My brother and the others had already ridden ahead, but it did not take me long to catch them. I arrived only moments after they had, Athos facing Christophe who came out from behind the barricade he and his men had erected to parlay. The messenger had brought me the news of what was transpiring, and I knew that swift action would be required to mediate away from the potential chaos that threatened our horizon. The fact that the veterans had taken Treville and a musketeer hostage was enough to chill me to the bone, and I feared that a single mistake would plunge my heart into eternal devestation. "Where's the minister and my musketeer?" Speaking plainly, I lingered behind the other musketeers for a moment, listening whilst craning my neck and standing up in my stirrups to see.
"You won't see them until you've taken our demands to the king." Something was handed to Athos, a list of demands. Sitting back down on the saddle, I slowly eased my horse forwards.
"This is never going to happen."
"It'll happen in one hour," raising his voice slightly, Christophe refused to see reason. "Or your friends die." Seeking a peaceful resolution, d'Artagnan and Aramis tried to placate him, offering a peaceful ending, but Christophe would have none of it. "This will end!" The fearsome shout startled the horses, mine rearing slightly with a twist of its head until I brought it back under control. "But whether or not it is peaceful? That's up to you." Starting to turn, Christophe reminded them the limit upon our time. "One hour."
"Please, Christophe," making myself known, I urged my horse forwards until I was at the forefront of the line, dismounting even as my brother hissed for me to stay back. "This does not need to end like this," raising a hand to signify that I meant no harm, I approached him carefully. Behind me Athos growled darkly, ordering the others to remain and keep an eye on me, to make certain I did not do anything reckless before spurring his horse away to return to the palace with the list of demands. I did not watch him go, focusing on Christophe.
"It is the only way, but I'll not see any harm come to you, my lady. You should go, now. Whilst it's still quiet here." Appreciating his concern, I smiled shakily.
"Those men you have in there, you do not understand who they are," still moving slowly closer, I was aware of Aramis and d'Artagnan slowly reaching for their weapons so I held out my other hand, gently signalling with my fingers to keep their own hands at bay. I did not need their help, for I did not think Christophe would hurt me. "Minister Treville? That man is the closest I have to a father. He means the world to me, and Porthos? He is…he is…" I faltered then, struggling to find the words, but perhaps my inability to describe just what Porthos meant to me expressed fully to Christophe the true extent of just how precious they both were. "Please. Please do not hurt them. Take me in their stead. I am just as valuable. I will be your hostage."
"Do not even think it, Madeleine!" Aramis called sharply, making to dismount but the men at the barricade clocked their weapons onto him, so he froze.
"Get back, all of you." I forced them to retreat, not wishing to risk anyone's life or safety, not when everything was so precariously balanced. I looked back to Christophe. "Will you accept? My life for theirs?"
"I couldn't kill you, my lady. We all like you, you listened to us. Promised to help. It's more than anyone else has ever done."
"And I will help you. I gave you my word, and that is as good as law once it is given. However if you kill those men, then there will be nothing I can do to save you. Any of you. You will all be killed or sent to the gallows. Then what would this fight have been worth? What would it mean to the friends and brothers you buried today? Nothing. Nothing at all." Allowing Cristophe a moment to think, I then caught sight of Josephine at the barricade, looking ill and faint once more. "At least let Josephine come out. Let me take her away from any potential danger."
"If the king accepts our demands, there won't be any danger."
"Be rational, Christophe. You know that the king will never concede. He may agree to a few concessions, but either way he will send guards here to contain the situation. Do you really want Josephine to be caught in a potential crossfire?" He faltered again, looking back to his wife. "Let me protect her, at least. I can do that much for you." Finally Christophe nodded, agreeing to let Josephine move to safety beyond the barricade. He grasped my arm.
"I have your word no harm will come to her? You won't try and use her against me?" I smiled warmly.
"My word of honour is yours. They will have to step over my cold corpse if they want to touch her, and that includes my brother." Now satisfied, Christophe signalled Josephine to him. She came gingerly, and protested when she was told to come away with me, wanting to stay with her husband but we persuaded her that this was no place for a woman and that she would be safer if I took her away. "I promise, I will do my best to resolve this matter and return you to your husband. But until then, it is better you are safe, so come with me. I will protect you." Anxious but eventually compliant, Josephine allowed me to lead her to my horse.
