Sorry for all of the long chapters in a row, but I just couldn't find a stopping place for them. For those of you still reading, thank you! For those of you leaving comments, my sincere appreciation!

One with the show...

Chapter 41

Athos pressed his back against the wall while seated on the cot. He rested his elbows on raised knees and worried his forehead. The day had slowly progressed into day two, and he thought about Porthos and his promise to return, but the more he thought the more he grew concerned. Time had a way of distorting memories, and the more exhausted Athos grew, the more distorted those memories became. Had it been one, two, or three days since Porthos' departure? Had he promised to return with the others, or by himself? Would he return? He could hear Eve and Emry complete their morning tasks. The old cow had been milked, the horses and chickens fed, the stalls had been cleaned, eggs collected, and the hammering of routine repairs echoed.

Athos winced, lowered his right leg, and grasped his thigh when a sudden and painful cramp occurred. He pressed the back of his head against the wall, squeezed his eyes closed, and took several short breaths. The random occurrences continued. It wasn't constant, not like it had been, just random reminders that his body was still fighting the poison that had been imposed upon him. His weariness continued to impair his ability to think clearly. When he tried to sleep, his body betrayed him, and his mind ran wild with things he dared not think on. Eve had been persistent and continued to bring him foods and teas, and while he ate a little, he lacked the energy to complete a meal. And while she had encouraged him to rest each time she returned for the trays, and provide more tea, he couldn't get comfortable.

Athos could hear Eve and Emry's daughters laugh and giggle while they played with the kittens in the barn. Their overly simplistic names allowed Athos an opportunity to know that one was a long haired ginger, another had white spots, and another was a ginger with white feet.

The sudden, panicked, shout from Emry for the girls to run to the house had Athos cocking his head and leaning forward to focus his attention.

Emry's voice was harsh as he called for Eve. There was a clatter of something solid, the sounds of horses galloping, and the sudden screams of the girls as they fled the barn. Eve's shout caused Athos to push himself to his feet. He felt along the wall pushed open the oiled canvas, and tried to listen to what was happening.

Emry stood in the center of the yard. He called and motioned with his hand for his children and his wife to stay beneath the porch awning. Eve pushed her daughters behind her, and then slowly backed toward the door until one of the riders pulled his horse to a stop and pointed his weapon at them. The man smiled, and exposed gaped front teeth that he pushed the tip of his tongue through.

"I have some money," Emry shouted, raised his hands in surrender, and looked at the men that surrounded him on horseback.

Their leader, a broad man with long blonde hair that hung in clustered strands around his face, licked his lips in satisfaction and smiled confidently. With a broad brow, wide crooked nose, and hooded eyes, he grasped at the tip of his long beard that was braided and touched the center of his barreled chest. He kicked his horse's sides and rode toward Emry.

"How much?"

Emry stuttered and then reached for the coin-purse. "Twe… twen… twenty-five livres and some sous." He tossed it to the leader, who caught the bag and then tossed it to his second in command, a thin man with short brown hair, a sparse beard, and a long scar that ran across the left side of his face. "Lucas… count it."

The men around Emry chuckled. The horses swished their tails. A bay mare extended her right leg and rubbed the side of her head against her knee.

"It's like he says," Lucas said. "Twenty-five livres and a few sous."

"That's not enough," the leader said. He leaned forward, rested his forearms on the pommel and said, "What else do you have?" He cleared his throat, spit, and wiped his thumb across his lips. He then looked at Emry's wife and curled his lips into an inquiring smile.

"We're simple people… honest people," Emry pleaded as he backed toward his home. "There are horses in the barn, an old milk cow… a few chickens — I don't have anything else."

The leader nudged his horse forward and then motioned for a few of his men to dismount and search the property. "I'm not interested in livestock — at least," he chuckled, "not anymore."

Emry looked from the barn to the three men who walked around the property. "We're simple people."

"Maman."

"Beatrice, hush," Eve said and kept her hands at her children's backs. Beatrice cried and clutched at her mother's dress.

