"No way are we goin' anywhere." Porthos exchanged glances with d'Artagnan; both men shook their heads defiantly at the doctors telling them to go to their rooms and get back in bed.
"There's already one cot in here, and since Aramis is sharing the bed with Athos we only need one more." D'Artagnan raised his eyebrows, glancing with hope at the two doctors. The Gascon's expressive brown eyes took on the appearance of a small child pleading for prohibited sweets.
"I'll go see if I can find Steward Fontaine so we can bring up another cot," Nurse Maria chuckled.
"Good, 'cause we ain't goin' back to our rooms at the other end of the hallway; 'at's just rubbish," Porthos complained, crossing his arms. "We can't keep an eye on our brothers from down there."
"Athos is sick." D'Artagnan glanced at Aramis, still holding Athos' hand as he lay next to the tented Musketeer. "We're not going anywhere."
"There is no point in arguing with this group of Musketeers, Doctor Berteau," Molyneux advised as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're in a losing battle if you do not give them what they want; I've learned from experience. They will not rest except in here where they can all be together; we may as well let them stay."
"Fine, they can all stay," Doctor Berteau nodded. "It is good these rooms are so large, otherwise it would be difficult to treat four patients in one small room."
"Well, you didn't see the small room at the garrison, Doctor Berteau," Molyneux huffed with amusement. "Those Musketeer quarters are quite small, yet all four of them stayed together in one room during the catarrh outbreak. In all honesty, I believe keeping them together is what helped them to survive—it certainly holds true for Athos."
"The rooms there are small," d'Artagnan agreed. "But there was no way we were going to let Athos stay in that infirmary, or any of the rest of us when we got sick, even if we had to cram all four of us on one bed."
"That's right," Porthos nodded, his jaw set with determination. "That's wha' we Musketeers do; we take care of each other. We look after each other and we don't mind sacrificin' somethin' to take care of 'em… our brothers are worth it."
"Athos is going to need your help if he is going to make it through this." Molyneux motioned grimly toward the tent. "It's not catarrh, but bronchitis can be more difficult to recover from than catarrh. There is a risk that the bronchitis could evolve into pneumonia—and we certainly do not want that to happen—so we must step up our efforts with medicine and the herbal treatments."
"We certainly do not want his condition to worsen, gentlemen," Doctor Berteau added. "Exactly why I believe this aggressive treatment we are using with the steam tent and herbs early in his illness should help Athos recover, without his condition worsening. At least, that is the hope, anyway."
"Indeed!" Molyneux clapped the two worried Musketeers on the shoulder. "Athos is not showing symptoms any worse than he had while suffering from catarrh—and he made it through that. Let us stay optimistic, shall we?"
Porthos and d'Artagnan exchanged alarmed glances; their hearts flooded with despair at the thought of Athos having to repeat another painful experience like catarrh. True, he beat catarrh once… but just barely. The Musketeers knew in their hearts that their brother would not have the strength- or the will- to fight such a battle a second time. They feared their brother might surrender his will to fight and allow the illness to defeat his indomitable spirit.
The three brothers determined silently that they weren't going to let Athos give up without a fight; they would unite and do all that was necessary to keep their brother alive. If their leader lacked the stamina and fortitude to continue on his own, well, the three brothers would be his strength and would carry him through.
"'All for One' wasn't just their motto, it was their core doctrine; it was their heart and soul. The words defined their actions and their love and care for each other as brothers. If one of them was down, the rest would pick up the slack and carry the other until he was well enough to walk on his own. The four brothers would never consider any other alternative.
The Streets of Paris:
Rochefort followed the mysterious man until they almost reached the Porte Saint-Jacques gate with the road heading south to Orléans. "Stop that rider!" Rochefort yelled to the gate guards as the courier neared the wall.
The guards sprang into action and blocked the rider, allowing Rochefort to catch up. The blonde man jumped from his horse and yanked the mysterious courier from the saddle, allowing the man to fall clumsily to the ground at the horse's feet.