I mounted up first and Cristophe kissed her tenderly, promising that this would all be over soon before lifting her up into the saddle behind me. When I felt her arms wrap around my middle, I nodded to Cristophe. "I have your word that you won't hurt them?" I asked, looking towards the tavern where Treville and Porthos were prisoners inside. "Not a mark or scratch upon them, Cristophe, or I shall be mightily displeased."
"So long as the king gives us what we want, you'll have them back as you left them." This was good enough for now, so I turned the horse away and carried Josephine to safety. She cried as we left and I flew past Aramis and d'Artagnan without halting. The only place I could think of was the garrison where Josephine would be safe outside of the palace, so I brought her there, hurrying inside with a clatter which brought several of the cadets and Constance running.
"What's going on? Who's that?" She frowned as I signalled for someone to help Josephine down and Clairmont promptly reached for her, helping her off the horse so I could then dismount.
"We have trouble, Constance. Let me get Josephine settled, then we can discuss the mess those men of ours have gotten themselves into now." A brief look of alarm touched her fair features, so I promptly assured her that d'Artagnan was not the one in trouble. Yet. It was still early. "Here, Josephine. Come with me. I'll put you in the captain's office, there is a bed there should you want to lay down. Are you hungry? Can I fetch you anything?" Putting an arm around her and leading her tentatively forwards, I asked another cadet to fetch her something to eat and drink, making him dash off to obey.
"My husband…I should be with him. I should not be…I should…"
"There now, everything will be alright. Men and their tempers, it really is quite troubling, is it not? Do not fret, I shall return and smooth everything once and for all. Perhaps I cannot bring the duke to them, but I can certainly make his life quite miserable in the palace. Mayhap that will bring them a little comfort." My feeble attempt at a joke did not help to ease Josephine's spirits as I brought her to my brother's office and sat her down.
The cadet followed soon after with a plate of food, a cup and a jug of ale for her to drink, but she touched none of it. I settled her as best I was able, promising that I would return as soon as I could. Thinking that she would be safe here, I made to leave but as I rose, Josephine suddenly grasped my hand. "It's my fault. I'm so sorry, all of this is happening because of me." Surprised by such a claim, I turned back towards her, asking what she meant. Josephine burst with a sob. "It was me! I stole from the duke! It's my fault those men are dead, my husband's friends…everything is my doing!"
"Hush now, hush, you mean to tell me that you stole the duke's purse?" Nodding her head through her fingers, I stared at Josephine for a moment before stroking back her hair. "You did not mean for this to happen, we all make mistakes. Do you still have the purse? Perhaps I can entreaty the duke to make amends if I return it."
"It's not money, there was no money, otherwise I'd have spent it keeping the inn open." Josephine struggled for breath so I made her drink a little ale to moisten her throat, imagining that she was crying herself dry. "The inn is struggling to make ends meet, we'd have lost the place months ago if I hadn't started to…to steal from rich looking guests. I swear, I only ever took from those who looked like they could afford to lose a few coins! Just them!"
"I believe you, Josephine, I shall not turn you in. It would do none of us any good now. Tell me about what you took from the duke. It wasn't money? Then what was it?"
"Letters." Reaching into her bodice, Josephine gave me the letters bound in a leather casing. I unravelled them and glanced through the letters, thinking they would only be mundane private letters perhaps of a romantic nature. What I discovered instead, was something far more incriminating. It was almost as if I had been taken back three years in the past, where I had found the documents implicating the duke in a conspiracy against the king and delivered them into his hands.
"My God…" I breathed, reading through some of them. "This changes everything." Staring at the words, I jumped to put them back and secure the casing around them, tucking them into my pocket to keep them safe. "Stay here, Josephine. I shall return for you later once this is over. I promise I shall do my best to end things amicably." Bearing the letters away, I went directly to Constance to tell her what was happening and that we needed the cadets and whoever was available to ready themselves.
I hoped that we would not require reinforcements, but knowing Governor Feron and Gaston as I did, I expected that they would prefer the heavy hand of complete annihilation over delicate diplomacy. "I'll organise things here, you get back and help the others!" Constance called to me so I rushed to my horse, swinging myself into the saddle.
