I want to thank each and every one of you wonderful readers who have favorited, followed, and commented on this story—you have truly warmed my heart! Thank you so very much for reading and for letting me know your thoughts!
To Katie: Thank you for your comment! I'm glad you liked the chapter and that it made you laugh. For me, humor is much harder to write than drama so I'm glad this made you smile!
To vmariew: Thank you so much for your lovely comment! Yup, leave it to Aramis to get caught in such a predicament—true to his boyish nature! Hmm, what will the king think? Well, you will find out in the end.
d'Artagnan: West
d'Artagnan enjoyed the ride west toward the village of Dreux, allowing himself to daydream as he passed by the gentle rolling hills forested with tall pine trees. The Musketeer was nearly lulled to sleep at the gentle swaying of his horse and had to fight against the urge to close his tired eyes. Despite the lovely scenery, the Gascon reminded himself to remain vigilant in consideration of the package he carried for the king; he refused to become a target to mysterious bandits lurking behind the any one of a thousand trees. Dark clouds rolled in from the west, being pushed along with a blustery wind and picking up force as he drew closer to Dreux.
"Great," d'Artagnan muttered as he pulled up the doublet collar around his neck, shivering against the drizzle that misted his face. He glanced up at the sky now covered with dark grey clouds, "this is a bad omen," he grimaced.
"I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this mission," he spoke aloud to himself. The Gascon sat up straight in the saddle as the hair on his arms and neck stood on end. His eyes roamed right and left, constantly panning for hidden dangers awaiting him from deep within the forest.
Cresting a hill, d'Artagnan saw the village of Dreux just ahead and let out a relieved sigh, "thank God."
The Musketeer rode into the village passing by L'Église Saint Pierre and couldn't help but stare at the large, stone-block structure. He found the cathedral rather fascinating with its many facets of stone rising into various levels of height. The angled corners rose above tall, arched windows and were reminiscent of many a stately châteaux dotting the French countryside.
The front of the church resembled Notre Dame in Paris with its round stained glass window centered over an arched doorway, itself accented with ornately carved stone. The imposing bell tower rose high above the structure causing d'Artagnan to crane his neck as he looked upward to the top.
He then noticed the sky clearing as the clouds blew east toward Paris, but somehow the strange feeling still prickled at the hairs on the back of his neck. "I can't shake this odd feeling…" d'Artagnan whispered aloud.
The Musketeer rode further into Dreux, taking notice of the shops and cafés nestled near a tall belfry overlooking the center of town. To the right was the livery stable so he determined this was a good place to stop and let his horse rest while he got a bite to eat.
d'Artagnan sat on the stone ledge of the town square fountain where he found himself admiring the four chubby statues in the middle resembling wingless cherubim. He stared at the plump, naked statues and furrowed his brow as they reminded him of something he couldn't quite put a finger on.
"Cupid!" d'Artagnan snapped his fingers. "That's it; they remind me of Cupid… and Constance." The Musketeer smiled as the sound of the water gurgling in the fountain caused his mind to drift back to a picnic he enjoyed a few weeks ago with his lovely Constance on the bank of the Seine.
The sound of crying broke through the romantic fog in his mind, prompting d'Artagnan to look around in sudden alarm. To his left was a pretty lady in light blue, her long brown hair pulled back in a blue bow, who sat at the fountain with her face buried in her hands as she cried. The Gascon stopped himself short from calling out the name Constance, as she reminded him so much of his beloved sweetheart back home.
"Excuse me, Mademoiselle," d'Artagnan approached the crying lady, "are you alright?"
"Pardon?" the young lady asked, wiping away the tears wetting her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause a scene."
"You didn't cause a scene, Mademoiselle," d'Artagnan offered his handkerchief with a smile. "I was sitting nearby and couldn't help but notice you crying. Is everything alright; is there anything I can do?"
"You're very kind, Monsieur, but there is nothing you can do to help me, I'm afraid," the young damsel in distress covered her face in her hands and began crying anew.
"Please, Mademoiselle, tell me what's wrong," d'Artagnan persisted. "Perhaps I can help you, or at least, I can try."
"I'm the new maid at L'Hôtel La Perle," the young lady pointed to the inn across from the fountain. "Monsieur Batteux and his two sons give me so much work that I can't keep up… and then they yell at me when I get behind."
d'Artagnan opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as she continued.