"I have saddles—"

"Your woman looks good."

"Eve!" Emry shouted. He kept his hands up but looked over his shoulder. "Get in the house and lock the door!"

Eve backed up a few more steps and then quickly ushered her children inside. The door slammed shut; the latch was slipped into place, and then the window shutters were hastily closed.

The leader curled the right side of his lips into a half grin and said, "I'll just burn them out, Monsieur… then I'll have your wife… then I'll kill your children." He pushed himself up, adjusted his seat in the saddle, and turned suddenly toward the barn.

Emry flared his nostrils and ground his teeth. He would die first… he would sacrifice himself first.

"Look at what we found, Lyam!" Pascal shouted from the barn as he pushed Athos, who fell forward and landed on his hands and knees. "A musketeer!" The man tossed Athos' doublet toward him and then laughed and kicked at some straw. "A blind one at that." He laughed again and clapped his hands. "It's probably why the other one left him behind!" He turned suddenly, grabbed the shovel, the pitched forken, the leather harnesses and several ropes. He tossed them to the ground surrounding Athos and laughed while the others cheered him on.

"Work your way out of that, blind man!"

Athos rested on his haunches and placed his hands on his thighs. He could feel the moisture from the ground soak through the fabric at his knees. He wiped his face with the back of his arm and then slowly pushed himself to his feet. Still unsteady, he held his hands to his sides to help balance himself, and then listened to the sounds around him. The laughter, the horses that stomped their feet, and the sounds of footsteps on damp soil.

"A blind musketeer," Lyam said. He turned his horse and rejoined his men. He exaggerated a humorous laugh and nodded toward his second in command, who dismounted and handed his reins to a fellow group member. "What's your name?"

Athos swallowed but stood determined.

"Musketeer, what is your name?" Lyam asked again. He watched Lucas walk in a large circle around him. "Maybe the hit he took to the head," he pointed to his temple, "damaged more than his eyesight." He snickered and said, "Leave it to King Louis to have blind and stupid musketeers in his regiment."

Lucas ignored the chuckles around him and kept his eyes on Athos as he circled him. Lucas watched him falter as he stood, noticed his lack of attention toward the riders, toward Lyam, and even himself. In several quick strides, he walked toward him, stepped over the handle of the shovel, and stopped near Athos' left side. He held steady a moment, listened as the men chuckled, the horses' bits and bridles jingle when heads were tossed.

Lucas leaned forward. "Boo," he said in a hushed whisper that caused his breath to wisp across Athos' face and neck.

The sudden and unexpected right hook met Lucas' jaw, and he fell violently backward and landed in a heap amongst the harness. He lay motionless and then slowly sat upright and rubbed the side of his face. He looked at the men around him who laughed and then at Lyam, who raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Leave it to Lucas to take a hit from a blind musketeer," someone said from horseback.

Athos stumbled backward and fell into the harness. He struggled to get to his feet, tangled within the reins, the cinches, and breast collars. Slowly he crawled forward, found the unhindered ground and kicked off the leather tangles and then pushed himself to his feet. He could hear the laughter, the badgering, and he clenched his fists as though expecting someone else to approach. Sweat caused his blouse to cling to his skin, his back and around his neck. Muscles quivered as they worked to keep him upright.

"Blind or not," Lyam said with a laugh, "he's got one hell of a right hook."

"Leave him be," Emry shouted from behind the riders. "He's ill—"

"He doesn't look ill to me." Lyam looked over his shoulder. "My boys need some sport…" he warned, "it's either him or your girls — you choose."

Emry swallowed and then looked defeatedly toward the ground.

Lyam smiled. "Thought so."

"It's not much of a sport," the rider next to Lyam said. "Fighting a blind man," he huffed and scratched his grizzled jaw, "you might as well fight a dead one." He winced when Lucas pushed himself to his feet, moved his head from side to side. He then dusted his hands on his thighs, rubbed his jaw once more, and then stepped away from the harness, kicking it in frustration.

"Maybe he can see a little," someone from the crowd shouted.

