Hi, everyone, I'm having a bit of a rough day and I had a little bit of time so I thought I would post a bit early. Thank you all who have stuck with me on this journey. I now you're anxiously awaiting our musketeers reunion and I applaud you for your patience! I you have commented, I'm so sorry for not getting back to you in time. My life is running in circles right now and as my grandmother used to say, "You've got too many irons in the fire!" I will respond to each of you, but in the meantime, thank you! It's great to know that you're either enjoying the story, hating the story, or dying to know what comes next. I'll keep posting on a nighty basis and I can officially say we are halfway through!

Enough of my babbling. On with the show...

Chapter 33

"Monsieur Porthos," Emry said. He turned suddenly when his dog started barking. The black and brown, long-haired canine remained on the porch when Emry snapped his fingers and looked toward him with a stern scowl. He motioned for the animal to sit and be still. The dog quieted, shifted his front two paws when he sat. Emry untied his horses from the fence. "How is your friend?" he asked and looked at Porthos.

Porthos led his horse from the barn. The big bay was saddled and bridled and ready for the long ride ahead. Porthos winced and then slipped into his doublet and effortlessly strapped on his weapons belt. "I need to travel… an' Athos isn't well enough to be moved. I need to find my friends."

Emry furrowed his brow and then looked to his left when he heard the door to his home open. Eve stepped outside with a basket hanging from her right elbow. "He's welcome to stay, but," he said and scratched his jowl. "I don't know how much help we'll be to him. What he's suffering from is," he shrugged, "more than what we've experienced."

Porthos rubbed the back of his neck. The decision to leave was a burden he wasn't willingly taking. Athos couldn't travel: he was too weak; too exhausted, and the severity of his tremors made riding double nearly impossible. And should something happen, if the weather turned again, or if a horse stumbled and they take another fall… Porthos sighed and said, "That's why I've got to find my friends. One of 'em knows a thing or two about 'ealin' an'," he shrugged and chewed his bottom lip, "hopefully 'e'll know what to do." He looked over his shoulder toward the barn.

"Monsieur Porthos," Eve said and stepped toward them. "You're leaving already?" she asked. She noticed the stance of a man unsure about his actions, his concern for a friend, and the uncertainties of the unknown. "How is Monsieur Athos feeling this morning? He looked pale."

Porthos swallowed and clenched his jaw. He didn't know what to say. Athos was bad enough that he was asking for Aramis… He was bad enough that he was willing to stay behind. He was hurting enough that his sudden loss of sight had become a secondary concern. "He's ah," he paused and then winced.

Eve reached for his arm and patted it gently. "We'll see to him until you return… Please," she said, "let me see to your arm." She motioned toward the fence and walked with him while he unbuckled his weapons belt and then gracefully removed his doublet.

"I appreciate—"

"I've had plenty of experience with bumps and bruises," Eve said as she rested her basket on the ground next to her feet. She watched Porthos take a seat on an old bucket and then pull up the sleeve of his blouse. "It looks like you got hit with something," she said and gently touched around the bruising before slipping her hand into his. Her hand was small in comparison, long elegant fingers looked brittle within his palm. "You can use it?" she asked and looked at him while twisting his wrist to the right and then the left.

Porthos nodded. "It's only painful when I need to grab somthin' or lift somethin'."

Eve looked at Porthos in understanding and then reached into her basket. She removed several large cabbage leaves, applied them to his arm, and then she carefully wrapped a long bandage from his elbow to his wrist. "Keep this on for as long as you can. It will help with the swelling." She watched him pull down his sleeve and then slip back into his doublet and weapons belt. "I've made some of my mother's chicken soup for your friend— Bessie's days were numbered." She then handed Porthos a cloth sack filled with food. "You need to eat to keep up your strength. There's bread, pears, some chicken," she assured, "and some sweet bread."

"You shouldn't 'ave troubled yourself," Porthos said, but took the bag with a grateful smile.

"It's the christian thing to do, Porthos… Whether it was you or someone else who arrived at our doorstep last night, everyone will be treated with respect." Eve tilted her head, looked at her husband and then walked to the barn.

Porthos watched her go and then quirked his lips and tied the sack to his saddle.

"Find your friends, Porthos," Emry said. "Just be careful on the roads — they've become dangerous over the last few months. There is no telling who is friend or foe."

"Your stablehand?" Porthos asked. "When is 'e to return?"

"A few days — Monsieur Athos can remain in the room in the barn. Seth is a resourceful young man..." Emry said.

Porthos took one last look at the barn and then mounted his horse. He pulled on the reins when his mount stepped forward and Porthos looked at Emry. "I'll be back." He looked over his shoulder to the barn once more.

"Ride safe," Emry said. He stood back and watched Porthos gallop from the property. He looked at the barn, and then glanced toward his young daughters as they washed clothing and then hung it from the dry lines. He looked skyward suddenly when a hawk screeched and spread its wings. It disappeared behind the tops of several trees that hid the gentle curve of the mountain in the distance. Both horses snorted at the same time and then one shook her head and buckles stuck one another and leather slapped.

He looked to the barn, and then with a heavy sigh, led the horses toward the field where he planned to spend the day checking his crops, his animal traps, and repairing the fences that kept his bands of sheep from wondering the countryside.

"Stay close to the house and do as your mother asks," Emry called to his daughters.

Both girls paused in their actions and looked at him. The twins were identical both in looks and in character.

"Yes, papa," they responded together.

Emry chuckled, and then with a smile, walked his horses toward the cart in the distance.