"First they tell me to sweep the floors then do the dishes; and then I have to go upstairs to clean the rooms and make the beds. Secondly, I have to begin preparing for lunch, so I must help Madame Giraud make soup and bread… oh, there's just too much!" The young lady cried as she dabbed at her watering eyes.
"I'm sorry," d'Artagnan frowned. "I wish there was something I could do to help you."
"I told you there was nothing you could do!" The lady threw her arms around d'Artagnan as she broke into sobs, catching the Musketeer completely off guard. The Gascon sat frozen in shock for a moment before he hesitantly put his arm around her shoulder to comfort her.
"Maybe, um… maybe you could ask them to hire another helper… um, to ease your share of the workload, hmm?" d'Artagnan patted her arm softly as he forced a smile. "Or… or you could always… quit and get another job?"
At the suggestion of quitting, the young lady only cried harder. d'Artagnan's eyes grew wide with surprise and his cheeks burned with embarrassment as she leaned even closer to his chest. He frantically looked around the village square for an excuse to escape the dispirited young lady but found his predicament had elicited disapproving stares from villagers as they passed by. He rolled his eyes as he now thoroughly regretted his romantic stop at the fountain to admire the cherubim.
"I don't want to go back in there," the lady grabbed a tighter hold of d'Artagnan's doublet. "Please don't make me go back in there!"
"Make you go…" d'Artagnan's eyes grew wide as saucers. "Mademoiselle, I'm really very busy and should get back on the road again," he squirmed, desperately trying to break free of her iron grip. "Mademoiselle, please…"
"Valérie…"
"Valérie, I really must go," d'Artagnan peeled her arms away from his waist then tried to pull free to leave. "Valérie…"
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" an angry voice yelled suddenly from behind "Get your filthy hands off my chambermaid!"
"No… no, you have it all wrong!" d'Artagnan protested vehemently, still trying to wiggle free from the girl's grip. "I was just trying to help her," he explained. "She said you were too hard on her; that she's running herself ragged keeping up with her heavy workload."
"We're too hard on her?" the man scoffed. "Looks like you're bein' a little too soft on her," he laughed.
"No, you have it all wrong!" d'Artagnan challenged the man defiantly. "Listen to me…"
Suddenly, d'Artagnan's words were cut off as the older man pulled the Gascon to his feet then punched him on the jaw, knocking him loose from Valérie's grip. Monsieur Batteaux and one of his sons grabbed the girl then dragged her from the fountain, kicking and screaming, back toward La Perle.
"Let her go!" d'Artagnan jumped to his feet and ran after the men, stopping the older man with a firm grip to his arm.
Monsieur Batteaux turned to argue with the angry Musketeer but laughed as he watched a trickle of blood dripping from the injured Gascon's lip. "What are you going to do, boy?"
"Watch out!" Valérie screamed as the second son grabbed d'Artagnan then roughly twisted his arm at an unnatural angle behind his back. The Gascon tried to break loose, but the more he struggled the more the man twisted on his arm until he heard a sickening pop!
d'Artagnan screamed and dropped to his knees as his shoulder popped out of socket. Valérie twisted free of her assailant's hold and rushed to the Musketeer's aid. "Oh God, you've dislocated his shoulder!" she yelled at the man. "You weren't supposed to hurt anyone; this wasn't part of the plan!"
"Wait a damn minute," d'Artagnan hissed through clenched teeth. "You mean this was all just an act?"
"Enough talk!" the old man yelled. The two boys yanked d'Artagnan to his feet, causing him to cry out in pain as they dragged him toward the inn. Despite the pain radiating from his shoulder, the Gascon struggled profusely; he refused to be dragged anywhere with these strange men without a fight.
"Let him go, Philippe!" Valérie screamed as d'Artagnan finally broke free from the men's grip. The Musketeer reached for his main gauche with his good arm then pivoted to face his assailants.
