Authors note: Thanks for all the lovely reviews.

Chapter Four

The big thuggish man who had a firm grip on him turned him and pushed him back the way they had come. Treville was breathing fast but hoped his fear was not too obvious. When they had slipped the noose around the unfortunate Bernet's neck Treville had been convinced he would be next. He knew the mercenaries would not gain anything from his death, but these were men for whom rules did not apply.

The leader, Herrera, had sneered as he watched Treville. Bernet had not been hanged as such, the men had simply pulled the rope taught, forcing the condemned man off the ground, leaving him dangling, his toes just an inch from solid ground. Listening to the man slowly choke to death had not been pleasant. Herrera had grabbed a fistful of his doublet and forced him to watch Bernet as the life had drained from his pained face, his bloodshot eyes losing their light over the few minutes it took for him to strangle.

What was worse was that Treville was fairly sure the man Bernet had been accused of murdering had attacked the poor man first. Bernet had been defending himself but an awkward fall had left the supposedly murdered man dead.

He was not sure why he had been forced along to watch the hanging? To keep him compliant? He had been too well guarded since they captured him to even attempt to escape. Did Herrera think that he would speak if he was faced with the death of another man?

Herrera had asked what he knew several times, but Treville had steadfastly refused to answer. The scarred man had eventually grown board and pushed Treville away saying he was still going to be handed over to their paymaster.

Treville was grateful for that fact, it had meant the mercenaries had not been able to mistreat him. At least not too much. He had been pushed around and struck a couple of times, but nothing more than he would receive during an enthusiastic fist fight. They had kept him tied up, his arms and shoulders were uncomfortable, but it was not as bad as it could have been.

Herrera was a stern leader, he thought nothing of striking his men for the slightest wrongdoing. The mercenaries were obviously disenchanted soldiers, hired to carry out work for Herrera and his unknown paymaster. The scar across Herrera's forehead, twisting down at one end towards his left eye, appeared to be from a nasty knife wound. The man had seen action but was now happy to lead a group of disparate men. Some of the men were very sure of themselves with weathered faces and old injuries to match. Others were young, perhaps without any military service, who lacked the discipline of their older comrades. But on the whole, Herrera ruled over his men firmly, keeping them in line and swiftly dealing with any wrongdoing that he did not approve of.

Treville had been kept under close observation since they had taken him. His current guard, a man of limited intelligence, was called Carlos and seemed to only be able to talk in grunts that made no sense in French or Spanish. But as Treville was not inclined to talk to the brute it made no difference to him.

As they marched back to the mercenary's camp, he wondered if he had been missed? He knew it had been several hours since he had been captured. The King was expecting him, but would he have had the sense to tell someone that he was missing? Treville hoped the monarch would start a search for him. The King would probably confide in Athos who would, in turn, gather the rest of the inseparables together.

Treville hoped they would not risk their lives for him. The information he had was important and could help in the relationship the King was trying to build but it was not worth the lives of his best men. Or was it? They were soldiers, after all, they had vowed to protect their country. Treville disliked being valuable to the point that others would give their lives to save him.

He hoped it would not come to that.

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With a stable boy help, Aramis walked the three horses to their stalls. The young lad was competent enough that Aramis was happy to leave him to rub the beasts down and deal with their needs. The tavern boasted a decent sized stable, but the five Musketeer horses were the only ones requiring shelter that night. With a nod of thanks to the lad, Aramis carried his and Athos' saddlebags towards the tavern.

The light was fading quickly as he pushed the door open. The quiet room in front of him was only filled with a small group gathered around the tavern keeper and a scruffy hound lazing in front of the unnecessary fire. Glancing around he saw Athos at the foot of the stairs beckoning him over.

'We will eat in our room; it seems they have something to update us with.'

Athos took his bag from Aramis and led him up the stairs. The solidly built building had a few rooms on its first floor one of which proved large enough to accommodate four beds. As Athos held the door open for him Aramis smiled at his friends who were already waiting for them.

'We were starting to wonder if you two were coming,' said Porthos who pointed at the two free beds.

D'Artagnan had stretched out on one of the beds and was busy cleaning his gun, while Porthos unloaded a tray of food he must have brought up ahead of the two new arrivals.

'The stew's good,' remarked d'Artagnan as he tipped gun oil onto his cloth.

'What is it that you have to tell us?' asked Athos as he took a seat and pulled his bowl of stew closer.

As they ate, Aramis and Athos listened intently to the conversation that Porthos and d'Artagnan had been party to before they arrived. Aramis was heartened to hear that Treville was at least alive and that he was considered valuable. The likelihood was that he would not be harmed.

