And So It Begins Musketeers Pre Season 1

Chapter 15

Richelieu sat at his desk deep in thought, lips pursed and fingers together as if in prayer – though God would not wish to hear the thoughts currently occupying the First Minister's head. When the King had announced his intention to hold a party for the Queen, the Cardinal's first concern was the expense. He knew the King would want the biggest, brightest and most expensive of everything.

France was not a wealthy nation, and the coffers could do without a lavish extravaganza of royal proportion. When word spread, there would be even more grumbling and whining from the downtrodden and mutinous tax-payers. He seriously wondered how much longer the populace would tolerate such a burden, for such arrogant and egocentric reasons. Even the expense of war was more amenable to the people of France than the King's self-indulgent lifestyle.

However, he knew the King of old and, once Louis had made a decision, getting him to change his mind was almost impossible. The best Richelieu could hope to achieve was damage limitation. With a great deal of diplomacy, he may be able to simplify some of the more elaborate requirements, assuming he could distract Louis with a more interesting, and preferably cheaper, suggestion. Not relishing the prospect, he sighed, and reminded himself it was all for France.

Still, the upcoming event had promised some interesting scenarios, not the least being the reason for his recent guest. He had managed to persuade the King to invite a small delegation from Spain – a birthday surprise for the Queen. No one particularly powerful or threatening, just the Queen's two female cousins and their entourages. The King had been a little dubious to begin with, never keen to welcome the Spanish onto French soil. Whilst Louis was still contemplating the suggestion, he had proposed the ludicrous idea of inviting his brother, and all worries pertaining to Spain were forgotten.

The only weak link in his plan was Rochefort. Richelieu was many things, but a fool was not one of them. He was only too aware what people thought of him: Treville, with his high and mighty moral code, backed up by his pretty-boy soldiers; ministers and councillors, too afraid of his power and position to stand up to him, backbiting and plotting in corridors instead. He didn't care what any of them thought, he did what he did for France; after all, nobody ever said politics had to be fair – or even legal.

Rochefort, on the other hand, was every bit as sly and calculating as he was. The Cardinal had no doubt that, if it forwarded his own agenda, the man would slit his own mother's throat. Rochefort wanted power, for power's sake, and Richelieu would have to keep a close eye on the man; though if his plan came to fruition, he might prove to be a loose cannon. Still, he thought to himself, cannons sometimes backfired and blew themselves to smithereens!

Aramis and Porthos had ridden hard for almost an hour. The forest seemed to crowd in on them, the constant thrum of the horses' hooves emphasising the increasing distance between them and Athos. The morning was still young, for they had begun their journey shortly after dawn.

Neither man had spoken. Usually, Aramis kept up a constant babble, delivered in his usual affable manner, and Porthos found this new silence oppressive. However, he could think of nothing to say, and the growing silence had become almost tangible. Though each of them had checked repeatedly, hoping to see Athos galloping up behind them, they had been disappointed. Eventually, despite the lack of verbal communication, the Musketeers had gradually slowed their pace, as though waiting for the other to prompt some sort of decision. Porthos was becoming visibly agitated, and Aramis knew the time was fast approaching when that decision would have to be made – and it scared him to death.

Aramis had done nothing but consider their options ever since he had convinced Porthos to leave Athos behind; for no matter how they dressed it up, that was exactly what they had done – again. He was furious with the man for placing them in such a situation once more. Last time, as little more than strangers it had been difficult. Now? Well, he hoped they were friends, but with Athos it was difficult to know. Burdened by memories that haunted his sleep, he kept himself remote, pushing away every physical touch, and deflecting every emotional connection. Whatever, or whoever had hurt him, had hurt him deeply.