The Anthology of Porthos: Book 1

By Kathleen Clare

Everyone and everything has a beginning and an end. That includes The Three Musketeers. As a prequel to Alexandré Dumas’ “The Three Musketeers” this story follows Porthos, the friendly giant, on his journey to obtain the tunic of a musketeer. In the course of his quest, he inadvertently comes across two unlikely men, whom he befriends and thus the three of them become Frances’ most historical three.
One of the qualifications to become a musketeer is go on a campaign or do something of worth. With brawn and with his companions by his side, he does.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483615189

Kathleen Clare

Kathleen is currently living in Southeastern Michigan and working with the developmentally disadvantaged. She graduated from Adrian College with an art degree in the early 1980s. She enjoys trivial history and reading about historical people, fictional as well as factual. She enjoys many things in life, and writing is one of them. As a result, she took up the challenge from a friend to weave a tale about the Three Musketeers and how they got to be friends. Thus, the the Anthology of Porthos was born. This book, The Abduction of Aramis, is her second. Writing in her spare time is a joy, and to share her story ideas with friends and family brings a smile to them and to her as well. Happy reading!

Book preview

I

It is late spring on the estate of Vallon, in the year 1623.

The Vallon estate is nestled comfortably in the valley of the Seine River, within the domains of the Ile de France Province.

Plush green meadows, with fields of corn, oats and wheat that waved gently in the summer breezes.

The domains consisted of orchards of apples and pears, with vast amounts of timberland rich with wildlife.

The house that settled in the midst of it all was considered adequate size. It faced the east to catch the morning’s warming rays.

The inside of the house was decorated lavishly with items that were traded for from far off lands and since the chateau was handed down, proavitus, very little of its appearance changed.

The stable was set off to the north about two hundred paces from the chateau. Beef and dairy cattle populated the meadows with a very few sheep. The master of the domains did not like sheep too well; he said when they grazed, they always took the grass right down to the roots. That always made it difficult to grow back the next season. He did, however own a few to keep his wife happy so she would have wool to make clothes from.

Off in the distance, a rider was making his way towards the Vallon estate.

As he neared the stable, with one surveying glance he took it all in.

A house servant was feeding the chickens, geese and other fowl, a couple of lackeys were repairing a carriages’ wheels and axles, and another lackey was leading a limping horse to the blacksmith to have the shoes reshod.

The young rider, about twenty-three, With dark flowing hair, brown eyes and an abundant mustache that remained curled upwards with the help of a sugary substance, was returning from Melun.

Having completed business for his father, he came upon a stable lackey who was quickly approaching him.

The lackey took the horse by the reins to steady the anxious animal and asked the young man, Master du Vallon, is there anything I can do for you after I take care of your horse? It was Milo, young Master du Vallon’s most trusted, personal valet whom unfortunately could not accompany his young master on this business excursion.

The young master who was of sound physical structure, with strength to match, and a most pleasing countenance, replied, Corbleu! Yes! Hold this footing so I can get out of this saddle. It feels as if my derriere has thus turned threadbare. Perhaps it has, he mused, trying to get a look at his backside as soon as his two feet were securely on the ground.

As the lackey was leading the horse to the stable to be, groomed and fed, Master du Vallon went to wait for his father in the study.

When his father entered, he saw his tired son and embraced him, with the son bestowing a kiss on each worn cheek. The embrace was half out of love for his eldest child and half out the respect he held in his sons’ behalf. He was also very appreciative that his son completed the business that was set before him and was doubly glad that he was home safely.

Both were silent a minute, studying each other’s face and trying to read the depths of each other’s souls.

Monsieur du Vallon was the first to speak.

Well done my son. he said, nodding approvingly. I am most glad that you are home. How was your expedition? I do hope it went well.

Before the young man had a chance to speak, a servant knocked lightly at the door, entered, and announced that supper was being served.

