Now a captive myself, I was thrust unceremoniously to the ground before d'Artagnan and the king, a rope being hastily wrapped around my wrists to tie them together as irons were yet to be found to shackle me. I made complaint of their brutal treatment, turning my head to keep from looking at them and appearing impertinent. Going unnoticed was what I desired, and the moment the guards moved away, I twisted myself to face the two men. "How do you fare? Your majesty? D'Artagnan?"
"Worry not, I've had worse," d'Artagnan assured me as I lifted my fingers to touch delicately at his cheek where a fresh graze had been made from his fall.
"Well, I have certainly had better," the king promptly quipped, but all ire and anger had fled from his tone. He seemed resigned to his fate.
"The day is not yet over, your majesty. One way or another we shall see you safely through this, on that you have my word." He looked to me then, meeting my gaze so I swiftly averted my eyes, but I was aware of the fact that King Louis was now taking the time to study my features.
"If memory serves, you are Anne's favourite lady in waiting. The one who protected her from the assassins," he recognised and I nodded in confirmation, still keeping my eyes lowered as was proper. "Given the circumstances, I think we can dispel with etiquette. You may raise your gaze, mademoiselle." Doing so slowly, I gave the king a reassuring look, hoping that my resolute determination might bolster his withered spirits a little. "What is your name?"
"Madeleine de la Fère, if it please you, sire." The king inclined his head to acknowledge my introduction, but I expected that beyond tomorrow he would not remember my name. At that moment a man appeared, a captive shackled as the rest of them, but he brought water in a cup and a cloth. He shifted nervously, glancing around to ensure that no one was watching before he began to tenderly dab at the king's face, cleaning it of the dirt.
"I promise you, this kindness will be repaid a hundred fold," murmuring tiredly, the man only smiled sombrely.
"There won't be much opportunity for that in the Spanish galleys."
"It will not come to that," I promised, but anything further I intended to say was silenced when a shout rose from Sebastian la Maitre, ordering one of his lackeys to fetch d'Artagnan and the king up onto their feet. Immediately d'Artagnan grasped hold of me and did his best to quickly put me behind him, though the movement was clumsy and his shackles caught me to form a heavy bruise. The lackey, Didi apparently, strode towards us.
"You two, up! Come on!" I protested with a sound of outrage that someone would dare lay their hands so freely upon my king, but even as I rose with them, d'Artagnan blocked my way and continued to keep me pinned to his back, shielding me as best he was able. Le Maitre halted before us, eyes narrowed beadily as he studied us closely.
"Who are you?" We did not answer. "Tell me! Or he dies." Drawing his pistol, he aimed it directly at d'Artagnan. Again I protested, more fearfully this time. My pulse quickened as I lurched, but still d'Artagnan kept me back. At the same time, d'Artagnan turned to the king and whispered quietly, imploring him not to say anything. The king, however, ignored the sage advice. He drew himself up proudly, and unwavering glowered down upon le Maitre.
"I am Louis, son of Henry the Fourth, of the House of Bourbon and Marie de Medici." As he spoke, le Maitre's eyes only grew wide and fearful. "I am your King. You cannot treat me like this." Then without hesitation, King Louis swung his shackled fists and knocked them into le Maitre's jaw. My own went slack in shock, but I was undoubtedly impressed by the blow. I recovered quickly from my astonishment, as le Maitre bellowed and aimed to swing back at the king which jolted both d'Artagnan and I to shield him, but a gunshot suddenly ripped through the sky like thunder. One guard dropped to the ground.
"Kill them all!" Suddenly horses came rushing into the camp, bearing their riders who aimed wildly at everything that moved, unleashing bullets and smoke upon us as in the lead rode the tavern owner, Gus. I cursed under my breath and grasped the king to push him towards relatively safety, d'Artagnan still covering Louis' body with his own. We were trapped in position, for both the king and d'Artagnan were still chained to their post, and only I had the freedom of movement. My eyes darted towards my horse which was tethered on the other side of the camp, were my weapons also lay.
"Madeleine, get out of here!" D'Artagnan called to me, but I heeded his advice as well as the king had. By that, I meant not at all. With my wrists still bound, I darted forwards and sprinted across the camp amidst the confusion and chaos, smoke soon tickling at my lungs as gunfire continued to echo throughout the valley, deafening me. Being small and quick, I passed with relative ease, skirting around one of the gunmen's horses to rush for my own. There I swiftly found my weapons, and unsheathed the stiletto dagger to cut my own bonds by gripping the hilt with my teeth and rubbing the rope against the sharp blade.
