So sorry for the delay in getting this posted. I worked on it on Friday, determined that I would get it posted, but then a spur of the moment meeting came up and I was unable to finish it. I tried to get to it yesterday, but it was most definitely a Monday! Anyway, I finally got it done today!

Thank you for the continued support of this story. The comments keep me going and I so appreciate them!

So, on with the story :)

Chapter 5 – A Secret Revealed

Maybe it was better this way, he thought idly as the darkness came.

Pain. Pain is what brought him back from the brink. A sudden crushing pain in the middle of his back coming over and over and over again. He gasped, drew in one rattling, shaky breath and then he heaved, water spewing out into the barrel and onto the wall behind it. So much water…water he hadn't known he'd swallowed as he was being drowned. He vaguely felt the hand fisted in his hair again, the pain from that miniscule compared to the pain in his back…in his shoulder…in his chest. Finally, the heaving stopped and d'Artagnan sucked in air like he'd never done before. He was breathing again, or rather wheezing and the dark spots were slowly beginning to end their dance in front of his eyes. He felt the pain then from his head, but only because he was pulled further back, his neck now extended further than he thought possible. He felt hot breath on the side of his face as his tormentor spoke.

"Not yet, clebard, there is much more we need to discuss…like who is carrying the letter…where is your meeting place and who is the courier?"

d'Artagnan rolled his eyes up to glare at Amyot. "Even if I knew, it would be a cold day in hell before I told you," he hissed.

Amyot sneered at the young man as he pulled back. "Then I guess you need some more convincing, hmmm?" he snarled. He went to push the Gascon's head back beneath the water when there was a commotion at the door to the room. Amyot released d'Artagnan's hair and stepped to where one of his men waited. The young man's head dropped, his forehead kissing the surface of the water as he took deep breaths to steady his heart. His ears pricked up when Amyot spoke.

"Did you get them? Where are they?" Amyot queried impatiently.

The man swallowed fearfully as he faced his employer. "I'm sorry, sir…we did not find them," the man said nervously. d'Artagnan sucked in a painful breath, hope flaring inside of him at the prospect that his friends had gotten away and could at this very moment be on their way to free him. He turned his head slightly so that he could hear the conversation more clearly.

"What do you mean you did not find them!?" Amyot bellowed, his face red with rage.

"We split up, but when it came time to meet back up, Michel and Maurice did not show. We…"

"You split up? Where in my instructions did I mention that you were to split up?" Amyot seethed.

"Sir, I'm sorry…I felt it best for us to split up so we could cover more ground. We set a time and place to meet back up, but…"

"But two of your men are now missing and I do not have the musketeers…or the letter!"

"Uh…only one is missing, sir."

"Only one you say? And how is it that two men did not show, but only one is missing?"

"Because…uh…when we went in search of Michel and Maurice, we only found Maurice…sir."

"I see…and what did Maurice have to say, pray tell."

"Maurice is…um, well…he's dead, sir. Sword wound through his lung, sir," the shaking man answered.

"Dead…and no Michel…or musketeers," Amyot stated, his voice frighteningly calm.

"No sir. We saw where there was a struggle and we found Maurice's horse, but not Michel's," the man answered.

"So…either he is a coward and ran away, or he and Maurice were bested by the musketeers and now they have Michel…someone who could lead them to us with the right kind of persuasion."

"Yes, sir. I am sorry I failed, sir," the man said, his head bowed in shame. The man cried out when Amyot grabbed him by his jacket front and shook him furiously.

"You more than failed me! You failed our entire cause! I told you to bring me the musketeers and all you bring me is your incompetence!" Amyot shouted before shoving the man away.

"I'm sorry, sir," the man said softly, his voice shaking.

Amyot physically shook himself then took several deep breaths. "You have one chance to save yourself, Bertrand. Take six men…ride as hard as you can toward Orleans and find those musketeers! That letter cannot reach its destination!"

"Yes, sir. I won't fail you again…I promise," Bertrand said.

"If you do…it will be the last thing you ever do,"Amyot hissed.

Bertrand nodded before he rushed from the room. Amyot turned and took in the shivering form of his prisoner, a look of pure hatred on his face. He strolled across the room and once again stood behind the Gascon. "You hope they come to rescue you, don't you, pup?" he asked as he leaned over to speak into d'Artagnan's ear.

"They will come," d'Artagnan answered.

