Chapter 6:
Author's Notes: Okay. I'm sorry for the really late update, school is terrible at the moment. So, here's a chapter, and I hope the next one will be up quickly, as it's almost done. Again, little historical accuracy and lots of angst. Enjoy!
Tension weighs down the autumn air. The clouds look more threatening than usual, and the cold has a menacing instead of a refreshing feel to it. An oppressive silence hangs over the musketeers as they hasten back to Paris, one that hushes even the loud voices of Vasser and Moreau.
d'Artagnan can feel the letter burning against his chest. He's warmed by the thought that a great general has handed him the responsibility of carrying it. Unwilling to disappoint the man, he knows he will deliver it. And if that has a lot to do with saving the woman he loves, and proving his capability to the musketeers, then that makes for a nice bonus.
They're nearing the edge of a forest when d'Artagnan first sees Athos look around in suspicion. He can't help but turn his head as well, searching for the source of the man's misgiving. There's nothing, though, just empty fields, muddy from rain that the musketeers have thankfully just missed out on. One last sweep of the area behind them yields nothing but an earthy brown expanse that reaches far into the horizon where the brown turns into a dark grey that stretches up forever.
No sign of anyone.
With a resolute dig of his boots into his horse's flank, he directs the mare back in the right direction. His thorough look back has left him lagging slightly behind the rest of the group, who have almost reached the first trees of the woods. The clicks his tongue to sway his horse to put on some speed. The forest before them stands alight with the fiery colours of fallen leaves. It stands in stark contrast with the murky landscape they're leaving behind him.
The brightness looks promising, and he can't help it. Just as he makes his way into the forest he lets his heart soar with hope that this colour bodes well for the future.
Behind them, another group of men emerge on the horizon, in time to see the blue of the musketeers rushing into the trees. The leader of the group signs for his lieutenant to take half of the group and continue following the other group. Then he pulls his hat down further over his eyes, and motions for the rest of the group to follow him down a smaller path on the right.
After all, the best way to catch prey, is to set a trap.
CBB SREETEKSUM EHT
Once in the forest, Athos lags behind, making sure everyone has entered the forest before he makes his way back. Dismounting quickly, he approaches the edge of the trees. Peering from behind on of the larger ones, he sees a group of riders appear along the horizon. That is enough to get him rushing back to his horse, fully intending to have to catch up with his fellow travellers.
The winding forest path that they are following is narrow, surrounded by trees and higher outcrops that make it ideal place for an ambush. With a bit of luck, Athos will draw near his friends in time to warn them of a potential attack before it takes place. Once he reaches his horse, however, he realises how foolish he has been. Of course the musketeers would all wait for him to come back.
When he raises his eyebrow at Porthos, who is holding his horse in place, the large man merely shrugs. "You didn't really think we'd let you or your horse just disappear right?"
Athos smirks slightly as he gets into his saddle. "Thank you. But we really have to get going."
"We'll only tire our horses this way." DuPont points out, taking note of Athos increased speed.
"Yes, but we need to get out of this forest," Athos replies, "We're being followed."
That's enough to get the musketeers to put on a burst of speed, as far as that is possible on the winding forest road.
CBB SREETEKSUM EHT
Not even an hour passes before they meet a crossing in the road. Their narrow path is intersected by a larger one, wider and lighter, leading west. They know, from the maps they studied before leaving Paris, that both roads lead out of the forest, eventually turning North and intersecting again right before Auxerre. In Auxerre, a small town they have pass through before getting home, they can easily get fresh some fresh horses for the rest of the journey.
But which to take? They are being followed, so it is prudent to take the shortest route. However, that route is the left one, the narrow path that makes for such an easy ambush. Too dangerous. But the larger path takes longer, and it will also be the one their pursuers expect them to take, precisely because it is less dangerous. The men dismount to spare their horses while the deliberate.
"We must split up. Two groups of four." Athos decides, and of course everyone agrees. It is after all the best choice. Splitting the groups however, does not yield nearly as unanimous a decision.