Before he could act, d'Artagnan was knocked to his knees as the butt of a pistol slammed into the back of his head. He distantly heard Valérie scream as he then fell forward to the dirt, his world fading to black.
d'Artagnan awakened with his head pounding and his shoulder throbbing in pain. He peeled his eyes open but instantly regretted it as the room began spinning in circles. His stomach rolled violently just before he felt the telltale rise of bile in his throat, "ssicck…"
"Turn him on his side," a voice ordered as d'Artagnan felt arms pulling him to the edge of the bed where a proffered bowl waited. His stomach released its contents in agonizing waves, leaving the Musketeer coughing and gasping for breath. Pain drummed in d'Artagnan's head as his vomiting turned to dry heaves with nothing coming up other than bile—though the Gascon felt his innards were being pulled out by a vicious sadist.
d'Artagnan went limp in the arms that supported him as the dry heaves abated; he closed his eyes, feeling himself being gently lowered back to the pillow. He moaned as a cold, wet cloth was draped across his brow and then followed up with a cloth wiping his face dry of the tears that had sprung during his retching fit. A soothing voice whispered softly until the Gascon visibly relaxed at the tender ministrations.
"I need to get back to Paris," d'Artagnan croaked as he attempted to sit up.
"No you don't, young man!" warned a stern voice. "You are in no condition to go anywhere," the grey-haired doctor said. "You received quite a blow to the back of your head—which required several stitches to patch you up—and you're undoubtedly concussed. You also have suffered a dislocated shoulder."
"I was on an important mission for the king…"
"Son, it's going to be dark soon," the doctor said as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Why don't you get some rest and we'll see how you are feeling in the morning. If you are coherent and still insisting on leaving for Paris then I will consider letting you go in the morning… but not until then. I'm sorry Musketeer, but I cannot in good conscience let you leave in your condition."
"How…?"
"I saw your pauldron, son," the older doctor smiled. "I've patched a few Musketeers up in my day."
"Where… oh God, where is my doublet?" d'Artagnan panicked, trying to sit up. The doctor and nurse firmly held the stubborn Gascon down, despite all his struggling and fighting. The team released their hold only once the young Musketeer realized he lacked the strength to fight any longer and finally relented.
"Your doublet is over there," the doctor pointed to the tan jacket draped over the back of a chair. "We had to remove it so that I could fix your shoulder. Don't worry, no harm was done to it," he chuckled. "I know the regard you Musketeers have for your uniform."
"No, it's not that," d'Artagnan grimaced. "I had a parcel hidden in the inside pocket," he bit his lip. "Could you check to see if it's still there?"
The nurse walked to the chair and rummaged through the jacket, checking every pocket, then pressed it flat to feel for any odd shapes within the leather. "I don't feel anything in here, Monsieur."
"Bring it here, please," d'Artagnan asked as the doctor helped him sit upright. The Gascon grabbed the jacket and feverishly searched the pocket in which he had hidden the parcel… but felt nothing. "Oh God, it's gone!"
"Son, we didn't go through your doublet," the doctor shook his head emphatically.
"Those people who hit me, they had to be the ones who took it!" d'Artagnan suddenly paled as his jaw dropped. "I was trying to console Valérie when those men came over and began harassing her."
"Who's Valérie?"
"Valérie… she's the new maid at La Perle," d'Artagnan explained. "She told me she just started working there and Monsieur Batteux and his two sons were constantly making her life miserable."
"Wait a minute," the doctor held up his hand, interrupting the Musketeer. "Monsieur Batteux died about a year ago and there is no Valérie who works at La Perle—I know everyone who is employed there."
"Mon Dieu," d'Artagnan gasped, falling against the pillows with a sigh. He closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. "The mystery bandits, dammit!" he spat angrily. "Oh God, the captain is going to kill me! If I'm lucky, I'll just get stable duty for the rest of my life," he groaned. "But I'm betting my punishment is going to be something far worse."
"Why don't you get some rest and worry about this in the morning when you're feeling better, alright?" The doctor chuckled lightly as he helped the young Musketeer get comfortable in the bed.
"What will Athos think of me?"
"I'm sure your friend, Athos, will think nothing less of you, son," the doctor reassured with a pat to his shoulder. "Your friends will be relieved that you weren't hurt more severely, my young Musketeer. No package is worth your life—not even from the king."
Musketeer Garrison, Next Day:
At last, d'Artagnan rode through the arched entrance of the garrison tired, sore and barely able to keep himself upright in the saddle. Upon noticing the arm in a sling and the swaying motion of the Gascon, two Musketeers were instantly at d'Artagnan's side to catch him as he slipped from the saddle into their arms.
