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Chapter Six

'The Comte de Rochefort, I presume?' came a deep voice from close to the door. Rochefort looked up to see a strongly built man with a scar across his neck and cursed the ineptitude of his guards and his own foolishness for not taking more precautions when he realised the door was ajar. He never left it ajar.

'Who are you? And what do you want?' Rochefort asked pompously.

'I'm certain that we share the same goals my dear Comte.'

'You nothing about my goals. I'll ask again, who are you?'

'Why is my name so important to you?'

'You know my name and I like to know the names of the men I execute for trespass,' Rochefort threatened quietly as he leant back in his chair.

'There will be no need for that. My name is Renard and I really don't like the King's Musketeers.' Renard glanced towards Rochefort and could tell that his initial instincts that the Head of the Red Guard would be sympathetic to his aims were correct. A sneering smile had appeared on Rochefort's face and he wasn't trying to hide it.

Rochefort simply replied, 'Go on,' while bringing his hands together in front of him with just the fingertips touching.

'You're not going to hand me over to your guards?'

'If I was going to do that, I would have done it already. The Musketeer regiment is rather…a thorn in my side and my life would be far simpler without their meddling.'

'You mean they're a pain in your arse that you would love to be rid of?' smirked Renard.

'You have quite a way with words, Renard. Essentially yes,' said Rochefort as he turned to face the man that could help to him to be rid of the musketeers once and for all. 'However, you are not the man in charge of this idea.' It was statement rather than a question. Rochefort stood up and moved over to where Renard stood.

Before Renard could react he found himself pinned against the wall with Rochefort's hand at his throat. Renard was much larger than Rochefort, yet the smaller man had a vice-like grip that belied his size.

'Now tell me who you work for or you will die in this room,' threatened Rochefort. Renard took a moment to remember what the duke had said. He said not to mention his name unless he had to but surely this counted as having to!

'The Duke of Épernon.' He spluttered. Rochefort released his grip and moved away.

'Why would the duke want revenge on the musketeers?'

Renard clutched his throat as he spoke, 'The duke lost a lot when the musketeers foiled a coup. So did I. I lost my brother and I want revenge as well. There is a certain musketeer we want to pay for ruining our lives.'

'So you are more interested in a particular musketeer than the regiment itself? Who is this musketeer?'

'The duke didn't want me to tell you yet. But I can tell you that he is often seen with three friends. It's almost like they are inseparable.' Rochefort smiled at Renard's words, their quarry was one of the men he truly despised. The men that constantly defied him and were the main hurdle in his quest.

'What is your master willing to give me for my help?'

'Anything,' Renard stated simply.

'Anything? That is a rather dangerous proposal. What if I wanted you to commit treason?'

'He said anything,' said Renard as he shrugged his shoulders. 'I thought it was treason to target a musketeer anyway, so I can't see a problem.'

Rochefort was quickly trying to work out a plan in his mind. 'How quickly can you return to the estate?'

'Tomorrow at the earliest unless I had a fresh horse.' Rochefort quickly took a spare piece of parchment and scribbled something before sealing it and branding it with his own seal.

'If you are serious about this then take this to the Red Guard garrison and they will give you a fresh horse. Ride back to the duke and have him ready to meet me by the South gate at four o'clock tomorrow afternoon. For my plan to work we have to do this quickly. If he does not agree, then you are on your own and I will never see you again.'

Renard took the letter from Rochefort and looked him in the eye. They shared the same goal but this was a dangerous alliance and they both knew it. Renard left the room and Rochefort began to plan.

The day had thankfully been uneventful for the musketeers and the Comte's men. Herbert was now well enough to ride on the cart alongside his friend Bouchard and both young men were glad about it. Herbert had only been allowed to ride on the cart by Aramis if he could keep his breakfast down and the young man had felt the marksman's stare all though breakfast, determined to prove himself strong. Aramis was reminded of D'Artagnan.

They approached the Comte de Fortier's residence as darkness started to envelope them and were greeted by a man holding a lantern.

'Hello Jacques,' Dubois greeted the man and dismounted.