Following the servant to the dining room, the elder du Vallon said, You must tell me all about your exploits. I am eager to learn what has transpired. Are you hungry? Oh, I know that is a silly question, but you might as well answer it any way.

I am always hungry, the son replied, Now is not going to be an exception either. Lead the way.

After the family had seated themselves around the well-furnished table, and grace was said, the usual chatter among the family soon ensued.

Sitting next to the young master was a younger brother, Montaire.

Montaire held a deep affection for his older brother and wanted to follow in his footsteps.

Unfortunately their father did not share in Montaire’s enthusiasm even though there was only a four-year discrepancy between them.

As supper ended, Montaire and the young master, Pierre,’ arose at the same time.

My dear brother, you look rather out of shape.

And what is that supposed to imply? inquired the slightly rotund Pierre’.

Well., hesitated Montaire, who had noticed his brother helping himself to everything at the table, three times over.

I mean, you need to relax, stammered Montaire, To do so I suggest a good horse race that would inevitably be two leagues in length.

TWO LEAGUES!!, responded Pierre’, feigning astonishment. "I do appreciate your concern for my health but as you can plainly see, I am worn from my long trip. I suggest on the morrow such a race take place, and to see whose, who. It will be, then we will decide the coarse to take. But, now I must talk with father about my excursion to and from Melun. It is of the utmost importance.

Montaire would have liked to pursue the subject, for he wanted to take advantage of his brother’s state and win a race for once, but soon realized that the point was lost as Pierre’ turned to rejoin their father in the study.

Once in the study, they settled themselves into comfortable Chairs with a fresh bottle of Anjou wine.

Again, his father opened the conversation.

Will you not sit? Tell me all that has transpired. I am most eager to learn whether or not Monsieur du Flosseaux accepted our generous proposal.

Twenty-three days ago, I left Vallon to begin for Melun, began Pierre’ as he yawned. When I arrived in Melun, I sought out Monsieur du Flosseaux at our appointed rendezvous. As he was at breakfast, I remembered his countenance from my youth and approached him. He did not seem to recognize me, for I am certain he was expecting you.

I then made myself known to him, and he asked me to join him to discuss the matters at hand. He inquired after you as to your health and being. Pierre’ paused to sip his wine that began to slowly warm his tired body and yawned again, unexpectedly.

Continuing, I replied you were in good health and that you had sent me in your stead, to test my hand in matters of business, to see how I would fair.

Monsieur du Flosseaux inquired, ‘What have you to offer for my estate? It is quite large for the Madam and myself and we have no heirs and most assuredly we do not want the state to take hold of it after we pass away. As you can see, we are in no hurry to pass on, but that will happen soon enough.’ He paused, then continued, ‘I suppose that happens to us all, inevitably.’

I asked him, ‘Out of extreme curiosity, what is the name of the estate that we are dealing for? Not that it makes much difference, but I am sure my father would be most interested to be wiser if we knew its name. Provided it has a name.’

‘Yes of course it does, he replied, ‘It is Bracieux, my wife’s nee."

‘What do the domains consist of?’ I inquired.

‘I knew I was going to be asked this question, so I had my personal valet sit with me to make a list of what is at hand within the domains of Bracieux.’

He pulled out a piece-crumpled parchment that had seen better times, and began to read.

Bracieux has three stables for the many horses, four rather large apple orchards, many fields of corn, oats, barley and lots of hay. There also are plenty of chattels. The house has twenty-nine rooms in it, all of which are furnished with things of age and beauty that has accumulated through the years that the Madame and I have been together. Ho! Must not forget the large forest and what equals three farms.’

Sighing he continued on, ‘We really do not want to part with it, but it is out of necessity that we do. We will be taking a few of our possessions with us as we retire behind the gates of Paris for our final years. God rest old Henri. Now young man what have you to offer in return?’

Seeing that land would not be beneficial, I decided it might be worth the chance to appeal to his sense of greed and offer him money instead.

