Profuse apologies for the delay. Thank you so much for your patience. Working on the book, getting ready for guests from the US and then time with them, including a holiday in Wales, kept me from writing for far longer than I had expected, and then this chapter created problems! I have proofread it but say sorry again for any errors that have crept through.

CHAPTER 38

18 DAYS EARLIER

PORTHOS

At last we're doin' something!

We ride at a steady pace, not wantin' to tire out the horses unnecessarily. I'm itchin' to go faster but that's just me an' I know it's common sense to maintain the speed we're goin'.

The wind seems to have dropped somewhat an' changed direction, comin' in from the northwest now an' only a little more than a breeze, not like the howlin' gales of the storm that hit Paris and the blustery conditions we faced ridin' to where Marie de Medici was bein' held.

The Captain, who has been ridin' out ahead of us in a surly silence now drops back to join us, stuffin' a folded map back inside his doublet as he does so.

He clears his throat. "My map says it's a league and a half to Bircann's estate."

"That's very close to where we've come from," Aramis says. "Had Bircann escaped back to his home, he could have used his men to attack the chateau to rescue her."

Tréville shakes 'is head.

"But 'e didn't escape, did 'e? Athos made sure of that," I cut in and at the mention of his name, I feel that familiar stab of unsurety an' I reprimand myself.

We will find 'im, I know we will. We 'ave to. I can't imagine a life without 'im: his wit, that witherin' glare he gives when you do or say somethin' that gets 'is disapproval. So many things.

"What do we do when we get there?" Aramis asks. "We are only three men. If he's being held at the estate and Bircann has a lot of men there …" He lets his voice trail away an' I feel a surge of anger.

If Athos is there, then we put up a fight if we 'ave to; I don't care how many of 'em there are. Anything so long as we get 'im back.

The Captain thinks for a minute an' I see that he's workin' through a plan even as he prepares to answer. We weren't exactly expectin' this opportunity presented to us by Richelieu an' I have to admit that it would be reckless to use force; we need the support of more men, more Musketeers and even before the Captain speaks next, I am accepting that we are probably on a reconnaissance visit here unless luck and Aramis' God are on our side. After all this time, it would be nice to think that somethin' might at last work in our favour, but I'm not about to 'old my breath.

"We see the lie of the land. Keep our eyes open and make a note of how many people are working there. We are the King's men and their master is the King's prisoner, his life forfeit. They are in no position to deny us access to the property."

"They could if they are desperate and there are enough of them," Aramis says flatly.

I hate it when he tries to be like Athos and spout common sense.

"Then we leave and come back another day with more men," Tréville replies.

He makes it sound so simple, but it could mean leavin' Athos as a prisoner for longer than necessary. What state is 'e in by now? Can he hold on?

"Not much of a plan," I grumble.

"And just what do you propose?" the Captain fires at me. I look away, disgruntled. There's nothin' I can say.

When we reach Bircann's manor house, it's impressive and over three floors; all turrets and carvings in the stonework. It looks old. I don't know much about this sort of thing, but I've seen it's like and I would guess that it's probably a couple of hundred years old by now.

The three of us ride slowly through the arch of the otherwise empty gate house and into an equally silent courtyard. Ever alert, our eyes rove over the windows, right hands hoverin' near the weapons at our belts and notin' the main door positioned at the head of several stone steps. Wide paths lead around each side of the buildin', wide enough for carts and carriages. The outbuildin's must be behind the main manor house an' maybe that's where more people are, but we must watch our steps. This place is givin' me the creeps an' that's no mistake.

We dismount an' Tréville leads the way, but he hasn't reached the top step before the door is thrown open and a very serious man stands there, feet apart, weight balanced. He's wearin' fairly ordinary clothes too an' there's me expectin' one of Bircann's servants to be clad in some type of livery.

"Good day. Can I help you gentlemen?"

He's polite; I'll give 'im that, but his eyes aren't still. 'E won't maintain eye contact with any of us an' that makes me nervous.

