A week passed, and things had gone back to normal. Elodie was ready to see Asher. He'd been staying at the tavern, separate from her, hopefully starting to sort his life out. She awoke slowly, and in her groggy state got up to wake Marie. The cradle was empty, the rattle Marie loved so dearly lying on the floor. Panicked, Elodie reasoned that she could've climbed out on her own. Marie was crawling and could pull herself up on things, who's to say she couldn't climb yet?
"Marie!? Marie!?" Elodie called out, frantically searching the room.
"Don't hide from mama, please don't hide."
Her baby was gone. Panting heavily, Elodie clutched her middle as she sank to her knees helplessly. She screamed out until she ran out of breath. She sobbed on the floor in the dim light of early morning, her throat sore from screaming. But that pain was nothing compared to the pain of her utter despair.
Her distress brought musketeers running. Lorenzo hurried in with his pistol at the ready, but when he saw there was no danger, he rushed to Elodie. She continued to cry loudly, like he wasn't even there.
"Madame," he said, "Madame, what is it?"
Constance came next. Like Lorenzo, she had been nearby when she had heard Elodie scream. Seeing her friend like this, she almost fell apart herself. She fell to her knees and put a hand to Elodie's back. The woman was shaking as she cried.
"Elodie, what happened? Are you hurt?" she begged. When Elodie didn't respond, Constance looked around the room. Her eyes fell on the rattle that lay on the floor by Marie's cradle. She swallowed and got up slowly before walking over to it, dreading what she might see. When she saw that the cradle was empty, she turned around, confused.
"Where's Marie?" she asked. Elodie slowly regained as much of her composure as she could. Her voice was strained, her words reluctant to come forth,
"He took her. I just know he did, he took her. He took her!" and she broke down again. Lorenzo tried his best to comfort her, an unmoving hand on her shoulder. He was thankful when Constance took over. She fell back down to her friend's side and hugged her. Elodie still sat with her arms across her middle, she felt sick, but Constance held her tight, shushing her. They stayed like that for a long time. Then Elodie eventually released herself from her own grasp and reached around to hold Constance. When she did, Constance sighed.
"Shh, it'll be alright," she said softly. To Lorenzo, who had stepped back, she said,
"Bring d'Artagnan. Now."
And the young musketeer quickly left, pushing through the other musketeers and cadets crowding the doorway.
Time was of the essence, Elodie knew it. She had never felt such despair and desperation and it frustrated her that her emotions were halting things. She just wanted her baby back. She sat on her bed, wrapped in a blanket, Marie's little wicker rattle held loosely in her lap. How could this have happened? A child snatched from the cradle next to her as she slept, right under the noses of musketeers?
"A horse was stolen too. Can you think of where he might've gone?" asked d'Artagnan. Elodie looked up at the captain standing over her. Elodie knew of only one place Asher had ever wanted to be.
"South-East. For Burgundy," she said flatly.
D'Artagnan sighed and turned to Lorenzo, speaking to him in a hushed tone. The young man nodded as his captain spoke, and then left the apartment. Constance sat down next to Elodie and put an arm around her as she offered her a cup of wine. Elodie declined. She just sat there, frozen.
"I'll ride out with Lorenzo immediately. Even if he rode through the night, he couldn't have gone very fast with a baby with him. We'll catch up."
"I'm coming," said Elodie. D'Artagnan shook his head and knelt down in front of her and held her hand.
"You can't come with us. If there's a standoff, it's best you're not there. Besides, you're in no state to go anywhere right now. Don't worry. We'll bring her back."
Elodie gave a small nod. She understood. She trusted d'Artagnan, he was family. He would bring her daughter home.