Rochefort roughly grabbed the man by his shirt collar to pull him up as he bent down to meet the cloaked man at eye level. "Where is it?" he snarled. "Where is the letter you got from the queen?"
"I don't know what you are talking about," the man lied as he shook his head frantically.
"Don't lie to me!" Rochefort screamed as he slapped the man hard across the face with the back of his hand. The courier was thrown to the dusty road flat on his back; he cradled his mouth as blood seeped through his fingers.
"Where is the letter?" Rochefort kicked the man in the ribs, causing him to scream out in agony and curl into himself as he lay on his side. "Tell me where it is or my temper will only worsen and you will soon beg me to kill you!" The blonde man gave another swift kick to the man's abdomen, leaving him writhing and gasping for air.
Rochefort began searching the man's person by checking every pocket; he furiously dug and tore at every detail of his clothing. He tore apart the man's shirt, rummaging through every possible hiding place, but found nothing. Moving on to the courier's breeches, Rochefort's fingers slid across a slitted pocket just under the waistband. "Ah, there it is."
He dug his hand down into the pocket and smiled as his fingers brushed over the paper envelope folded in half. He pulled the envelope out and immediately recognized the wax stamped with the House of Bourbon seal. "Well, well, well… what have we here?" Rochefort held up the letter with a rather smug grin. "I'm going to have to teach you a lesson about lying to me."
Rochefort once again picked the man up by his shirt collar then punched him with his balled-up fist; he connected hard with the cheekbone and knocked the man out cold.
"Help me get this man up on his horse and secured tightly," the blond man ordered the gate guards. "I'm taking him into custody on charges of treason and he will answer to these charges before the king."
I look forward to seeing the king's face when I show him proof that his own wife, the Queen, is involved in conspiring with the Duc d'Orléans and the Cardinal-Infante of Spain to overthrow the King of France. Rochefort smirked triumphantly as he turned the horses back toward the Palais du Louvre with his prize in tow.
The Four Corners of France:
King Louis sent out an emergency deployment order of fifteen thousand French Army troops to be sent to two separate locations, splitting the army in two parts under his two best generals. The king settled on deploying six thousand troops with Lieutenant General Henri Turenne and his second in command, Colonel François de Créquy to Toulouse; while Brigadier General Antoine d'Aumont de Rochebaron and Colonel Jean de Gassion deployed to Lyon with nine thousand troops.
In addition, the king immediately dispatched a company of one hundred fifty cavalry scouts in squads of ten to deploy to every town mentioned on the Royal Advisor's list. An entire platoon of thirty scouts was reserved for deployment along the eastern border of France and Italy, where the advisory committee believed the invading troops would be marching from the Valtelline Pass.
Captain Anton Colbert, commander of the cavalry scouts deploying to the various outposts, joined the advisory committee for final instructions from the king.
"Where is my delinquent First Minister?" the king pounded his fist on the table. "Where is Rochefort?" King Louis craned his neck, straining to see into the hallway; he moved his head to the left and to the right to get a better view. "I said that I wanted Rochefort summoned!"
"Yes, Your Majesty," the Royal Advisor nodded. "However, we were told that he could not be found."
"What do you mean he could not be found?" King Louis whined, pounding the table with his fist angrily. "My First Minister does not simply disappear."
"Your Majesty, if I may interrupt?" Captain Tréville requested impatiently. "Sire, this matter at hand is very time-sensitive; we must get these plans into motion as soon as possible, as I am sure Captain Colbert would agree."
"Indeed I do agree, Captain," the cavalry commander nodded. "If it pleases Your Majesty, I would like to deploy my men as soon as possible."
"Your Majesty, may we proceed with your instructions without Rochefort, for now?" Captain Tréville requested.
"Agreed, Captain," the king sighed with a disappointed huff. "Please proceed on your way, Captain Colbert."