The moment I was free, I sprang for the rest of my weapons. In moments I had them strapped to my body, keeping one eye on d'Artagnan and the king at all times as I hid myself amongst the startled horses as they whickered and tossed their heads nervously. I did not reappear until I was well armed, bow in hand with an arrow knocked, them promptly let it fly. The moment it was loosened from my grip I ducked down once more, finding another place of shelter to conceal myself from sight.
Leaning outwards, I caught sight of d'Artagnan. He had freed himself and the king from their post and they now sheltered behind one of the wagons. Our eyes met, and I immediately indicated that he needed to flee, raising my bow with another arrow knocked upon the string to silently promise that I would cover his escape. His expression was wretched, but he agreed nonetheless. With a final nod, I twisted up onto my knees and took aim. The feathers flit through my fingers and the arrow took flight, effortlessly gliding directly forwards to the nearest target.
I repeated the process, sending arrow after arrow into the attackers to waylay and distract them, keeping their gazes averted from the king and d'Artagnan for as long as I was able. They hurried towards the trees, making their escape with the man who had tended to the king. I looked away, only for a moment, but after a calamitous gunshot which seemed to reign over all others, d'Artagnan's voice cried out in horror. "Pepin!" Pausing in the release of my arrow, I looked to see the man fall to his knees. "Get up! come on!" D'Artagnan lingered desperately, urging the man, Pepin, to follow them. Behind him I saw the figure of Gus, readying another shot to fire at the defenceless and wounded man, seeking to end him once and for all. I rushed to turn my arrow towards him, intending to shoot Gus before he could fire, but the bellow of another man distracted me. I had been discovered.
Upon instinct I released the arrow into the man who had lunged for me, the arrowhead disappearing into his chest as I then drew the stiletto knife and thrust it into the next as another followed. They rushed towards me, but I held them off with swift, efficient blows and slashes. They were numerous, but were lacking in skills. All the same, I could not remain here, and it was already too late for Monsieur Pepin. With a final shot, he collapsed to the ground, unmoving. I heard the devastation of d'Artagnan, felt it resonate with every bone in my body, but as the king dragged him away, they both vanished into the underbrush.
Turning my focus upon my assailants, I kicked the nearest one in the face, creating a burst of blood to pour from his nose with speckles of the crimson plume spattered against my face. I turned tail and fled back to the horses, ramming my foot against the rather spindly post to break it and release them all as they tossed back their manes and ran squealing. It was fortunate the post was not any sturdier, otherwise it would have been my foot which had broken. The last to flee was my own horse, who although afraid and wild eyed, kept itself rooted to the ground seemingly to wait for me. I blessed it silently, grasping the long mane to help pull myself up into the saddle with an eager leap.
Before I had even swung my leg over it had turned and sprinted after the others, allowing its instincts to move with the herd to take over. I let it have its head, focusing on situating myself securely on its back before looking back over my shoulder. For the moment, the men had halted their pursuit, glowering at me with heated rage as I kept myself pressed low over the gelding's neck and gripped at my pistol. Several bullets rushed after me, but none struck. I was carried into the woods, whereby I then fought to regain control of the bolting horse.
Seizing the reins, I pulled up its head then forced it to turn sharply, pulling upon one side whilst driving in my heel to force it into a tight circle. The movement forced the horse to slow, and I calmed it as best I could with my voice, soothing its terror and rubbing its neck until finally, he was still. His great chest heaved as he panted, snorting heavily as his ears gradually swivelled back to focus upon me. For a moment, I slumped against him, wanting to catch my own breath, but before I could even begin to ease the tension in my body, I heard pursuing horses and the shouts of men searching for their prey.
Feeling pity for the poor horse who had been overworked of late, I spurred it once more into a full gallop. I let it run for several paces to get ahead of the hunting party, looking back over my shoulder where through the trees, I saw they had gathered. "There! Over there!" They had spotted me. Cursing, I kept myself low over the saddle and soon found myself upon a forest path. Not wishing to risk my horse upon uneven terrain, I followed it whilst constantly looking back. They were gaining on me, hooves kicking up dirt as they moved like a swarm.
