The Musketeers

[Lacey Knickers]

Paris, 1623

The coach winds its way through the streets bearing its occupant, an elderly man in the robes of a Prince of the Church, towards the Cathedral of Notre Dame. As it slowed at a particularly narrow, deserted avenue, another passenger discreetly entered the coach, closing the door behind her and settling in across from the Cardinal. No one saw her enter, and she drew the curtains.

“Done with your usual grace, Milady de Winter,” Richelieu compliments his visitor.

“As you are fond of pointing out, Eminence, discretion is a valuable asset in our circle. What may your humble servant do for you today?” She is certain the Cardinal does not require sexual favours. Not that such a relationship would be unknown to either of them; Richelieu has kept several mistresses over the years. And as for the Lady de Winter; it would not be the first time she'd fucked a priest.

But their relationship is more professional. In return for a healthy income and social status, Milady is the Cardinal's agent, spy; provocateur, saboteur, and, when necessary, assassin.

“As we have discussed before, my dear,” Richelieu begins, “the young Queen's influence over the King has been increasing of late. It used to be she merely whispered in his ear pleading for some pet charity or other. But lately she has taken to expressing herself to His Majesty on matters of more substantive policy. This I can no longer permit. And as she has yet to provide him with an heir, her departure from the picture may actually benefit the nation in the long run. A new queen may prove more fruitful.”

“How may I assist in such an endeavour as dethroning our Queen?”

“Quite simply, my dear,” the Cardinal answers, “I need you to find a handsome young man, bring him to court and push him into Her Majesty's bed. There is no greater treason to the crown than the infidelity of a Queen. Just ask our English cousins.”

“Where am I to find such a young man,” Milady asks, “and how am I to get him to seduce the Queen?”

“Pick one, my dear, preferably one we won't mind having executed along with the Queen once they are caught. You never seem to be wanting for male companionship. And as for how; surely I need not advise you in matters of seduction.”

The coach slowed again, and Lady de Winter took the opportunity to disembark. She walked home by way of the marketplace, wondering where she could find a man handsome and dashing enough to seduce a queen.

 

[TheCorsair]

"Athos!" Porthos boomed, his voice carrying across the crowded tavern. "Athos, my friend! Come, and have a look! Is my new baldric not magnificent?"

Athos looked up from his wine, as indeed did many of the other patrons. He scrutenized his friend, gesturing for him to take a seat as he did. "It is," he was forced to agree. "Fine leather, and chased with gold. It is not to my taste, but you wear it well." In truth, he considered it gaudy. But he did not lie. Porthos carried himself with a boistrous dignity and broad grace that made him able to wear such things without seeming ridiculous.

Porthos beamed, pouring himself a cup of wine. "I am glad to hear you say it, my friend."

"How came you by it? I had been given to understand that you were without means, after gaming three nights past."

"Ah, as to that... shall I tell you?"

"You perceive, Porthos, that I am all in attendance upon your words."

"Then I shall tell you."

"And I thank you."

Porthos took a drink. "I was out walking with..."

"With..?" Athos prompted, smiling.

Porthos gestured dismissively. "It would be indiscreet, I fear, to give her name."

"Ah, I see."

"Well, as I say, I was walking with Madamoiselle Coeur de mon Coeur, and she happened to remark upon how fine a figure of a Musketeer I happen to be."

"And she spoke well."

"Do you think so?"

"I do indeed."

"I am gladdened to hear it, Athos. The lips of love may lie, but an old friend speaks only truth." Porthos finished his glass, and poured another. "So, in the interest of justice, I was sadly forced to contradict... her."

"No!"

"Yes! For, you will understand, I at that time still wore my plain baldric. Which despite the attentions of my lackey was scraped and worn."

"I see," Athos said, sipping his wine.

"Well, there was nothing for it. Madamoiselle Coeur de mon Coeur would not rest until she found a baldric that would suit - and I report only her words here - the most handsome of Musketeers."

"Then this baldric was a gift from Madamoiselle Coeur de votre Coeur?"