Leaning back in my chair, I closed my eyes to think a minute. Then, when I opened my eyes, I looked him square in the eyes and without flinching, I said, ‘I am prepared to offer you, Twenty thousand francs.’

At this point, his father’s face lit up with excitement and anticipation. He knew the answer, but let Pierre’ finish his narrative.

Please continue my son, he gestured.

Thank you. I do not mind if I do. Well, Monsieur du Flousseaux did not even have to blink when he answered rather quickly, ‘Yes I think that will suit the Madame just fine. You have a deal.’

We then made arrangements for our valets to meet to exchange the necessary funds and have your valet bring back the deed of sale and declare you the new master of the domains of Bracieux. We then shook hands, sat down again to eat our dinner and to catch up on what has happened since you and he last saw each other. Stifling a yawn with a smile, Pierre’ finished his monologue.

His father was well pleased with his son. He stood up, raised his glass of remaining Anjou wine and said with heart felt affection, My son, you have done well in this situation and done as I would have done. Seeing that material goods would have done him no good, you did the next best thing. I congratulate and commend you on a job well done. Is there anything you recommend that we do now, my son?

"I was just thinking, perchance, shall we visit the estate to see that everything is in order?

This time it was Monsieur du Vallon’s turn to yawn, for it was well past midnight.

My dear son, that is an excellent idea. Why do we not go after you have rested a bit before we begin this new excursion?

Marvelous thought.

Is there anything else you want to add? You look troubled as if you want to say something.

Eh? Ne. Ne, there is not anything left to say about the business transaction that had taken place earlier in the week.

Very well then, my son, I now can bid you a fond good night and I can sleep better knowing that you are home and also can readily take over all our acquired domains and become the monsieur when the time comes.

Father . . . .

Yes.

Nothing. It can wait, replied Pierre’, as he stood up to embrace his father.

Good night, my dear father. The morrow will arrive all too soon.

Good night then. See you in the morning.

As they left the study, Milo was waiting for his young master, to light their way to bed. Jacques was there too waiting for the elder du Vallon, Gaspard.

As Pierre’ readied himself for bed, with the help of Milo, a tear came to his eye.

Milo noticed the expression of sadness on his young master’s face and asked, Master, is there something troubling you? You seem most despondent.

Oh Milo, how do I tell Father I want to become a musketeer and not be the master of all his domains? lamented Pierre’. I suppose there is no satisfactory answer so it is best to sleep with it to see if an answer will present itself somehow in the night. I appreciate your concern, but you might as well get some sleep too. No use in having both of us dead on our feet in the morning. That would really worry Father. So as of this minute, extinguish the taper and let us get some sleep.

Care to talk of it?

Ne, it is late. Perchance on the morrow.

Very well master. Goodnight. Try not to fret too much and I will see you in the morning.

Milo extinguished the taper as he was directed, then quitted his young master’s bedchambers to retire himself, for he was extremely tired. Waiting for his master to finish talking to the head of the household was an extensive ordeal. He did not think it would take as long as it did. Now that it was over and he was in his own bed ready to fall asleep, he was thankful.

Pierre’ did not fall asleep immediately like he was hoping, thus he tossed and turned like a fish out of water and it did not go without notice.

There came a light knock on the door.

’Tis open, came a hoarse reply from within.

Montaire quietly entered, but could only see his brother’s dark silhouette, outlined by the light of the full moon that the cool July night beheld.

What is the matter with you? You usually sleep like a log and I am betting if there was cannon fire you would sleep through that too. But not tonight. Do tell what is the matter, inquired a most concerned Montaire, Did things not go well with Father?

On the contrary, things went very well, sighed a melancholy Pierre’.

Then, praytell what is the matter with you? Or do I have to guess? requested Montaire, again.

Well . . . began Pierre’, I do not necessarily know how to begin.

I suppose it would be best if you began where everything usually begins, at the beginning, teased the younger du Vallon.

Tease me not, little brother. It weighs very heavy on my heart.

