CHAPTER 24

Loyalty. Integrity. Concepts with which he had been born. Duty. Honor. Respect. Concepts that had been drilled into him as the first son of the Comte de la Fére. Personal courage. Selfless service. Concepts he was learning as a musketeer. Seven values. A creed to live by, if one chose that path.

With a growl, he withdrew his blade, turned and walked away. Porthos kept his gun trained on Anton, while Aramis knelt on the ground next to him to check out the wound. When he was satisfied that Athos had restrained himself and it was a mere flesh wound, he stood and brushed the dirt off his knees.

"You are lucky. Athos easily could have killed you. He showed you mercy, after all you have done to him. I'd be thanking God if I were you," Aramis lectured the soldier in Spanish.

Anton turned his head away. He knew back in Paris he would most likely be executed, never to see his mother country of Spain again, though considering how badly this mission had failed, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Still, shame or not, he didn't want to die and perhaps he still had a chance. A chance somehow to escape on the way to Paris. For now, he'd be patient. A model prisoner while he looked for his opportunity to get away.

"Go after Athos. I'll tie him up," Aramis suggested to Porthos.

While Athos was learning to trust him, Aramis knew that the ordeal that Athos and Porthos had faced together in Dieppe had forged a reliance between the two. A trust. Or as much trust as Athos was willing to give anyone. Aramis sensed that something in the swordsman's past had truly shaken Athos' faith in others and sometimes that still got in the way of him trusting, even his friends. But as with a high-strung horse, Aramis simply approached Athos slowly and carefully, except when he occasionally barged in and stepped all over Athos' personal space in order to expedite things. However, as there was no urgency now to do so, Aramis restrained his natural exuberance to let Porthos take the lead on approaching and coaching Athos through this ordeal.

Helping Anton to his feet, Aramis motioned for him to move towards the horses where there was rope to bind him. This also moved him further away from Athos and Porthos, affording them some privacy.

Porthos slowly walked over to where Athos was standing staring into the distance, his sword hanging numbly, in his left hand, at his side. Reaching out, Porthos took the blade from the man, letting it drop to the ground. Then carefully stepping in front of his friend, he gently placed his hands on Athos' shoulders, being sure not to put pressure on any of his wounds. "It's over," he said softly, but firmly. "Are you ok?"

Athos' green eyes searched Porthos' concerned ones, then shifted to look over his shoulder at where Anton and Aramis stood across the clearing. They stood like that for a moment before Athos shrugged off Porthos' hands and headed over to where Roger stood. Porthos watched as his friend walked away from him, clearly indicating he wasn't ready to talk to him yet. It didn't surprise the streetfighter for he had learned on the Dieppe trip the depths of Athos' demons. He also knew in time, Athos would likely seek them out. Patience was the game. Turning away, he glanced over at Aramis and slightly shook his head.

Aramis, who had been unobtrusively watching, saw Porthos signal and sighed. It seemed this wasn't going to be easy, but when was it ever with Athos and his emotions. Indicating for Porthos to keep an eye on their prisoner, whom he had tied up, Aramis walked over to stand by Athos.

"Before we ride let me take a look at your wounds, see how bad they are," Aramis suggested as he ran a practiced eye up and down the man's lithe frame.

"I'm fine," Athos declared resolutely as he reached out and gathered up Roger's reins in his good hand. Before Aramis could offer up a protest, the swordsman had swung aboard Roger's back. "Get him mounted and let's ride."

"Are you sure you are well enough to ride? We could…" But Athos had already jerked Roger's head and was moving away.

With another soft sigh, Aramis joined Porthos and their Spanish prisoner. After they had the captain secured to his horse in a similar fashion to what had been done to Athos, they moved a few feet away from Anton so he couldn't hear their conversation. Neither man had any doubts that Athos was watching over Anton like hawk, and if the prisoner gave any indication of trying to escape, he would be thwarted. Athos had the sword from the dead soldier, Anton's own main-gauche and a pistol he had taken from Porthos. He was well armed and in a foul mood.

Porthos got right to the point. "Is Athos gonna fall off his horse?"

Giving a tiny shrug, Aramis replied, "It's certainly a possibility, judging by the injuries I can see and his overall general state of health."

"And that don't concern you? Him falling off I mean?"

Aramis started back towards their horses, who were waiting patiently. "Well, the way I see it, if he falls off and knocks himself out, he will be much easier to deal with. And at the moment, he is really not taking any of my suggestions to heart. So, I guess we do it his way."

"Oi. Until he falls off." Porthos mounted Flip. "Then I suppose it will be my job to pick him up."

"We all have our talents my dear Porthos. Mine is with a needle and thread and yours is the, ah, heavy lifting."

Mounting their own beasts, they ambled back over to where Athos and the Spaniard's horse stood. Grabbing the reins, Aramis took point leading the prisoner. Athos followed behind them and Porthos brought up the rear, the perfect position, Porthos thought wryly, to see and retrieve Athos from the ground should he fall off his mount.

Coming back the way they went, they eventually ended back at the clearing where the battle had taken place. The dead had been piled to the side, the wounded tended to and the remaining soldiers were securely tied. The ten stallions were tethered where they could eat the lush green grass and they were behaving like perfect gentlemen, not a squabble amongst them.

