CHAPTER 8

They rode across the countryside heading for a road that would make passage easier for the wagons. The wounded from both armies were very happy when the wagon wheels finally hit the road for, as bumpy as it was, it was better than jolting over the grass. The regiment had been on the road for less than a league when a lone rider was spotted approaching from the north. The forward scouts brought the caravan to a halt while Treville moved to the front with a few of his best marksmen. The entire regiment went on alert, the battle-worn soldiers immediately forgetting their aches and pains as they prepared to meet what might be their next advisory. A collective sigh of relief spread through the troops when they realized that the rider was wearing the King's livery and indeed was from the palace.

The Inseparables had moved to the front when the rider had been spotted, pulling out their weapons and training them on the man. When the danger was past, they put away their muskets and Aramis and Porthos began to speculate about what news the messenger had brought. Athos, as usual, remained quiet though he was studying the Captain's body language and, after a few minutes, had come to the conclusion that the news was not bad.

Captain Treville sat quietly on his horse scanning the scroll with which he had been presented while he listened to the messenger reiterate the King's command. His Majesty had purchased a set of four matching carriage horses for the Queen's birthday and wanted his musketeers to pick them up and deliver them to the palace for fear of thieves making off with his gift. With an exasperated sigh, Treville let the scroll roll back up before tucking it away in his bags. The best fighters in the realm were being used as a delivery service. Still, he supposed it did make some sort of sense, since four matching horses of quality might be a tempting target for bandits.

The Captain invited the messenger to join them, for there was safety in numbers when traveling, but the man politely refused as he had more messages to deliver. With a nod, the man was off on his swift horse and soon disappeared over the horizon. Turning his own stallion around, the Captain rode slowly back towards his troops before coming to a stop in front of the semi-circle of soldiers.

Standing in his stirrups, he addressed his regiment of musketeers. "The King has purchased special carriage horses for the Queen from an estate less than two day's ride from here. I have been instructed to send a small contingent of musketeers to fetch the horses and ferry them safely back to the palace."

Sitting back in the saddle, he let his calculating blue eyes sweep his men, weighing whom to send on this mission. To his right, he saw Aramis, Athos and Porthos clustered together and decided they would form the core of the group and he would add three more, Francis, Pierre and Roudon. Six men, four horses. Four musketeers would lead the horses while the other two served as the front and rear guards.

Lieutenant Roudon would lead the group. Treville, contrary to what Athos might think, knew the veteran had a blind spot. He was old school, first son of a Comte awaiting his father's death. Roudon had never made it a secret he didn't like the 'type' of people Treville recruited to be musketeers, such as Porthos. He felt them unfit to be in the elite guard of the king. Treville had worked very hard to get the otherwise excellent soldier past his bias, though he was not sure if he had been successful based on some of the things he still heard. It could be that Roudon had simply gotten better at hiding his prejudice.

Roudon had complained to him that Athos hadn't followed orders during the battle, but grew a bit vague when asked to explain why. The Captain had a feeling it had had something to do with Porthos, though neither Roudon nor Athos would confirm his suspicions. So Treville had not investigated the matter any further.

Even if Aramis was the second highest ranking member of the group, to place Aramis in charge might be perceived as an insult or punishment to Roudon, who technically had done nothing that Treville was aware of to warrant such an action. Roudon was senior, good with horses, and he was nobility, something which could be invaluable on this mission. And if he truly had gotten past his biases then there was no reason not to put him in charge. Maybe a low stress, peaceful mission would help ease all tensions. The best way to learn about a person is to spend time with them and this seemed like a good opportunity.

"Lieutenant Roudon shall lead this mission to Comte Vergy's estate, which is where these carriage horses are located," Treville announced with confidence and assurance as if there had never been any doubt in his mind.

Treville thought he saw a slight flash of recognition in Athos' eyes upon hearing the Comte's name. However, he wasn't sure if it was just his imagination since he knew of Athos' heritage. A second later the cool green eyes were staring at him with polite interest, though nothing more. What both the Captain and Athos missed, however, was the look of disgust that passed between Aramis and Porthos. Neither man liked Roudon and they weren't anxious to be on a mission under his command.

