Hi. Longer chapter today. It darts about a bit so I hope it flows ok.

There are a few swears at the end but nothing major. Hope you enjoy it! :)

Chapter 4

The musketeers and the Comte's men were reunited on the road and Aramis quickly saw to treating Herbert's wounds that he had left so they could leave the sight of the ambush quickly. The young man was currently unconscious which made treating his head wound easier. D'Artagnan held Herbert as Aramis cleaned the head wound, which thankfully did not require stitches, and bandaged the broken ribs. Porthos and Athos helped Dubois and Bouchard unhitch Flip and Zad from the cart and then re-hitch the cart horses. Herbert's horse was then tied to Flip who Porthos seemed rather reticent to let go of. The musketeers paused quickly to eat some lunch after Dubois informed Athos that he and his men had already eaten.

'Ok. Let's get going,' Athos announced. Turning to Dubois, Athos asked, 'Can we still make it to the estate by tomorrow evening?'

'Yes I believe so. I also know of somewhere we can stop for the night. If we can make it there tonight, we should still be able to reach the Comte's estate by tomorrow evening,' replied Dubois. Athos nodded as the men continued their journey.

Rochefort was sat in his office staring at paperwork that he hadn't paid any attention to in the last twenty minutes. He could still hear the king whining about travelling to Dreux in his mind and was starting to wonder if the king actually did anything. He sat back in his chair and sighed.

He knew he should be happy as his plans were starting to progress. Treville was no longer captain of the musketeers but the victory felt hollow as it became clear that the regiment still considered him their captain as did the queen. The king was listening to his advice and Rochefort hoped that soon he would become the king's main advisor with a lot of sway in the decisions that mattered.

He was, however, feeling the loss of his fantasies at the brothel. He had been right to kill the whore who betrayed him by siding with Perales, but now he had no emotional outlet. Anne wasn't coming to him as he had hoped, instead relying on Madame Bonacieux.

He got up from his chair and decided he would go for a walk. While ensconced in his thoughts he had taken little notice of where he was walking and he was brought out of his stupor by the sound of gurgling and realised he was in the queen's chambers. As he moved closer he could hear Anne talking to her son in French and in Spanish. Quietly he opened the door further to see Anne bent over her son's crib smiling broadly. 'She looks so beautiful when she smiles,' he thought to himself.

'Is something wrong Rochefort?' Queen Anne asked as Rochefort was dragged away from his thoughts by the queen's question.

'No Your Majesty. I was merely passing by,' he said with a bow.

'He is so adorable and he's growing so fast,' she said grasping her son's hand while he lay in his crib. Rochefort took her words as an invitation to move closer to the future king, meaning he would be closer to Anne as well. 'He'll be asleep soon,' she said to no-one in particular. Rochefort rested his hand on the crib next to Anne's and moved so that he was almost touching her, pretending to look at the child.

'He is strong and handsome,' Rochefort commented.

'Of course. He has royal blood in his veins,' Anne replied and moved to look out of the window. Rochefort quietly cursed her movement but his eyes never left her slight frame.

'I wanted to thank you for agreeing with me earlier. Louis can sometimes be difficult about travelling even when he knows he should. I'm still waiting for the moment for him to ask me to go in his place instead. Sometimes he can be so selfish.' Anne paused as she realised what she had said. She turned back to face Rochefort, 'Forgive me. I should not speak of my husband in such a way.'

Rochefort was glad that Anne could see her husband for what he was but decided he would not mention the truth in her statement. 'He will not hear it from me,' he said quietly. 'You were right to point out the importance of his presence and I am glad His Majesty has listened to your wise words.'

Anne smiled at Rochefort and he felt his heart skip a beat. She moved closer to him and spoke quietly, 'You have been a good friend Rochefort. I am glad that you are here.' The door opened and Marguerite entered.

'Marguerite. He is sleeping now and I shall retire to my chambers. I trust you have everything in hand?' asked the queen.

'Yes Your Majesty,' Marguerite answered with a curtesy. Rochefort again privately cursed at the arrival of the governess who had so far provided him with no useful information about the queen. Anne was already moving towards the door before she turned to face him, 'Goodnight Rochefort.'

'Goodnight Your Majesty,' he replied with a bow. As Rochefort made his way back to his office his mind had turned completely to Anne. He wondered how he could get close enough to her to make her see how he felt and whether she would act upon impulse as he surely would.

One thing he was sure of was that she loved him.

As the sunset the musketeers and the Comte's men reached the site that Dubois had earlier indicated and set up camp. Herbert had been conscious for a while and was now trying to eat some broth, which Dubois had made over the fire, under the guidance of Aramis and his still very concerned friend Bouchard.

The rest of the men sat around the campfire eating their meal in silence after a very tiring day. Soon Aramis joined them and Athos asked, 'How is he?'

'So far he has managed to keep the broth down as well as the water so he is as well as can be expected at the moment,' replied Aramis. Dubois visibly relaxed at the marksman's verdict of the young boy and sighed in relief.

