CHAPTER 35

Athos halted Roger on the far side of the street wondering if he was an idiot to do this now. Maybe, it would have been better to wait for a few days before keeping his promise to Jourdain. Physically, he didn't feel up to this task, with his body basically aching from head to toe. Mentally, he was no better prepared, but then honestly, he doubted he ever would be ready. It was dredging up memories from the past, painful ones that he'd rather remained buried.

Glancing across at the stable, he spotted Jacob coming out of the shadows, leading a saddled horse. Pangs of guilt shot through his already abused body making him want to turn and run away from everything, the situation, the musketeers, his life of lies. Where had he gone so wrong in his life to have such punishment heaped upon him, his guilt-wracked mind questioned.

The shamefaced musketeer watched as the owner of the horse Jacob had been holding came out of the tavern door, drunk and stumbling. Clumsily, the man made his way over to his horse, ripped the reins from Jacob's hand before drunkenly stumbling against the beast's side. The horse whinnied its distress, but like a well-trained beast, stood still as its owner awkwardly clawed his way up onto its back. As the sloshed rider plopped into the saddle, he simultaneously jerked hard on the reins while slapping his heels into the side of the horse. Receiving mixed signals, the horse didn't know what was expected of it so it danced sideways and tossed its head.

Jacob, unable to stand by and watch the innocent animal be abused, stepped forward, reaching for the reins with the thought to calm the horse and then jerk the inebriated rider from the saddle and make him walk home. However, the rider had other ideas, and grabbing the short whip attached to his saddle, he began to flog both the horse and Jacob. The reins were once again ripped from Jacob's hands as the horse bolted from the stable yard trying to escape the cruelty of the biting leather. As the animal rushed by, he brushed against Jacob hard enough to knock him to the dirt. Jacob took no harm from the fall, other than maybe his pride, but he had long ago lost most of that so it was inconsequential. He sat in the dirt for a moment, watching as the drunk careened down the street and once again thought how unfair life was for both man and beast.

Athos had sat quietly, watching the events unfold, knowing that any interference on his part would not be appreciated. It was killing the man-of-action to sit idly by, watching his ex-instructor being treated so unfairly, especially knowing it was his fault the man was where he was in life. Had Athos' father not sacked the man, who knows what his lot in life would have been today. But the Comte de la Fére had not approved of the growing friendship between the ex-soldier and riding instructor and his impressionable son. As the lessons grew beyond horsemanship, the Comte hadn't approved of the ideals the commoner was instilling in his son, the future Comte de la Fére. The philosophy and art of war, tactics and techniques Jacob had begun to teach went way beyond what a Comte needed to know and this worried the Comte de la Fére for he could see his restless and curious son was taking too much interest in the teachings of this man.

The Comte knew that for some reason, even at a young age, Olivier struggled against his heritage in a way that bewildered his father. From time to time, the Comte had even wondered if the boy was truly his son, though he had no cause to fault his wife's faithfulness. Plus, the boy did bear a strong physical resemblance to his ancestors, even if at times there was a strange awkwardness about him; something he either outgrew or simply got better at hiding as he got older. Erring on the side of caution, he had fired Jacob, the ex-soldier riding instructor, and hired a more gentile man. Not wishing Jacob's liberal and sometimes shocking ideals to be associated with him, the Comte had refused the man a reference, thereby shutting the door of opportunity to the man for many positions.

And so, Athos thought as he watched Jacob slowly climb back onto his feet, the excellent horseman had been relegated to work in a common stable where his talents and expertise where clearly not appreciated. Gathering his courage, he lightly pressed his heels to Roger's black flank as his steered the horse across the street towards the stable. A bead of nervous sweat trickled down his spine, even though he could not conceive Jacob recognizing Athos the musketeer as the boy Olivier.

Jacob watched as the black stallion and his rider made their way towards the entrance of the stable. Even from his position, he could see the horse was a superior piece of horseflesh and had it not been for the pauldron on the rider's shoulder, he would have thought the haggard, scruffy, fatigued-looking man had stolen the beast. But a musketeer could have access to quality horseflesh.

The musketeer drew to a halt, clumsily dismounted, then stood next to the horse surveying him with his cool green eyes. Jacob had already ascertained that the man standing in front of him was most-likely an accomplished horseman, well deserving of the animal he rode. The awkwardness being displayed by the rider was attributable to his beaten condition, not his horsemanship and it made Jacob wonder what had happened to this musketeer standing in front of him.

"Can I help you?" Jacob asked the musketeer. "With the garrison just on the other side of the city, I can't be thinking you'd want to stable that magnificent animal in the likes of this place."

"What you say is true, though I suspect the owner of this establishment would not be appreciative of your sentiments, no matter how true they might be," Athos replied wryly.

Jacob ducked his head, embarrassed that once again his tongue had gotten the better of him. Hadn't his wife told him often enough, and rightly so, that his opinions, right or wrong, were best left unsaid. "Aye, you'd be right. Pardon my words, Monsieur."

"No offense was taken," Athos assured the man, "for your words were just and true," as always, he added silently in his head. "I come here seeking a man named Jacob Devired. Would that be you?" Athos asked even though he knew the answer well enough.

"Aye. That be me. How is it a musketeer knows the name of a lowly stable hand. I have a feeling a man of the law knowing my name cannot be a good tiding."

A small smile tugged at the left corner of Athos' mouth. "Have you done something that I, as a musketeer to his Majesty, should be concerned about?"

Shaking his head side-to-side, Jacob emphatically said, "No. While my mouth sometimes runs off on its own, it's naught but idle chatter. I am a lowly stableman, working to provide a roof and food for my wife and children."