"I am Captain Tréville of the King's Musketeers, and these are two of my men, Porthos and Aramis." He nods to us each in turn as 'e says our names. "And to whom am I speaking?"

"Henri Durand. I am the steward here." His face takes on a haunted, sad look. "At least I was, until the master was imprisoned. I stayed because I did not know where else to go and I am responsible for the running of the place in his absence. I suppose I thought I would stay until I was ordered otherwise."

The Captain gestures that he wants admittance and Durand stands to one side, allowin' us to enter. He closes the door behind us an' my hand settles on the hilt of my dagger. My skin's crawlin' an' I feel like there are eyes on us from everywhere.

"Your loyalty does you credit," Tréville says, takin' off his gloves as he looks around. "In the light of your master's treachery, his property and all his goods have been seized by the crown, but if you continue to look after the estate until such time that its future is decided, I will make mention of you to the King and ensure that you are recompensed for your efforts. Are there any others here? It is very quiet."

"There's a handful of us, but most people left as soon as they learned what had happened to the master."

The Captain frowns. "And just how did you learn of his arrest? Have you been to Paris recently?"

There is no hesitation in the response. "Someone brought us word a week or so back at the master's request."

Tréville turns so that Aramis and I are the only ones to see his furious expression. So much for Bircann not having any contact with the outside world! It looks like Odart Gondy made the most of every opportunity given to 'im whilst 'e was in charge of Bircann.

The Captain schools 'is features an' turns back to the steward, who suddenly finds some courage from somewhere.

"But I don't understand why Musketeers are here. You have my Master in prison. What more do you want? You've already told me that the estate is forfeit."

He stands straight, his 'ead held high as if in defiance. Rather than promisin' 'im some payment, I'd prefer it if the Captain'd leave me alone with the man for a few minutes. I don't like 'im and I certainly don't trust 'im.

"One of my men, my Lieutenant, went missing over two weeks ago and we know that Bircann gave instructions for his abduction and for keeping him alive somewhere. Having exhausted looking for him in Paris, we are widening that search, beginning with this estate. You can make this easy on yourself by not opposing us. We will search this place."

The burst of bravado is short-lived an' I watch it drain away so Durand seems to shrink in on 'imself'. Just for a fleetin' moment, he hesitates an' I wonder if I'm the only one who sees it. 'E's surely not thinking of puttin' up a fight? 'E said there were a few servants left. Maybe they're within earshot an' he's waitin' for the best time to yell for assistance. Well, let 'em come; I'm ready for 'em.

"Your man is not here, nor has he ever been here. I'm a steward, not a soldier. There's no point in my trying to put up any resistance, especially when all you have to do is send for the rest of your men beyond the treeline."

So he thinks that there are more of us just out of sight! Let 'im go on thinkin' that then if it makes 'im amenable.

"You will accompany us," Tréville orders. "I want you where I can see you."

Aramis an' I move towards Durand an' he dips his head, almost in submission as he leads the way.

We're not likely to find Athos in luxury and I'm wonderin' why we waste time searching the main house. It's what I'd expect to see of a noble of 'is supposed rank; Bircann certainly likes 'is luxuries and comforts. The whole place screams money an' I can't 'elp wonderin' if it was all come by honestly an' with some of it bein' inherited. A lot of it looks old. Not my taste

We go through it methodically, floor by floor, room by room, large cupboard by large cupboard, up stairways an' down others, an' Tréville makes sure Durand unlocks all necessary doors. Luckily, the steward 'as all the relevant keys on a large ring attached to 'is belt. At every opportunity, we're lookin' out of windows to ensure we've got our bearings and aren't missin' anythin'.

Aramis stops longer than usual at one such window in a long corridor overlookin' the rear of the property, an' the Captain an' I flank 'im.

"Well?" Tréville demands. 'E knows as well as I do that Aramis 'as seen somethin'.

"Not sure," Aramis whispers so that Durand, standin' a little further on from us, can't hear what's said. "Two men at least; one down through that far left stable door and another in that open barn to the right. They don't seem to be doing much work; they're more intent on trying not to be seen."