My blood roared as my heart pulsed with the drumming of hoofbeats, my stomach tightening as I felt their eyes fixate upon my back. Seeing I was arriving upon a turn in the road where the way ahead was obscured by a large rock, I slowed my horse into a collected canter, not wanting it to slip and fall around the bend. When I emerged, my eyes immediately fell upon the most welcome sight I had ever beheld. They had come. Athos, Porthos and Aramis, all present and with d'Artagnan and the king, no less. I briefly caught a glimpse of Milady de Winter, but I was so relieved to see my brother and the others that I had not the time to feel any outrage at her presence. They had started forwards, having heard a rider approaching, but they recognised me immediately. At first they began to relax and beam, but they swiftly saw the urgency of my pace and the tenseness of my expression. "Make ready!" I bellowed to them, alerting them to the danger that followed and they rapidly rushed to organise themselves. I heard my brother's voice rise ahead of me.
"Porthos, D'Artagnan! Ride with the king to Paris. We'll hold them here as long as we can." Behind me Gus and his men had slowed, allowing me to ease my approach as I risked a final glance over my shoulder. They studied us carefully, Gus clearly surveying the situation at hand before making his move. A fortune for us. I reached them just as the king was rather unceremoniously flung back into his saddle, looking at my brother with alarm.
"What, just the two of you?"
"Three. I'm staying," d'Artagnan announced, striding forwards and catching my horse by the bridle as I swung my leg over its neck to slide to the ground.
"As am I." I dropped directly into my brother's arms, Athos fisting his fingers into my hair as he held me against him.
"You must go."
"Absolutely not, I will stay here with you and there will be no arguments, brother." Although I quickly returned his embrace, I did not hesitate to push him back and retrieve my rifle from the horse along with the saddlebags themselves, for they were stocked full of ammunition and supplies which we might need. Athos looked at me painedly, but did not refuse me. He knew better than to try. As the king offered an ultimatum to the other figure present within the merry troupe, I recognised the blacksmith brother of Sebastien le Maitre.
"Help them now and I will grant you clemency for your crimes." At such an offer, the blacksmith readily agreed. I found a suitable place to conceal myself, selecting a thick trunked tree with my bow resting against my legs, arrow knocked in place but slack upon the string as Gus's men open fired upon us, spending their bullets and gunpowder as we simply lay in wait. With a command, Athos ordered Porthos away with the king and Milady. My gaze shifted towards him, and for a brief moment, his eyes glanced to meet mine. His jaw tensed, a grimace curling upon his mouth before the connection was broken as he galloped away. I hoped I would have the chance to see him again. It would be a miserable thing to die here.
Our chances did not seem too promising, but I consoled myself that at least now I had three exceedingly talented and dependable men beside me, not including the blacksmith. I kept a wary eye upon him. The lashes of thunder continued to roll across the valley until finally the last bullet was spent and our enemies were forced to reload. Athos caught our attention. "And now." We moved together. Each of us picked our targets, and when I stepped from behind my tree I drew the string taut on my bow, judging the distance and the shift in the breeze before letting the arrow fly.
It struck my target directly between the eyes. Gruesome, but entirely effective. I exchanged my bow for my pistol, picking another target and shooting them down before I reached for the rifle I had rested against the tree and knelt down, holding the barrel steady as I began to follow one man who was running to find better cover. Exhaling once, I squeezed the trigger. One could not follow a bullet as they might an arrow, but when the man violently jerked and twisted over himself, I knew I had hit my mark. Returning to cover, I began to reload everything once again. "Just how is it you come to be here in the first place, Madeleine? Your errands seem to be quite precarious ones indeed!" My brother shouted to me over the noise as I finished reloading my rifle and took another shot.
"I followed the blacksmith!" Sensing his incredulous stare, I smirked to myself. It truly had been so simple. Having fired a third round, I lifted back my rifle as our opponents began to scream and flee, not having the belly to stand against our blockade and be picked off one by one. Just for my own amusement, I raised my pistol and closed one eye, tilting back my head to study my target before shooting one last time. The bullet knocked the fleeing man's hat clean off his head, and I laughed brightly to see him stagger as his shriek rippled through the forest. My brother tossed me another wry look which I pointedly ignored.
My attention instead went to d'Artagnan who had stopped Aramis from taking aim at Gus. His eyes were fierce and full of intent, moving out into the open. Going to my brother, I watched curiously as he took the cloth scarf from around Athos's neck then handed over his pistol to Aramis, facing Gus who had drawn his sword and raised it aloft. The blade was then lowered, pointing at d'Artagnan who calmly began to wrap the scarf around his right hand. Shouldering my weapons, I stepped from behind my tree to watch, lingering near Athos who naturally brought his hand to rest against my back.