"Do not be late!" Calling back to her, I dug in my heels to spring back through the city to the tavern, but even as I neared I heard the exchange of gunfire. Immediately my heart clenched in terror. Porthos. Treville. I urged the horse faster, jumping a stack of crates to cut through an alley before I was back at the tavern, discovering the musketeer cadets were firing at the barricade, and rather poorly at that. "Athos!" Tossing the reins aside, I slipped to the ground as the horse squealed and bolted. I let it go, rushing to my brother who heard me shout and quickly reached out his hand. It felt the most natural thing in the world for him to pull me to safety and wrap me into his arms, practically lifting me behind the barrier he and the cadets had taken, forming a stand against the veterans. Against the bursts of gunfire I pressed my hands over my eras until they adjusted to the noise. "What happened?! Where are Porthos and Treville?!"
"Still inside! Aramis and d'Artagnan went to rescue them," not understand how that might be possible, I did not even have the chance to ask. A colossal boom shook the ground, knocking my knees together and taking the strength from them. If Athos had not been holding me, I would have fallen to the ground. Both of us tensed, contorting into statues as we stared at the source of the explosion. The tavern. "Hold fire!" My brother finally bellowed and the cadets stopped firing. His arms were locked around me, and I did not push them away. We waited, holding our breath.
Wood split off the wagon from a bullet, a shot coming from behind us and narrowly missing my head. "No!" Dragging me aside, I squeaked as Athos practically grasped me under one arm to pull me with him, away from the line of fire as the red guards made towards us, shooting again as Athos bellowed. "Defend yourselves!" I heard a cry of pain and looked to see one of the cadets fall, clutching at his leg where he had been shot. I tore myself free from my brother's grasp and reached for the boy, tugging with all my might to pull him out of danger until Athos helped me, seeing what I was doing.
Several of the boys climbed up the building for a better vantage point, the rest of us cowering behind the wagon to keep ourselves from being outwardly exposed. Seeing to the cadet, there was little I could do in the field. I untied the blue sash from his arm which designated him a cadet then tightened it in a crude tourniquet over the wound, keeping it from bleeding as he cried out in agony. "At least you're now speaking to me," Athos dared to joke, so I sent him a furious glare.
"Now? You want to discuss this now?"
"Might be our last chance," hearing him jest was not something I would have expected from Athos. My often quiet, inexpressive, stoic, humourless brother. "This is the first time you have allowed me to come near to you since the grain incident, and soon we may all be dead. May as well clear our minds now." Staring at him incredulously still, my fist struck against his arm.
"I have no intention of dying at the hands of the red guard. I'd sooner drown in pig filth." He laughed, and genuinely too. His eyes were bright and he was smiling as I grasped the wounded cadet's pistol and returned fire at the red guards, shooting one of them in the arm to knock them down.
"We have to talk, Madeleine. At least tell me what I have done wrong so that I might fix it."
"Now…is not…the time!" Thankfully, I was saved from being pressed into further discussion by d'Artagnan bellowing to us to fall back, he and the others at the barricade delivering covering fire to allow us the opportunity to move. I allowed myself the momentary delight to see him, as well as Aramis, Treville, and yes. Porthos. "Go, take him! Give me the pistol," taking my brother's gun before he could protest, he pulled the wounded cadet's arm over his neck as I covered their backs, firing two pistols at once to protect them as Porthos darted over to help, taking the cadet's other arm.
"Madeleine hurry! Get behind cover!" Aramis bellowed over the sound as I continued to walk backwards, ensuring that all of the cadets were safely undercover before darting away myself. The moment I was behind the barricade, I flung my arms around Treville's neck, embracing him fiercely as he caught me, an arm catching my waist to steady us both. He returned my embrace, then held me close to his side as he bellowed to the guards, trying to get Marcheaux's attention.
"He won't listen!" Athos shouted back, all of us having to fight to be heard over the roaring gunfire as clouds of white smoke filled the air.
"This attack has no legitimacy!"
"He has direct orders from the king," Athos and Treville continued to shout at one another as I peered over the barricade and fired at the red guards. In the mass of bullets it was impossible to tell which shot was whose, for we could have all aimed for the same person, but I do believe I managed to knock a guard's helmet off his head with a metallic clang. "He could kill us all, no questions asked."
"Or perhaps we can kill them, no questions asked," I suggested darkly, reloading my pistols as the others did the same. Considering for a moment, Treville agreed with my notion. We had to fight. Between Treville, Athos and Christophe, they resolved to fight together as one unit. One force. At least now I did not have to worry about Christophe shooting everyone I cared about.
"How much gun powder do you have?" Christophe gestured and stated there were two, so d'Artagnan went to fetch them. We shot back sparsely, waiting for the lull in their shots to return fire in force. I rose with the others and aimed for anything that moved, aiming as best I could through the smoke and haze, but it was difficult with a gun. I would have fared better with my bow and arrows, or even my crossbow. I wished I kept a spare on the saddle, I really should do that from now on.
