D'Artagnan pulled his horse up sharp, calling to Aramis. "Here!"

Aramis halted his horse and sprang from the saddle, throwing the reins over the pommel in one fluid motion as he did so. "Wheel ruts!"

He crouched on the dusty ground, as D'Artagnan wheeled his horse around to hail Athos and Porthos who were on the higher road out of Paris, scouting there for tracks. "A heavy wagon," Aramis said, pointing at the depth of the marks. "Loaded, but the tracks are too even for a common cart. This was a well-balanced vehicle."

Athos saw D'Artagnan's salute, turned his horse and plunged down the grassy hillside to the road, Porthos behind him. Around them the trees were laden with the white and pink blossom of full-blown spring. Swallows dived overhead, plucking tiny winged insects from the air. Yet in this warm sunny scene, the four men were melancholy.

Sitting with the reins gathered in his left hand, Athos sighted through his spyglass. "No sign," he said. "Anyone who has passed before is an hour ahead, at least."

"These tracks are not that fresh," admitted Aramis. "The last rain was a week ago. The ground has hardened since."

"There's been no sign of any other wagon between here and the inn where the Queen rested," said D'Artagnan. "We're on a country path - these are the only tracks we've seen."

"Not looking good," muttered Porthos.

"Still we must search," Athos said. "The King will not be satisfied with a desultory effort."

Aramis straightened up. "If this was the Queen's carriage, it followed this road west towards Laroche."

"But if it wasn't," said D'Artagnan. "We could waste hours tracking a haywain."

"We separate," declard Athos. "Aramis, Porthos, follow these tracks and look for signs that the carriage turned aside from this road. D'Artagnan, you and I will ride to Laroche across country. We may overtake the wagon, or if not we may arrive in time to learn fresh news."

Aramis mounted once more and sighed, wiping his palm over his face. "I still say we should have argued harder to be the Queen's escort for this journey."

"Treville was adamant," said Athos. "Attending the Queen was to be the duty of the Red Guard. We were to remain with the King. The city is restless. The people have begun to lose faith in their King. We could not leave him."

"But to leave a carriage of defenseless women unprotected -"

"The Red Guard are not that bad," said D'Artagnan. "They're just not as good as the musketeers."

Aramis shot D'Artagnan a sour look. "So where is the Queen?"

"It is probably some mishap," said Athos. "Some mundane event which nonetheless has prevented her arrival at the Duke's house."

"A mishap which stopped the Queen, or anybody with her, from sending a message back to Paris, or on to the Duke of Racaut?" asked D'Artagnan skeptically.

"Lucky the Duke was quick to send word to the King," said Porthos. "Or we'd have never known anything was wrong."

"That's not luck," said Aramis. "He knows his head is for the noose if the Queen comes to any harm in his care." He sighed again and rubbed his horse's neck as if it was the beast which needed consolation.

Athos sighted once more through the telescope. "There is no sign that this cart went anywhere but to Laroche. Let us follow it where we can, and then turn back. I fear we have but bad news for the King."

Aramis bit his lips. The four friends exchanged glances and then Athos and D'Artagnan spurred their horses away from the road, to gallop across country.

"Oh, this is not good," said Porthos. He grimaced at Aramis. "You're right, this is no mishap. The Queen is missing."