Chapter Three

'If there were mercenaries active on this road, they would have made themselves scares when the Red Guard and the Cardinal came through,' said Porthos as they mounted up and urged the horses on.

The two boys had disappeared around a bend in the road behind them. Porthos wondered what they would spend their coins on, it had not been much but probably felt like a small fortune to the youngsters.

'I think we should go as far as the village ahead, it's only a few houses,' said d'Artagnan. 'We'll ask there if anything's been seen. Then head for the tavern.'

Porthos nodded, 'it's a thankless task this. We've no idea who has him, where he was when he was taken, or where he was taken to. I think the only thing we can be grateful for is that the mercenaries are likely to be keeping him alive to hand him over to their employer.'

'Why wouldn't the King pay for his release? If the information was that vital, you'd have thought he'd want Treville released,' said d'Artagnan.

Porthos shrugged his shoulders, 'who knows. I suppose the King doesn't want to be seen to give in to demands…'

As the first of the houses came into view, they slowed the horses stopping at the edge of the village.

'We ain't got nothink for yer,' said a middle-aged woman with a scowl.

Porthos looked down at the woman who was holding a bowl of seeds, chickens surrounded her, pecking at the ground. The woman, wearing a dress that had seen better days and a dirty apron continued to glare at the two men.

'There ain't no jobs and there ain't nowhere for yer to stay,' she continued.

'Madam,' said d'Artagnan as civilly as he could manage, 'we do not want anything from you except a moment of your time.'

The woman looked at them both for a few seconds, she scattered a few more seeds making the chickens cluck appreciatively.

'You sellin' somefink?'

'No, madam,' said Porthos with what he hoped was a reassuring expression. 'We only want to know if you've seen our friend who we think might be in some trouble-'

'Ain't been no one round 'ere lately that I ain't known.'

The woman spread some more seeds. She continued to look at them both.

'Could anyone else have seen anything?' asked d'Artagnan hopefully.

'No. No one's seen noffin'. No one's been ere.'

Porthos tipped his hat to the woman, 'thank you for your time,' he said with a smile.

They glanced at each other, Porthos had to hide a smile when d'Artagnan rolled his eyes. Without another word they turned their horses and retraced their steps. Porthos was sure the woman was watching them go, he could feel her eyes on them as they pushed the horses into a canter.

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Athos had to lean across further than he would have liked in order to grab at the reins of the galloping horse. But once under his control, it did not take him long to slow both his own and Treville's horse. Aramis was on the other side of the scared beast stopping him from turning away and pulling from Athos' grasp. It had taken them several minutes to get level with the horse which was clearly exhausted. The horse would probably have stopped on his own at any moment but could easily have wandered off and become lost in the thicker woods they had entered in their pursuit.

Both Musketeers were panting from the sudden exertion as they finally brought all three horses to a stop.

'Handy,' said Aramis nodding towards a gentle stream a few yards from where they had come to a halt.

The two men dismounted and led the horses to the stream. Whilst their own drank their fill Athos looked Treville's mount over. He checked the saddlebags and pulled the gun from its holster. The weapon was still primed for firing.

'Nothing is missing,' Athos said.

'Except the actual rider,' pointed out Aramis with a wry smile and a raised eyebrow.

'A graze on the neck,' Athos said as he continued to look the horse over.

Aramis stepped closer to inspect the slight injury. Athos stroked the horse's neck, avoiding the sore looking graze. The horse was still slightly jumpy but appeared to be calming down as it stood with its stablemates.

'Not the ball of a gun,' mused Aramis, with a professional eye, 'a stone maybe, a slingshot or catapult?'

'Silent then,' said Athos.

They continued to look the horse over, finding no further injury. Aramis pulled the saddle straight as they worked their way around the beast.

'I would guess…' Aramis said slowly, 'that our Captain was pulled from the saddle.'

Athos looked back along the road, 'we need to retrace the horses' flight.'

'That could take a while, he'd already been galloping for a while when he passed us.'

They were forced to wait for the horses to drink their fill and rest before mounting up and turning them back along the road. Not wanting to push Treville's horse into anything more than a trot for a few minutes they slowly returned along the road.

As they passed the area where they had first seen the horse galloping both men began to take a closer look at their surroundings, looking for anything that was out of place. Slowly retracing the horse's path, watching where the hooves left clear prints in the softer mud it was not difficult for the Musketeers to follow.

'More tracks,' said Aramis, pointing ahead a few yards.

Athos followed where his friend had indicated, dismounting before he reached the spot so as not to disturb the scene with his own horses' hooves. He left the two horses to wait on the edge of the clearing. Aramis remained mounted and made a slow circuit taking advantage of the height to look for anything out of place.

