The Spanish Lady Returns (A Three Musketeers Fanfiction)

Summer, 1626 Part 1

Kneeling in front of the new grave, Adolphe Beauchene put his hand on the small stone that marked where his only son was buried. "I will get justice for you, Dion, if its the last thing I do on this earth," he swore, moving his hand to the gold cross that hung at his neck. "The men who killed you have not long in this world."

"You must let me know if he answers you. I've always wanted to meet a ghost."

His face hardening, Beauchene straightened and turned to face the man he'd arranged to meet. "You're late, Artus," he said, his tone filled with cold disdain. The raggedly dressed man just grinned in answer. "Have you news?"

Artus' grin widened. "Paris suffers in the heat," he said, pushing the brim of his hat back to catch the sun's rays on his face. Though sweat beaded on his face, he didn't seem at all inconvenienced by the temperature. "It won't be long before the nobles flee like the weak men and women that they are. The man you seek will be vulnerable then."

"Good to know I'm not paying you for nothing."

"My men are keeping watch, and will come the moment the court makes plans to leave."

Beauchene nodded. "Good. I want to see the musketeers crumble for what they have done to my family."

"When will this heat end?"

Already irritated, Aramis sent a less than patient look at his companion. "D'Artagnan, surely you are more accustomed to this kind of heat," he pointed out. He focused on the street they were walking down, where the houses were of finer quality. "And even then, complaining about won't make it any easier to deal with."

Suddenly, the peaceful street in front of the two musketeers was disturbed by a man who came stumbling out onto the cobblestones from the direction of one of the homes. He landed in a heap, his musketeer's outfit in a disarray that would have brought M. de Treville's wrath down on him in an instant if he'd been there to see it.

"And don't come back until you learn some manners!" came the angry shout from the house. There was no mistaking the owner of the voice.

"Well, I see Porthos is already here," D'Artagnan commented, not sparing his fellow musketeer another look as the poor man struggled to get to his feet. "Why am I not surprised?"

Since his arrival in Paris, Monsieur Algier Mandeville had opened his home to a privileged few. Where some homes were the gathering places of philosophers and politicians, the Mandeville house was for those whose full support was with the king and France. Treville was a constant visitor, along with the four Inseparables.

Having spoken with the man, Aramis, Porthos, and Athos were among the few who knew the reasoning behind the move. One of which directly concerned Doña Maria Esperanza de la Vega. "My niece has made enemies, through no fault of her own," the woman's uncle had said to the musketeers. "I will not always be here for her, as I have not been able to protect her in the past. I prefer to have allies who are in a position to protect her."

"How can you be so sure that the Musketeers will do so?"

Mandeville had smiled. "Because you have already protected her. Maria's loyalty will always be with her friends, especially the queen. The queen's loyalty is with the king. The musketeers' loyalty is also with Louis. Other nobles will bend with whoever is in power. You can understand why I choose to encourage the musketeers in my household?"

Shaking his head, Aramis pulled his thoughts from the conversation that had occurred only a few weeks before. "You know Porthos will take advantage of any kind of free drink," he said as he and his young friend walked towards the front door, which had already closed. "Planchet is always happy for any relief from providing wine."