Amyot chuckled at that and patted the young man's bare back. "Oh, poor, poor boy. Can't you see it? They have had plenty of time for a rescue, but where are they?" he asked. "To them you are insignifiant,…otherwise, they would have tried to save you already. You are blind if you don't see that."

"They are my friends…they will come," d'Artagnan whispered, his words confident, but in his heart, there was doubt, though he would never show it to this madman.

"Well, it makes no difference either way. My men will find them and bring them here. I will punish those who disappointed me and I will have that letter," Amyot said.

d'Artagnan let out a laugh and turned his head so he could see his captor. "You're delusional if you think your men can best those three," he said.

"Three against seven? I think I like those odds, pup."

d'Artagnan snorted as he turned away. "You nor your men have no idea who you're up against. They'll barely break a sweat against your seven."

"Maybe…maybe not, but no matter what the outcome, there is one thing that is for certain," Amyot said.

"What is that?"

"You will not make it out of this alive. Even if they come to your rescue, there will be nothing left of you to save," Amyot answered. "But don't worry, you'll be around for a while yet…I may not get you to talk, but I can sure have fun trying now can't I? Francois, bring me my whip."

D'Artagnan swallowed thickly as the man stepped back, the sound of a whip cracking in the air turning the young man's blood cold. His scream filled the room with the first strike.

**clebard: dog

**insignifiant: of no value or interest (insignificant)

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

They rode at a slower pace, had been for the past few miles. They had stopped for a quick rest, watered the horses and eaten a quick meal before departing for Orleans once again. The horses were nearly spent, but rather than stay in one spot for very long, they chose to continue on, keeping their pace slower until the animals were rested. The hour of their meeting with Renault was fast approaching and all three were more than a little anxious to deliver the letter so they could finally do what they had wanted to do all along…find their youngest member and make those who had taken him pay. By Athos' calculations, they would be in Orleans in just under two hours, leaving them plenty of time to find the Ste Croix Cathedral and make their delivery. It was an hour after they had gotten back on the road again that Porthos heard something and turned around in his saddle. He sucked in a breath and let out a short whistle, drawing his brother's attention.

"We 'ave company," he said, tipping his head toward the riders that were fast approaching.

Athos turned and squinted into the distance. "They come for the letter," he said as he looked at each of his friends.

"How can we be sure it's Amyot?" Aramis asked.

"Coming at that speed, it has to be. Porthos, do you think you would recognize any of the men who you saw?," Athos answered. When Porthos nodded, he turned forward again and eyed the road ahead. "Ride fast to that bend up ahead…we'll take cover and take as many out as we can when they come around," he commanded.

"Athos…are you sure?" Porthos queried.

"We can't outrun them…the horses are too tired. Our best chance is surprise," Athos said. "When they come around the bend, Porthos will see if he recognizes anyone. If he does he'll give a signal and we'll take out the first three with our pistols. We'll finish the rest off as quickly as we can. Be careful though, they may have their own weapons at the ready."

"Sounds like our best bet," Aramis said. "Come, let's ride!"

The three musketeers and their captive rode hard and fast until they were around the bend in the road. They quickly led the horses off the road and tied them in the trees, leaving their bound prisoner tied to his horse. They took positions at varying spots along the road with the trees for cover and took aim. Finally, the men they had spotted came around the bend and Porthos immediately recognized at least two of the men. He nodded toward his brothers and each took aim and shot. Three men dropped from their horses and lay still on the ground. Surprised at the sudden attack and loss of three of their numbers, the other four were momentarily lost in the chaos of startled horses, two of which were thrown from their horses as the beasts panicked and ran into each other. The three musketeers used the other's confusion to their advantage and attacked, swords drawn. It took less than five minutes to bring the other four down, the men ill prepared for the talent of the musketeers. As the three converged once the last man lay dead, they did a quick head to toe of each other, relieved at seeing only minor cuts bruises. They took the next twenty minutes to drag the bodies of their would be attackers into the trees and then rest. The horses of the men had scattered so they left them to their own devices. All in all, the squirmish had cost them only a half hour, still leaving them time to make their rendezvous point.

It was just under two hours when the musketeers entered the city of Orleans. They had found a secluded spot just outside of town that they used to secure their prisoner while they made their delivery, not wanting the man to see who their contact was, just in case their impending rescue attempt went sideways. They reached the Ste Croix Cathedral just after noon and were almost immediately hastened over to a man standing under a cherry tree on the west side of the church. They dismounted and walked up to the small, aging man.