You have found love while you were away? inquired a perplexed Montaire.

Oh!’ moaned Pierre’, if it were only that simple. I might as well tell you. It might ease my overburdened heart." He inhaled a deep breath, and slowly let it out, before he began his narrative.

While I was in Melun, I noticed some men who were dressed as I have never seen before. Lace, ruffles, overlays with fleur-de-lis, boots, swords, flowing plumes in the hats, just a magnificent sight to behold. They had stopped to request information to Dreux. Once they obtained the information, they were off like a shot from a crossbow.

So what is wrong with that? You were to be conducting business for Father, not carousing with the crowds.

Hold! By the by, I was not carousing as you put it. I was merely out for a stroll after the deal was completed. Curiosity took hold like an ill-gotten fever and would not leave me go. I had to inquire after them to see who they were, not necessarily what they were about. The man answered that they were the king’s musketeers. Louis XIII, to be exact. There is talk of the Huguenots wanting their independence. Whether they get it or not is a cat of another color. My, good ol’ Louie does have his hands full, even though his mother is trying to help him. But . . .

Musketeers?!? Who, rather what are they? queried a most interested Montaire.

Oh! groaned Pierre’ again.

Montaire then settled himself a little more on the bed and asked, What now, my dear brother?

Pierre’ sighed and continued his narrative.

Mon petite friar, I am not finished with what I was saying. Listen as I conclude my tale of woe. Musketeers, dear brother, are soldiers of fortune who aid the king in all his causes. Whether it be a war or accompanying a dignitary to foreign lands. It is all for the glory to God and knowing they are serving the king when the king himself can not be present. It is that, that I would like to do, be a musketeer. Whether I am poor or rich it matters not. I want to serve the state in this capacity. But to everything there are drawbacks and mine is Father.

You really think he would stand in your way, if that be the case?

Unfortunately, yes. He wants me to continue learning his deals so that I may some day take over all this and become the Master of all the domains, as the primogeniture dictates. Including the newly acquired estate of Bracieux.

Primo . . . what?!? stammered Montaire, hoarsely.

The lineage of our family. You know, handed down from generation to generation. Father to oldest son.

Oh. By the by, why did you not follow them and become one of them? Is that not what you wish?

I would if I could.

You vex me, my dear brother. Following this tale befuddles the mind. Please clarify what you mean.

What I mean is this. It would hurt Father and Mother deeply if I were to just leave and never send word as to where I was or what I was about. I will have to get his approval just the same.

If I had been you I would have been long gone, for I feel very adventurous at heart. Father can not run our lives forever, you realize do you not?

Yawning, Pierre’ looked out the window. It would be dawn shortly, and the family cock would be announcing its’ arrival within a couple of hours.

My dear brother that is you. You are young yet and impulsive. Your head is ruled your emotions rather than your heart. Please take into consideration what it would do to Mother and Father if one of us just left without their knowledge. It would tear their hearts out without mercy. You ask why I am so melancholy, it is because I have Mother and Father to contend with and I know that this will not make them happy.

You are quite right. I suppose I ought to start thinking with my heart rather than my impulsive head. What would it be if I were to go with you?

There you go again, dear brother. That was a rash statement. I do not think they will relish the thought of one of their children leaving home let alone two of us. Now Montaire, it is settled. I will tell Father of my desire to become a musketeer when I feel the time is right. Thus secure his blessing. It is time to sleep. We can still get a couple of hours if we try. Agreed?

Agreed. Until morning then?

Until morning.

Montaire then quietly slipped off Pierre’s bed and quitted the room, silently closing the door after himself.

Pierre’ turned to his side and quickly fell asleep.

It was Montaire’s turn to toss and turn like a fish out of water. He held a deep affection for his brother and did not want to be left behind. Even if it were for a good cause. He considered running away, just to be with Pierre’. He then reasoned Pierre’ would probably send him home. It might be worth the risk but, I have got to stop thinking with my head, he thought. For now, I best get some sleep. I am not thinking too clearly now. Rather befuddled I would say, he mused as he finally fell asleep just as the cock began to announce the morning’s arrival.

