Chapter 2

He slammed the flat of his hand down on his desk top causing the wooden surface to vibrate and a small avalanche of papers to scatter across its scarred top adding to his annoyance. "This is not a debate."

"But won't it be hard, to draw our weapons, if we are holding…poles?"

"Athos, what part of this-is-not-a-debate escaped you?"

"I wasn't debating. I was simply…discussing…tactics," the swordsman replied with a perfectly straight face that the Captain had to admire. He wished he could appear that calm and cool when being riled by the King and Cardinal.

"I realize this is not an ideal situation…"

Porthos snorted as d'Artagnan blurted out, "This is the stupidest idea I have heard of. A garden party, in the rain, where the men sworn to protect you are forced to stand around holding up a canopy."

All the eyes in the room, swiveled to focus on their youngest, who had the decency to duck his head a little as he muttered, "I'm not debating either. Simply stating facts."

"Thank you for your fact-stating, d'Artagnan." Treville's tone was dripping so heavily with sarcasm that the farm boy turned musketeer blushed.

"With half the garrison down with illness and many out of town on real missions, we are a bit short handed for such an assignment. I don't suppose the Red Guard would be available to support the canopy?" Athos asked refocusing the captain's attention on himself and away from his protégée.

"You don't think I already posed that question? The King has declared that the Red Guards will do, whatever the Red Guards do, and the musketeers will hold the canopy and protect him."

"Seems a little short sighted," Aramis remarked without much thought. When he felt the eyes of his captain boring into him he hastily added, "Not that, of course, I'm questioning his Majesty's divine judgement." It was pretty clear by the expression on the Captain's face he hadn't exonerated himself so he simply went with the adage that silence is golden.

Treville let his eyes slide over to Porthos. "Would you like to add anything?"

Porthos put on an ear to ear grin as if he'd been told he was a rich man and never had to work again in his life. "No sir. I'd love to do my duty by standing in the pouring rain, holding a pole, protecting distinguished men and women while they eat in the palace gardens."

"Amongst the flowers," Aramis murmured under his breath.

Treville had to clamp down on the smile that was trying to escape his lips. "I'm glad at least one of you lot understands the meaning of duty." Turning to face his lieutenant, he continued. "Athos, round up the men and head to the palace and figure out how the hell we are going to do this successfully."

"Do we need to bring a canopy? Or will the King be supplying one?" Athos deadpanned, looking every bit like a Comte contemplating a routine dinner party.

Finally, Treville gave in and scrubbed a weary hand over his face. "Look, I don't like this anymore than you four, but it is our duty to protect the King and obey his commands, no matter how…unorthodox they may seem. I suggest you prepare yourself for the worse and pray it goes better. Now off."

The four walked out of the Captain's office, quietly shutting the door behind them.

"This is the stupidest thing I have ever heard of," d'Artaganan claimed as he trotted down the stairs.

"Yes, I suppose it is considering your vast experiences here over the last, let's see, seven months, is it?" Aramis claimed sweetly as he followed his brethren towards the stables.

"Eight months. I have been here eight months."

"I stand corrected. Porthos? Where are you going?" Aramis queried as the streetfighter veered off.

"Get my hat. And our rain cloaks. It's gonna be a wet one."

"I don't have a hat," d'Artagnan noted a bit forlornly.

"Don't worry," Aramis said cheerfully as he clapped an arm around the boy's shoulder. "Your hair could use a good scrubbing and this rain is just the ticket."

Athos headed off to gather the rest of the musketeers slated for this assignment, while Aramis and d'Artagnan headed into the barn to alert the stable boys of the their pending departure.

Not much later, they were ready and headed out the gates into the sloppy streets of Paris. Even with hats and cloaks, all were uncomfortably damp by the time they reached the palace proper. Athos, as their leader, did his best to set a serious tone, as if this was just another routine assignment, but internally he was dreading all the things that could go wrong. No matter how stupid the assignment, Athos didn't like the regiment being put in a negative light in the King's eyes.