"Are you Pierre Ribault?" Athos asked as he stood before the man.

The man nodded as he looked around to see if anyone was watching. "You are late," he said in a low, scratchy voice.

"We had a few setbacks, but we are here now," Athos responded. He pulled the letter from the secret pocket inside of his jacket and handed it to the man. Ribault opened the letter, his eyes sweeping over the parchment before he sealed it again.

Ribault looked at the men, noting the bruising and small amounts of blood that stained their clothing. "I pray that none of you were hurt too badly in bringing this letter to me," he said.

"Us? No…we are fine. Our brother however was taken yesterday by the leader of a band of men, seven of which attacked us two hours out of Orleans," Athos replied.

"Oh dear…your brother…is he…"

"He is strong…we ride now to find him," Aramis interrupted.

"I hope that you find him in good health," Ribault said, his eyes filled with sympathy.

"As do we," Athos said. "And now, Monsieur Ribault, we must go."

"Please, surely you can take rest before you leave. You look to be dead on your feet. I have arranged for rooms for you at the inn just as you come into the city," Ribault said.

Athos gave a slight bow and then shook his head. "We must not waste time for our brother's life is in great peril. Thank you for the offer, but we must take our leave now. I do hope that this letter is worth the pain our brother is most definitely suffering," he said, a note of anger at the end.

Ribault dipped his head in acknowledgement and smiled sadly at the three musketeers. "I am so sorry that your brother is suffering even as we speak. Please believe me when I say, the King and all of his loyal subjects will be safer now with the delivery of this letter. Though I cannot speak of its contents, I can tell you that you are all truly heroes for the sacrifices you have made in getting it here," he said softly. "I thank you…the King thanks you…and France thanks you."

The three men exchanged glances then bowed their heads before the man. "Will you be safe enough to carry the letter to its final destination?" Aramis asked.

"I will. Yours was the dangerous path," Ribault replied. "I will pray for the safe return of your brother and for your continued safety as you make your way back to Paris."

"Thank you," Athos said.

"One thing before you go," Porthos said as the old man began to turn away. When Ribault turned back to face him, he continued. "The man who took our friend knew about the letter."

"Ah, yes…well, it has been suspected that there is a spy within the court, but the fact that your man was taken because of the letter confirms that. Once your captain knows of this, he can alert the Cardinal so that the spy can be dealt with," Ribault replied.

"So, they knew who the spy was?" Aramis asked.

Ribault shook his head as he shifted his gaze to the medic. "No, not for sure. The Cardinal had his suspicions. He was looking for a chance to draw the suspected traitor out and now it seems as he has accomplished that goal."

Athos tilted his head as he took in what Ribault had said. "Was this letter just a means of drawing out the spy?" he asked.

Ribault paled slightly as he realized his mistake. "It was very important that you get this letter to me."

"Is there even anything in the letter or is it just a blank piece of parchment?" Aramis queried as he took a step forward.

"Gentlemen, you must understand. The Cardinal had to draw the spy out. The safety of France depended on it," Ribault explained.

"And how was a useless piece of parchment going to do that?" Aramis asked.

"If the Cardinal was correct, the spy would know of the letter and would get word to those he worked for. If…"

"If we were attacked for the letter, then the Cardinal would have his answer about the spy's identity," Athos said, his voice laced with anger.

"So, what yer sayin' is we were guinea pigs? d'Artagnan is being tortured…could already be dead for all we know, and for what!?" Porthos spat, his body shaking with rage.

"I truly am sorry that it had to be this way," Ribault said. "Secrets were getting out and the court had to know. This was the only way the Cardinal could think of to draw out the spy."

"I'm sure he asked for us specifically to be sent," Porthos hissed.

Ribault let out a shaky breath, his eyes dropping as he was no longer able to look the men in the eyes. "I hope that you get your friend back safely. I will pray that it is so," Ribault said before he turned away.

The three musketeers watched as Ribault walked to a waiting carriage and climbed inside, the carriage pulling away a moment later. Once it was out of sight they mounted their horses and headed back the same way they had come.

"Do you think Treville knew that the letter was blank?" Porthos asked as they worked their way through the streets of Orleans to the exit to the city.