Milo entered Pierre’s chambers only to be greeted by loud snoring to signify that Pierre’ was still sleeping soundly.

Milo, gently as possible, nudged Pierre’ to wake him.

Pierre’ did not stir.

Milo nudged him a little harder, Master, would you like to rise now?

Still no response from Pierre’.

Time to take drastic measures, thought Milo.

He then roughly nudged Pierre’, threw back the bedclothes and then hastily opened the window to let in the early morning’s cool air. The results were most effective. Pierre, sat up rather abruptly, and stammered, Corbleu! What is the meaning of this? He fell backwards for a moment to collect his thoughts and to clear away the sleepy fog that embraced him.

Milo timidly approached. He quietly asked, Would Master du Vallon du Bracieux care to be dressed?

Inhaling a deep breath and slowly letting it out, the fog lifted, but Pierre still missed the question put to him.

Please repeat what you just said. Come man! You need not act like a mouse after all these years you have been employed by my father. One would think we have been mistreating you. We have not, have we?

No Master, you have not, acknowledged Milo.

Then speak up man, so I can understand what you said, thundered Pierre’ to get the point across.

Would you like to be dressed? replied Milo in a more sound tone of voice.

Yes. Dressed. That is a good idea. I also would like to go for a short ride, then breakfast.

What would you like to wear on this day? inquired the valet.

Is there any indication of rain? inquired Pierre’

No sir, there is not as of this morn, replied Milo.

Then I shall put on my black doublet. The one with the blue trim, black britches, that shirt, he said pointing to a shirt that lay over the back of a chair, and my riding boots.

Very well, master.

Milo then scurried about quickly to find the outfit Pierre’ specified.

Once found, he handed them to Pierre’ piece by piece as Pierre’ put them on.

Finally dressed, he turned to Milo and asked, Do you not think this is befitting dress of a king’s musketeer?

Have you joined the ranks, sir? inquired a very perplexed valet.

Not as of yet, but you can bet I want to. So, what do you think? he inquired again.

Yes, master. Looks very befitting.

Do you think I am ready to join the musketeers? queried the musketeer hopeful.

’Tis not for me to decide.

I just wanted your opinion.

As Milo handed Pierre’ his hat and sword, he replied, Yes, master I think you are ready to join. You certainly are valiant enough, intelligent enough and most brave enough to be one of them. Do you plan to join them soon? , Milo ventured to inquire.

If I could have, I would have done it while I was in Melun. I would have rode off for Paris rather than home if I had that chance. If I had done that, that would prove to Father that I am irresponsible. And irresponsible I am not. he replied as he took up his gloves, hat, and sword to quit the chamber. He planned a short ride around before breakfast was served, for there was still time.

Arriving at the stable, he was greeted by the stable lackey.

"What can I do for you, my young master?’

I would very much like to have Mercury, my steed, readied for a ride.

Bowing, the valet quit Pierre’s presence to do as he was bid.

Within minutes, the valet returned, with the specified horse by the reins.

There you are, sir. Have a good ride.

Thank you. I shall, replied Pierre’.

Getting into the saddle proved a little difficult, but once settled the horse faltered a little. He had to accustom himself to the weight.

Pierre’ then set off to the south. The ride was to ease the tension he could feel coming on.

His father had taught the family to pick the horse best suited to the need. Whether it be for pleasure, business or otherwise. That is why he could manoeuver his horse as well as he did.

While riding through a small wooded area, Pierre’ called to mind some things his father had told him in his younger days. Riding, mind you, for pleasure is a great way to ease tension, anxieties, and other maladies that clutter the mind. When you finish the ride, your mind will have cleared and you will once again make sense to the world as well as to yourself.

