face started to change to confusion as the sounds of the fighting began to penetrate his sleep-muddled senses. Confusion turned to concern as he began to realize what he was hearing, and then noticed that none of his brothers were within his sight.
Turning to Jehanne, he asked in a voice that still was scratchy from little use, "Pistol?"
Without a word about his not being in any shape to be able to do anything, she pulled out an old pistol from under her skirts, handing it to him.
His arm shook as he took it, and he hesitated a moment. Then, his arm steadied out as he aimed the pistol at the door, still laying almost flat on his back. She had witnessed a demonstration of pure will on Aramis' part, of that she was sure.
They waited, not knowing when or if the door above them would open, and would it be friend or foe?
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Mattieu had sent all but himself and one of his men into the house, planning on the ensuing fighting to distract and keep the Musketeers busy. He and his man would enter through the back, now that the huge Musketeer had been pulled into the fighting, as well.
As they slipped inside the house, he thought, 'this is almost too easy'. Now to find where his former captive was hidden.
He headed toward the back of the house, his silent shadow right behind him.
They went through each room, finding nothing. Snarling, he thought to himself, 'those brothers of his are fighting so fiercely. There has to be something…or someone in this house they're protecting,' beginning to go through the rooms a second time.
And then he spied it. A bookcase turned sideways from the wall, exposing a small lever and tiny piece of torn yellow cloth caught at the wall's base, Jehanne having been too worried and frantic to remember to pull the bookcase back, as she normally had been doing.
Mattieu's face split into a nasty grin. 'This is going to be like hunting a bird with no wings,' he thought, his main gauche now in one hand and pistol in the other. He motioned for his man to lead the way.
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Jehanne was a calm, take-charge woman, but fearing she might have lost the man she loved, and with the uproar of fighting above her head, she didn't know what she could do.
Aramis, his condition preventing him from being able to do much else than try to keep his aim steady on the door, had begun silently praying for his brothers and for this kind woman who had helped them so much despite possibly risking danger.
He didn't know how long he could keep his aim with the pistol. Even now, his arm was beginning to slightly tremble again.
And then, he heard it. Someone was lifting the lever! Was it friend or foe?
Determination in weary eyes, he watched as the door pulled back. A strange man, pointing a pistol, appeared in the doorway. As he took a step down the stairs, Aramis fired.
The man clutched at his breast before collapsing.
Aramis barely had time to sigh in relief when a voice, one he had dreaded ever hearing again, spoke as he appeared now in the doorway, "No bullets left, Musketeer?" a gun aimed steadily at the prone Musketeer's head as he slowly came down the steps.
As I've been doing recently, I will probably have another piece tomorrow or Tuesday, if all goes well. If you have time, reviews are always very much appreciated!