We each called for powder or more bullets, whatever we needed, but soon it became glaringly obvious that we were running out of ammunition, which meant that even with two barrels of gunpowder, it was useless. Suddenly I heard Marceaux over the glaring noise, my head throbbing as my ears ached. For a moment I blinked, straightening to look up over my head only for bullets to rain down upon the barricade with renewed vigour and force. They tore through wood, shattering them into splinters and I felt something graze against my arm. When I looked, I saw a large splinter almost the size of my little finger embedded there.
It did not hurt, but I cried out from horror to see it protruding from me. Suddenly Aramis was there, covering my head and pushing me down as he pulled the splinter free and pressed his hand over the wound to keep it from bleeding, though it was nothing significant. Mostly, he simply wanted me as low to the ground as possible, and used his body as a shield to cover mine as I pressed my hands over my ears. "We're outgunned!" I heard Athos shout, so I screamed at him from where I cowered.
"Really? I HADN'T NOTICED!" He was not the only sibling who understood humour and sarcasm. A hand grasped at me then, gripping onto my arm and I did not need to look to know it was Porthos. He had shifted closer, Aramis still covering me as he shouted to Christophe, asking if there was another way out.
"We're trapped." I did not much like the sound of that. As the gunfire eased a little, Aramis relaxed over me. He still remained close, but I lifted myself so that I was not pressed into the ground, lowering my hands from my ears to look around me, my hand bearing my weight as I lay it against the disturbed ground. Porthos's hand trailed down my arm to cover my hand, his engulfing mine, but I felt as he dug his fingers into the earth so that he could squeeze my fingers. I looked to him, recovering my breath as he held my hand, Aramis's resting against my back.
"Whatever happens, I've got your back." He said, probably more to Porthos than to me, but I felt Aramis press his hand more firmly against me all the same.
"I know," unable to help myself, I laughed breathlessly.
"You men are utterly hopeless," closing my eyes for a moment, I tilted my face towards the sun to bask in its warmth. If this was to be the last time, then I was going to enjoy it, and clear my conscious whilst I could. "I am sorry." Although speaking softly, both Aramis and Porthos, as well as Athos and d'Artagnan looked at me as I continued to turn my face towards the sun. "I am sorry I have pushed you all away and treated you poorly. I am sorry for everything. I just…I became so used to being alone, that I did not know how to be near to you anymore." Bringing my head down, I looked to them all in turn as they looked at me unwaveringly. "I forgot how it feels to fight beside someone you love and trust," I smiled to myself. "It is a good feeling." All at once, Aramis's arms were around me.
"You poor, sweet thing. We should never have left you alone." Next came Porthos, his large frame engulfing us both as his hand came upon my head and held me firmly, as if I could rest all of my weight upon that one hand without fear of him letting go. Then came my brother and d'Artagnan, all four of them becoming my barricade of safety, and I realised that rather than having arms long enough to embrace them all, I much preferred that they embraced me together, all at once.
"All for one," my brother murmured to me, all of us having shifted so that our arms were linked across one another's shoulders, our heads pressed together in a moment of tenderness amidst the raging chaos around us. I laughed softly.
"One for all." How apt the phrase, for it perfectly encompassed the heart of the musketeers. Bringing one hand down, I grasped the golden pendent and pulled it free from beneath my attire, brushing my thumb against the crest before kissing it reverently. "Now, let us kill these ingrates." Barking with a laugh of approval, Porthos clapped me on the back with a little too much enthusiasm as I jolted forwards and fell onto my hands. D'Artagnan helped me up, chuckling as he did so before they all drew their swords, seemingly resolved together to face our foes on our own terms rather than cower and hide until they came to shoot us themselves.
The veterans drew their swords also, a unity of metal ringing as I drew my thin dagger, the only weapon other than the pistol I carried. No sooner had we stood, however, we heard a rising roar gradually come into recognition. Constance and the reinforcements from the garrison had arrived, the fresh faced cadets bellowing as they raced for the red guard, swords drawn, and rushed to meet their opponents. Seeing his wife, d'Artagnan kicked down a board and sprung through the barricade, rushing to her side.
