After patrolling the palace grounds, the Musketeers took a look at the garden shed. They found it quiet, with both gardeners working on the hedges surrounding the garden. There was nothing untowards to keep their attention or investigate, so they returned to the main palace grounds.
It was mid-afternoon when Athos told them he had been having a odd feeling about the garden area they had visited. This was highly unusual for him, so they took it very seriously.
"What kind of odd feeling, Athos?" Porthos wanted to know.
"I cannot explain it. It was just..." He stopped. Then, as if he had thought of something, he said, "The boxes!"
"What about the boxes?" Aramis asked.
"If there were two gardeners there, would they not have emptied the boxes before working on the hedges? They would not have known without looking if something was in them that needed taken out, such as plants," he said. "I know, it is probably nothing, but let us return and satisfy, if nothing else, my curiosity."
They all turned and headed back to the garden shed.
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When they got there, they noticed that neither gardener was present. Since there was still quite a long period of daylight left, it seemed odd to them that neither were working yet. But maybe the King had requested them to pick something up for him.
They headed into the shed to check out the boxes.
Porthos got sidetracked looking at the tools laid out against one wall. "What's this?" he asked, holding up something that looked like claws on a straight pole. He had never done any gardening, and patrolling the grounds when they came for duty at the palace had been the only gardens he had been in.
Aramis answered, telling him, "It's a spade, Porthos. The gardener digs holes with it to put seeds in the ground."
Porthos examined it more closely, clearly fascinated by how plants were grown. He had never had any idea of how it was done, and before now, not much interest, either.
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No one was around now, Philippe thought. He had made sure of that. He had told the gardeners that the King had given all of the outdoors staff the rest of the afternoon off, so that they would be rested when his visitors from England arrived tomorrow.
He was almost beside himself with glee that his plan was proceeding so well. No one would suspect a thing.
He watched from behind the trees as all four Musketeers headed into the shed. They thought they were so brilliant, he mused. Well, we will see who has the last laugh, he continued.
That commoner, Bernard, had been a stumbling block to him as a partner-and in the end, no help to him at all-well, almost none. What he had discovered among Bernard's surprisingly extensive supply of equipment and weapons should finally bring him the satisfaction he so badly craved. He was surprised that he had never thought of the solution before. If he had, he would never have had to enter into a partnership with someone so beneath him. Actually, he had never really needed any help at all, he arrogantly repeated to himself. This had been so easy to arrange, it was almost like child's play. His revenge would be complete in a few more minutes!
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Athos headed over to check out the boxes, as Aramis continued explaining to a still-curious Porthos what the different garden tools did. Athos bent down to see if there was anything written on the sealed boxes to identify them.
Meanwhile, d'Artagnan wandered around the back of the shed to look around. Philippe, seeing this said silently to himself, no, get back inside. I want you all dead! But the Gascon continued his walk around the shed, checking everything out.
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Treville muttered to himself, I wish Louis would make up his mind! First, he wants my men to 'investigate' a garden shed, like they have no more important work to do than catch a thief of hoes and seeds and such like. Now, all of a sudden, he has to have them back dancing attendance on him while he target shoots! He would never understand his sovereign's mind totally, he continued to himself. Most of the time he could read him, but then he would sometimes veer off in another direction. Treville would never breathe these words aloud to a living soul, being utterly and passionately loyal to the Crown, as he made sure all his Musketeers felt when he brought them each into the regiment.
Go get them, Louis had ordered, demanding their instant return! He fumed silently as he headed out to the gardens.
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D'Artagnan continued his wandering path around the shed. Some of the rows of vegetables he saw he recognized as things that had been grown on his family's farm back in Gascony, naming them silently as he went along. But some were totally foreign to him, and curiosity was aroused in him as he bent to look at a few of them more closely. I wonder if Anne's servants brought them when she came to France from Spain, he thought, or maybe ambassadors of noblemen currying favor had gifted the King with them.
It was while he was standing back up after looking at one of them that he saw a movement in the trees. Not letting on that he had seen anything, he peered out from beneath the wide brim of the hat Aramis had playfully plunked down on his head as they had left the garrison that morning, and had a good time teasing him about all day.
His eyes narrowed in recognition. It was that arrogant young nobleman, Philippe, the one who had been so angry and verbally attacked both Aramis and Athos weeks ago on the palace grounds. What was he doing here? And more to the point, why was he in hiding, as it was obvious to d'Artagnan that the young man did not want to be seen.
Continuing to covertly observe Philippe, d'Artagnan saw that the man's entire focus was on the garden shed. Why would that interest this nobleman who was dressed in the peak of the current fashion? It would be highly unlikely that vegetables and flowers would hold any interest from him, and he wouldn't be wanting to get his very expensive clothes dirty or torn either.
Then, d'Artagnan stiffened as he realized what the only thing Philippe was interested in was-his brothers! His brothers were in the shed!
He had no idea what Philippe was up to, but a growing sense of unease filled him now. This young fop could mean nothing good to his brothers, not after he had spoken so nastily to them.
Beginning to run around to the front now, the shed having only the one entrance, d'Artagnan's heart sped up. Please, whatever he has planned, let me get there in time, he silently begged the God he rarely thought about or spoke to.
Reaching the door, he started to reach out to open it, when it flew open at the same time as his brothers came running through it, nearly knocking him over.
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Aramis was very much enjoying explaining all the gardening implements and bags of seeds to Porthos, when he began to get a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. He knew from experience that these usually meant danger was close by. It had saved his life and the lives of his brothers often, so he had learned never to ignore them.
Still talking to Porthos, at the same time he began cautiously looking around to see if anything would give him an inkling as to why he was getting these feelings.
But as soon as he saw Athos bending over a box in the corner, his eyes spied a word written on the box-peligroso.
His eyes widened at the word, which was Spanish for dangerous! Not even taking the time to consider why a box out here would be labeled as it was, he sprang into action. Moving rapidly across the shed with one hand now clamped around a bewildered Porthos' elbow to tug him along, he reached Athos and grabbed his arm as well, his voice urgent as he said, "Out-now!"
Thankful that his brothers trusted his instincts as he did theirs, he headed for the door with both of them right behind him. He opened the door and urged them out ahead of him.
They had barely made it out the door when the force of something exploding from within hit them, sending them hurtling outwards helplessly, their bodies coming to rest and lying unmoving in the formerly peaceful beds of flowers as they landed. A few moments later, a second explosion blew apart what had been left of the shed they had emerged from, debris flying everywhere.
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Thanks so much for reading! And no, I don't write death fics! I'm not sure now whether I will have one or maybe two chapters left of this fic.