Oh, how true, Pierre’ thought to himself. His father also said, Choose the horse wisely for what you intend. It will respond accordingly. Just riding for pleasure for business that calls for a prompt response, the horse will adjust to those certain needs. Or even riding out ones frustrations and angers. Each animal is different, just like one’s own needs are different, so select wisely my son.

As he continued to ride, his thoughts continued as well.

I wonder how Father knows these things. They are true enough. Maybe his wisdom is acquired through age.

After surveying the land, but with no particular direction in mind, he let his mind wander.

I wonder how I am to tell Father of my desire to become a musketeer. Difficult as it might be, it has to be done. The sooner, the better. Let me see what the best approach might be. He pondered.

‘Father,’ he began, ‘You know I love you and Mother with all my heart and I come to ask you a great favor.’ He will probably say, Go on my son. Then I will continue with, ‘while I was in Melun, some smartly dressed men rode up to ask directions to Dreux and change horses. Shown the way, they eagerly set off. Curiosity overtook me and I had to ask about them. When I did, I was informed that they were the king’s musketeers and they were in pursuit of some fellow stupid enough to escape from the Bastille. Plain and simple Father, I would like to become one of the king’s musketeers. He will probably tell me that they are foolhardy individuals who are as vain as the cardinal hopes to become pope one day. Pshaw! That will never work."

Looking up, he realized that his horse had turned to walk beside a ridge that overlooked a narrow road.

He tried to come up with a second approach to convince his father that becoming a musketeer was in his best interest and that he wanted his father’s blessing in doing so.

‘Father, I saw some gallant looking gentlemen ride up to ask directions to Dreux. I inquired after them only to be informed that they were the king’s musketeers and I wish to become one of them.’ That is quite a direct approach if I do say so. Should get some positive results out that. Then added, I hope.

He will probably ask, ‘My son, are you sure this is what you want?’

‘Yes, monsieur it is I will answer. Then he will say, ‘You have my blessings. Go! Serve our country and God as you deem fit.’ ‘Thank you Father, thank you.’

Pierre’ sighed.

Ah. But there is one last resort. If those two prior ways do not work, it might be best going the most direct approach yet. Be direct. Tell him bluntly. I will say, ‘I wish to join the musketeers and it shall take me to Paris to do so. I would like your blessings and consent.’

As he was thinking of yet another way to ask, his horse stopped, abruptly.

Off in the distance, he caught sight of two hooded cloaked men over take and stop a carriage that was richly decorated.

Once the carriage was stopped, a small velvet bag was passed. After that was done, the cloaked men took great haste in leaving. Nothing but dust followed them.

Pierre’ thought this would be a great way to prove how gallant and brave he was. He took after the men.

II

Spurring Mercury on, he overtook the two men with little effort.

Riding in between the two of them, he took his chances by encircling their necks with his heavy arms and pulling down. Thus knocking them clean off their horses and heavily to the ground.

Once on the ground, all the two men could do, was try their best to get their breath back in a hurry, for they saw Pierre’ riding furiously back towards them with his sword drawn and a very angered look upon his countenance.

One man regained his composure, quicker than the other. He stood up, lightly dusted himself off and looked square at Pierre’ who was dismounting his horse, and roared at him, Monsieur, you should not have done that.

Praytell, and why not? asked Pierre’ slightly above a whisper.

By this time the second one was on his feet. He answered Pierre’s query for his partner.

Monsieur, you will be most sorry for getting in our way. We need to survive and we are desperate in these desperate times.

’Tis not that desperate of times. You can not tell me that you are so desperate that you have resorted to robbing people who are living simple lives and who can only pray that something like this is only something they read about.

You know not what it is like, monsieur. I assure you. For interfering with our business, enguard !

The two men drew their swords at the same time, then took a few steps towards Pierre’.

At this time the carriage stopped a short distance away, so the occupants could observe the pending duel.

Pierre’, who already had his sword drawn, took a few steps forward as well.

Nonchalantly, he raised his sword and said quietly, We will see who is most sorry when we quit each other’s presence for the last time.