As soon as they left the city, they rode hard. For miles. The sun was high in the clouded sky when d'Artagnan and Lorenzo finally slowed. They had reached an inn. If Asher had come this way, he might have stopped here. D'Artagnan and Lorenzo dismounted and led their horses to the stable out front. As d'Artagnan hitched his horse, Lorenzo paused before pointing to the only other horse hitched there with a look to his captain. A tan mare next to a studded bridle and a blue saddle blanket fringed with pale gold. The gear was the same as what was on their horses. It was the horse missing from the garrison. D'Artagnan looked at Lorenzo and simply nodded. They entered the inn. Inside, an old woman with faded red hair stood behind the bar next to the stairs.
"What can I do for you boys?" she asked as they approached. D'Artagnan smiled,
"We're looking for a man. Would've had a baby with him, would've been alone. Is he here?"
The innkeeper sniffed and said,
"Yeah he was here, but I told him we don't allow children here and he left."
D'Artagnan's smile widened and he turned to lean on the bar and tapped the pauldron on his shoulder with two gloved fingers.
"Well we're musketeers," he said mystically, "and that man kidnapped that baby. So it'd be really helpful if were here. We just want to uphold the law."
The woman was silent, but her eye twitched as she stared at d'Artagnan. The captain rolled his lips and gave a breathy laugh.
"And you know it's funny that he isn't here, considering the horse he also stole is right outside."
"Upstairs, last room on the landing."
"Thank you, madame."
The musketeers quietly crept up the stairs, readying their pistols. Knowing that Marie was up there made d'Artagnan nervous. He hoped no shots would be fired. Once they reached the door, d'Artagnan looked to Lorenzo, who nodded to him that he was ready. D'Artagnan knocked on the door with the butt of his pistol.
"Go away!" called a familiar voice. In a flash, d'Artagnan kicked the door in one fell swoop, causing a loud bang, followed by another softer bang when the door hit the wall. Marie started bawling. Asher had his arm over his eyes, laying down on the bed with Marie held at his side, but jumped with fright when the musketeers entered, a total of three pistols trained on him.
"Monsieur Gauthier," tutted d'Artagnan as he put his weapon away and went to pick up Marie, with no resistance from her father. Lorenzo kept his pistols on Asher, a smirk tugging at his lips. He was more than ready to pull the trigger. As soon as the baby was in his arms, she stopped howling but was still clearly upset. It became very apparent very quickly that she had soiled herself, and d'Artagnan recognised her cry as one of desperate hunger.
"D'Artagnan, please. Please spare me. I know I've done wrong-"
"Tie him up and bring him outside," commanded the captain, and Lorenzo obeyed, retrieving a length of rope from his belt. Marie's yellow blanket hung over the edge of the bed like a flag indoors, and D'Artagnan swiped it and walked out of the room with Marie on his hip. On his way downstairs, the innkeeper apologised profusely, but he ignored her. He walked past her and through to the kitchen where he found a bowl of fruit. He picked up a plum and tossed it in the air before handing it to Marie who took hold of it with both hands. He also looked around and found a small pile of folded cloths. He took one of those too. He took it by the corner and let it unfold, it was quite long, then switched to hold it with the hand that held the blanket and the baby. Then he sauntered out of the kitchen, tipping his hat to the innkeeper sarcastically as he left.
He came outside to see Lorenzo pushing Asher to the ground, his hands bound behind him, head bowed. D'Artagnan handed Marie, and the collection of fabrics that came with her, over to Lorenzo. The captain's happy attitude with the baby suddenly turned dark as soon as she was out of his arms.
"I should just kill you right now," he said, crouching down in front of Asher.
"Please-"
"Deserter, kidnapper, what other crimes have you committed on top of that, huh? No doubt you're also a thief? A cheat?"
As he talked, d'Artagnan roughly pulled the coins from Asher's pockets. This was Elodie's money.
"Don't kill me, for the sake of Elodie, please-"
Asher was cut off by d'Artagnan punching him in the face. At this, Lorenzo walked away, bouncing Marie in his arms and making goofy faces at her. Spitting blood, Asher swayed in place. D'Artagnan punched him again, making the man almost fall over. He turned and walked away in a huff. He only went a few paces before he turned back again, pulling his knife from his belt. Asher squirmed, his shuffling was close to hysterical as he tried to get away. His feet tucked under his behind failed him, and the hits he took to the head made moving dizzying. D'Artagnan calmly crouched back down and cut Asher's bonds. The man started crying.