'We was expectin' ya sooner,' said the man. 'The Comte's really worried that summat happened.'

At that moment another man with a lantern approached. He was rather portly with short grey hair and grey stubble and he was looking rather frazzled.

'What happened? Is everyone alright? Were you attacked?' he reeled off in quick succession.

'It's alright sir,' said Dubois raising his hand to stem the man's questions. 'Monsieur Athos, please meet the Comte de Fortier.'

Athos dismounted and offered a short bow to the man as his brothers did the same. The Comte looked questioningly at him and Athos reported, 'We were attacked but we successfully defeated the men and nothing in the cart was stolen or damaged.'

The Comte looked at Athos with a somewhat stunned expression on his face before responding, 'I couldn't give a damn about the cart. I care about people. Was anybody hurt? Herbert you don't look well my boy,' Now it was Athos' turn to be left stunned and he turned to look at his brothers to see their reactions were similar to his.

'Herbert was injured when his horse reared but Monsieur Aramis has taken good care of him,' Dubois explained while gesturing towards the musketeer. 'The musketeers did all the fighting and the rest of us are well.' The Comte visibly relaxed and surveyed the group of men, who he could hardly see, before him.

'Jacques, would you go to the village and fetch Dr. Allard please. I'd like him to look at Herbert,' he ordered before turning to Aramis, 'Meaning no offence of course.' Aramis smiled in return to show he wasn't offended.

'Where would you like the gifts to be put sir?' asked Dubois.

'Oh, just put them in the house somewhere,' the Comte replied waving his hand nonchalantly. 'And Bouchard get Herbert inside and resting. He certainly looks like he needs it.'

'Yes sir. Come on Herbert. Let's get you warm,' replied Bouchard.

'Gentlemen,' said the Comte indicating the musketeers, 'Will you follow me please.' They entered house until they came to a well-lit room and the Comte turned to face them, 'Now I can see you all better,' he said with a smile and opening his arms welcomingly.

The musketeers were slightly perplexed at this man. Most nobles looked at them as though they were nothing or looked down on them like they were pieces of mud stuck to their shoe. This Comte was truly different.

'If I may have the honour of knowing the names of the King's Musketeers who so bravely fought off an attack? Messieurs?' asked the Comte jovially.

'Athos.'

'D'Artagnan.'

'Porthos.'

'Aramis.'

'Well now I know who you are, it is a pleasure to meet you all,' he said grandly.

'We are happy to have been of service sir,' replied Athos.

'Oh enough of this 'sir' nonsense. You may call me Fortier, Messieurs.'

'Then may we extend the courtesy and you may call us by our names as well.'

'Oh marvellous!' exclaimed the Comte. 'Now we have rooms prepared for you but I'm afraid you will be required to share,' said the Comte looking hesitantly to them men in front of him. The musketeers were looking at each other in surprise. They had often found themselves thrown out of a noble's estate and forced to look for accommodation late into the night so they no longer expected to put up by their hosts.

The Comte saw the looks between the men and suggested, 'I can ask some of my servants to share if you would prefer rooms to yourselves.'

'Fortier I can assure you sharing will be more than fine and we are overwhelmed by your generosity,' stated Athos.

'You mean to say that other noble's do not offer you accommodation after a long journey?' said Fortier with clear astonishment in his voice.

'They rather throw us out actually,' quipped Aramis.

'Slept many night's under t'stars when we were too late to find a bed,' agreed Porthos with D'Artagnan nodding beside him.

'Not to mention some places that were worse than sleeping outside,' added D'Artagnan.

'That is terrible. Well you are more than welcome to use the rooms,' stated the Comte with sincerity.

'Thank you,' Athos replied and bowed his head slightly.

'Um. Before you go to your rooms, I was wondering if you would meet me here in about half an hour and join me for a late dinner and some brandy. It has been a bit of a rough day for me and from what I hear, a long few days for you as well.'

The musketeers looked to each other with small smiles on their faces, 'We would be honoured,' said Athos with a small smile. The Comte beamed back at them and asked a serving girl to show them to their rooms.