"It was."

"And what did you, when you received it?"

"Why, I thanked her?"

"And then?"

Porthos smiled. "I thanked her a second time, and left her in the arms of Morpheus." He went to pour another glass, only to find the pitcher empty. "But hold! We have grown thirsty with speech, and we have no wine. I shall attend to this!"

Clutching the pitcher in one hand, the big Musketeer made his way towards the tavern host. Athos smiled slightly, then sipped his wine once more.

 

[Traveler]

Were it not for the chance meeting a few months ago D'Artagnan would have surely been destitute, homeless, dead, or all three, were that possible. But he had met the lovely and demure Mademoiselle Constance Bonasieux whilst fleeing for his life, and indeed she had saved his life more times than he could count or cared to admit since then. Yet he had not seen much of her lately and that vexed the young man.

He had risen early that day in hopes of seeing her apart from her husband. Not in that way, of course; their light attraction had not progressed beyond a secretive smile or a semi-unintentional brush of the hand. In truth D'Artagnan was still enthralled rather dangerously with the Lady de Winter.

So it was thus that after Constance's husband, Bonacieux, glared at lad thrice in as few minute, D'Artagnan understood that he should make himself scarce for the afternoon, if not all day. It was a difficult situation for anyone to be in.

Then where does a young man go when he has neither duty nor amusement to bide his time? Of course - you guessed well. It was the tavern that beckoned him to her.

The harsh light of the day was replaced with the dark coolness and the stuffy heat of the tavern, though every window be open and the fire was not burning in the room. D'Artagnan paused once the door swung shut behind him and sought out companions with his eyes whilst also ensuring that there were no debtor or scorned husbands sitting about who might take issue with his appearance in the establishment.

Luck was with him. Not only did he not have to vacate the premises posthaste, but two of his nearest and dearest were in attendance, and from the looks on their faces and the words that were exchanged, D'Artagnan guessed that at least one of the men had good news to share.

He came upon the table just as they were finishing up their speech and wine, it seemed.

"Then this baldric was a gift from Madamoiselle Coeur de votre Coeur?" Anthos asked.

"It was."

"And what did you, when you received it?"

"Why, I thanked her?"

"And then?"

Porthos smiled. "I thanked her a second time, and left her in the arms of Morpheus." He went to pour another glass, only to find the pitcher empty. "But hold! We have grown thirsty with speech, and we have no wine. I shall attend to this!"

D'Artagnan grinned as he found a spot on the bench across the table from Anthos.

"Did my ears hear that our bold friend there has acquired the favors of another conquest?" His eyebrow rose at the double entente as he turned to look over his shoulder at Porthos. He noted the fine baldric that was aforementioned; not an inexpensive item by any means.

"It seems that he will be giving good Aramis lessons in the art of wooing women before many days have passed."

He turned back to his mentor and regarded the man's empty wine glass. "Speaking of our worthy companion, have you seen him of late? It's been a good day and night since his fine countenance has graced mine eyes."

He frowned, thinking of Constance. He hadn't seen her in as many hours if his reckoning was accurate. It was odd not to see the seamstress or the third of his Musketeer companions in so many hours unless they were away on duty, and even then they never failed to let others know of their plans.

 

[Lacey Knickers]

Lady de Winter strode through the marketplace and past one of the local tavers, one she knew to be a favoured gathering place for the King's Musketeers. Under other circumstances, she avoided this place, as the Musketeers' rivalry with the Cardinal's Red Guards often erupted into fisticuffs and crossed swords.

However, in light of the Cardinal's latest commission to her, she needed to cultivate the attention of handsome young men who were often in attendance at the Palace. The Musketeers certainly fit that bill, and she had an aspiring young man in mind; one whose talents as a lover she'd already confirmed. She smiled at the thought.

She peers in the window of the tavern and spies young d'Artagnan sitting with two of his comrades. The others had their backs towards the window and the door, but her chosen young cavalier sat opposite, facing the door.