"Thank you, d'Artagnan, thank you,"
Ever so quickly, d'Artagnan grabbed Asher by the shoulder and brought the knife up to his throat. Asher froze.
"I'm doing this for Elodie," he said, a foreboding darkness in his eye, "Now go. Walk that way and don't look back." And he took the blade from Asher's throat to point it down the road, away from the way they had come.
"If I ever see your face in Paris again I will kill you on sight, you hear me?"
Asher swallowed and said,
"Yes. Yes, I understand."
"Now go. Go!" shouted d'Artagnan, and Asher scurried away. When he got to the road, he gave a short glance to the men and his daughter and continued walking. He didn't look back again. Lorenzo walked back to his captain, watching Asher go. D'Artagnan touched Marie's head and lightly kissed the soft blonde hair that curled at the ends. She just tried to touch his face, and he let her.
"We tell Madame du Vallon that he got away. Nothing more," said d'Artagnan. Lorenzo nodded his understanding.
As Lorenzo held Marie, d'Artagnan put the gear back on the stolen horse and fastened her to his saddle before leading all three horses out of the stable.
"Bella. Bella Bella. Bella," babbled Marie, waving her plum up and down.
"The blanket," said d'Artagnan once on his horse. Lorenzo pulled the blanket from his grasp and passed it to d'Artagnan who fashioned it into a sling across his chest. He smiled to himself once it was completed, and reached out for Marie.
"Come here, darling."
He managed to tuck the baby in the sling, where she was quite comfortable.
They only rode for about a mile when they stopped to sit beneath a large sycamore tree at the edge of a grassy field. Daunting though it was, d'Artagnan put it upon himself to change the baby, using the clean cloth he had taken from the inn. Lorenzo watched on in horror. Afterwards, Marie sat contentedly on her blanket, being fed pieces of plum by d'Artagnan and pulling up grass.
They arrived back at the garrison in the late afternoon, Marie had fallen asleep. Elodie wasn't there to see them arrive, she hadn't moved since they had left that morning. She hadn't eaten or had a drop to drink, but Constance was by her side the entire time. When there was a knock at the door, Constance got up to answer it. It was d'Artagnan, a sleeping Marie cradled in his arms. Constance gasped when she saw them both, and she kissed them both.
"Elodie!" she called to her friend, and Elodie finally looked up. Immediately she stood up, the blanket falling from her shoulders, and she ran over to them. D'Artagnan passed the baby over to her, and Elodie hugged her close. For the first time in a long time, the tears she cried were ones of joy. Marie slowly awoke and smiled a mostly gummy smile when she realised who was holding her. Mother and daughter looked each other in the eye, and Elodie melted.
"What happened out there?" Elodie asked after a few moments. With his arm around his wife, d'Artagnan sighed before saying,
"Asher must've known we were after him. He left her at an inn in the care of an old woman. He also left this," and he pulled the remaining 10 livres from his purse and held it out to Elodie. Elodie stared at the money. It was in that moment that she realised that Asher didn't care about her anymore. He only cared about Marie, and not for the right reasons. He wouldn't have stayed as long as he did if Marie wasn't his child. But Porthos. Porthos was with her in spite of Marie not being his child. He cared about both of them, and for the right reasons. She could only thank God that Asher hadn't gone through with it. It pained her deeply to imagine him raising Marie without her, raising her to believe that her mother was dead, or worse.
"Thank you, d'Artagnan. Thank you so much," Elodie said sincerely, not touching the coins in his hand. She knew now that when he had been angry at her, it was only because he cared about her and Marie. He had been right to dislike Asher.
"It's over now," he said, a hand on Elodie's arm. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was over, she hoped it was over. But she was grateful to Asher. In the end, he had made her dreaded choice for her. Though, Elodie was coming to realise, Porthos was always going to be her choice.