Between mouthfuls of the tasty stew Aramis related how he and Athos had caught Treville's horse and found where the attack must have happened.

'We still don't know where they are holding the Captain,' said d'Artagnan as he tidied away his gun and the cloths he had used.

'What about the body?' asked Aramis.

'What about the body?' asked Porthos in return, confusion on his face.

'Could the hanged man hold some clue to where the Spanish camp is?'

Porthos nodded his understanding, 'possibly, but we don't know where he is. And they might have cut him down by now.'

'But they might not have,' replied Aramis.

'We need to talk to the poachers, get them to tell us where the hanging happened,' said d'Artagnan who had swung his legs off the bed and was sitting on the edge, clearly eager to move on with their search.

'They have seen you and Porthos,' remarked Athos quietly, 'they were not looking at me as I entered the tavern. I could talk to them.'

Porthos nodded, 'good idea, but you'll need to look a little less…'

'Noble,' finished Aramis with a slight grin.

Athos rolled his eyes. Porthos indicated for the Musketeer to stand up. Athos allowed Porthos to tuck the slightly frilled cuffs of his shirt sleeves into his plain doublet and relieved him of his weapons belt and gloves.

'They ain't going to talk to an armed man who looks like he might arrest them,' said Porthos as he laid the weapons on Athos' bed.

'I'll go with you and sit close enough in case they cause you any trouble,' suggested Aramis.

Athos glared at him, 'I am sure I could deal with a couple of poachers if I had to.'

'There is no point taking unnecessary risks,' replied Aramis with a grin.

Athos slapped his arm as he walked to the door. Aramis nodded to Porthos and d'Artagnan and followed him down the stairs.

The same group of men were talking with the keeper around the bar. Two of the men seemed to be the focus of the attention, Aramis guessed they were the poachers, their slightly tatty doublets giving them away.

Athos approached the bar as Aramis settled himself at the nearest table.

It did not take long for Athos to engage the men in conversation. The poachers seemed to be enjoying the attention they were getting. Athos managed to convince the men that he was simply passing through and was no threat to them. He carefully asked questions about what they had seen and to Aramis' surprise learned where the macabre event had taken place.

Aramis quietly left the table and snuck back to the stairs; he was fairly sure none of the men had even been aware of him being there. They were all very invested in hearing all the sordid details about the hanging. Aramis waited for Athos who was taking his time, not wanting to appear to rush off after acquiring the information he needed.

The big dog by the fireplace was looking at him curiously. Aramis realised he may not have been noticed by the men, but the hound did not understand his behaviour. Aramis retreated up the stairs to await Athos.

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Athos quietly closed the door behind him and looked at his three friends who were watching him expectantly. He realised they would not know what had happened after Aramis had slipped back up the stairs when it was obvious that nothing untoward was going to happen to him.

'We may have a problem,' he said.

The listening men all sat forward slightly.

'I have a good description of the location, but I think the men may be wondering why I wanted to know. They were giving each other looks. We need to get to that body now. They probably think I am going to steal from it, they probably think I know there is something valuable on the body.'

'Damn,' said Porthos with annoyance, 'we don't want them going through the unfortunate souls' pockets and taking anything that could help us to find the Captain.'

D'Artagnan was already standing and pulling on his discarded doublet. Aramis and Porthos followed suit as Athos buckled his weapons belt back around his waist.

'We can walk there, from the description they gave, it is only a couple of miles away and the terrain will slow the horses.'

The four men left the room quietly, slipping down the stairs and out the door. The large dog lifted its head and watched them go. Athos glanced across to the men at the bar who were again only interested in the two poachers. How long that interest would last Athos did not know? He hoped that when the men were no longer the centre of attention they would not leave and head towards the hanged man. Athos was sure the poachers would be able to reach the spot quicker than the Musketeers who did not know the area as well and would be guessing the route to a certain extent. The Musketeers had to reach the man first. Any clue to Treville's whereabouts was in danger of being destroyed if the poachers began to rifle through his pockets.

They walked with purpose, but their progress was hindered by the near darkness they were moving through. As the wooded area became thicker the light became less. Athos had to carefully pick their path through the trees and bushes.

The poachers had described an outcrop of rocks behind the oak tree. The rocks could be seen from some distance away. Athos had managed to spot the outcrop and orientated their journey by the rocks despite the darkening sky. By the time they could see the tall oak tree the rocks were not much more than a shadow looming over them.

As they neared the area Athos guessed the body would be found they were all annoyed to hear voices ahead of them.

The poachers had reached the spot before them.

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