'There were several men,' said Athos as he looked at the scuffed-up mud. 'On foot as well as mounted…'

'They were lying in wait,' remarked Aramis as he dismounted and wandered towards his friend. 'There's disturbed undergrowth all the way around.'

Athos stood in the centre of the clearing and turned on the spot. A gleam of light caught his eye. He pointed towards it, Aramis, who was standing a couple of feet away turned and looked down, he bent to scoop up the item.

'Treville's main gauche,' concluded Aramis as he turned the parrying sword over in his hands. 'They must have not noticed it had fallen, it's valuable, they wouldn't have left it.'

'At least we know we are in the right place,' concluded Athos with a sigh.

Aramis was following the prints across the clearing, stopping at the edge.

'They left the clearing here, but the ground gets dryer, it's impossible to tell which way they went…'

Athos watched Aramis shake his head and look down for a few seconds with a sigh. The frustration his friend was clearly feeling was felt by them both.

'But we have more of an idea than we did have,' said Athos. 'We should get to the tavern; the others are probably already there.'

After a last look around the area, the two Musketeers mounted up and returned to the road. Athos hoped that finding the area where their Captain had been captured was just the beginning of their good luck and not the only luck they would have.

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D'Artagnan and Porthos had been at the tavern for roughly an hour when they overheard a conversation that made them both stop eating the stew they had been served. The tavern, the White Cat, was not particularly busy but no one was really paying either Musketeer any notice. Without their pauldrons and dressed in plain clothes the men looked like travellers passing through.

The main room of the tavern was big, with a large fireplace. A fire had been lit and two older men were huddled in front of it. Despite the weather not being too cold the men appeared to be enjoying the warmth. A big dog lay stretched out between them.

D'Artagnan was sat with his back to the main room whilst Porthos had taken the seat by the window. Porthos was glancing across the room to the two men who were speaking. D'Artagnan was watching his expression, guessing his own mirrored it. The men who were talking, speaking to the tavern keeper and a couple of other local men had clearly been poaching on nearby land. But none of the listeners seemed concerned with their nefarious activity. What interested all the occupants of the tavern, including d'Artagnan and Porthos was what the poachers had witnessed.

'I ain't been that scared before,' said the younger man who had a slight squeak to his voice. 'We were lucky we stopped where we did. Pa was pretty well hidden in the bushes where he was setting the trap, but if he'd been a couple of feet to the left they would've seen him.'

'And you was up the tree?' asked one of the locals.

'Yeah, I'd seen a nest up there, thought there might be some eggs. I was well hidden but could see all that went on.'

The older man continued, 'I'd just set the trap and was about to back out of the bramble, but got a bit caught up. I was picking the thorns off my sleeve when I heard the shouting. Six men came into the bit in front of the really old oak tree, the one with the low branches.'

'I know it,' said the tavern keeper, 'we used to climb it when we were boys.'

'Yeah, that's the one. Well, these men all stopped by the tree. Two of the men were tied up. One of them looked terrified he was gagged but was shouting through the gag. We couldn't make out what he was sayin' though. Well, we couldn't understand much of it, they was all speaking Spanish most of the time.'

The younger man had taken a quick swig of his drink before taking over the story, 'the other one that was tied up, was asked some questions by the man in charge. Ugly scar across the leader's face, honestly if you met him on a dark night you'd have thought you was looking at the devil. Anyway, he was asking the older man who was tied up about some meeting he'd had. He spoke to the man in French but to the others in Spanish. The leader was shouting at the man who refused to answer. Then the leader man just said it didn't matter 'cos he was valuable if he talked or not.'

'So what about the other man, the scared one?' asked the tavern keeper.

'They hanged him.'

D'Artagnan could hear sharp intakes of breath from the enrapt listeners.

The older man, who was enjoying the attention he was getting, continued, 'just before they hanged him, the leader told him he was being hanged for murder and gave him a chance to say his last words. When the gag was pulled out of his mouth the man just begged for his life, crying and screaming hysterically. But it didn't make any difference. They strung him up. Left him dangling there, twitching on the rope. I've seen hangings, but this was the worst. He gurgled; it took ages for him to stop making noises.'

The man paused for dramatic effect.

'I kept as still as I could. Didn't want them to know they'd been seen. After a few minutes, they grabbed the other man and walked off, pushing him in front. We waited for a few minutes then ran. Didn't look back. They left the body there.'

'Wonder who they are?' said the local man.

The other men grunted in agreement.

Porthos leaned forward slightly, 'that's got to be the Captain, their talking about.'

D'Artagnan nodded, 'do you think they had him watch another man hanged to scare him into talking? Naive mercenaries if they think that would work.'

D'Artagnan risked a quick glance behind him at the poachers and the local patrons who were still discussing the event.

'At least we've got something to tell Athos and Aramis now,' stated Porthos. 'But hopefully, they'll have something to tell us as well.'

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