The natural way for the groups to form is to split into the Inseparables and the rest. Which is problematic for at least half the group. Even on an important mission it is difficult to push off the feelings of anger and regret the friends harbour towards each other. There is a moment of uncomfortable silence, while everyone assesses the circumstances. The inseparables think of how to broach the subject, and the others try to figure out how to escape the awkward situation.
This mission is turning out rather uncomfortable, not because the king's life is at stake, but because a group of friends are at odds. That's what happens when big personalities mix, DuPont thinks.
It is d'Artagnan who first breaks the silence.
"How about I go with DuPont, Vasser and Moreau, and Petit joins Porthos, Aramis, and you?" The Gascon suggests innocently. Petit looks slightly surprised, and maybe a little offended that d'Artagnan doesn't want him in the group. When d'Artagnan sends him a pleading look he realises, however, that d'Artagnan hopes he will diffuse the situation with the inseparables. It is not him, or any of d'Artagnan's 'newer' friends who protests, however. It's Athos.
"No." the comte states resolutely.
"Yes." d'Artagnan replies, equally firm, "It would really be for the best."
"No." Athos replies again.
DuPont catches Petit's eye. He motions with his head to where they came from.
"I saw a stream down there," he says, "It might be a good idea to water the horses before we go our separate ways…"
Petit hears the undertone. Let's leave them to fight this out. And he pulls a confused Moreau and Vasser with him to 'water the horses'.
d'Artagnan is left alone with his friends. If you can still call them that, a treacherous voice whispers in the back of his mind. They stare at each other intensely. Or, Athos and d'Artagnan stare at each other intensely, while Aramis and Porthos stand by and worry. Aramis for the woman and son he might never see again, and Porthos for the friendship he is terrified he of losing.
"Athos…" d'Artagnan starts, letting out a deep sigh that betrays a weariness far beyond his years, "You know I'm right."
"If you wish to ride the longer route with Vasser, Moreau and DuPont, no one will stop you." Athos answers, having thought it through and knowing that there is no rational reason not to let d'Artagnan ride with the others. There is also that niggling feeling of resentment that wants to let d'Artagnan do what he wishes.
"We won't?" Porthos hedges quietly, staring at Athos.
"No," Athos says for the third time in as many minutes, "I believe d'Artagnan is perfectly capable of riding with people other than us."
d'Artagnan narrows his eyes slightly, trying to figure out whether Athos is insulting or complimenting him. The comte is a complicated man, and the line between offense and praise is nearly indistinguishable at times.
"Aramis, what do you think?" Porthos asks. Perhaps the marksman can talk some sense into the others with his silver tongue.
Aramis looks distracted when he answers, sick almost with a worry that neither Porthos or d'Artagnan can quite place. He shakes his head slightly, and looks up from the musket he has been obsessively cleaning ever since they left the castle.
"I believe d'Artagnan made perfectly clear the other day that he is an adult – a musketeer – and that he can very well do anything he pleases without us." d'Artagnan almost physically flinches at the Spaniards words, and manages to stop himself from doing so only for the sake of pride, "He's right, too. We should take the fastest approach, and this is it."
Porthos shoots the man an incredulous look. d'Artagnan's words have hit all of them hard, but he thought that Aramis would have just let the words glide of him. His skin is usually not thin enough to find insult in word spoken in anger. It probably has a lot to do with whatever is worrying the man so. Something is setting him on edge, and it's coming out harshly. Words have always been one of Aramis' best weapons, he lets them stab and maim when he is hurt. Porthos knows the Spaniard will regret them later. Probably as much as Athos is regretting his.
"However," Athos continues easily, as though d'Artagnan choosing others over them does not affect him at all, "I would then urge you to let us deliver the letter. As you said, we most likely arrive more quickly."
"No." the sheer vehemence with which d'Artagnan disagrees takes Athos aback for a moment, "You are always telling me 'head over heart'. You were right in splitting up, and you know it is best to divide the options between our groups. I have the letter, so Louis will believe me. The three of you and Petit are known in court and you will be believed regardless. This is our best chance at succeeding."