"Your Majesty, I will dispatch my scouts to their assigned posts immediately," the cavalry captain reported. "They will be instructed to travel as quickly as possible and make haste to arrive before the enemy has a chance to deploy."
"Very good, Colbert," the king nodded. "I want a series of couriers at each outpost in all four directions to send word back to me informing me of their status on a daily basis," King Louis informed the captain of the scouts. "The company will be relieved of its duty only when I give the word; until then, everyone will stay at their posts and will stay alert."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Captain Colbert bowed low.
"We will have every major route into France being watched," the king's advisor said, turning to the cavalry captain. "An invading army cannot possibly get by our scouts if they do their jobs properly."
"How insulting, Advisor!" Captain Colbert snapped. "They will do their jobs as expected of them. These are good troops; they are quality soldiers and excellent scouts and will not let His Majesty down." The cavalry captain fumed, glaring at the advisor.
"I want no surprises, Captain Colbert," the king warned. "With one hundred and fifty scouts there will be no excuse for France to be caught off-guard. Am I understood, Captain?"
"Understood, Your Majesty," Captain Colbert nodded.
"Your Majesty, if I may make a suggestion?" The king's advisor interjected, bowing his head.
"Proceed, Advisor." King Louis waved his hand impatiently, allowing him to speak freely.
"Should an invading army be successful in an attack, Your Majesty, might I suggest a punishment for allowing an invading army to slip by undetected. I would suggest the punishment be immediate and final," the advisor glared at Colbert. "Any outpost allowing the enemy to slip by will pay the ultimate price, as will the military commander in charge of these scouts; they should all pay with immediate execution."
"This is an outrage!" The cavalry captain slapped his palm angrily on the table. "How dare you make such a suggestion!"
"I agree, Advisor," King Louis interrupted, nodding his approval. "It is decided, Captain Colbert."
The cavalry commander bowed his head in obedience, though he fumed at the suggestion of punishment for him and his men. Captain Tréville rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly, but not without notice of the advisor.
"Captain Tréville, you do not approve of my suggestion for punishment?" the advisor asked with surprise.
"I understand the crucial responsibility these scouts have in stopping a possible conspiracy, but leaving the punishment of an entire squad of soldiers and their commander to your discretion is unwise," Captain Tréville countered. "If I may be so bold, Your Majesty, to make another suggestion?"
"What is it, Captain?" Louis asked with a lack of enthusiasm.
"If you agree that execution should be the punishment for failing to alert Your Majesty to invading troops, might I suggest that the deed be left to the army generals in command and not your advisors. These men are not soldiers." Captain Tréville swept his arm around the table of advisors, stopping at the cavalry captain beside him. "They should not decide the fate of soldiers."
"You are overstepping your bounds, Captain Tréville," the advisor snarled.
"And you are overstepping yours, Advisor!" King Louis quickly interjected. "Hold your tongue or I will have you removed from this room… or I will remove your tongue," the king giggled as his wide smile lit up his face. "Agreed, Captain Tréville." Louis waved his hand nonchalantly. "If the need should arise—and let us hope that it does not—I will appoint the appropriate military commanders to muster a rifle squad for execution."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Captain Tréville and the cavalry captain echoed in unison.
"Well then, gentlemen," the king said, clapping his hands together. "Let us put our plan into immediate action, shall we?"
"Just one moment, Your Majesty!" Rochefort interrupted as he rushed into the room; he had a smug demeanor about him while wearing a sinister grin on his face.
"Where have you been, Rochefort?" the king demanded. "Why were you not here when I summoned you?"
"I have something here that you are going to want to see, Your Majesty," Rochefort announced as he held up a letter in his hand. "This is the reason why I am late!" The man smirked menacingly, shooting a gloating stare at Captain Tréville.
"What is that?" King Louis motioned with his head to the letter in Rochefort's hand.
"This is a letter that I found with Monsieur Pierre La Porte," Rochefort paused, "after Queen Anne dropped it in her secret correspondence box at the Val-de-Grâce less than an hour ago!"