"I know of this Comte," Roudon declared in his deep bass. "He breeds the best horseflesh in all of France. The King must have paid a pretty penny for a set of matching carriage horses for the Queen." The seasoned veteran shook his head. "Not many can afford the prices Comte Vergy demands.

Roudon wasn't the only one who knew the Comte Vergy, Jourdain to his friends, such as the Comte de la Fére. And Roudon was right, the man did breed the best horseflesh in France, Roger being one of them. Unconsciously, Athos' hand strayed to scratch Roger's neck underneath his silky black mane. The horse's appreciative grunt made the swordsman realize what he had done and he immediately stopped his ministrations, much to the stallion's dismay who let out a little snort to voice his disappointment.

Athos' father had been a long-time friend of the senior Comte Vergy and he had purchased many a fine animal from the nobleman, who had a keen interest in horse breeding. Twice a year, the elder de la Fére would journey to Comte Vergy's estate to inspect his stock and often purchase a new horse or two to add to his own stable. The two men became more than business acquaintances; they also became friends over the years and they shared the same views on many subjects. When Olivier was five, his father allowed him to come along on one of the visits. Comte Vergy had a son of his own, Jourdain, who was Olivier's age and the two became long distance friends, one of the few friends Olivier had growing up.

Jourdain also had a somewhat lonely childhood as none of his siblings had survived, each turning blue and dying soon after birth. After their fourth child perished, the Vergys took it as a sign from God that they were to have only one child, so they instead threw themselves into raising their horses. Jourdain would often joke that his parents spent more time in the barn with the horses than with him and it wasn't far from the truth. Both of his parents were very active in the raising and training of their stock and Jourdain became an astute judge of horseflesh, like his parents, at a very young age. Until he met Olivier, it didn't seem odd to him that his best friends had four feet, rather than two.

Perhaps that is why when Olivier, a lonely child himself, first came to visit the estate the two boys hit it off. Intuitively, they recognized something similar in themselves and that formed the bond of friendship. The senior Comte de la Fére was delighted that his eldest made a friend within the proper station of life. Too often he found his heir being overly friendly with the village children, something that he discouraged with both lecture and belt.

A few years later, when Olivier was invited to stay for a few weeks over the summer at the farm with Jourdain, the Comte de la Fére heartily approved the opportunity. He highly respected Comte Vergy and felt his influence on his somewhat rebellious son would be perfect. Comte Vergy was old school nobility, serious about his heritage and his responsibilities and he was raising his son in a no-nonsense manner with strict discipline. Jourdain was regal, polite and carried himself, even at a young age, with a sense of dignity that spoke of old school values, traits that the Comte de la Fére wished would rub off on Olivier.

As the boys got to know each other better, they began to share confidences and learned they shared the same viewpoint on many subjects. Both were well-educated and had spent time in Paris as part of their studies. They realized that the France of their fathers' generation, where the power of the nobility was great, was beginning to change. The favor of the King was becoming increasingly important and many of the nobility were flocking to Paris to see and be seen. Neither of their fathers was willing to see the alterations that were taking place in the relationship between the crown and the nobility. They faithfully served their King, but from afar, not spending time in his Majesty's presence currying favor.

The boys also realized power was subtly starting to shift and that the nobility, who once ruled with an iron fist, might do better to think more of the people in the villages associated with their estates as partners rather than indentured servants. But this was a radical idea that they only discussed quietly between themselves. Once, when Olivier mentioned such a concept to his father, he thought the man was going to have a seizure and the accompanying lecture was both long and painful. There was going to be no shifting in the old guard and as Olivier and Jourdain grew older and wiser in the world of politics, they realized change came in two ways, brutal and fast, or slow and painful. It just depended on which side of the equation you were on.