Dropping Roger's reins knowing the beast would stand still and wait for him, Athos withdrew a letter out of the inside of his leather jacket, walked over and handed it to Jacob, who reluctantly accepted the crinkly paper.

"It is a letter, from the Comte Vergy, asking you to come to his estate and attend his horses."

Though Jacob had broken open the wax seal and unfolded the missive, he stared at Athos, not the letter in his hand. "Even one such as I know that Comte Vergy breeds the best horses in all of France. In fact, if I were to be bold, I'd suggest that the animal you are riding is one of his breeding."

Athos, who was standing near Roger's head, reached over and rubbed the velvety muzzle eliciting a soft snort of pleasure from the horse. "You are a keen judge of horseflesh for he is one of the Comte's breeding, though that is a fact I'd rather not have known," and the horseman nodded to show he understood and would abide by the musketeer's wishes.

"I'm still shocked and puzzled by this summons," Jacob said slowly as he looked down and began to read the short letter in his possession. "It says I'm to go to the estate, with my family, and take over as the head stableman in charge of the breeding program of all the horses on the estate. I will be given free room and board as well as a salary commensurate with my position." Looking up at the musketeer, he shook his head and shoved the letter back towards him. "This is wrong. This is not for me."

Athos refused to accept the letter being thrust at him. "It is no mistake. I was specifically tasked, by Comte Vergy himself, to deliver this to you."

"But the Comte doesn't need a person like me to help him breed his magnificent horses."

With a sigh, Athos dropped his eyes to the ground as he rubbed a weary hand over his face. "But alas, he does," the musketeer said solemnly, the hurt clearly evident in his hoarse voice. "Comte Vergy is dead. He has no family, no sons, no brothers, only a cousin to take over his estate and his horses. The cousin, while a good and noble man, barely knows the end of the horse that eats from the end that doesn't. Left to his own devices with the horses, all soon will be in wrack and ruin. Comte Vergy has heard of your prowess and upon his death bed, willed the estate to his cousin and the stewardship of his horses to you. I can assure you, for I was there, that the cousin is delighted with this arrangement and looks forward to your swift arrival."

The stunned expression still covered Jacob's face as he just couldn't believe this stroke of luck. Once more he whispered, "But why me?"

Athos, who damn-well knew why, kept the reason to himself only answering, "The Comte was very specific that it be you and only you."

Jacob, for want of anything else to do, folded the letter, still in a state of disbelief. "You are a musketeer so, I have to believe what you speak is truth, though the oddest truth it is. What this will mean to me and my family is unmeasurable. For all the bad luck I have had, this single piece of paper will wipe it all away.

"I am sure it is…well-deserved," Athos declared with such conviction that Jacob's head rose to study him in a manner that made the musketeer nervous.

"I don't know why, but I feel as if we have met before," Jacob declared as he continued to study the man in front of him

Shaking his head as he turned Athos said, "You need to head to the estate as soon as possible." Mounting Roger, he began to turn the horse away.

Jacob quickly stepped forward and grabbed the leather rein nearest to him. Roger tossed his head with displeasure, but halted when Athos signaled him to stop. Athos stared down at the man coldly, though not unkindly. "I know this has come as a…shock. But I give you my word, as a musketeer, that what I have told you is true. Now go. Hurry to the estate."

"I don't know how to thank you," Jacob exclaimed, as he stared at the mounted musketeer, while letting go of the rein in his hand.

"You have nothing to thank me for, I am merely the messenger. It is your own skills that have earned you this position." Before the conversation could drag on any longer, Athos neatly wheeled Roger around and started to ride away.

"Can I at least know the name of my messenger?"

Athos had no intention of telling Jacob his name in case, somehow, he connected it back to the Comte who had fired him. So, he ignored the question and rode out of the stable yard, heading back towards the garrison. When he came across a street torch already lit for the night, he stopped Roger and withdrew a second letter from the inside of his jacket. He held it for a moment, looking at the carefully crafted letters in the firelight that spelled out 'Comte de la Fére'.

Jourdain's cousin had insisted the boon to the Comte de la Fére also be recoded and delivered and, like the letter for Jacob, Athos had agreed to deliver it to the Comte de la Fére. Only no one had realized the task had been complete the moment he was handed the letter. He now took that same letter and fed it to the torch's flames, letting go only when there was just a small corner of paper left unburnt.

Pressing his heels to Roger's side once more, he continued onward to the garrison. As he crossed under the stone archway, the guard on the right looked up at him. Giving the watchman a short head dip, Athos spurred Roger forward across the deserted courtyard. As it was dinner time, the absence of people made sense. Dismounting in front of the stable, he waited a second or two before a stable boy poked his head out of the barn and upon seeing Roger hurried forward to take him away.

"Brush him well, feed him a double portion of grain, clean water in his bucket and fresh hay in his stall. He has earned it."

A bob of the boy's head showed he understood as he took the reins and led the black stallion away. The horse gave a backwards glance over his shoulder and Athos admonished, "Behave," to which the boy bobbed his head again and the stallion rolled his eyes.

Turning his attention to his Captain's balcony, Athos let out a small sigh before walking across the dirt expanse to the stairs. When he reached the first landing, he took a moment to draw a deep breath and marshal his reserve strength to climb the last set of stairs. He was tired, he hurt from head to toe, and when he reached the balcony, he was tempted to drop onto the floor, curl up in a ball, go to sleep and let fate take its course. But his damned sense of duty had him shuffle across the covered porch to the Captain's door, where he raised his hand and knocked.