Chapter 62

The banging at Treville's office door had him groaning, rubbing his eyes, and then slowly sitting up. "What is it?" he shouted. Early morning wake-up calls were not uncommon, and on some occasions the call was followed by hurried concern as he rushed to the palace, but this time, Treville was certain was about his men. He rubbed his face and then grunted when he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood in his bare feet. Wearing nothing but his braies and blouse, he opened the door and squinted against the brightness of the lantern, and frowned. "What is it?" he asked again. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked at one-eyed Jac.

"The boys are back, Cap'n," he said gruffly and scratched his balding gray head. He stood with a hunch to his shoulders and a look of concern on his features. "They're lookin' a might rough."

Treville peered around the edge of the door and looked toward the courtyard at Athos, Porthos, and Aramis as they unsaddled their horses. He ran a hand tiredly over his face and said, "Send them up." He snapped his fingers. "And have one of the guards see to their horses."

Jac nodded, turned on his good leg, and hobbled down the steps.

Treville lit a lantern, slipped into his britches and boots, and then scratched above his right ear when he heard the expected footsteps. He leaned against his desk, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited. Before they could knock, he glanced at his timepiece, winced, and then called for them to enter.

They all looked exhausted. They were two days late, seven by Treville's standards, dark circles hung beneath their eyes, bruising faded on Athos' temple, along his cheek, and near his brow. They all needed a good nights sleep, a few glasses of wine, and long hot baths by their appearance.

"What happened?" Treville asked. He watched Athos take a seat on the chair in front of his desk, lean forward and rest his elbows on his knees, and rub his brow.

Aramis leaned against the fireplace mantle. He poked at the bell, but quickly abandoned it, and then looked at Treville and said, "Do you want the long version or the brief one?" he shifted, removed the coin purse, and tossed it to Treville who caught it.

"By the looks of you, I'd say that there isn't a brief one." Treville opened the pouch and looked at the gold coins. "D'Artagnan told me what he could. The king has ordered the assailants who attacked the both of you," he looked at Athos and then at Porthos, "to hang. Rochefort has agreed to the public display as a warning to others." He exhaled slowly and shook his head. "I disagree with his decision. Now is not the time to cause fear in the minds of his people." He placed the bag of coins on his desk and looked critically at his men. "Start from the beginning?"

"Someone — we think — hired men to… prevent our return to Paris," Aramis said.

Porthos looked side-eyed at Aramis and huffed, "They tried to poison us. Nearly killed Athos an' Aramis."

"Whatever they used," Aramis said with a wince, "was nothing I'm familiar with." He spoke about the men they had found at the parish and the conditions in which they were found. He speculated on the reasons and waited for Athos and Porthos to add their thoughts and insights.

Porthos spoke about the events in Allier, the fight, the farm, and the aftermath. Athos kept quiet, and focused his attention on the dirt and debris caught between the tiles on the floor. Treville listened as much as he watched them and the more he looked, the more concerned he grew. Athos and Aramis had both lost weight, weight neither could afford to lose. While Aramis was back on his feet, he had the look of a man who battled exhaustion, and weakness. Athos, he could see, was still in the midst of recovering. "Any idea who it might have been?"

"None," Aramis said. Crossing his arms over his chest, he took a deep breath and leaned against the mantle. "At first we thought it may have been revenge, and we assumed it might have been someone from our pasts, but," he shrugged, "it was too organized, too well planned. They knew where we were going, who would be there, and when. Had d'Artagnan not eaten half the sugared treats in Autun, he may have succumbed as well."

Porthos cocked an eyebrow.

"He made himself sick," Aramis said and tried to hide his grin.

Treville winced and said, "He failed to mention that part of his rendition."

Porthos asked, "How is he?"

"I've taken him off the assignment roster until his shoulder heals," Treville said and looked critically at Athos and then Aramis. "As are the three of you." He took a deep breath and leaned back. "King Louis' grand reception isn't until Friday. Get some rest," he raised his eyebrows, "get cleaned up, and eat some food… a lot of food."

Porthos teased his eyebrows.

"More guards should be sent to the palace as a precaution," Athos said. He leaned back, rested his hands in his lap, and said, "At least until we know more about what is happening. With Richelieu's death, the king is more vulnerable," he paused, "and susceptible."

"We considered 'is mother," Porthos said and scuffed his foot on the floor. "We did stop 'er from reclaimin' the throne."

Treville shook his head and said, "She's currently traveling throughout Europe visiting royal courts."

"Pleading for mercy… I assume?" Aramis said.

"Richelieu, for all of his conspiring, strategically placed French spies in several royal courts and they are watching her every move." Treville inhaled deeply and sighed as he replaced the gold coins into the bag. "The threat would not have come from her."

"Richelieu wasn't the only one who used spies to accomplish his goals," Athos said and rubbed his thighs.

"What about the red guards?" Porthos asked with a frown. He shrugged and said, "They've been after us for a while — could be that they decided to act."

Treville pursed his lips, rubbed his neck, and shifted his feet while still leaning against his desk. "There are a few who have been in the regiment long enough that they might have made some contacts throughout the years, but I question whether or not they would have the mental facilities to go to this extreme. For now," he ignored Porthos' snicker and looked again at the coin purse, "let's assume it's the Spanish trying to get close to the king. I'll have a talk with Ambassador Perales. He might be able to provide some insight —"

"If he's not involved, you mean?" Aramis said with a shrug.

Treville sighed, tossed the bag onto his desk, and then crossed his arms over his chest.

Athos stood, slapped his thighs, and said, "Unless you need something more from me?" He looked at Treville.

Treville hesitated, and then nodded. "Indeed." He looked again at his men. "Go, get some rest." He watched Athos turn and leave, with Aramis following close behind. "Porthos?"

"Captain?" Porthos said as he turned.

"Shut the door and take a seat."

Porthos looked at Aramis, who paused on the top step, looked at him and nodded. Porthos swallowed, and the shut the door. He looked at Treville, who walked to his credenza, grabbed two glasses and poured them each a glass of wine. He turned, handed a glass to Porthos, and then took a seat behind his desk. "What happened?"