Gus gave a valiant war cry as he spurred his horse into a charge, the mount rising upon its hind legs before surging forwards. Although I trusted in d'Artagnan, I could not help but hold my breath and feel a tight knot in my stomach as I watched him walk towards the charging horse. In a smooth, rolling movement, d'Artagnan grasped Gus's sword with his bandaged hand, seizing his sleeve with the other and dragged the villainous scum from his horse. By the time I blinked, the sword was driven down through the man's torso, ending his life. It was over with so simply, I almost could not believe it.
For a while there was silence, each of us needing time to take in all that had transpired and reassure ourselves that finally, it was over. D'Artagnan returned to us as we gathered together, and I immediately brushed at his arm, silently asking after his wellbeing. He looked melancholy, but resolved. "Not quite the grand and glorious ending I anticipated," Aramis finally broke the peace, "but I must admit, an overwhelming victory where we send our enemies running for the hills makes for a rather pleasant change."
"Agreed," Athos noted, but his eyes were focused upon me. "However, we will be discussing why you thought it prudent to run off on your own like this. You should have asked one of us to come with you."
"And leave all the glory for you gentlemen? Absolutely not. In any case, I did not wish to divert you from your own trail. My suspicions could have proven quite fruitless, and thus a waste of a venture." I reasoned simply, beginning to dust myself down and straighten my clothing so that I was a little more presentable.
"All the same, you should have told me what you were doing." To this I conceded that Athos was most likely right. He was my elder brother and would always worry for me, but as Aramis helpfully stated, all was well so there was nothing more to say about the matter. We returned to our horses and chased down Porthos, Milady and the king. Thankfully, that wicked wretch had not attempted anything upon either man, except perhaps to swoon before the king and flutter her lashes at him.
Now that the danger was passed, I allowed myself to feel the full effect of my fury. When my hand moved for my pistol, Athos hastened to stay me, keeping me from simply shooting her and being done with it. "You cannot, she has the favour of the king, and he has pardoned her of all her crimes." In my shock, my hand released the handle of my pistol, whirling around to stare at him.
"No, it cannot be so!"
"We all heard him," d'Artagnan softly confirmed, as he and Athos watched me warily. My pulse quickened, a deep snarl rippling in the back of my mind like a beast clawing to be released.
"Let it rest, Madeleine. Now is not the time." It was the most difficult thing to listen to my brother in that moment, but I conceded to his better judgement, for mine at present could not be trusted. I was weary and every part of me ached from so many hours of hard riding, scouting, running and fighting. Despite each time the king and Milady laughed or giggled which irked me ruthlessly, I could not summon the strength to care. In turn, each of the men rode beside me, seemingly becoming as much my escort as the king's.
Aramis filled the time singing merrily and telling me jokes to try and lighten my spirits, which I appreciated but remained too tired to truly enjoy. When it was d'Artagnan, I asked him what had happened from the moment he had been taken, and he told me of the events which were yet unknown to us, how they were treated and how he felt guilt for Pepin's death as he had left behind a daughter and a widow. I consoled him as best as I was able, but by that point in time I struggled to keep my eyes open. When Porthos brought his horse beside mine, he reached out and grasped me around the middle.
Without asking or giving me fair warning, Porthos pulled me from my saddle and deposited me across his lap, sitting me there so that I immediately became surrounded by the sense of his presence, strong and reassuring as it was, but I gasped all the same. "Porthos! I am quite capable to ride on, you need not…"
"You're barely awake as it is, love. Don't worry, I won't let you fall. Just rest. We're going to be making hard for Paris once we're out of these woods, so sleep whilst you can." Flushing slightly as I felt his thick, sturdy thighs underneath me, I wriggled a little to try and put a respectable gap between us, but each time, Porthos only pulled me back. Suddenly, his mouth was against my ear and his warm breath tickled at my face. "Trust me, sweetheart. I've got you." Every part of me tensed. I felt as firm as stone yet as brittle as glass.
Yet as Porthos arranged my cloak to drape over me like an enveloping blanket, his arms encircling me as he continued to guide his horse yet holding me against his chest, I began to feel myself go lax against him. It was true, I was weary, and Porthos had this natural quality about him which meant it was impossible for me to be on edge near him. I exhaled softly and allowed my head to rest against him. That, paired with the gentle sway of his horse's rolling movements, sent me into a deep slumber which did not break even when our pace increased to ride with all haste to Paris, all in the hopes of arriving in time for Prince Louis's christening.