"An' failin'," I add dryly.

Tréville fixes a supposedly pleasant smile on 'is face and looks up at Durand. "Just how many people remain working in the house and on the estate. How many are men? Any women?"

Durand runs a tongue over 'is lips to moisten 'em. 'E's looking nervous an' I'm wonderin' why.

"Erm. There are about seven or eight men working outside and two women still in the house, a mother and daughter from the nearby village. They come in daily."

As if on cue, a door slams somewhere on this floor and in an instant, our weapons are in our hands. Terrified, Durand holds out his hands to stop us.

"That's them, working in a chamber at the end. I put them to cleaning a different part of the manor every day to keep them occupied and the dust at bay. If you rush in on them, you'll frighten them to death."

His warning is too late as an older woman appears from a room at the end of the corridor, screams and promptly faints. We move quickly to assist her but a younger woman, presumably her daughter, is already at her side and helping her sit up as she's comin' to.

The girl, no more than twenty years of age, scowls at us as Aramis swiftly sheaths his sword and stoops to help her raise the older woman to her feet and ease her into the chair that Durand has moved into close position.

"What do you think you're doing, coming in here and waving weapons about? We're just trying to do our work," the girl glowers. She's definitely feisty an' I smother a chuckle as she slaps Aramis' hand away from her mother.

He straightens and immediately turns on the charm.

"My sincerest apologies, Mademoiselle," 'e begins, flashin' her his broadest of smiles. "I am Aramis of the King's Musketeers, here with my Captain and my friend Porthos. We heard a sudden and unexpected noise and were on our way to investigate. We did not mean to startle you."

"You didn't," an' I see her starting to thaw under that way Aramis 'as with the ladies, "but you upset my mother right enough."

"I can only repeat that I am so sorry."

Here 'e goes, hand on 'is heart, eyes wide an' sorrowful an' any last resistance on her part melts away. I glance at Tréville an' we both roll our eyes.

Arramis turns to us. "Why don't you two continue searching the rooms with Durand and I will rejoin you as quickly as I can."

There's panic in the steward's eyes, but nothin' he can do as the Captain moves to him and pushes 'im onward. We both know that Aramis is casually goin' to ask questions of the girl and her mother an' we're happy to leave 'im to it ,but it seems Durand knows what is goin' on an' he's not 'appy.

Aramis doesn't rejoin us until we're back on the ground floor. As I expected, there's no sign at all of Athos havin' been in the main house.

"You took your time," I say to Aramis, half-scoldin' 'im for the time it's taken 'im to reappear.

"I had to help Collette move Madame Priant to the kitchen," he explains.

"Collette is it now?" I grin. "You didn't waste any time."

Aramis leans closer to me but speaks in a loud theatrical whisper. "It was a delicate situation calling for a suspension of social niceties and protocol. Her poor mother was quite overcome with having seen us unexpectedly." And he winks!

I can't 'elp but snort at 'is nerve, but then I see Durand's face, scarlet with anger an' somethin' more. Oh no! Just what we need now to complicate things. An offended sweetheart or someone consumed with unrequited love an' in comes Aramis who, in a few minutes, has got the attention of the specific female. No wonder Durand makes sure that she and her mother continue to work in the house!

"As long as Madame is recoverin' in the kitchen with 'er daughter's 'elp," I say an' clear my throat.

"They were both partaking of a weak ale when I left them," Aramis adds.

"Then we'll leave them there," Tréville cuts in. "Take us to the cellars," he orders Durand.

They're as you expect of cellars: dank, dark, musty in places an', where dry, piled high with storage. Of Athos, there is no sign.

They don't take long to search though and all three of us come to the same conclusion at the same time.

"What about the rest of the cellars?" the Captain demands. "These don't cover half the building's area."

We're back at the bottom of the stairs leadin' up to the corridor that links the kitchen to various preparation rooms. Daylight from the open doorway above reaches us an' Durand extinguishes the lighted torch' e was carryin' an' replaces it in the wall sconce, but not before I see 'im blanche.

