Double Trouble

Chapter Three: The Ruse

The Ruse:

"Dammit. . .stop pounding in my head, damn you," Athos mumbled to himself.

Aramis looked over at the form of Athos writhing on his bunk, hands gripping his head. "Athos, wake up," he whispered, trying not to wake the others. "You're having a bad dream."

"I am awake," Athos growled, still holding his head.

"Who ya talkin' to, then?" Porthos chimed in.

"The little guy in my head with the sledgehammer," Athos complained. "He's sadistic and relentless. . ."

"Who's sadistic and relentless?" d'Artagnan queried from two bunks away.

"Wha zisses. . . an interroga..'n?" Athos grumbled, his voice being muffled by his pillow. "You're s'posed to be sleeping." "Damn," the irritated man sits up on his bunk, slapping his knee in frustration.

"How ca' we sleep whe' you're makin' so much noise," Porthos said sleepily with a yawn.

"Do you have any more of that medicine?" Athos asked Aramis, who was lying on the bunk beside him. "Better yet, a bottle of wine to kill this headache?"

"A bottle of wine won't help you, my friend. In fact, it's the last thing you need." Aramis sat up, watching his friend closely. He reached into his satchel, rummaging through until he found the bag of feverfew. The medic crinkled his nose at the potent odor wafting upwards as he loosed the drawstrings of the bag.

"I wouldn't recommend chewing this raw, normally, but the sooner you ingest this the faster it'll combat that headache." He leaned over to hand a few leaves to Athos, who was now cradling his head in his hands.

"This is very bitter to the taste, so chew and swallow quickly," Aramis instructed. "It might burn or blister the inside of your mouth-which is why it's better to take with food or drink."

Aramis noted the dry expression on Athos's face at the mention of the obvious. "Sorry," Aramis shrugged sheepishly.

Athos took the leaves, popped them in his mouth and began chewing. He scowled immediately at the taste, his face twisting into a grimace the longer he chewed.

Aramis couldn't hide the smile curling at the corners of his mouth, "told you it was nasty."

He quickly swallowed, ridding his mouth of the pungent leaves. "Arrgghh... ach!" he spat, nearly gagging. "That's terrible," he said in a gruff whisper, his voice hoarse.

"Sorry, my friend," Aramis shrugged a shoulder. "I know it tastes bad. . . but it works."

"Hell, we migh' as well git up now." Porthos tossed his pillow at Athos in jest. "Cap'n will be up soon, we better get a move on."

Captain Tréville stood in front of his eight Musketeers to brief them one last time, just for peace of mind. They had been over the details of the mission multiple times but as their captain sometimes worry gets the better of him, especially when sending his men into danger.

"Marquis, you and your team will go to Palais-Royal and meet with King Louis to prepare for travel, everything you need is there. Your team will be traveling to Orléans as chefs and assistant cooks to prepare for the Midsummer Festival. You will change into the appropriate clothing to look the part as chefs; and this applies to the king as well. You will be taking with you the 'tools of the trade,' plenty of smoked meats, spices, herbs, vegetables, etc. . . in case you are stopped for inspection."

"Gaston and Averille, you will be in charge of aiding the king, making sure that he is properly dressed, disguised as Chef François de la Varenne. You will ride directly behind the coach where you will keep an eye open at all times. Do not move from that position."