Life has been crazy this week and I haven't had time to work on Hunter's Moon. It might be several weeks before I can continue with either story. I am very humbled by the number of the reviews for both stories and hope that you continue to enjoy them.

Insurgency

Chapter Three

For three days Aramis followed orders. He also listened and observed. The Spanish soldiers, in their arrogance never considered that anyone might understand their language and he took full advantage of that. It was also interesting to see the reaction of the monks. Many, cowed by the authority of the Colonel and Father Guillaume went about their daily lives without complaint. However, some of the younger brothers privately expressed anger and frustration about their inability to oppose their unwelcome guests. It was no surprise that these men gravitated toward Aramis, looking to him for a solution. He did nothing to encourage them although he was heartened by the fact that he was not the only one who would take action if the opportunity presented itself.

Each morning he was instructed to saddle the horses. The soldiers would ride out in pairs, never in uniform, combing the countryside for targets and, no doubt, spreading misinformation. When they returned they would discuss what they had found, never paying any attention to him as he worked in subservient silence. On the third day there was talk about a night raid on the town of Douai. Aramis appeared to concentrate upon the task of mucking out the stables but in reality he was listening closely to the discussion. He sat through the evening meal deep in thought, something that did not go unnoticed.

"Is something wrong?" Brother Philippe asked quietly.

"I have much on my mind," he replied evasively.

"I can see that. Will you let me give you some advice?"

Aramis looked at him searchingly. "Always."

"Tread carefully. You wear your emotions too close to the surface. Father Guillaume and the Colonel both watch you closely."

Aramis cast a quick glance at the table where the Abbot and the Colonel sat. Neither was looking in his direction and he turned away before either should catch his eye. "I don't know what you mean."

"Of course not," Brother Philippe said with perfect seriousness. "Nonetheless, my advice stands, for what it is worth."

By the time the monks were called to Compline Aramis knew what he had to do. He knelt in the chapel and let the words of Psalm 4 wash over him and give him strength.

"Hear me when I call,

O God of my righteousness:

thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress;

have mercy upon me, and hear my prayer."

His prayer that night was for the courage to disobey the orders of his superior. It was difficult to reconcile his vow with the edicts of his heart. However, he couldn't live with himself if he let the Spanish roam the land unchallenged. He wished his brother Musketeers were here and sent up a prayer for their safekeeping. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest with an excitement he hadn't felt for four years. Despite everything he was a soldier and he knew his duty.

The familiar service soothed his troubled soul and the closing words of Psalm 90 brought him a sense of peace in the knowledge that he was doing God's work in opposing the Spanish usurpers.

"May the favour of the Lord our God rest on us;
establish the work of our hands for us—
yes, establish the work of our hands."

By the time Father Guillaume gave the benediction he knew that his resolve was strong enough to accomplish what was necessary that night. He retired to the dormitory that he shared with nine of his brethren, lay on his cot and waited. Total silence was enforced after the final service of the day so he didn't have to worry about being questioned or engaged in unnecessary chatter.

When all was peaceful he stood up. He could hear the soft snores of the sleepers but waited a few minutes to make sure that he was unobserved. He had reached the door before he heard a voice.

"Where are you going?"

He recognised Brother Bertrand and turned to quickly shush the young man. "My thoughts won't let me rest. I am going for a walk. Go to sleep."

"Can I come too?" Brother Bertrand asked eagerly.

"Not tonight." Once again his thoughts dwelt upon d'Artagnan but this wasn't a youth gifted with the sword and with courage to spare. "Don't tell anyone you saw me leave."

"Be careful."

Aramis smiled into the darkness. "I will."

His belongings were stored in a small room in the cellars. The door creaked when he opened it and he froze, listening hard. There were no footsteps or sounds of alarm so he slipped inside and found the box that he was looking for. His clothes smelt musty but they seemed to be intact. He pulled off his robe and donned breeches and shirt for the first time in four years. Next he drew out his sword belt. He had carefully cleaned and oiled his weapons before packing them away and his sword came easily from the scabbard. He slid the main gauche into its customary place. He looked longingly at his pistol but this night required stealth so he left it where it was. His blue sash had been carefully folded and he caressed it, remembering all the years when he had worn it with pride. With regret he moved his hand away. He was no longer a Musketeer and had no right to wrap it around his waist. It felt strange to be wearing boots and gloves again and to be armed. It also felt natural and reminded him of what he had left behind.

His next challenge was leaving the monastery. There were two guards on the front gate to prevent the monks leaving or any unexpected visitors from intruding. However, the Spanish didn't know that there was a short tunnel from the cellars which ended in a barred door which Aramis was relieved to find wasn't locked. It was warped, however, and took all of his strength to wrench it open. The crescent moon gave very little light but he knew his way. The town of Douai was an hour's hard walk away and he had very limited time to complete his mission. His boots, designed for riding, failed to protect his feet from the pebbles and twigs littering the narrow pathway. He gritted his teeth and forged ahead, putting the discomfort from his mind.

It was the middle of the night before he reached the town and everything was quiet except for a dog which reacted to his presence by barking hysterically. He hunkered down, stroked it and spoke quietly to settle it back down. The mayor's house lay in the centre of town. It was shuttered for the night, no light showing at the windows. He began to knock, the sound carrying a long way in the stillness. After what seemed like an eternity he heard footsteps and the mayor's man servant opened the door a crack.

"What do you want?"

"I urgently need to speak to Mayor Aubertin," he said.

"The Mayor is asleep. Come back tomorrow." The man started to close the door.

"Who is at the door," a voice called from inside the house.

Aramis shouldered his way inside, unconcerned by his lack of courtesy. "Brother Rene. I apologise for the lateness of my visit but I have important news." He had met the mayor several times over the years and had found him to be a fair-minded man. He could only hope that he wouldn't be turned away.

Mayor Aubertin came down the stairs and studied him carefully, noting his attire and the fact that he was armed. "Come in and tell me." He led the way to his study and lit the candles. "Does Father Guillaume know you are here?"

Aramis shook his head. "I came in secret. A troop of Spanish soldiers have commandeered the monastery and intend a raid on the town tomorrow night."

"Spanish? Here?"

"They arrived a few days ago."

"What is their plan?"

"They intend to target the barns, to destroy as much food as they can. They would starve the people, forcing them to petition the King for aid."

"How many are there?"

"Twelve although I think they will leave at least two on guard at the monastery. We have been prevented from sending word until now. They threatened to slaughter everyone within the walls if we resist."

"You have taken a grave risk coming here tonight." The Mayor offered his hand. "I thank you for the warning. We will be ready and will send word to Paris. Surely the King will send soldiers to vanquish the invadors."

Aramis bowed respectfully. "I wish you good fortune."

The nights were growing shorter as spring began to turn to summer and it was close to dawn before Aramis arrived back at the monastery. He changed his clothes quickly and silently made his way back to the dormitory. He had been in bed for no more than thirty minutes when the bells rang for Matins. Yawning, his eyes heavy with lack of sleep, he rose, dressed and joined his brothers in the chapel. He automatically made the right responses throughout the service but his mind was many miles away. His heart ached to be reunited with his Musketeer brothers and he wondered if he would ever see them again.

Tbc