"Well, I'd say we made it into harbor without much detainment." Porthos mentioned as he and his comrades made their way off the ship and into the city of London.
"That is what worries me." Athos said suspiciously.
"We look rather conspicuous, do we not?" D'Artagnan spoke up. "Not that I'm developing cold feet, mind you. But if the Cardinal's men are really out to get us, we wouldn't disappoint him if we manage to stand out."
"The lad's right." Porthos agreed. "And anyway, disguises are a hobby of mine!"
"To a point." Aramis teased. He was making small, humorous talk to keep his nerves on point. He was worried, about the brave girl who had risked her life to aid them, for the safety and happiness of their queen, and...Felice. Was she alright? Was Buckingham abusing her for his own pleasure? Did he have enough aristocratic etiquette to know where to draw the line? Aramis doubted that. After all, the duke hadn't exactly appeared to the musketeers as discreet the last time they'd encountered each other. Hold on, love. We're coming!
The party of five purchased some simple countrymen garments at a small clothes shop in the city. They rented a couple wagons and horses from a livery and headed to the square of the city. "I must say, sirs, thank you for including me in this infiltration!" Planchet beamed, admiring his dark cloak costume for his role in this plan.
"That's right, Planchet. Announce it for all of England to hear." Porthos growled.
"Sorry! Sorry, sirs." Planchet shriveled up inside his cloak for protection.
"Are we all on point as to the plan?" Athos asked.
"Mm-hmm." Aramis and Porthos nodded.
"All set, lad?" Athos looked at D'Artagnan.
"When do we begin?" D'Artagnan asked excitedly.
"Where would you like me to start, sir?" Planchet bobbed up and down on his heels.
"Under the straw in the wagon, Planchet." Athos said smugly.
"Aww, I know you're only foolin', sirs." Planchet shrugged.
"We're not." Porthos frowned.
"Un-under the straw, sir?" Planchet gaped, his face dropping.
"Of course." Aramis grinned wickedly.
"Don't worry, my friend. Every battle-plan must have a strategy, even odd movements." D'Artagnan explained. "It's more confusing for the enemy that way."
"Ohh, I see, sir." Planchet nodded.
"Right then, Planchet. Under you go!" Aramis announced. He and Porthos shoved the tubby man up into the wagon, and piled huge clumps of straw on top of him until they felt he was well-hidden.
"Oui! A fella could suffocate under 'ere, ye know!" Planchet hollered.
"Shut up, Planchet." Aramis and Porthos said together. As they dumped the pumpkins of Aramis's wagon above the straw. "I still think we should have had him dress up as a baker." Porthos tsked. "More effective."
"If Milady is intending to pull the infamous stunt that I feel she will, this will halt her most effectively." Athos reminded him. "Now, then. Come with me, D'Artagnan."
"Right." D'Artagnan agreed, a shiver of excitement running through him. This was his first real mission as a musketeer! He was thrilled to help with this assignment. His zeal to be part of what he'd always dreamed of, a real knight of the crown, was what had kept his emotions steady during this venture. He was more anxious than he let on, about both his sister and his sweetheart. Constance and Felice were perilously at the mercy of D'Artagnan's enemies: Constance at Rochefort's pursuit, and Felice at Buckingham's lustful pleasures. Were they alright? Had Constance managed to elude Jusaac's men? Had Felice been able to hold her own against Buckingham?I'll know soon enough. God, keep them both safe.
Aramis and Porthos drove their horses onto the cobblestone streets of the tower of London. They prayed desperately that Planchet for once in his life would just shut up without throwing a fit! He obviously did not share amusement in this part of the arrangement. The two comrades breathed a sigh of relief as the constables posted at every gate and every wall corner didn't seem to take the slightest interest in them as they passed. To the authorities, they were just another pair of humble tradesmen on their way to do their daily business with the other peasants.
Athos wanted to lead D'Artagnan along the enormous stone walls, but they were heavily guarded with soldiers that had been trained with nothing less of excellence. "D-. Guards everywhere!" D'Artagnan hissed. "How are we supposed to get passed them to reach our spot to give the signal? I suppose we could challenge them. Lead them all to one spot, and then slip under unbeknownst."
"Must you always shoot for the combat way of things, boy?" Athos groaned. "In this case, we're going to use our heads to guide us, not our swords."
"But how?"
"Simple. Have you ever climbed your Gascony trees as a lad?"
"Uhm...sure. Of course I did!" D'Artagnan stared at him dubiously.
"Good then." Athos smacked his arm.
Together, Athos and D'Artagnan had quietly crept along the cinder walls, right under the noses of Buckingham's guards. They snuck atop the village's livery roof. Then carefully climbed across the small village building roofs. Aramis and Porthos saw Athos's signal from atop one of the gates, and so they began to play their part. They pretended to collide their wagons together, then began hollering at one another in hopes of drawing the attention of a gathering crowd, including guards. "Oui!" Porthos growled.
"Watch where you're going!" Aramis bit back.
"I thought you saw the signal!"
"I saw you waving like an idiot!"
"That was the bloody signal! Sergeant! Arrest this man!" Porthos stood up in his wagon, barking at the guards below him.
"Arrest me?! You can't arrest me!" Aramis howled in disbelief, completely 'affronted'. Athos smiled in approval and through a noose around one of the soldiers marching under the gate, then he hoisted him up and knocked him out before he could call out for help. D'Artagnan quickly pulled on the man's uniform.
