Now only with Aramis and Porthos, I led them to one of Paris's foremost wagon masters, a man by the name of Nortier. His symbol was the star, branded upon each wagon he owned which was available for hire and rent, as well as well as the horses needed to pull them. "At the beginning of the war, men like Nortier found a profit in loaning their wagons for the use of the army," I explained quietly as we approached, Aramis and Porthos flanking me either side like they were my personal guards. "Each have their own symbol; this one belongs to Nortier."
"Look," moving towards a wagon which had been left in the stable yard, Porthos tapped at the five-pronged star within a circle which had been scorched into the wood of the back. "This is who he got the grain from." Looking to one another, Porthos called for the owner of the wagon, which brought a rather nondescript man into our presence. There was nothing remarkable about him, just a businessman much like any other, though he looked rather wary when he first approached. I smiled to try and settle his apprehension, stepping forwards to speak with him directly.
"Good sir, I am looking to hire a wagon or two for important business of state. We have enquired with several other providers, but they all tell me that their wagons are in use. Might you have one spare?" With all the air of ease and innocence, my enquiry put the man at ease, relaxing in my presence as he placed his hands upon his hips, signifying an open and relaxed manner.
"Most of my wagons are being used by the army," he said with a brief chuckle. "You'll not find a spare in Paris. There's a war on." This was said a little disparagingly, but I allowed the slight to pass since it was unimportant. He was quick to dismiss us, turning aside without sparing us a second glance. I hummed thoughtfully.
"Why do I get the feeling our friend knows more than he's saying?" Murmuring quietly, I glanced to Aramis before inclining my head in agreement. We turned to the wagon itself which stood in silent suspicion. It appeared innocent enough at first glance, but upon closer inspection its secrets began to grow noticeable. Porthos dragged a finger along one of the wheel spokes and tasted the fine, whitish powder, even as I clicked my tongue disapprovingly. One should not readily put strange things into their mouths. "What's that?"
"Limestone dust." My brow quirked in curiosity, starting forwards to take Porthos' hand to smell the dust on his fingertips. I regretted it instantly, recoiling sharply with a wrinkle of my nose at the unpleasant scent the dust carried. I could not comprehend the fact that Porthos had put that foul odour into his mouth. I had half a mind to make him wash his mouth with wine. He turned back to the wagon master. "We've got a shipment of grain coming in from the south. It's a big shipment," delivering a reasonable tale, he gestured expectantly as the master looked at us with mild irritation. "You must've heard the store in Saint Antoine was robbed."
"I can't help you," he was far too quick to answer, and neither was he apologetic about it. "All my wagons are out. Even that one's promised." I looked to the one behind us, covered in limestone dust yet without any dust touching the inside. I looked to make certain.
"A fine looking animal. Andalusian?" Turning to look at Porthos as he spoke, my gaze then drifted towards the horse in the yard, a singularly handsome creature, with a finely arched neck and noble features. Nortier made no answer, folding his arms with a clear expectation that we should leave. At that moment, another wagon returned, bearing the same dust upon the first. Seeing that we had overstayed our welcome, I touched both Aramis and Porthos gently upon their arms, seeking to draw them away.
"We thank you for your time, sir. Good day." Inclining my head out of politeness, I left first expecting that they would follow. There was nothing more we would get out of the wagon master, not without resorting to violence or threat, and neither would help our situation. Following a good lead always proved more effective, I found, and clearly this wagon master was hiding something from us. Two wagons covered in limestone dust? I would not call that a coincidence.
"There's only one limestone quarry this side of Paris," Aramis noted as we returned to our horses. I knew the one. It was not far, but I could not imagine how it would be beneficial to hide grain in a limestone quarry. It would ruin the product, meaning that it could not be sold for profit. I did not imagine anyone would any sense would store such a vast wealth in a place like that.
"I'm on it." Porthos decided and I immediately followed.
"I will go with you." He looked to me in surprise, a flash of alarm creasing his expression as I went to my own horse, a grey mare of gentle temperament, and untethered her from the standing post.
"It might be dangerous, darlin', you should…"
"I am not about to let you go off alone to face God knows what," silencing his argument with a firm look, I jumped whilst pulling upon the saddle, kicking a foot off the wall to help swing myself smoothly into the seat, quickly putting my feet into the stirrups and gathering the reins. The mare brought up her head and immediately stood to attention, ears swivelling backwards to signal that she was alert and listening to me. "You will need someone to watch your back. Or rather, I will need someone to watch mine, for I am going with or without you." Flashing them a smirk, I tapped my heels to the mare's flank and she immediately darted forwards, raising her legs high in a proud trot before easing into a smooth canter. She truly was an excellent horse.
A minute or so later, I heard Porthos racing to gain back the distance between us before pulling up his horse beside mine. I did not look at him immediately, maintaining my focus ahead of me as we made our way through the city streets. "We don't know what we're going to find, Madeleine. Maybe you should stay back," Porthos ventured to suggest, which irritated me to be so condescended.
"Perhaps you should stay behind if you are so concerned, and I shall handle this matter myself." Desiring to put some distance between us, I urged my mare onwards once again and we took off, charging through the streets and towards the city limits as Porthos shouted after me. I manoeuvred my horse more effortlessly than he did his, for she was light and nimble as I was. We reached the city gates and immediately broke into a full gallop for a little while until I could feel her tiring, her breaths deepening, so I resolved to let her walk for a time. At least this allowed me a little quiet and time to think, considering who might best profit from the stolen grain.