Audible gasps were heard from around the room at the mention of the queen. Suddenly the room erupted into surprised conversation, the almost deafening chatter echoed loudly in the large room.
"I have proof that the queen has conspired with Cardinal-Infante Ferdinand and Duc d'Orléans to overthrow Your Majesty!" he boasted loudly over the raucous clamor.
"How dare you imply such a thing about your queen!" Captain Tréville's voice boomed angrily. "Is there no limit, no boundary to your relentless scheming against the queen?"
"Let me see that letter at once!" The king stood, pushing his chair back with such force that it fell over with a resounding crash. Rochefort walked to the king and delivered the letter into the king's outstretched hand.
King Louis opened the letter and read quietly, his eyes scanning frantically over the words. Slowly his brow creased with confusion before breaking into a childish laughter.
"Your Majesty, I hardly think this is funny," Rochefort spat with dismay at the king's reaction.
"Your Majesty, if I may be so bold, what does it say?" Captain Tréville glared at Rochefort with disdain.
"My Dear Brother, Ferdinand," the king began reading. "I deeply apologize, my dear brother, but your visit to Paris will have to wait. We can reschedule a visit for another time when it is more convenient. Until we see each other again, Your Most Loving Sister, Anne."
The room went quiet, no one daring to speak as they traded confused glances.
"This is your proof, Rochefort?" the king's disbelieving voice rose as he glowered at the First Minister. "This is your proof that my wife, the queen,has committed treason in conspiring against me? This… this request for a visit from her brother? You must be mad, Rochefort!"
"Your Majesty!" Rochefort barked in surprise. "Can't you see this is a coded letter?"
Captain Tréville sunk back in his chair, letting out a breath of disgust. He cradled his forehead in his hand, squeezing with his fingers against the headache now pounding between his temples. "Good God, Rochefort is mad."
Later, Carcassonne Outpost:
Two squads of five each were spread through the village of Carcassonne France from the bank of the L'Aude River on the eastern edge of the village, reaching to the most advantageous and strategic vantage point in the towers of the Château Comtal.
The lofty stone towers of Château Comtal soared high above the valley giving the scouts a birds-eye view over the tree tops all the way to the foothills in the southern horizon. The view was clear and vast, even to the naked eye, but with the benefit of the spyglass magnifying the distance viewed, it was the perfect vantage point for observing possible troop movement.
Each scout was equipped with a spyglass, paper and ink, and a bell to be used for warning the couriers only when troops were spotted; each scout was also armed and ready to engage in battle, if necessary. Couriers were interspersed with the scouts in the towers to pass along messages to the mounted scouts on the ground should enemy troops be sighted. The mounted scouts were ordered to immediately ride northwest- should the need arise- to alert command, waiting with the main body of troops in Toulouse.
Presently, no enemy troop activity had been discovered and the scouts were getting antsy and restless—and bored. Suddenly, scouts posted in the château's eastern tower spotted troops moving through the trees in the distant southern foothills as sunlight gleamed off the steel tips of their spears.
"Sound the alarm bells!" yelled a scout to his partner on the tower. "I see movement coming from the foothills beyond in the south!" The hand bells were sounded, instantly alarming the couriers in the tower. A scout scribbled a message quickly on paper as a courier waited to carry it over to the awaiting scouts on the ground.
Mass of enemy troops spotted in foothills south of Carcassonne, possibly thousands. Château Comtal, Eastern Tower.
The courier ran the message to the mounted scouts who then galloped away, heading northwest to inform the main army waiting in Toulouse; while the other couriers rode to gather up the remaining scouts.
The two scouts in the eastern tower exchanged worried glances as they watched the army pouring out of the southern foothills; the army proceeded to march toward the walled fortress protecting the village of Carcassonne. Would these invading forces move past the fortress to continue marching north toward Toulouse?