It is the most reasonable thing to do. Aramis immediately gives a twitchy nod, impatience evident in his every move. No, he does not want to lose d'Artagnan, but Anne and little Louis are in more danger now. They have priority in his mind at the moment. And maybe he's still bit angry about what d'Artagnan said. And maybe he's letting it come out in the way he is treating the Gascon. There's only so much he can worry about at once, he's only human after all.
Athos has to sway for the logic of the plan. Though he hates that he will not know what is happening with d'Artagnan, some distance may be good for all of them. Head over heart, like d'Artagnan said. He thinks later that his reasoning behind his decision might not have been entirely rational after all. Maybe it's not just d'Artagnan who's trying to prove something, Athos muses. Maybe Athos wants to prove d'Artagnan wrong. The thought is fleeting though. Because though there may be a part of him that wants the Gascon to be wrong, that wants the Gascon to need them, Athos knows with a certainty he has rarely felt in his life that despite his anger towards d'Artagnan, he can never truly wish any harm on the boy.
The others return, sooner than expected. The arguing has evidently stopped, so everyone starts mounting their horse, assuming that they will be doing what d'Artagnan suggested, or they would have been told otherwise. Vasser shoots Petit a pitying look, the man has got himself wrapped up in some sort of family drama and he is obviously unamused. Still, the four of them talked when they went to water the horses, and the general consensus was that though there may be irrational reasons behind the way they are splitting up, it is rationally a good plan. The best in fact. And that is the only reason that they have not protested the decision that d'Artagnan has made and everyone else has evidently agreed with.
Everyone, that is, except Porthos, who doesn't mount his horse quite yet. Instead, he grabs d'Artagnan's arm and turns the boy towards himself.
"d'Artagnan. You know this is going to end badly." Porthos tries one last time.
"It's the best way. They'll think that you have the letter, and go after you, they'll never expect me to have it, I should go with the less experienced looking group." d'Artagnan reasons easily.
"That's not the real reason, and you know it." Porthos growls, anger finally getting the best of him.
d'Artagnan's face softens slightly, whatever mask he's had up for days slipping. No sooner does Porthos see it, though, and it's back up. There's a set to the Gascon's jaw that he recognises. He knows the boy is never going to give in now.
"Maybe, but it's still the best choice." d'Artagnan repeats, like he has been doing since he started speaking.
Porthos shakes his head. "I'm angry too, d'Artagnan. And trust me when I say we are going to have nice talk about this when we're back in Paris. But this is rash, and stupid, and I just know we're all going to regret this later."
When Porthos says talk, he can mean anything from a friendly conversation to a fist fight, as d'Artagnan very well knows.
"I'm not going to change my mind Porthos. And neither are the others." d'Artagnan replies with a haughty air that makes Porthos' skin crawl. It is very unlike d'Artagnan, and very much like the tone he had when they were in the infirmary.
It's enough to finally get Porthos to lose is admittedly strong patience. He knows he can't punch the boy in the face right now because everyone needs to be fit on a mission. That doesn't mean he can't passive aggressively show he disagrees with the boy.
"Fine." He breathes instead, through clenched teeth, "Fine."
He's about to turn around in anger when d'Artagnan says one last thing, "Some time apart will probably be a good thing." It's said softly, meant only to pacify Porthos, and the larger man knows that.
It's what sways the large man in the end. They need to think. Aramis needs to get whatever has him tense and coiled as a snake worked out his system and Athos needs to come to terms with the new dynamics. d'Artagnan, well, he probably just needs to cool down, spend a while thinking about their argument without them sitting on his lips. As for Porthos, he still needs to let d'Artagnan's words from a week and a half ago sink in. Time apart will do them good.
Still, when the group splits and Porthos sees d'Artagnan disappearing to the left of him, he can't quite shake the feeling that they are going to regret this.
So… That'll be continued asap JThank you for your reviews everyone, I appreciate them!