As the stable hands prepped the horses, D'Artagnan prepped the saddlebags. Athos looked over a map with Porthos as Aramis joined them having just restocked his medical kit.
"What are you thinking?" asked Aramis as he drew level with his brothers.
"There are two roads to Paris from Le Havre," said Athos.
"The direct route on the main road is faster, but it's unprotected," said Porthos.
"And this one," said Athos pointing to another trail that veered slightly on its course from the harbour town, "This route skirts through the woods here before emerging about half a day's ride out. It's longer, but the woods can sometimes offer more shelter."
"They wouldn't have known that what they were carrying was valuable," said Aramis, "So they may not have thought to take the wooded road."
Athos nodded, "But with all this rain, the prospect of spending the few nights sheltered by the trees might have seemed the better bet."
"Should we split up?" asked D'Artagnan as he joined the others. The horses were tethered and ready to go, standing in the still lightly falling rain.
"No," said Athos. "There is a village here, where the roads meet up again to get to Paris," he said, gesturing again to the map. "Hopefully we can gather some information there."
Porthos nodded. "I know Girard. He's a good gambler. I'd say he'd wager his odds in the woods rather than risk the open road if he's carryin' somethin' for the King. I'd put my money on them not taking the main road home."
"I agree," said Athos. "But we'll wait until we get a little closer until we make that call." With that the Musketeers mounted their horses and made their way out of the Garrison, their horses' hooves splashing in the puddles of the busy market streets.
oOo
The musketeers rode steadily for a few hours, stopping only to rest their horses. The rain had kept the roads practically empty; the only sound was that of their horses steady footfalls which echoed across the sodden landscape.
Eventually they came upon the village Athos had indicated as night was falling and made their way to the inn. D'Artagnan and Porthos led their horses to the stables as Aramis and Athos entered to inquire about rooms. They stowed their bags in the rooms on the second floor they had been shown to. One was large with a big hearth, a settee, two beds, a table and some chairs. The other room was adjoining but contained only two beds, and a hearth.
"Porthos and I will allow you to take the opulent room. I know you're more accustomed to such luxuries," Aramis teased, bowing low to Athos who scowled. Hanging their rain drenched cloaks to dry, the quartet returned downstairs and commandeered a table in the busy dining area.
The Musketeers surveyed the other patrons as they ate the hearty stew that was served to them. As the bowls were taken away and more wine and cheese was brought forward, Athos looked purposefully at Aramis and Porthos.
"Gentlemen, to your business," he said. Aramis and Porthos stood from the table grinning. Porthos finished his cup of wine, clapped his hands and then made his way to the corner of the room where a card game was underway. Aramis ran his hand through his hair, replaced his hat and elegantly draped himself at a table in the opposite corner. The barmaid immediately bee-lined for him, a new bottle of wine in hand, her other charges forgotten. D'Artagnan's jaw dropped open as her giggle filtered its way across the room. Athos smirked into his wine.
"How does he do that?" D'Artagnan asked, awe and disbelief palpable in his tone.
"Perhaps you might ask him," suggested Athos. "Aramis' silver tongue can be quite the useful tool – if it doesn't get us killed one day."
Athos continued to observe the other patrons, while D'Artagnan went to join Porthos at his card game.
The pretty barmaid was now perched on Aramis knee and was whispering intently into his ear. The marksman's head was tipped down, a slight smile on his lips. He whispered something back to her and gestured to another table whose cups clearly needed replenishing. She pouted and drew back, a hurt look passing across her face. Aramis took her hand in his and delicately kissed it, looking up at her beneath the brim of his hat. She nearly melted like a candle under that gaze from those brown eyes, and blushing deeply, she went to fill her tray at the bar. Grinning, Aramis stood and went to re-join Athos at the table. D'Artagnan joined them as well.
"Well,' said Athos, "What did you learn?"
Aramis grinned, "I learned that Jeanelle's favourite colour is blue, that she has two sisters, one of whom has a great love of horses," he said with a grin and a wink at D'Artagnan. "I also learned that Michel and Girard came this way on their way to Le Havre, but she hasn't seen them return. The rain has slowed down travellers. There haven't been any new arrivals in nearly a week, though a group of traders came by the day after Michel and Girard, also heading for Le Havre. Apparently, it's been most boring here lately, and Jeanelle has offered to…ensure my stay is…"
"Stimulating?" Athos suggested with an eyebrow raised as he took another drink from his glass. Aramis grinned and poured himself more wine.
D'Artagnan's jaw was slack again. "How did you…"
"We all have our special talents," said Aramis, raising his glass. "Athos' is picking out very fine wine to get overly drunk on. Porthos' is…" he said, and as if on cue, the men could hear Porthos' booming laugh echo out from his table.
With a sigh, Aramis rose again. "I think it best that we suggest Porthos lose a few hands before we turn in. It would do us no good to be murdered in our sleep over a busy pair of hands."
"Yours included," said Athos wryly as the barmaid passed their table, intentionally brushing herself up against Aramis where he stood. Aramis smirked and went to collect his friend.
"Come," said Athos as he threw some coins down on the table and grasped the remaining bottle of wine.
Aramis and Porthos were making their way up the stairs, Porthos and the other card players were both grinning, showing no hurt feelings.
Jeanelle's hurt feelings were a little more obvious as she sulked behind the bar, staring longingly after Aramis as he made his way upstairs with his brothers.
oOo
Settling into their large room, Athos pulled a chair from the table and sat near the fire. Aramis dropped himself on the settee while Porthos leant against the hearth as D'Artagnan sat at the other end of the settee.
"Anything to report?" Athos asked Porthos passing him the bottle of wine.
"Not much," he said, taking a swig from the bottle. "There's been rumors about trouble on the road to Paris. Traders are movin' in groups, tryin' ta not be easy targets. Poachers they're callin'em."
"Poachers?" asked D'Artagnan.
"They're hunting game – targeting those looking to unload wares in Paris. They're not picky about what the wares are as long as they can fetch a price," responded Aramis, taking the bottle from Porthos. "That seems to align with what Jeanelle said. It would explain the lack of tourists, why the traders are moving in groups and why Michel and Girard haven't returned this way yet." He took a sip from the bottle too and passed it D'Artagnan.
"So what should we do?" asked D'Artagnan, who began nervously rolling the bottle in his hands without drinking from it. "Stick to the main road, or head to the wooded one?"
Athos plucked the bottle from D'Artagnan's restless hands. "We take the wooded road," he said and poured the remaining contents into his glass and drained it. "The risk of the open road seems to be driving all these men towards the forest, making it an ideal hunting ground for these poachers. It's likely that we'll find some trace of our men there."
oOo