My instincts pulled me naturally towards Feron, but I could not quite understand how he stood to gain. The crown had promised to pay Beaufort his loss as well as purchase new grain, but if the money was to go directly to the merchants, then how did Feron stand to gain? Then I recalled he had mentioned a financier. It seemed suspicious to me that Feron would introduce an unknown character at such a crucial time. The entire affair depended solely upon his word, his word which I did not trust.
Could it be…? No, surely he would not be so greedy. So deplorable as to steal the king's own grain and then sell it back to him at an increased price? Yet, even as I troubled through these ominous suggestions, I found myself able to believe that a man such as Feron would do exactly such a thing. As I deliberated, the distinctive hum of hoofbeats drummed into focus and I recognised that Porthos had finally caught up to me. He overtook me upon his horse, startling my own before he slowed to a halt and wheeled around, using his horse to block the way as I glared in mild annoyance.
"What's with you? You can't just ride off like that. It's not safe." I found it laughable that he should be so concerned, considering he knew as well as anyone close to me that I was more than capable of handling my own safety.
"Then I shall refrain from any heroics should we face aggression. Perhaps I should leave you to handle any threats we face from now on." Detecting the bitter sarcasm in my tone, Porthos' expression flickered in anger, his eyes darkening in intensity as he snapped at his horse to move it forwards, bringing it to halt alongside mine so that we were directly beside one another.
"You know what I mean, I can't protect you if you disappear out of my sight,"
"Porthos, I do not require protection. I have managed well enough on my own these past four years, I shall continue to manage in the future also. Do not worry about me, I am not incapable." Moving my mare's head to the side, I had her step away from the other horse and continue forwards.
"That's not the point!" Shouting after me, Porthos urged his horse to follow, chasing after me until we were walking side by side. "I'm just trying to look out for you, Madeleine." Frowning at him, I wondered why he was being so unnecessarily overprotective now of all times. I noted that he was not looking at me, avoiding my eyes like he used to. This seemed to anger me more than anything, as if I was unbecoming to look upon. I knew I was not a devastating goddess of a woman, but after four years of tender care and attention, I could at least now claim a little beauty for myself. I did not deserve to be treated this way! As if I had suddenly become a weak, helpless maiden in need of a protector.
"If I were a man, you would not be so concerned. Have I not proven time and again that I am able to hold my own? That my arm is just as decent as yours in battle? That my courage will not falter when it counts?" My voice began to raise, anger and hurt penetrating its tone as I pulled my horse to a halt. "Have I not proven that I am not easily broken?" It was then that Porthos seemed to snap, looking upon me with such a fiery rage that I recoiled from it, and his voice echoed across the open road as he bellowed.
"YOU SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN HURT IN THE FIRST PLACE!" Seething with ragged breaths, I was glad my mare was a calm creature, for another horse might have balked and bolted to hear such a sudden rage. I stared at Porthos, eyes wide and my mouth loose. I had never seen him like this. Porthos looked as if he were ready to leap down from his horse with a roar and sink his teeth into the nearest flesh he could find, half wild with fury. Then he blinked and he settled, drawing back his anger to contain and control himself. "It's you always putting yourself in danger, you who doesn't think about what someone could do to you. You don't think about what's going to happen to you, how easily you can get hurt." Raking a hand across his face, Porthos moved his horse back towards me. "This isn't a game, Madeleine." If I had been touched by his words of concern, it swiftly vanished with that last sentence.
"You think I am playing a game?" Anger flared passionately within me, outraged that Porthos thought that I was merely playing like a child with toy weapons and imaginary opponents. "Believe me, sir. I understand very well that this is no game. I have the scars to prove it, same as you." He looked away, once more unable to meet my gaze or even look at any part of me, as if haunted by the knowledge that underneath my clothing lay a motely of scars, tokens from a man who had used me as little more than a form of entertainment, a means to vent his frustrations and rage. "How dare you speak to me of games? If anyone here is a games master, then it is you who…" I stopped myself, not wishing to enter this argument, but it was too late.
"Go on. What were you going to say?" The sharpness to his tone was unfamiliar, the cold unfriendliness which had never been spoken in my presence from my gentle giant was now directly solely at me, for there was no one else it could possibly be meant for. We were completely alone. "How am I a master of games?" Driven by hurt which preceded a spitefulness I later regretted, I drew myself up against him.
"You were the one who gave me false hope, allowed me to think that you shared feelings for me, kissed me intimately like no man had ever done before, only to take it all away. You played with my feelings, Porthos. I bore my heart to you, and you shattered it upon leaving. You left me with nothing." The sum of my feelings, quelled for four entire years, threatened to rise in a haunting wail of agony and regret. They rose up through me, pushing through into my mind and attempted to break free in an expression of tears, but I held them at bay. I remained void of expression, looking upon Porthos with a deadness that I had felt inside for a long time since his leaving. "You left me with nothing, the prize of a fool. Did I entertain you, Porthos?" If I could assign a word to his expression, I would have done, but it was so harrowingly complex that I had not the vocabulary to describe it.
"You're wrong, Madeleine." Deep and almost threatening, my mare drew back a step, ears pressed flat against her neck as she shifted nervously, and she did not frighten easily. "That was no game. I was thinking of your best interests."
"Then you made a wonderful job of it," muttering bitterly, I had my mare move forwards, eager to get on with the task so that I could depart from Porthos sooner. This was swiftly becoming a destructive topic, and I would not risk damaging our friendship over a petty argument. "Consider me well protected, Porthos. Now, let us go. There is work to be done and we are losing the light." Giving him no choice, I spurred my mare forwards and took off down the road towards the limestone quarry. I streaked ahead so that he would not see me wiping the tears from my eyes. I blamed the wind. Yes. Dust too.
It was just dust and the wind.