"We cannot access the rest from here; it's blocked off," he says softly.

"Why is it blocked?" Aramis wants to know. "How do we get into that section?"

"We have to go up and out and get in from the back courtyard, but there's nothing there. It's not used anymore," he insists.

Tréville is stern. "What was it used for then?"

Durand swallows hard. "Those are the dungeons. The Master had no need of them, but his ancestors did at one time."

The three of us stiffen. If Athos is bein' held prisoner 'ere, where better to keep 'im locked up than in the dungeons, ready designed for the purpose? Is Durand an outright liar or is it possible that 'e doesn't know that Athos is bein' held here?

"We'll see them too." There is no arguin' with Tréville an' a very miserable Durand leads the way.

As he said, we 'ave to leave the main house, go round the side of the building and into the rear courtyard that we'd seen from the upstairs windows. There's no evidence of anyone else out an'about, an' certainly no sign of the men Aramis said he'd seen. Durand pauses at a low, wooden door, opens it slowly an' disappears through it. Tréville goes next an' when I follow, I 'ave to stoop to enter.

There's not much light from the start and looking ahead down a passageway, it just gets darker an' I can't see what's in the distance, so we wait as Durand takes a torch from a wall sconce and lights it. I'm surprised that there are no lanthorns; they'd be easier to manage down here as the torch's flame flickers in the draughts that are comin' from the open door behind us an' from elsewhere.

He leads us on an' we feel our way along the passage with a hand runnin' along a wall. At the end is a flight of steps going down into the cellar level.

"Is there no more means of light?" the Captain asks as he gingerly moves downwards.

"Sorry, not until we reach the next level," Durand says. "We may be able to find one or two more, but there's not the call for them down there."

We seem to be descendin' into the bowels of the earth, disorientated an' slowed by the poor visibility, but I don't believe we've come far enough to be any lower than the other cellars. At last, we're on solid ground and I hear the Captain give a sigh of relief that we've made it without breakin' our necks.

Still Durand walks on, pausin' only to light another torch that he takes from a sconce an' handin' it to Aramis who holds it aloft. It 'elps a little for me an' the Captain to see more of the passage. A locked door bars our way, but the steward has the key to it with the others on his belt, an' he unlocks that one for us to proceed and the one after when we reach it.

Once through that, the area opens up. From somewhere, Durand manages to find a third torch, lights it an' hands it to me an' we can see that we are in a vast room lined on each side by thick, wooden doors, all of which have a square cut out of them at average head height, two to three metal bars in each.

The dungeons.

There's no mistakin' 'em an' my stomach tightens at the thought of Athos bein' down here.

We separate and go down the lines of cells, none of which is locked, the doors swinging open with some difficulty as the wood's warped in the conditions and are catchin' on the floor. Still more squeak noisily, their hinges not havin' seen any oil for years.

I'm callin' out 'is name, hopin' that he'll answer, but even before we have searched them all, I know he is not here, not in any of these cells, an' none of them gives any suggestion of bein' occupied recently.

At the far end, there is an openin' into a smaller room, but it's stacked with dust-covered wooden boxes an' barrels that are higher than I am tall.

"Nothin'!" I spit out, hopin' anger can mask my intense disappointment. We were all convinced that we would find Athos at Bircann's estate an' where else would he be but in the dungeons? "He's not here."

"And there's no evidence that he has been held here at all in the recent past," Tréville says, his voice flat.

"I told you that he isn't here," Durand declares, but at least there's no triumph in 'is tone.

"We still have the outbuildings to search," Aramis reminds us.

Tréville nods. "Then we'd best get on with it whilst we still have daylight for them."

It's a relief to breathe fresh air again as we emerge into the weak sunshine, hands slapping at doublets to remove the dust and cobwebs that have attached themselves to us. Although I am desperate to know where Athos is, I am thankful that we did not find him down there in the darkness, the cold and the damp.