Well, it seemed we might stand a chance of living after all. Following after d'Artagnan, before the others recovered their wits, I went for the nearest guard and promptly disarmed him, claiming his sword for myself. Then I was dancing, carving a beautiful river through the red guards with deft movements and twirls of the sword. It was not the best balanced, but it would do for now. It got the job done, and as I fought I found myself falling into a rather euphoric joy, not to be fighting against someone, but to be fighting alongside someone.
Each time I turned, there was someone at my back. Athos. Porthos. Aramis. D'Artagnan. Treville. All of them, fighting together so that no matter who I fought against, I knew that my back was defended, and I did the same for them. More astonishingly, Sylvie came charging in with a group of refugees at her heels, rushing into the fray fearlessly to fight against the red guards. I was impressed, and liked her all the more for it. With such reinforcements, the battle truly did not last very long.
Even when I fought three opponents in front of me, I held them off until they surrendered in fear for their lives, my blade trained upon the centre figure, my stiletto dagger at the throat of the one of the left, and my foot pressing the third's head into the dirt. I pushed them towards the centre, where all the guards were being herded until we claimed a certified victory. Chuckling to myself, I tossed the sword down and sheathed my knife, taking deep breaths to recover myself as I glanced around. Everyone was safe. It was finally over.
Perhaps best of all, however, was Treville striking Marcheaux with a heavy blow to the face before dismissing him back to the governor, kicking him in the posterior to send him on his way. "Nicely done, minister," amused and delighted to see Marcheaux fleeing like a scorned dog, I slipped my hand into my pocket and drew out the letters which belonged to the Duke of Orleans. "I think you will want to take a look at these." Giving him a meaning look, Treville took them, stepping aside to read some of their contents before sharply looking at me. "Let us say…a certain thief was quite forthcoming, and leave my source a mystery."
"Honestly, little one, I don't know how you do it sometimes." Treville said with a heavy sigh, both relieved but also concerned for what those letters could mean for the stability of France.
"Charm," spreading my hands in a playful bow, I winked at Constance as she leaned against her husband. "I expect the garrison will be empty for a while whilst we handle things here. Perhaps you two should make good use of the solitude. Ah, but first, allow me to fetch Josephine home." Eager to take up my suggestion, we returned together so that I could promptly collect Josphine, who burst into another fit of tears when I assured her that her husband was safe, though this time they seemed much happier tears.
I reunited her with her husband, having suggested that she never spoke another word about the letters to anyone, not even Christophe. It was better to let that matter die, for Treville would hand them over to the king, and then it was his decision how to deal with Gaston. So long as he was as far away from the palace and Paris as possible, I would be very much satisfied. "Madeleine," speaking quietly, my peaceful reverie and silent enjoyment of reunions and victory was made to be set aside, as I turned to see my brother, Aramis and Porthos standing behind me, their expressions quite unreadable. "What you said, at the barricade…"
"How can we make amends?" Aramis pressed, jumping straight to the issue at hand. "Tell us. Tell us how you feel, why you are angry. We cannot help you until you are more honest with us."
"There's nothing in this world we wouldn't do for you, darlin'. Just tell us how to make it right, and we can go back to the way things used to be." Porthos agreed firmly, but I found myself drifting back into my natural state of melancholy. Everyone else was too busy to notice the grave expressions we all wore, the tension between us as I stood apart from the rest of them, as if to remind me painfully that it was not so easy to cross bridges.
"We cannot go back," speaking the truth, I found myself to be grasping my own arm, using pain to keep me grounded in the present before I could drift too far into darkness. "We can never go back to the way things used to be. We are all too different. Too altered. I…I do not know that I recognise any of you, as I know none of you truly recognise me." Biting down upon my tongue for a moment, I forced myself to take a breath. "Four years of war…four years of pain…either is enough to alter a person beyond recognition."
"We cannot be so different, surely." Aramis attempted to reason, gesturing to us all as he did so. "You are still our sweet Madeleine, and we your devoted brothers both in blood and feeling." I wished I could smile. I wished I could accept Aramis's words and convince myself that things were not really so different, but I could not. Athos seemed to understand, looking at me with a deeply contemplative look.
"What happened to you, Madeliene?" He finally braved himself to ask. "What happened in the four years we were gone?" Looking away, I turned my face instead to the sun, its glaring brightness now the only time I ever felt a sense of warmth. I dreaded autumn and winter, knowing that soon I would lose even this sense of light that filled the crevasses of my broken soul. Finally, I looked to them, and they did not recognise me, for I allowed the mask to slip away and reveal to them the exhausted, fearful, soulless husk I had become.
"I broke."