She raised the hood of her cloak and entered the tavern. Passing their table behind the two Musketeers, she pulls her hood back far enough for only d'Artagnan to see her visage. Smiling at the lad and placing a finger over her lips to indicate discretion, she nods to an empty table in a dark corner, which she glides to and sits, pulling her hood back into place.

From her vantage point she can observe the larger, and more finely dressed, of d'Artagnan's friends, but the face of the third is still partial obscured. Something about him, though...

 

[TheCorsair]

Athos smiled subtly at d'Artagnan's words. "Ah but you forget, my dear Gascon! Aramis does not woo. He maintains correspondences. He visits friends who seek prolonged conversations about holy writ. He does not 'woo', however, as that would not be beffitting in one who plans to take hooy vows any day now."

He sipped his wine. "But no, I have not seen him. He gave me to understand that, not long ago, he received a letter regarding some matter of doctrinal dispute, and that there was no choice but to answer it."

 

[Traveler]

"Ah, of course! Of course! My mind doth wander of late. Aramis is indeed a master of the pen and his tongue is one of the most well-regarded when it comes to matters that warrant discussion." He raised an eyebrow as if to say 'and other matters'.

His eyes flicked across the landscape of the tavern, not resting on the lovely hooded feline who walked by and gave him a look designed to raise his temperature a few degrees. It succeeded.

"It seems I've allowed mine glass to grow empty. Pardon whilst I remedy that." He smiled at Athos and raised a glass, an empty one, before making his indirect way over to the dark corner of tavern where a mystery awaited him. He leaned against the wall of the tavern and glanced down at the woman at the table.

"The last time I had a meeting with you, I wound up wanted for a murder I didn't commit. Not that the night preceding was not heavenly, but..." he smiled and indicated the empty chair at the table. "Might I join you?"

 

[Lacey Knickers]

“I hoped you would, dear d'Artagnan,” Milady's silky voice replies, “And as to that unfortunate affair, I do so deeply regret any complications you may have suffered resulting from our first encounter. As you say, the preceding night was heavenly.” A wicked smile crosses her face, which only serves to render her visage more seductive. “Or devilish, depending on your philosophical bent.”

A plan is forming in Lady de Winter's quick mind; if the valiant guardsman were to save the life of the Queen, a young, vital woman unsatisfied in her husband's bed, she may well turn to her protector's arms for comfort.

“I seek you out today on another matter. On behalf of our Queen.”

 

[Traveler]

D'Artagnan shot her a knowing smile. Devilish, heavenly... no matter what they called it, it was something that he would not forget and had yet the pleasure of repeating. "I believe that the night doth reflect the company it keeps." He slid his finger along the rim of his glass. "Like this vessel my arms have been empty for much too long, my lady. Is our visit this day regarding pleasure, business, or..." he leaned forward and looked into her eyes, "pleasure?"

Milady's words caused the guardsman to draw back slighty and cock his head to the side. What kind of ruse was she pulling? The queen?

"The queen? How doth thee come to be speaking on behalf of the fine and lovely queen, Milady? I would never have guessed that you and she had business in common."

He tilted his head in the opposite direction. "Although were relations to be based merely upon the fine visage of thy countenance I doth believe that she and thee be on equal footing. But... " He lowered his voice and leaned forward again, obviously intrigued, "what manner of need might she have with a knave such as myself?"

 

[TheCorsair]

"I would have sworn," Porthos said, dropping his massive frame into his chair, "that I saw young d'Artagnan here."

"That, Porthos, is because you have the keen and piercing gaze of eagles."

"Then why has he not deigned to wait and greet me?"

"Because young d'Artagnan has more interest in the sweet song and soft breast of a dove."

Porthos laughed at that. "I take your meaning. And yet, we are unresolved."

"Unresolved? How?"

"For you perceive that I have wine sufficient for three!"

"And I, you perceive, have a plan."

"Have you, now? Pray, then, and unfurl."

'First, we each drink our share of the wine."