Athos glanced at his friend and shook his head. "I don't know, but I will find out when we return to Paris," he said. He turned his gaze to the street ahead and silently prayed that it wasn't so. If it was, then Treville had betrayed them all and his insistence that d'Artagnan go along would be made that much worse for what had befallen the Gascon.

They left Orleans in silence, the news that they had received weighing heavily on their minds, and went straight to where they had left their prisoner. The man looked pathetic tied to the tree when they arrived. His head hung forward and he was obviously sleeping. Porthos dismounted his horse and walked up to the man, kicking his leg to rouse him. The man sputtered awake and glared up at the large musketeer.

"Time to wake up and lead us to where our brother 'as been taken," Porthos said, his hands on his hips.

The man grumbled something around the gag over his mouth, so Porthos knelt down and pulled the gag away. The man worked his mouth open and shut a few times before glaring back up at the man.

"You can kiss my lily white ass if you think I'm leadin' you anywhere, musketeer scum!" he spat.

Porthos had the man around the throat with one hand before anyone knew what was happening. The man gasped as his air was nearly completely cut off, his eyes bulging as he stared into the enraged face of the musketeer. "You will lead us exactly to where our comrade is, or I will rip you limb from limb with my bare hands!" he seethed, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of the man's neck and drawing blood where his fingernails cut through the skin. "Do you understand?"

The man nodded his head as best he could, his eyes filled with terror as Porthos continued to squeeze. A light touch to his shoulder had the large man turning his head and meeting the amused face of Aramis.

"My dear Porthos…if he is to lead us to d'Artagnan, he must be breathing. Please release him now so we can be on our way," Aramis said, his lips quirking at the corners.

"Fine!" Porthos hissed as he released the man's throat, leaving the man to cough and sputter while trying to draw in big gulps of air.

"Gentlemen, time is wasting. Get the man on his horse so we can be on our way," Athos called from where he still sat upon his horse.

Porthos and Aramis nodded then proceeded to untie the man from the tree and lift him onto his horse. His hands were retied to the saddle and soon the party was on its way back toward the spot where their youngest had been taken. They traveled in silence, each lost in his own thoughts, until the light of day began to give way to dusk, at which time Aramis called out for them to stop.

"Athos, we must stop and rest the horses, and ourselves as well," Aramis said as he looked into his brother's icy blue eyes. He knew that Athos would fight him on it as the man had been quietly brooding since they got back onto the road, but he was prepared for what was to come.

"Are you out of your mind? We have to get d'Artagnan away from that madman!" Athos spat, his eyes narrowing as he glared at his friend.

"I know how you feel, Athos…I feel it as well. I'm sure Porthos can attest to the same feelings, but the horses need rest, water and food…as do all of us. We…"

"We can't just leave him there while we eat and sleep!"

Porthos snorted in derision as he glared at his leader. "Coming from the man who insisted that we leave d'Artagnan behind in the first place!" he hissed angrily.

"Porthos," Aramis said, sensing the ensuing fight and trying to diffuse the situation before it got out of hand. "This is not the time, nor place for this."

"'e 'as a lot of nerve, Aramis!" Porthos shouted.

"The mission had to be completed...I had no choice," Athos said, mostly to himself.

Porthos took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "You did 'ave a choice, Athos…and damn it, I know you made the right one, but it still pisses me off," he said with resignation.

"I know," Athos said as he dropped his eyes to stare at his hands.

Aramis looked from one man to the other. He had been the silent one for the most part, but it didn't mean that he felt the absence of their youngest any less than the others. He had grown quite fond of the boy and the thought of what he had to be going through brought a chill to the marksman's bones. He knew that when they got their Gascon back, because they would be getting him back, he would be the one responsible for his medical care and he hoped and prayed that his skills would be enough. He shook his head to clear his thoughts then addressed his fellow musketeers.

"We should rest here for the night. The closer we travel to where d'Artagnan was taken, the better chance of us running into trouble and none of us are in any condition to be having any more sword fights. I hear running water through the trees so we can water the horses and it looks like there is plenty of grass for them to eat. We can leave well before dawn if we camp now and we can be at the manor early in the morning."

Athos and Porthos nodded their agreement then began to lead their horses off the road. The sound of hooves on hard dirt had the three turning in surprise, their weapons already drawn as the shapes of four men on horseback appeared over the slight rise in the road.

Hmmm...I wonder if Treville knew. We will find out! I hope you enjoyed and will let me know such! Thanks for reading :)

Cindy