Thanks for the comments and for reading.

A slightly shorter chapter this time but one in which Athos reflects upon events so far and comes to a worrying conclusion.

35 DAYS EARLIER

ATHOS

As my horse walks along a broad Paris street, I reflect upon the day's business and am thankful for Porthos' thoughtfulness. I am weary in body and mind and relish the prospect of a restful evening whilst I await his and Aramis' return from wherever it is that Tréville has sent them. I know they have headed south of the city to escort the lady-in-waiting and that is all. The Captain handed me the letters Richelieu wanted delivering and I was sifting through them, eyeing the addresses and putting them into a sensible order so I was not paying attention whilst he finalised their details.

We left his office together and there was general amusement at his order – or was it a plea - that we stay out of trouble. I cannot speak for the other two, but I do not think there is any danger of that where I am concerned. I am not leaving Paris and the council members certainly do not live in any dubious areas.

With seven of the Cardinal's invitations safely delivered and only two more to go, my task is almost complete. I am not sure what he hopes to achieve by this ruse, but it is none of my business; the Captain seems to have accepted this stage of Richelieu's plans, although I wonder what will follow.

The route I have devised is simple and, if seen on a map, resembles a misshapen, inverted V to the north and west of the Louvre. Having already made four stops along the way to the furthest point, I am now on my way back, with only the two remaining deliveries.

I stifle a yawn as I think back to the culmination of the pursuit of Bircann and silently congratulate myself for having avoided Tréville's direct involvement with the nobleman's arrest. The Captain was tense, ready for a fight and I knew he would have taken on Bircann without a second thought, but his feelings were running high. I do not for one moment think that he would have been reckless, but I know that there is too much history, too much angst between him and Bircann that might have driven his actions. There was no question that the traitor would fight to the death to avoid capture, but our orders were clear from Richelieu and, ultimately, the King. Bircann was to be taken alive and that was accomplished.

I cannot help but dwell on his final words though as he was bound and taken away by other Musketeers. He claimed his 'reach was long', intimating that he had the means – and the contacts – to make life difficult for the Captain and, by association, myself, and this even though he was our prisoner.

Damn the rest I was planning for when this task is through. On my return, I will report as usual to the Captain and then I will try to get the man to be more open with me about what happened after their previous encounter. That is far easier said than done but then, who am I to complain? I am the one who has withheld things appertaining to my past from him and my two closest friends. My duty as his lieutenant is perfectly clear though; I have a responsibility to ensure his safety as far as possible and this I intend to do.

Of course, there is the possibility that it is all empty bluster on Bircann's part; he did not want to demonstrate any weakness to his captors. He is certainly not going to be harbouring any warm feelings to me as the one who fought, wounded and ultimately disarmed him.

Should I be worried? Worried, no; wary, yes. It would be foolish to underestimate the man. This is his second display of allegiance to Marie de Medici and he would not be prepared to make a stand unless he had significant support. Her efforts to seize the throne from Louis may have been in vain so far, but until such a time as Bircann's co-conspirators are identified and dealt with accordingly, we cannot presume that the present problem is resolved. All it takes is another person to be as strong a leader as he evidently is and who is prepared to step into his shoes. All we can hope is that the incarceration of the King's mother and Bircann is enough of a deterrent, but we do not know that yet.

I cannot ignore the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach that this is far from over. Porthos would initially laugh at me and berate me for my pessimistic outlook, but he would heed my warning, nonetheless. Both he and Aramis share with me that innate gut instinct when something does not feel right and the more I think about it, the more I am convinced that this is not right, not right at all.

My mind is racing and I suddenly fear for them, just the two of them outside Paris on a seemingly mundane errand. Who is this lady-in-waiting? When exactly did word arrive that her father has been taken so seriously ill? How can we be sure that he is genuinely ailing?

So close to Paris, they could be riding into a trap, lulled into a false sense of security after this morning's arrests that all they are doing is escorting one of Her Majesty's ladies-in-waiting to her family home in the country. So innocent!

What trap? Orchestrated by whom? What would it serve anyone to attack two of the King's men?

Logic dictates that they could be questioned about where Bircann is being held so that his supporters could affect rescue. Interrogation could extend to demanding details about the layout of the palace, the royal quarters, entrances and exits, the King's routine or even the expected movements of the Captain.

I feel sick at the prospect of the capture and subsequent torture of my brothers. They would never reveal anything, but they could be forced to endure indescribable agonies. I have to get back to the garrison, share my fears with the Captain and make plans.

Pulling the last two missives from inside my doublet, I look at the names and addresses again.

Soubert and Jolivet and then my job is done. I will be free to go after my brothers.