"Most excellent. And then?"

"If d'Artagnan has not returned by then, why, we drink nis share as well."

Porthos laughed.

 

[Lacey Knickers]

“Hardly a knave, young gallant,” Milady coos, “I would say, a brave and trustworthy guardsman whom our Queen may trust with her life. You see,” she leans even closer, speaking in the hushed tones of one sharing a sacred confidence, “Her Majesty has grown suspicious of her own guards. She believes many of them owe too much allegiance to His Eminence the Cardinal.”

There is just enough truth in this extemporaneous invention that the noble and naïve cavalier may well accept the story.

“She has made discreet inquiries to the purpose of securing the services of a guardsman whose loyalty to her is beyond question.”

She touches d'Artagnan's arm. “I sent word to her that I know of just such a brave and noble young warrior. I speak of you, sir.”

 

[Traveler]

Her flattery landed on fertile ground; the ripe and eager heart of young D'Artagnan was bent on doing what was brave and true, and the thought that he and he alone might be the one trustworthy enough to guard the queen took hold in his heart.

"Indeed, I would be honored to watch over the jewel of Paris and to keep her safe from harm. Yet..." he eyed Milady, "you have not answered my humble question. How is it that you and she are in correspondence, or that she would accept your recommendations on my behalf? Understand that I do not doubt the sincerity in your words."

He drew his fingertips across the top of her hands as he gazed into her eyes and smiled. "And yet I could not refuse such a desperate request, Milady. If she desires me as her guard then I would be a fool to request her. You may let her know that I am at her command."

 

[TheCorsair]

Assuming that their friend would want to keep his affaires de cœur private, Athos and Porthos avoided even looking in D'Artagnan's direction as he spoke with his charming mistress. Instead, they concentrated their attentions on their wine and their own conversation, speculating on whether they would have sufficient funds to have a decent dinner that evening.

"Ah, as to that..." Porthos was saying, "I can always dine with..."

"With..?" prompted Athos.

"Well, I have someone with whom I may dine," the big man concluded.

"That is merry news," said Athos cheerfully. "As to myself, I believe I have... eight pistoles to my name."

"Well, and that is enough for a fine dinner," Porthos responded.

"Yes, for tonight."

Porthos' booming laugh cut across the conversations around them. "I'faith, Athos! Eat today! For then, at least, you will remember not being hungry!"

Athos sipped his wine. "Truly, my friend, you reason like a scholar."

"Do I now?" the big musketeer said, pleased. "Like a scholar. I like that."

"Perhaps," said a new voice. "But you bray like a mule. Pray, spare us more of your wit."

Slowly, the two friends both turned their heads. The new voice belonged to a tall man with a long face, and a long black mustache, and eyes hard as flint. He sat at the table to Porthos' right, which was also the table to Athos' left, and two of his friends sat with him. All of them were dressed in the uniforms of the Red Guard of Cardinal Richelieu. "May I ask your name," Porthos drawled, "for I fear that we have not yet been properly introduced."

"I, sir, am Florian d'Armisted," the man sneered, taking in the Musketeer's uniform. "And I ask nothing better than that we should be properly introduced."

"But of course," Porthos agreed, amiably. "I shall endeavor to provide satisfaction. When shall we become acquainted?"

"Why, now. If you are not otherwise engaged," offered D'Armisted.

"Monsieur," Athos interjected, "there are laws, and there are witnesses. I beg you, as one who asks nothing more than to become acquainted with you as well, to choose a different time and place."

D'Armisted hesitated. "Do you know the courtyard behind the Hotel du Gaubert?"

"But of course."

"Shall we become better acquainted there, in a half-hour's time?"

Athos made a gesture with his hands. "Of course." He eyed the table. "And shall we bring a third?"

"By all means," D'Armisted proclaimed, rising. "I should not have it said that the Red Guard took advantage."

Athos smiled, and Porthos laughed. "Than bring six," Porthos boomed. "For a musketeer is worth two of the Cardinal's yapping pups."