Captain Tréville rushed to kneel beside the Musketeers, pushing the two rescuers out of the way. "d'Artagnan, are you alright?"
"Yes, Captain," d'Artagnan sighed, "I'm fine, sir."
"You don't look fine," the captain retorted. "What happened, how badly are you hurt?"
"I was attacked in Dreux; they hit me over the head and dislocated my shoulder. I'll be fine but," d'Artagnan steeled himself, "they took the package."
"It's alright," Captain Tréville let out a disappointed sigh as he patted the Gascon's arm. "We'll talk about this later; right now, I want the physician to examine you."
The two Musketeers helped d'Artagnan to his feet then slowly walked him to the infirmary where the regiment doctor was waiting.
"How am I going to explain what happened to the captain?" d'Artagnan asked aloud to his fellow Musketeers.
"By being honest, d'Artagnan," Moreau answered with a soft squeeze to his good shoulder. "This wasn't your fault; the captain knows that."
"This is your official report?" Captain Tréville asked as his eyes scanned over the written explanation of the events in Dreux.
"Yes sir," d'Artagnan nodded. "That is exactly how it happened—every last detail—embarrassing as it is," he grumbled.
Tréville only nodded as he continued reading quietly. d'Artagnan watched nervously as he saw the captain raise his eyebrows then peer over the paper at the young Gascon. The captain merely shook his head then continued reading, occasionally raising another eyebrow at the written account.
d'Artagnan grew more anxious the longer the captain took to read his report. The Gascon sat fretfully wringing his hands then watched with astonishment as he heard the captain snicker. Tréville did his best to suppress the smile pulling at his mouth but he could not reveal his amusement in the presence of the Gascon.
"Sir, will the king be reading this report?" d'Artagnan asked, swallowing hard.
"Yes, d'Artagnan," the captain replied. "The king has requested to be briefed on the outcome of these missions and has asked for reports of each." Captain Tréville allowed the ghost of a smile to cross his lips as he added, "the king will be most interested in reading your report."
"Mon Dieu," d'Artagnan groaned. The Gascon sat for a moment before reluctantly standing to leave but then smiled brightly as a thought came to mind.
"What is it, d'Artagnan?"
"I am unable to do stable duty… at least until my shoulder heals," he grinned happily.
"Ah yes," the captain nodded, raising his eyebrows thoughtfully. "The consequences for losing your assigned package will be determined at a later time; I am still waiting on two of your brothers to return from their missions."
"I understand, sir," d'Artagnan forced a smile then made a hasty departure from the captain's office. He leaned back against the door just as Aramis passed by.
"That bad, huh?" the medic chuckled.
"You wouldn't believe it," the Gascon let out a huff of disgust.
"Try me," Aramis countered. "Besides, you haven't heard my story yet."
"Did you lose your package too?" d'Artagnan asked Aramis, noticing the crutches and wrapped ankle. "What happened to you, are you alright?"
Aramis sighed deeply as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Let's go to my room where we can talk privately." The medic leaned heavily on his crutch as he hobbled to his room, "I have a bottle of wine…"
"That bad, huh?"
"You have no idea, my young friend!"
A/N:
Normally I am a stickler for historical authenticity in my stories but in this chapter, in particular, I decided to bend the rules and allow for a bit of author discretion. The village of Dreux has a lovely fountain in the village square with four bronze cherubim statues that, obviously, was not there in d'Artagnan's day… but it is such a beautiful fountain I just had to include it!
Also, L'Hôtel La Perle is ideally located in the heart of the renowned district of Saint-Germain-des-Pres in the 6th arrondissement of Paris, NOT Dreux. The hotel is close to major tourist places of the left bank such as Notre-Dame de Paris Cathedral, Luxembourg garden and the Louvre Museum. La Perle is a charming 3 star hotel in the historical setting of a 17th century building.
L'Église Saint Pierre is a Gothic-style church built in the early thirteenth century in Dreux . It was largely destroyed during a siege by the English in 1421 but was rebuilt in the fifteenth/sixteenth centuries. Inside, the church has preserved stained glass of the fifteenth/sixteenth centuries and a double organ dating back to 1614.