"Good lad. It's all on you now." Athos reminded him. "Don't do anything stupid." D'Artagnan grinned cheekily, then Athos carefully let him down with the rope then D'Artagnan snuck inside the castle.
Well, here goes nothing! D'Artagnan gulped.
Athos held a large thumb's up to his friends. Porthos and Aramis breathed in relief. Their hope was with D'Artagnan now. He was such a little, reckless rookie. Would he be able to pull this off?
"Can I get out of here now! I'm suffocating!" Planchet cried.
"Shut up, you blithering idiot." Porthos groaned.
"Porthos, what do you make of that? Do you see it?" Aramis pointed to a high tower in the fortress, with a long, silky strip of cloth hanging out the window.
"Ahh." Porthos chuckled. "This is our lucky day, mon ami!"
A guard burst into Buckingham's office. "Sir! The first of the musketeers has been arrested." He announced breathlessly.
Buckingham leered proudly. "The game's afoot." He purred triumphantly. "Bring him to me and double the guards. Double the troops. Double everything!" The guard bowed, and departed. "So, they'll come to us."
Milady sighed coyly. "Well then, I think your lordship has everything under control."
"Do you think I might lose?"
"On the contrary. I have no issues with you killing Athos, but if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not watch him die." Milady stated wistfully.
"As you wish." Buckingham said, a bit disappointed. "Tell me, what is your favorite color?"
Milady stared at the duke dubiously. What was this about? And, why now? "Red? Why do you ask?" She asked curiously.
"I wanted to see if you were capable of telling the truth." Buckingham teased.
"Adieu, my lord." Milady curtsied.
"Is it tight?" Felice asked.
"Aye, miss." Kitty nodded eagerly.
"Alright. Let us see how this works." Felice approved. She and Kitty made tied bed-sheets to the bed post, putting the end out the window. Felice lightly jerked at the makeshift rope, pulling it as taught as she could and shoving it forward to see to which lengths it would land. Unfortunately, from what she could see by the tip of the sheets, there still remained a good hundred feet between it and the pavement below. Felice sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping.
"Miss?" Kitty gulped. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes, something is wrong!" Felice groaned. "We're out of luck. Our escape rope still isn't long enough."
"Ohh. What shall we do?" Kitty shuddered.
"Calm yourself, Kitty." Felice told her. "As long as you do not cry out, your mistress should believe you are merely entertaining or serving me as she left you. I don't think she would ever consider us capable of contemplating a proper escape."
"This is not a proper escape, Miss. It's inefficient."
"Our first try was. We shall have to think of something else." Felice said. Kitty began to cry.
"Oh dear g-. They're going to catch us! Milady will be outraged this time, and..."
"Kitty, look at me." Felice told her firmly. "Calm yourself. I will do all I can to see that Milady, that devious woman, will not send you into the dirty hands of Rochefort! I give you my word as a Gascon, and one of the king's own musketeers, I won't let that happen. Come now, help me think."
"Miss! Miss!" Kitty shook Felice's arms. "He's comin'! He's climbing up the wall!" Kitty panicked. Felice's heart nearly stopped when she surely heard someone strong making his way up toward the window.
Rochefort! Felice thought wildly. Who else would dare to sneak up to her room, uninvited? How did he know where she was? Milady! She'd told him to steal the girls away without Buckingham knowing about it. And now the big brute was doing just that! Felice felt like she couldn't even move. He was really here, and about to touch her again!
But then Kitty's hysterical cries shook her awake. "In there, Kitty! Quick! He's not taking you!" Felice commanded. Kitty darted into the antechamber and curled up in a fetal position. Felice closed the door to it, and frantically scanned the room for some sort of weapon. Rochefort was nearly to the window. She could hear him! She saw the poker for the fireplace and snatched it up, tremulously making her way to the window. Don't let him take Kitty! She prayed desperately.
Felice shakily grasped the poker with all her strength. It was up to her to protect herself and Kitty. There was no one else who would step up to defend them. He was almost here! He was almost in! Her heart pounded deafeningly, until she was almost sure it would burst from her chest. A black gloved hand gripped the window sill. Felice yelped and raised the poker above her head to strike down as hard as possible on the intruder's knuckles. But as she brought it down, the hooded figure's other hand held her wrist, preventing the brutal blow.
The grip was firm, but surprisingly...not bone-cracking! Nevertheless, Felice yanked back, screaming. "Let me go!" She hollered, raising her foot to the sill for leverage as she frantically struggled against the intruder, hoping to shove him back out the window.
"Shh! Quiet, love! Do you want to rouse the entire castle?" A low, soft voice scolded, releasing her wrist. The cloaked, towering man climbed into the room. Felice whacked at him over the head but just missed, barely. "Oohhff." He groaned, stumbling to his knees. She'd jarred his head a little. Felice was about to knee him in the chest but he grabbed her leg, causing her to lose her balance and fall back. She snatched up the poker, aiming it up toward him like a pistol. She slowly got up on her feet, matching the stranger's struggle. He clumsily stood upright, a bit disoriented, and removed his hood.
Felice was so cut off guard that the poker slid from her fingers to land with a heavy thud on the fur rug below.