The Blood of Musketeers

Chapter 10 - Off to the palace

Gabriel tried to look at herself in the little mirror, as best she could. Today was the day that she was presented to the king. Her, a simple young woman that just so happened to be the descendant of two of the finest Musketeers to ever wear the king's colours. A simple woman that had been taught to fight, and got a crazy notion in her mind, to disguise herself as a man, so that she could follow in the footsteps of her father and grandfather. Gabriel dropping herself on the edge of the small bed, before looking down at her clothes.

She had done all she could to alter her father's best shirt and jacket; and the trousers that he would always wear for church on Sundays, before she had even journeyed to Paris. But she was no seamstress. The thing about losing your mother when you were only little, and being brought up by two old soldiers was, that it meant that her knowledge of what many other women did, was what you would call.........lacking: despite her father's best efforts. And as she looked at the material that still hung from her much smaller frame than the one that her father had had; she wished that she knew a little more. Yet there was nothing she could do now; for she had neither the time, nor the money to buy herself anything different. So, the king would just have to take her as he found her.........not that she would tell him that. Though at least she had been able to bathe and wash her hair. The smell of soap, much better than the odour of sweat that would linger around her after a day training with Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan.

"Gabriel!" A voice called out. The young Fontin glad that she was dressed, as Porthos barged into her little room, without a by your leave, and an apologetic Aramis and d'Artagnan, not far behind.

"You ready........?" He continued, as he looked down at the young man sat on the small bed.

"Not now I'm looking at you three, no.........." Gabriel sighed. Noting that even d'Artagnan was dressed far better than she was. All three of the men in front of her looking........well, really very handsome. It no wonder all of them could turn seemingly any lady's head.

"You don't look........" d'Artagnan began; before looking over his shoulder to Aramis who just shook his head and pushed past him and Porthos. Aramis grabbing hold of Gabriel's shoulders and pulling her to her feet. His darker eyes looking her up and down.

"I've seen worse........but I have also seen better." Aramis began, as he turned her around.

"Those clothes, aren't yours, are they............?"

"Well, no......they.......they were my father's........"

"I can tell. We will really have to think about getting you something more suitable. But at the moment........" Aramis smiled, gesturing for her to push her shirt further into her trousers.

"Though it was a good decision for me to bring this......." He continued, pulling out a much smaller jacket, that was far better than anything she had ever had, as a girl, or boy.

"And Porthos has a hat for you." Porthos smiling broadly, as he brought the hat out from behind his back and plopped it on Gabriel's head.

"Now, come on. I don't think that King Louis will wait for you. Not even if you are the son of the man that saved his father's life." Aramis smiled, as he and Porthos wrapped an arm around each shoulder and pulled the young Fontin from his room.

                                                         >>---------------------------------<<

Athos had not followed the others, when they had made their way up to Gabriel's room. Choosing instead to sit in a dark corner and nurse a glass of wine, until they made an appearance.

He hadn't spoken to the younger man, since he had ordered him out of his room weeks ago. Choosing instead to stay away and watch as Porthos and Aramis went about continuing the young Fontin's training. Not that he needed much more of that, given what Athos had seen; believing that all that was really needed, was a little fine tuning. But it was best to not let the boy become too confident in his skills; nor rely on his family name, to get him the position he wanted. Though, given that he was already to meet the king.......that was probably going to be easier said than done.

Athos had to admit that he had still not worked out the younger man. That that little niggle in the back of his mind, was still there. Though despite the angry outburst from the young Fontin, the morning after he had dragged him back from whatever public house that he had been thrown out of; he had finally conceded that the issues he had with the boy, was purely down to him. Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan all taking a liking to him; and in fact, talked about Gabriel like they had known him all their lives. Athos knowing that he had to do something; that he couldn't continue to keep himself on the periphery of everything the others did. That their little company, now numbered five, not four. And if they were to continue to do their duty, to protect their king, and France; then he had to work with Gabriel. He had to be as confident with him, as he was with all the others when it came to a fight. So, perhaps today was a good day to reintegrate himself. To take back his role. And hope that he and Gavriel, with time, might get to know one another better. Athos swallowing what was left in his glass, as he saw the others come down the stairs. Making his way over to his friends, as they stood at the bottom of the stairs. Athos looking Gabriel up and down for a moment, before nodding his head, and making his way out of the inn, with the rest of the men following behind.