The night passed quickly, and come morning the Musketeers made ready to leave. A cross looking Jeanelle saw them off. Shoving a bundle at Aramis, she suddenly grabbed D'Artagnan and pulled him into a firm and passionate kiss before pulling away and glaring at the marksman. Aramis grinned at her, and bowed, removing his hat. Porthos chuckled and pushed D'Artagnan out the door.
"What a beautiful morning!" Aramis said, slapping D'Artagnan on the shoulder as they mounted and pulled away from the inn.
"I warned you that he might get you killed," smirked Athos as he pulled ahead, leaving a shocked D'Artagnan to deal with Porthos' ribbing for the start of their second day.
The good mood dwindled as the day wore on. The rain had ceased overnight, but the climbing sun and moisture caught in the dense trees they were now riding through made the journey difficult. It felt as though they were wading through porridge, the humidity in the trees and the muddy ground making their progress slower than Athos would have liked.
They called a halt as the sun began to set. Aramis joined Athos where he stood looking out at the road.
"We should have seen some sign of them by now," said Athos, "Unless I misjudged and they took the open road…"
"We all agreed that this was the most likely course they would have taken," Aramis said. "We will stand by your decision, brother. We know you want to find Michel and Girard and recover the package for the King. No one is doubting your actions."
"Except the King," responded Athos, dryly.
"Yes," said Aramis. "No one but the King," he said with a grin. Athos raised an eyebrow, fighting a smirk and turned back to their camp, his hand on the marksman's shoulder.
"Athos!" cried D'Artagnan as he burst through the trees surrounding the clearing where they were to make camp that night. "I found this by the river!" he said and held out his hand. In it there was a brass button engraved with a fleur-de-lis, the same brass buttons that festooned each of the musketeers' riding cloaks.
"Spread out," said Athos. "Search the river before we lose the light!"
Athos and D'Artagnan started scouring the west bank of the river while Porthos and Aramis searched the east. The river was shallow and strong but easily crossed by the musketeers. They followed the river for a good half hour before D'Artagnan spotted a blue cloak caught on something up ahead.
"Over there!" he shouted and dashed forward towards the blue mass. Aramis and Porthos came splashing across the river. Aramis got to the man first.
He dropped to his knees and carefully turned the man onto his back, pulling at the cloak to reveal the face. The calm features of Michel stared back at him, distorted from their time in the river.
The marksmen looked at his brothers and shook his head. No words were needed as he closed the unseeing eyes of their brother-at-arms and said a prayer for his soul.
"There were some signs of blood on the other side of the river," Porthos said. "If they split up, Girard may be wounded on the other side."
Athos nodded. "There is a monastery not far from here," said Athos. "If he was injured, Girard would have headed in that direction."
Aramis prepared Michel's body by wrapping it in its cloak while D'Artagnan hastily gathered the items that they had begun to unpack for their camp. Porthos helped Aramis secure Michel to his horse before they set off towards the monastery, the sun beginning to set around them.
Dark splotches of blood dotted their way towards the monastery. Signs of pursuit were obvious when they came upon a clearing and found the bodies of two men dressed in black. Aramis and Porthos dismounted, handing their reins to Athos. Porthos checked the bodies of the dead men while Aramis made his way further into the brush in pursuit of something only his marksman's eyes could see.
"The blood is still wet. Rain shoulda' washed this away if this 'appened a few days ago," rumbled Porthos. "And these men…they're carryin' quite a bit of gold for poor thieves…"
"Mercenaries?" suggested D'Aratgnan.
"Could be," Athos responded. Aramis returned to the clearing carrying a spent pistol. He stooped at the edge on the clearing and pulled out another pistol that had been buried in a bush.
"There was a third man who must have trailed them. He and Girard must have exchanged fire, but whether before or after this all happened I'm not sure," he said, gesturing to the battle scene. "Girard hit him, but he rode away, probably to regroup and gather reinforcements."
Athos nodded. "Let's continue to the monastery. We may find our answers there."
ooooooooooooo
A/N: Thanks for all the great feedback, favourites and follows on this story so far. Sorry, this chapter is a little short, but like every stereotypical good Canadian, I'm heading into the woods to celebrate Canada Day and won't have connection to the internet, or power or indoor plumbing for that matter. I'll probably end up posting something on Monday when I'm back in the city nursing mosquito bites and a hangover.
Cheers, and to any Canadian followers, Happy Canada Day, eh!