It was Jourdain who taught Olivier that subterfuge had its place, even in the life of noble, a lesson Olivier learned well and employed successfully throughout his life. Jourdain taught Olivier that the world was not black and white, but full of grey which could be used to one's advantage. A person could be honorable, regal and noble and still be devious and brutal when the situation called for it. It was a strange concept that over the years, Olivier came to understand, and he used it effectively in his own life as a musketeer.

To many, Athos, the adult alter ego of Olivier, appeared to be the model of forthrightness and yet under that chivalrous shell lurked a man who could do whatever it took to accomplish a mission. Athos was all for doing the right thing, until he wasn't, a dichotomy that often-stumped friends and strangers alike. It was a trait that served him well, though occasionally got him in hot water with his Captain as well as others.

These memories tumbled across Athos' mind when he heard the Captain speak the Comte Vergy's name and he prayed his face was better schooled than his jumbled thoughts. Roudon had begun to speak and Athos forced his mind from the past to the present.

"…and we leave within the hour," Roudon finished.

The others began to disperse, all but Athos, who had no idea what were Roudon's instructions.

"Did you not understand my orders?" Roudon moved his horse closer to Athos' temperamental stallion, who lashed out a hoof at the approaching pair. Roudon was forced to pull up his mount to avoid getting struck. "Control your horse, musketeer."

Athos gave Roger a quick check, letting him know his actions were not acceptable. "Sorry," he apologized quietly to his leader. "He doesn't like to be crowded."

"He is a horse and I don't care what he likes. You will control that animal at all times. And you need to stop wool-gathering. When I issue an order to you, I expect it to be obeyed," Roudon demanded in a patronizing manner.

Athos, though not pleased, gave a quick nod of acknowledgment. Captain Treville had made Lieutenant Roudon the leader of this mission and, as a musketeer, he was expected to follow the orders of his leader. This was his chance to prove to Captain Treville he could follow the orders of others. He vowed not to display any sign of insubordination on this trip.

"Go get some extra ammunition from the supply wagon. And don't be all day about it," Roudon repeated his command.

"Yes, Sir," Wheeling his horse around, Athos trotted Roger towards the munitions wagon, which was near the rear of the column.

Captain Treville sat silently wondering once more if he had made a mistake putting Lieutenant Roudon in command. Technically, Athos had not been listening, so Roudon was within his rights to correct him. But his attitude towards Athos seemed somewhat harsh.

"Men follow their leader for many reasons," Treville casually remarked to Roudon after all the others had ridden off to get the required supplies. "But the best reason is from respect and trust. It takes time to build those confidences in your men. Be fair, clear and reasonable and you will gain both their respect and trust."

"That may be so with people like ourselves, Captain, but Aramis, Porthos and Athos lack discipline, a common fault of their kind. A firm hand will keep them in line. Strict order is the key to a successful mission."

Treville sighed inwardly at his Lieutenant's biases. Roudon was one of his earliest recruits, though he really had no choice when it came to taking him. The nobleman had been thrust upon him by the Cardinal when the musketeers were being organized. Treville had often wondered if it was because the Cardinal didn't want the man as part of his Red Guards. It had been strongly suggested that Roudon would make an excellent Lieutenant. But when Treville began expanding the musketeers to include men who weren't of the nobility, issues began to crop up with Lieutenant Roudon's leadership style.

"Take time to get to know these men," Treville suggested to his Lieutenant. "Aramis is the best marksman in the regiment, Porthos the best hand-to-hand fighter and Athos is second to none with a sword. Their talents will serve you well."

"Perhaps, if they can understand their place," Roudon declared in a tone that sounded doubtful as he turned his horse away to move to the location he had told the rest of them to meet him. "Don't worry, Captain, I will successfully complete this mission."

Treville sat for a few moments on his horse watching the men in the distance regroup with the supplies. They divided up the items amongst themselves before riding down the road. When they were out of sight, the Captain turned his own mount around and rejoined his troops heading back to Paris. Not usually one to second guess himself, he couldn't shake the feeling he'd made a mistake.