Chapter Fifteen - Manhandled

The King (with Porthos)

King Louis looked about him, at least he tried to as he was being pushed through the wood with little care for his wellbeing. At least that was how it felt at any rate. One minute he had been trundling along in a carriage that surely had seen better days the next the Musketeer Porthos had dragged him out and pulled him into the thickest tangle of trees and bushes he had ever seen.

He had no idea what had happened or why. He had tried to protest at his treatment, at the way Porthos had manhandled him. People were not supposed to touch him. He was the King. He was Godly. Porthos had not even asked permission, just grabbed his arm and forced him to run.

The King was aware of gunshots and shouts as he was propelled further from the safety of the carriage. Surely he would have been safer there?

A loud noise behind him made him try to turn, in doing so he stumbled, but Porthos, whose hand was still around his arm kept him upright, dragging him back to his feet and continuing to move him away from what must have been an intense fight.

He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest, he wondered if he could keep up the run for much longer. How much further was his Musketeer going to make him go? He tried to dig his heels in to stop the run but Porthos was taller and broader than him. The bigger man was not going to be easily stopped. He was not able to take enough of a breath to command that the man come to halt.

Louis was sure his breeches had been torn as they rushed through the bushes, his stockings were certainly ruined.

Porthos was slowing, he stopped. The King stumbled again, this time he was grateful for Porthos' aid in keeping him upright.

'I'm sorry, Majesty,' said Porthos, all respect and bowed head, despite his breathlessness, 'but we...needed to get you away from...there.'

Louis just looked at the man standing in front of him. Porthos had a ripped doublet and grazes across his face, his gun was in his hand, he guessed the weapon was spent. The King had seen the Musketeers fire their guns whilst in close combat before, it was usual practice for them to simply flip the weapon in their hands and use them as clubs when there was no time to reload.

'What happened?'

'Not sure, Majesty,' said Porthos, breaking eye contact and looking back the way they had come.

Porthos was still breathing hard.

'Am I safe?'

'We're far enough away...and I can't see anyone coming after us. Hopefully, none of them saw us leave.'

The King followed Porthos' gaze. The realisation of what could have happened dawned on him.

'I could have been killed.'

'I think that was the idea, Majesty,' said Porthos with a nod.

'You saved me.'

Porthos paused for a few seconds before replying, 'that's my job, Majesty.'

'You could have been killed saving me.'

The King stared at Porthos for a few seconds. The thought of what might have happened, of all the different ways he could have been killed or captured by whoever it was that had attacked his carriage rushed through his mind.

Throwing all protocol aside the King stepped up to Porthos and wrapped his arms around the bigger man for a few seconds. Porthos became very still at the King's actions.

'I'm sorry,' said Louis when he released his Musketeer, 'don't tell anyone, will you.'

'No, Majesty,' said Porthos, who was looking at the King warily.

'Now,' the King said reverting to his usual tone, 'what do you propose now? Are you expecting me to walk back to Paris?'

The End.