The musketeers in the clearing had been conferring on what to do next because logistically, they were outnumbered for the tasks needing to be completed. They had fourteen live soldiers to ferry back to Paris and ten stallions to return to Comte Vergy's estate. Considering there were only ten musketeers, it was not going to be an easy task.

Aramis rode into the clearing first, calling out to the musketeer on guard so he didn't get trigger happy and accidently shoot him. Some of the musketeers were happy to see the safe return of the Inseparables, others were not as pleased, being in the same camp as Roudon. Aramis led Anton over to were the rest of the prisoners were being held and handed him off to Jared for safe keeping.

Porthos and Athos came to a halt and the streetfighter watched with a mixture of annoyance and amusement as Athos half slid, half fell, off his horse. Miraculously, Athos landed on his feet, though he was leaning so heavily on Roger's side, Porthos was sure that the swordsman would topple over if the stallion wasn't there to support him.

"Need any help?" Porthos inquired sarcastically as he watched Athos pretend to be standing under his own power.

"No, I'm good," Athos replied evenly, though he well knew if asked to step away from Roger, he'd fall face first in the dirt. The object now was to buy time for his legs to recover.

Porthos stared at him for a few minutes then walked away muttering under his breath, "You are as stubborn as a jackass." When he got over to where Aramis was conferring with DuPort, who was leading the group of musketeers, he asked, "So, what's the plan?"

"We're a little short on musketeers. We have to ferry the prisoners to Paris, return the stallions to Comte Vergy's estate and also deliver the King's horses," explained DuPort summing up what he and Aramis had been discussing.

Growing up on the streets of Paris, Porthos was much better at planning than most of the musketeers gave him credit for. Without a plan living on the mean streets of Paris, you ended up dead. Aramis and Athos also knew he had a sharp mind, but some thought him dim-witted because of his background.

"Ten musketeers should be more than enough to take the secured prisoners to Paris," Porthos stated with a sarcastic edge to his voice as if he doubted the other musketeers' ability. "Aramis, Athos and I will take the stallions back to the estate, get the King's horses and deliver them safely to the Palace."

DuPort frowned as he listened to the idea. "Are three of you enough to deliver the horses safely to the King? Last time there were five of you. And he," he indicated, looking towards Athos, "doesn't seem sober, though how he could be drunk out here is beyond me."

Fury flashed in Porthos eyes making them darken. "He's been a prisoner of the Spanish. Hurt. Beaten. How dare you suggest he is drunk!"

DuPort was of the same mindset as Roudon when it came to Porthos, and the Inseparables in general. He didn't understand why Treville brought the likes of them into the regiment. "It's no secret what Athos is."

Porthos took a step closer, his fist clenched in fury, eyes darkening even more until they were nearly black as the night.

Aramis quickly stepped between them and smoothly inserted, "DuPort, we are more than capable of handling this task on our own."

"If you fail…"

"We won't," Porthos growled, though a nudge from Aramis kept him from retorting in any other manner.

"...it will be on your head. I will make sure the Captain and the King understand this was your idea and I, for one, was not in favor of it," DuPort finished with a haughty tone.

"Duly noted," Aramis acknowledged with mocking smile.

"Don't be in any hurry to go runnin' to Treville. We will be successful. Hell, we might even beat you back to Paris," Porthos goaded the bigot.

Aramis, not wanting the situation to escalate, turned and tactfully suggested, "Porthos, why don't you go let Athos know about the plan."

With an unhappy grunt, because he really wanted to throttle DuPort, Porthos walked back across the grass to where Athos was still propped against his horse while Aramis finished up with the other musketeer.

"We're taking the stallions back to Comte Vergy's estates," Porthos said without preamble, coming to a halt by Athos and Roger.

Athos eyes narrowed as he stared over at the group of captives. "And the prisoners?" though they both knew there was only one he cared about.

"Will go back to Paris under the guardianship of DuPort and his troops."

"I see. Then I shall…" Athos started before Porthos decisively cut him off.

"…be going with me and Aramis to take the horses to the estate." He could tell Athos was getting ready to argue with him so he added. "Don't push me on this, Athos. You're in no condition to be watching over any prisoners. You'd be a liability and that group don't need anything distracting them if you want all those prisoners to make it to Paris to stand trial. Hell, I'm not sure if they can even find their way back to Paris by themselves under DuPort's command. Stuck up aristocratic bastard."

A small smile lifted the corner of Athos' spilt lip because he felt the same as Porthos about DuPort and many of the other nobility in the ranks of the musketeers. They, like many he had met over the years, were convinced of their superiority even though they were often quite wrong. Rank and privilege certainly played a large role in one's life, but it didn't signify that they were better people than the so-called 'common' man.

Both men looked over when they heard the sounds of the musketeers moving out with the prisoners. Half of the ten musketeers led the horses carrying the secured prisoners while the rest formed a front and rear guard. DuPort, in the lead, didn't give a second glance back at the Inseparables as he rode out of the clearing. He hoped they failed and lost the King's horses to bandits. The three were an insufferable, low-class, smug lot and he failed to understand the overt interest Treville had in them even if they were good at fighting. In his mind their weaponry skills did not make up for their other deficiencies. When they failed, perhaps Treville would see the light and kick them out of the regiment. If not, Roudon and the other like-minded musketeers would simply have to petition the King and if Treville was caught in the cross fire, so be it. The Captain, nobility himself, should know better.