Chapter 20

Olaf pulled his team of horses to a halt outside the Willow Tavern and smiled when he spotted the musketeer who had agreed to meet him. While holding his breath, he disembarked from the wagon with a jump and placed two stop-blocks, one in front, and one behind the front left wheel. He lifted his hat and scratched his head, and then tied the team's reins to the seat. He rubbed his lower back and walked toward the two horses that Athos saddled.

Athos tightened Roger's cinch and then lowered the stirrup into place. He looked over Roger's rump as Olaf walked toward him. It was dawn, and the bright welcoming horizon promised a new day. There were heavy clouds in the sky, and Olaf looked skyward, hoping, and praying for rain. The weeks of dry, hot weather had burdened his cattle and his crops.

"Thank you," Olaf said and then cleared his throat, "for agreeing to meet me." He reached into his the pocket of his simple brown doublet and removed a piece of parchment that he unfolded and handed to Athos with a shrug. "It's everyone I could think of that's been attacked." He licked his bottom lip and then pointed to the rough sketch. "I didn't have a map to look at, but I figured this might be helpful… You can see," he ran his finger along the road to Allier from Nevers, "several farmers and businesses have been hit in the village along this path." He stepped back and shrugged. "I spoke with some of those who lost goods and there isn't a one of them that knows who the leader is, or what it is they want… but," he winced, "there're a few local boys in that gang — but they haven't returned to their homes and their folks don't know where to look for them. That gang's getting more aggressive. It's only a matter of time before they kill someone — if they haven't already."

Athos looked at the list, the locations of the incidents, and asked, "When was the first one?" He looked at Olaf, who bit his lower lip.

Olaf scratched his temple and said, "I can't really remember." He twisted his mouth and pulled his eyebrows downward. "I don't think we really realized what was going on until quite a few of us had been attacked."

"So there could be more attacks than what is listed?" Athos asked.

Olaf shrugged, nodded, and said, "I suppose so."

"What were they stealing? Particular items, money, goods?"

Olaf looked toward the door of the tavern when it squeaked open. "Jewelry, money… they stole my wife's silver candlesticks and a locket, livestock, a few horses."

Athos nodded and then folded the note when Porthos exited the inn. He held his saddlebags in one hand, several rolls in the other, and an apple between his teeth.

"I cannot make any promises, but I will inform my captain of this situation and provide him with the details you've given me."

Olaf nodded and stepped back as Porthos grunted, placed his food on the seat of his saddle, and then tied his saddlebags. He took a bite of his apple, rested his elbows on his horse's rump, and chewed. "Why so early?" He scratched the tip of his nose, looked at Olaf, and then at Athos. Porthos took another bite of his apple and then wiped his lips.

"The note from the king states we need to meet with Madame Clorette Buniox before she receives customers," Athos replied.

"I can take you to her place," Olaf said. "She's on the way out of town… right next to the Nightstar Tavern." He turned, walked back to his wagon, and pulled the stop-blocks from the wheel and then tossed them into the back. The wagon squeaked and creaked as he stepped upward, and then took a seat. With a quick flip of his wrists, the reins were released and the horses stepped forward.

Athos mounted, adjusted his feet in his stirrups and waited for Porthos to do the same. He looked at the second story, far right window of the tavern. It was shoved open, and several articles of clothing were tossed out.

Both Porthos and Athos' horses spooked and backed up several feet with their ears forward.

Several shouts echoed, a woman's cries, and a man's pleas of innocence followed. The man suddenly stepped from the inn half-dressed and looked toward his clothing. He turned suddenly and ducked as a boot was thrown at his head. It flew through the window and landed with a single bounce onto the rose bushes outside the tavern.

"Lover's quarrel?" Athos said and winced as the other boot joined the first.

Porthos laughed, took a bite of his roll, and raised his hand into the air. "Nothin' like an early mornin' fight to get your blood boilin'!" He turned and looked at Athos. "Did you get the proof Treville needs?"

Athos nodded.

The wagon lurched forward and creaked and moaned as the old wooden wheels protested. The horses swished their tails, chewed their bits, and lowered their heads as they walked up the short incline toward the main part of town.

Athos and Porthos rode side-by-side and watched children complete their chores: collecting eggs, feeding animals, dumping the nightly chamber pots, and collecting items from gardens for their first meal of the day. Women shook out rugs and filled cauldrons, while men chopped wood, harnessed horses, and made repairs on their homes and equipment.

There were several businesses in town the farther they rode. A large inn with climbing roses that crawled up the sides of the veranda. Stables with several horses listed for sale and boarding available. Market stands were being prepared for the day. Filled with produce, handmade goods, and another with fish caught from the river. There was a church in the center of town, and to the right was a small clothing shop and the Nightstar Tavern that was already seeing action with its doors open and locals entering for drinks, a meal, and gossip.

Olaf pulled his horses to a stop and pointed toward the small clothing shop. "Madame Buniox's repository," he said. He tipped his head. "I hope to hear from you soon, Musketeer." He waved, slapped his horse's rumps, and continued his journey home.

Athos pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted. He looked at Porthos, who looked toward the tavern.

"I want to get a drink before we leave," Porthos said.

Athos rolled his eyes, stepped toward the door, and knocked.