A/N:
Four more chapters left!
Thank you all so much for following Porthos and Aubin on this journey.
I will now be posting daily, as I am on holiday from Sunday and would like to post all chapters by the end of the week.
Onward, a little closer to the conclusion ...
oOo
CHAPTER TWENTY
Downstairs, everyone was busy strapping on weapons.
"He does this," Porthos said, by way of explanation, as Athos glared at him.
"We have to move; they are on their way, we don't want a siege." Athos said, tersely.
"Well," said Aramis, "there is nothing we can do, we will have to go after him. If he is following Athos's plan, he is aiming to flush them out and draw them into each other's path. We will just have to keep on the outskirts where we can pick them off."
"I wanna see their faces when they all meet up," Porthos growled.
"Take no prisoners, Gentlemen; these men mean to bring down our King," Athos said, nodding at Treville and leading the way out into the forest.
oOo
Treville watched them go and then took two loaded pistols and fixed them into his belt, along with a supply of ammunition. Taking one last look around the room, he turned and headed to the main staircase.
He took the stairs at a run and skidded to a halt at the door behind which sat Elizabeth Cromwell. Even though she was a traitor, she was a member of the English royal court and he needed to get her back to Paris unharmed. She would be placed under arrest and negotiations with her Government would ensue, if the English court wanted that. Time would tell. It would be out of his hands, once they returned.
She had few belongings, most being left on the royal coach, but seeing the look of urgency on Treville's fact, she threw on a hooded cloak.
She was not privy to their plan, and on learning she would be on horseback, she looked directly at him.
"Am I to be a decoy, Captain?"
"No, Madame, I aim to return you to Paris," Treville said firmly. "But we do put ourselves in harm's way. However," he said, ushering her out of the room, "I do not intend that we die today."
Back outside, one of the stable boys brought two horses around to the front of the Lodge and he led her to her horse and they quickly mounted. She was resigned to her fate. Edmund Temple was too powerful to oppose and although she had not given him the information that would have led the assassins to the Chateau de Saint-Paterne, she had no real defence.
God would be her witness.
Now, as she prepared to ride out of the property with Treville, despite what he had said, she knew she may be a target. Perhaps dying here would be preferable to spending the rest of her life in a French prison.
Treville slapped her horse on the rump and they set off down the path and into the forest.
They had cleared the property and were well down the road, riding hard, heading back toward the crossroad when a cry went up and Treville found himself being followed by two of the assassins.
"They think you are the Queen," he shouted.
She turned in her saddle and could see the persuers behind them.
"Should we go back?" she called out.
But he only shouted, "Keep on!" at her.
She realised then that he had not intended her to be a decoy, but he had known it was a distinct possibility that that would be the result of their flight. Now he spurred her on; focussed on drawing these men away from the Lodge to give his men a greater chance of dealing with the Spanish and English assassins who were gathering in the forest, intent on murdering the Queen; but not knowing she was safely out of the forest at the home of her cousin.
Treville rode on. He had no intention of going straight to Paris though. He would stop at the next tavern and wait for his men to find them as soon as the fight was over, before continuing on to Paris. He would leave their horses at the front of the tavern so they see that he is there.
They should all be reunited by nightfall, God willing.
Soon, a tavern came into view and Treville and Elizabeth Cromwell pulled up and quickly went inside, leaving their horses tied up outside as invitation to the two men following. The assassins had dropped back now, out of sight; so any attack would come when they had surveyed the inn, and got the measure of the Musketeer and his charge.
Treville knew how to placate reluctant landlords, and soon had procured two rooms and was taking Elizabeth's arm and heading up the stairs. He moved her quickly along the corridor to the end room so anyone would have to pass by his room, the next one, before approaching hers. Two rooms would also make attack more difficult.
Going inside, he moved to the window, carefully pulling back the thin curtain and peering out. The road was quiet. There was no sign of their pursuers. He turned and looked around the room and saw a door in the corner. He moved quickly and, opening it, he saw it was a narrow cupboard.
"This will do," he said, closing the door and turning to her.
"When they come, I want you to shut yourself in here; you will be behind anyone who comes into this room."
She was about to protest when he unhitched one of his loaded pistols and held it out to her.
She looked at him in shock, meeting his determined gaze.
"Can you shoot?"
"Yes," she replied quickly, looking him proudly in the eye. "I am one of five girls. Father taught us to defend ourselves. Although I am not familiarwith that particular weapon."
Treville smiled, and quickly went about showing her how to use it.
"You trust me?" she asked him then, taking the pistol, surprised by its weight.
"You cannot go far Mistress Cromwell, and I am presuming you prefer to plead your case in Paris than to take your chances in the French countryside."
She sighed then, and put the weapon down on the bed, looking out of the window into the small garden beyond.
Turning back to him, she removed her hooded cloak and threw it over the chair by the door.
"I need some fresh air, Captain," she said.
oOo
A little later:
The man watched from the tree line as she left the inn and walked quickly around the back into the small garden, seating herself at the back of a wooden gazebo. Wrapping her cloak around her and adjusting the hood she leant back into the shadows.
He approached stealthily. Here was the Queen before him, being spirited away quickly under cover of the battle to be fought back at the Lodge. He drew his dagger. He would come upon her from behind and quietly slit her throat while she thought she was unseen in the garden. Foolish woman. He could not see the Musketeer she had ridden out with. Perhaps she had slipped away from him for a few moments. He would deal with him after he had despatched this French usurper.
She was perfectly still as he approached on her left side; perhaps she was asleep.
Moving quickly now, he rounded the gazebo and raised his dagger to strike.
What confronted him completely surprised him and he took an involuntary step back.
The hooded figure turned and steely blue eyes met his.
But not, the eyes of a woman.
They were the eyes of the Musketeer who had led her here.
The Musketeer who now smirked.
"Poor choice," he said calmly to the surprised man, before lurching quickly forward and thrusting a rapier into his chest.
The man had no time to cry out in warning to the second man, who had made his way into the Inn and upstairs, looking for the Musketeer who thought to better them and cheat them of their prize.
Throwing back the cloak and tossing it aside, Treville sheathed his sword and jumped over the dead man, running into the Inn.
oOo
He was halfway up the stairs when he heard the shot. It reverberated around the upper floor, and brought the Innkeeper out to the foot of the stairs.
"Stay there!" Treville bellowed as he ploughed on, down the upper corridor, past his door and to the door at the end.
He came to a skidding halt, and leant forward, pressing his ear to the door. He was just about to call out to her, when the door was flung open, and she stood in front of him.
Her pale blue eyes were wide, and her hair awry, but she looked unharmed. She stepped passively aside, and there on the floor behind her was the body of a man, a hole blown in his back.
Treville looked back at her, and she quietly passed him the smoking pistol.
"It's alright," he said, stepping into the room.
"It's over for us. Now we wait."
He closed the door.
Later, the Innkeeper would want answers. But for now, they sat quietly in the room, waiting for his men to arrive.
oOo
At the rear of the Lodge, Athos, Porthos and Aramis were on foot, moving toward the narrow trail beyond the tree line that led into the forest.
Aubin was ahead somewhere, obviously attempting to bring the two groups of assassins together, as per Athos's plan.
In a way, Porthos was proud of him, although his anger still simmered because of his recklessness.
He hoped he had taught him enough over the last few weeks so he could track the lone assassin they had seen at the Lodge as he attempted to rejoin his group. For he was sure that was where Aubin would begin this endeavour.
Steadying his breathing, Porthos fell in behind his brothers as they moved into the forest.
To be continued ...