Another few minutes of silence passed as Aramis began eating his meal just as everyone else had finished. It was Dubois that broke the silence, 'Do you think those bandits were opportunists who wanted to steal the cart?'

There was a pause before Athos answered, 'Maybe.' Athos then exchanged glances with Porthos, Aramis and D'Artagnan in turn, confirming that they all suspected that everything was not as it seemed. Dubois watched the musketeers and recognised a non-verbal conversation taking place before him.

'What aren't you telling us?' he demanded as the musketeers' eyes settled on him.

'The men we fought weren't bandits,' explained Athos.

'They were more like soldiers,' interjected D'Artagnan.

'I don't think their aim was the cart. They never approached the cart at all.'

'Mind you, D'Artagnan had released the horses so they wouldn't have been able to drive it away easily,' commented Porthos.

'Yes, that was a stroke of genius,' agreed Aramis.

'Has been known to happen,' said D'Artagnan with a small smile and a shrug of his shoulders.

'Hey genius, those horses knocked you over and then decided to knock me over!' exclaimed Porthos.

'Gentlemen, we're getting away from the point,' said Athos in a calm voice. 'We don't know the intention of the men that attacked us but we do know the outcome. Eight men are dead, two fled as did however many were hiding in the trees. I heard the horses retreat, therefore it is unlikely that they will attempt to attack again.'

'An' if they do. We'll take 'em out again,' said Porthos proudly, receiving nods from his musketeer brothers. Dubois could only nod with them and hope that their confidence was not misplaced.

'Right, Aramis and I will take the first watch. Porthos and D'Artagnan will take the second. Everybody get some rest,' Athos ordered. All the men started to move to their bedrolls and Dubois managed to convince Bouchard to leave Herbert's side to get some much needed sleep.

Renard, Boucher and Simon approached the duke's estate well into the night. All three were exhausted as were their horses. The free horses had mainly followed but some had lagged behind. Renard was sure that they would arrive as these lands were familiar to them and the horses knew the way home.

As they dismounted they were informed by a guard that the duke was awaiting their presence and followed the man through the dimly lit halls. Renard's stomach was churning as he tried to cement the words he would use to explain their failure and how his new idea would work.

As the three men entered the room they could see the Duke of Épernon sitting in a large armchair by the fire sipping a glass of brandy. The Duke was a strongly built man, much like Renard himself, his hair and beard contained flecks of grey while his eyes were dark and seemed to contain the depths of hell itself. The duke turned to look at the new arrivals and Renard felt his composure start to crumble.

'Monsieur le duc-,' he started but was cut off by the duke.

'Cut the crap Renard. I know who I am. I also know that I can't see our musketeer within your grasp,' he boomed. 'Mind telling why you don't have him.'

'The musketeers proved more formidable then I first thought. As we had observed in Paris, the four of them barely leave each other's side and worked well as a team.'

'How many men did you take Renard? Remind me.'

'Ten sir.'

'Forgive me. I'm sure I have misunderstood. Are you telling me that ten men could not beat four?' sneered the Duke before sipping his brandy. When no answer came the Duke looked at each of the three men with rage in his eyes. 'Where are the other men?'

'We lost the other eight men. It all happened so quickly,' mumbled Renard.

'EIGHT MEN!' roared the duke. 'You have failed me Renard. I want my revenge and you clearly aren't capable of bringing it to me.'

Renard felt his anger surge, 'Bullshit! Don't forget why you needed me in the first place. I am the one who told you who was responsible for taking away your chance at more power and wealth. While you still have a comfortable estate, I lost my brother! Without my information you would have no chance at revenge.'

'Do not forget that you still work for me and always have. You have always answered to me and not your brother! Without my resources and men you wouldn't stand a chance at targeting that musketeer,' the duke retorted and now stood face to face with Renard, both men glowering at each other with almost murderous intent for what seemed like an age.

'Why don't you tell the duke of your idea Renard,' came the quiet and fearful voice of Simon. Both men turned to look at Simon and Boucher, having forgotten that they were in the room at all.

'You have an idea?' asked the duke as he turned to sit in his chair again.

'Yes. It is well known in Paris that there is animosity between the Musketeers and the Red Guard,' Renard paused as the duke once again took a sip of his brandy.

'So what do you propose?'

'I approach the head of the Red Guard, the Comte de Rochefort and ask for his help in bringing down the musketeers. Hopefully he will be agreeable and if not, we have lost nothing.'

'Fine. You will not mention my name unless you have to. The name of our musketeer friend must also remain confidential as well as the reason why we want him.'

'What am I to offer in return for his help?'

The duke paused for a moment and swirled the remaining brandy in his glass while he thought. Finally he replied, 'Anything. He can have money, men, women, horses. Whatever he wants. Get some sleep Renard. You leave at first light.'

Realising his dismissal, Renard bowed to the duke, who was now staring at the fire, and quickly left with Simon and Boucher. Now he just had to figure out how to convince the Comte to help him.