The Blood of Musketeers

Chapter 1 - A chance meeting

She watched quietly from the tree line, as at least ten men dressed in the colours of Spain pushed four others, who were heavily shackled, towards an old, tumbled down building.

She had been on her way to Paris when she had decided to camp for the night in the forest on the outskirts of the capital city. It had been a long way from her home, and if she was going to make a good impression at her appointment in the morning, then she wanted to be rested. But not for one minute had she thought she would come across soldiers of the enemy not too many miles from Paris. Thought what she was to do about it.......

She could of course go in all guns blazing; but that would be suicide. She was but one person and they were ten; and despite her confidence in her abilities, they were not good odds. That, and she had no idea who the four shackled men might be. They could be Frenchmen, that was true; but they wore no colours, just normal clothes. So, in truth they too could be Spaniards; perhaps ones that had betrayed Spain and the soldiers had come to take them home to be punished for their treason. And if they were, she was not about to give up her life to protect any man of Spain. Yet there was something, a feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that told her she had to do find out. That perhaps she should try and ascertain whether the captives were her countrymen or not. But if they were......then what.........? Doubt filling her mind for a moment, her eyes focusing on the heavens, as she wondered what her father, her grandfather would do.

Her grandfather Louis and father Remy had been Musketeers. They had served France and its kings with pride and honour, and she was sure that if they were there, they would know exactly what to do. In truth, they would probably tell her to have more confidence in herself and everything that she had been taught; that she had the blood of the Musketeer's running through her veins. And although she might not be one........yet, she still held their creed in her heart. The young woman quickly making her way back to her camp and collecting her muskets, and any other weapon that she could find, before returning to her original spot on the tree line.

The sun was beginning to set, and soon the shadows would grow long; and that would be her cue to make her move. The quickly formed plan was simple really; she would make her way over to the ruins where the chained men were being held, then.......she would listen. If they were French, then she would try her best to release them from their bondage and hope at least one of them could fight. And, if they spoke Spanish, she would leave them to whatever fate awaited them. Her body slumping against one of the trees, as she waited for the right moment.

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Slowly, in hopes of not drawing any attention to herself, she moved through the trees around the clearing. She had watched as the Spaniards had lit a fire and brought out bottles of what she presumed must be wine. Their conversations getting louder, as the alcohol flowed freely; the daughter of Musketeers not sure how no one had heard or seen the raucous, despite their distance from the city. The fire, in her opinion at least, was foolish enough; but then getting drunk and loud on top of that, was beyond crazy. Yet the rowdy conversations did mean that the soldiers were less likely to hear her making her way to the captive.

Finally, she reached the building, her body pushed up as far as she could get it, against the old stones. The warmth of the day, still lingering on the rocks, as she crept closer to where the four chained men, were seated. She was doing her best to steady her heart, to control her breathing; if everything went wrong, she was going to need to be in control, to have a clear head. Her lungs filling with a deep breath, as she did her best to listen to the hushed conversations that the captives were having.

"You don't have anything.......?"

"Nope, they even found the dagger I keep in my boot........."

"Athos.............?"