The scouts were on their way to warn the awaiting army, who would then march south to intercept the enemy. Somewhere between Toulouse and Carcassonne two marching armies- each with their own desperate mission to fight and willing to die for their cause- would meet. Surely, a bloody battle was undoubtedly eminent.
Meanwhile in Lyon:
The thirty scouts deployed on the eastern border of France were spread thinly as there were several key points where an invading army coming from the Alps of Italy might pass through into France.
In the small village of Chambéry, in the mountainous region of Savoy, an especially strategic vantage outpost was found at the Château des Ducs de Savoie, or more commonly called by the local villagers, Château de Chambéry, castle home to the Duke of Savoy. A team of scouts set up their observation point in the high tower turret where they had an unsurpassed, lofty southeastern view of the Alps and each of the passes an army might use on their march into France. A second team of scouts had their vantage point from the top of the half-round tower of the castle, giving them a perfect three hundred-sixty degree view of the valley.
After endless hours of keeping watch, the team in the tower turret sprang to life as they viewed through their spyglasses a mass of troops, flowing like ants from the mountain pass far off in the distance ahead. A flurry of activity abounded as the scouts rang out the bells of alarm to signify the advancing troops.
Soon a team of scouts were riding northwest to Lyon to inform the awaiting army under the command of Brigadier General Antoine d'Aumont de Rochebaron that troops had been spotted and were approaching the village of Chambéry.
Later, when word had been received from the scouts at Château de Chambéry, orders were given to assemble the troops for the final preparations. Brigadier General de Rochebaron stood in front of his troops, looking over the vast numbers of his impressive and mighty army, and nodded his head approvingly.
Standing at attention, the troops stood ready to march into battle and defend their beloved France and her King from those who would do them harm. "For King and Country!" the general yelled; he held his sword high in the air as he mounted his horse and turned south. The French Army troops began their march, following behind their commander, each ready to put a stop to the audacious plan to overthrow, Louis XIII, King of France.
This master plan, a simultaneous attack on two fronts, was exactly what Captain Tréville had feared; but never in all his many accomplished and seasoned years as a soldier and commander of the King's Musketeers, did he ever imagine he would live to see such a plan carried out.
A/N:
Pierre de La Porte was Queen Anne's cloak bearer and most trusted courier with her secret correspondence. La Porte was indeed captured, arrested and imprisoned at the infamous Bastille for over one year where he was repeatedly tortured but yet he refused to implicate his employer, Queen Anne. Cardinal Richelieu himself even interrogated La Porte and, after not breaking, the Cardinal expressed his respect for the loyally determined man.
The French generals and colonels whom I mention are indeed real BUT in order for this story to proceed smoothly, I did take discretion to use these men out of realistic time context, as a few of them would have been just children at the time of the conspiracy.
Lieutenant General Henri (Vicomte) de Turenne: born 11 Sep, 1611, achieved military fame and became a Marshal of France. He was one of only six marshals made Marshal General of France. Turenne dominated the battlefields of Europe for several decades throughout the 17th century. His death at Sasbach in 1675 was universally mourned.
Colonel François de Créquy: born 1625, Créquy took part as a boy in the Thirty Years' War distinguishing himself so greatly that at the age of twenty-six he was made a lieutenant-general before he was thirty. Créquy was regarded as the most brilliant of the younger officers, and won the favor of Louis XIV. de Créquy and Turenne were known as the "Dynamic Duo" of French military leaders.
Brigadier General Antoine d'Aumont de Rochebaron: born 1601- 1669 He was Captain of the King's Guards and Marshal of France. He worked in many military campaigns under both Kings Louis XIII and XIV, such as in the Siege of La Rochelle and the Siege of Montauban, to name a few.
Jean, Comte de Gassion: born 1609 was a Gascon military commander for France and reached the rank of Marshal of France at the age of thirty-four. He served Louis XIII and Louis XIV and died of wounds at the Siege of Lens. Cardinal Richelieu commandeered his services as he was one of the renovators of new cavalry tactics in the West.