"Or Lucas just needs a bath," another countered and waved his hand in front of his nose with a laugh. "A man can smell you coming a league before he sees you."

"Shut your mouth, Anton!" Lucas shouted. He snorted, cleared his throat, and spit. He dusted his hands, and then pointed toward the house. "Those two girls over there," he said, and focused his attention on Athos.

"Leave it to Lucas to lose to a blind musketeer," someone said, and the crowd erupted in laughter.

"Shut up, Pascal!" Lucas shouted over his shoulder. "All of you just shut up!"

Someone snickered as the group grew quiet.

Lyam took a deep breath and rubbed his brow. He relaxed his hands and let loose the reins and watched the scene before him. "Don't forget, Lucas, there's another musketeer on the loose somewhere." He pointed toward Athos and looked Lucas in the eyes. "The blind one might be able to tell us where the other one is."

"Only if he can see him," Ruben said and snickered.

Lucas curled his lips in annoyance and felt the sun on his back. "Take a step… blind man," he said, "let's see how a musketeer manages a prison cell without any iron bars." He smirked and then reached for the long leather rein that was lying on the ground. "Where is your friend…?" He loosely coiled the flat leather into the palm of his hand. "Did he ride off to find help? Or is he lying in a ditch somewhere… dead? Maybe those townsfolk, in their haste to find us," he snickered, "did more harm to you than they ever dreamt of doing to us."

Athos flexed his jaw and turned his head toward the voice. He could feel the sun on his face, the warmth on his shoulders, as the subtle breeze that caused the collar of his blouse to flutter against him. His body continued to betray him as he trembled. He took a step to his left and suddenly countered his loss of balance but stumbled and fell into the leather harness once more when he tripped over the handle of the shovel.

The men laughed.

Lucas raised his hands and turned toward the others. "I didn't even have to raise a hand!"

"This is madness," Emry shouted. "Can't you see he is blind? What kind of animals are you?"

Lyam looked over his shoulder toward Emry. "We're making a living just like everyone else, farmer. Keep your mouth shut."

Athos struggled to push himself to his feet. He momentarily fought with the leathers that tangled around his hands and booted feet, and then stood. He breathed heavily, again raised his hands to his sides and felt the coolness of a breeze against his chest when the collar of his blouse fluttered open.

"What does fighting a blind man earn you in a gang of fools?" Athos asked.

"He speaks!" Lyam said and raised his eyebrows.

Lucas lowered his hands, tightened his fist around the leather rein, and turned toward the musketeer. He licked his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and then stepped over the harness toward Athos. "Much more than a blind man in a regiment of soldiers," he answered with a hint of warning.

Athos swallowed and tightened his fists.

Lucas swung the gathered reins and struck Athos' side, causing him to stumble to his right and raise his arms to deflect the blows. Athos fell again when he tripped over the handle of the pitched forken. He was met with two solid kicks to his ribs, and he fell to his side, and gasped for breath.

"This is gettin' borin', Lucas," Ruben said. "This isn't even a real fight." He shrugged and looked at the others, who nodded.

"Stand up, you fool!" Lucas shouted and kicked Athos once more. He turned suddenly and shouted, "Shut your mouth, Ruben!" He grabbed Athos by the front of his blouse and pulled him to his feet.

Athos grabbed Lucas' wrists, and then kneed him in the groin. Lucas cried out, stumbled back, and grasped his genitals. He heard the laughter of those around him which only fueled his fire as he gasped for breath and his face turned bright red and his features were strained.

Lyam rolled his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "You fool!" He shouted suddenly and urged his horse forward.

"He's got some fire in him!" Pascal humorously shouted. "For a blind man."

Lucas shoved Athos backward against a horse and the animal shied. Athos tried to duck when he heard hooves strike the ground, but he stumbled to his right and fell onto his hip and elbows. He was grabbed once more by his blouse, pulled to his feet, and then dragged toward the water trough and then suddenly shoved backward. He landed with a splash. Water flowed up the sides, into his mouth and nose, and he grasped the sides of the trough and pulled himself up and over the side. Athos coughed, thick coagulated blood flowed from his nose, and he spat as he grasped the wooden edge. He sat on his haunches, leaned against the trough, and held his nose and mouth as blood slipped between his fingers.

"Holy hell, Lucas," Pascal shouted. "What'd you do to him?"

"Ha!" Anton laughed and shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. "Maybe he's got that bleedin' condition?" He winced and watched Athos press his hand to his nose to stem the flow. The man looked at the rider next to him and raised his shoulders with a chuckle.

Athos spat again and then wiped his hand on his britches when the blood slowed and then finally stopped. He breathed heavily, leaned back onto his haunches, and rested his head in the crook of his arm while leaning against the trough.

He heard the singing of a blade leaving its scabbard and he quickly pushed himself to his feet and stumbled backward until he hit the side of the barn.

"I'm going to gut you like a fresh stag!" Lucas said and sliced his blade through the air.

"We might be able to use him, Lucas," Lyam shouted.

"For what — nobody wants a blind musketeer," Lucas countered and pointed his sword to Athos. "Were you on a mission for the king?" He quirked a smile and then watched the expression on his victim's face. The uncertainty in his eyes, the knowledge and familiarity of the blade and the sounds it made while in use. Lucas raised it toward him, stepped closer, and then pressed the tip to Athos' throat.

Athos pressed his back against the side of the barn, clenched his jaw, and breathed steadily through his nose.

"There is little use for a blind man in this world…" Lucas raised the tip of the blade and tapped the right side of Athos' face near his right eye. "Perhaps we can cut them out and open them up… see what's inside them."

Athos swallowed and turned his head away.

"What if the king sent him here for us?" Ruben said and narrowed his eyes. "If you kill him… the entire regiment may show up here, and then what? Everything we've built would be gone."

Lyam looked at Ruben and nodded. He then turned toward several of his men, who quickly grabbed Emry by his arm and forced him into the center of the group.

Emry looked at Athos, then at the men around him. Some remained mounted, others stood casually around, watching. "No," he said, and then made a move to step toward his house, but his captor tightened his grip on his arm. He watched in horror as several men charged his home. "No! Leave us alone!" They kicked in the door and forced their way inside.

Eve shouted, screamed, and was pulled from the home by her arms and shoved forward. She fell, tangled in her skirts and apron, and then shouted for her girls as she listened to their cries when they were grabbed and held by their arms and forced outside. Tears streamed down their faces, and they both cried for their mother.

Eve pushed herself to her feet and backed away as a man approached her and reached for her skirt. "Stop, leave me be!" She slapped his hands and looked at the faces of those around her. "Leave us alone! They're just children… just children!"

"Leave her alone!" Emry demanded and struggled against those restraining him.

Athos swiped at the blade and continued to lean against the barn.

"What are you going to do about it… Musketeer?" Lucas taunted with a giggle. He tapped Athos' cheek with the end of the blade and waited for a response.

Eve slapped at the man's hand and he once again reached for her skirt.

Emry struggled against his captors. "Leave us be… take what you want but leave us alone! Please… I beg you!" He looked at his wife with fear in his eyes. He looked at his daughters, who clung to one another while crying.

Eve again slapped at the hand of the man who teased her.

Athos raised his hand and took a step forward but was grasped by the neck and pushed back. He grabbed the wrist of his assailant, who pressed the tip of his blade against Athos' left side. "How much does the king know about us? Did he send you here to spy on us?" He sniffed several times and then said, "You smell like fear."

"Lucas!"

Lucas ignored the shout from Lyam and said, "I'd kill you now," he whispered. His breath blew across Athos left cheek. "But you'd miss all the fun."

"Children and families?" Athos asked as the hand tightened around his throat. "Are you too weak to fight real men?" He winced and closed his eyes tightly when he felt the blade cut his side.

"Says a blind man who can do nothing but listen to their screams." Lucas chuckled low and menacingly. He shifted his blade and smiled when he heard the groan from his victim.