Enguard, gentlemen, if you please. Even if you do not please.

The first one was heard to mutter, Has he gone mad, to duel with both of us at the same time?

With a sudden thrust, Pierre dispatched his first opponent.

Then with a second thrust, he disarmed his other opponent. As the sword went from the thief’s hand, it glittered in the morning sun before hitting a rock and shattering.

Thus the duel was a rather short one to Pierre’s delight.

His adversaries stood dumbfounded as Pierre’ retrieved the velvet bag that was a few short paces off, to give it to the rightful owners.

The first man regained his senses and made a move to reach for his sword that lay at his fingertips.

I think not, said Pierre’ as he stepped on it to prevent his opponent from using it.

One of the coachmen jumped off the carriage and made haste to Pierre’s’ side.

Bending over, Pierre’ picked up his adversary’s sword, then he handed the coachman the velvet bag.

Do you need assistance, monsieur? inquired a most anxious young man.

Nay. I do not, but the one on the ground does. He is far from dead. He needs medical assistance, he said, as he pointed to the man lying on the ground. And, he added, they need justice served to them as well for their mistake. Desperate indeed! Desperate enough to see the decor of the Bastille.

Helping the coachmen secure their prisoners and round up the horses, Pierre’ whispered in the first man’s ear, If we shall meet again, I shall not leave you stupefied or wounded. I shall make sure you never plunder another carriage again. Mark my words.

The man, with olive skin and somber humor, shuddered at the thought of meeting up with this giant of a man again. He realized that Pierre’ would live up to what he had just said and the consequences would be virulent.

Pierre returned to the carriage. After many thanks and praises bestowed on him, he was asked if he was a musketeer by a young lady from the carriage’s window.

Doffing his hat and bowing, he replied, No, madam, I am not as of yet.

Monsieur, you would make a good one. See to it you become one soon. Men like you are needed.

Madame, it is an ambition of mine to become one. I plan to do so as soon as I can arrange it.

Indeed you should, she replied, curtly. Until then, may my gratitude go with you. I will try to use my influence to speed you through the academy of the musketeers. You will know who I am when you see me. Look for me within the domains of Palais Royale.

Au Revoir, Madame.

Au Revoir, monsieur.

As they parted company, Pierre’ bestrode his horse and with a quick glance. Although he did not see his adversaries, he knew them to be secured as he did help make sure.

He then set off to return to the Vallon estate, and the carriage with its new visitors to the Bastille, onward to Paris, disappeared from sight.

Pierre’ could not fathom who the young lady could be.

Returning a few hours after he left, Pierre’ stopped at the stable first.

A lackey named Rolande’ met him at the gate.

Master du Vallon, your father and brother have been looking for you.

Many thanks, Rolande’. replied Pierre.’ It will save me the problem of looking for them.

As he entered the house, his father was there to meet him.

Where have you been, my son? I was most worried. When Montaire went to see if you were awake and to tell you breakfast was being served, he said you were not to be found. Nor was Milo around. I had no idea what you were about. Now will you not join the family? Breakfast is about to be served.

I am sorry to have worried you. I was out riding and con-templating what life is all about. You have taught all of us that riding was cleansing for the soul as well as the mind. Thus that was what I was about.

That is so true my son. Will you not come to breakfast and tell me what the problem is? Provided there is a problem, he added offhandedly.

Sitting down with his father, breakfast was served. His father looked at him gravely.

Monsieur du Vallon waited patiently for his son to speak first.

The minutes that passed seemed like decades.

On the inside, Pierre’ was thoroughly intoxicated with what had happened earlier, but on his countenance, he was careful not to display any emotion. Thus made it difficult for his father to perceive anything his son might be going to say.

At great lengths and after choosing his words carefully, Pierre’ selected a mild way of informing his father of his desire to become a musketeer. He heaved a heavy sigh, and began his yarn Father, a lot has happened since I have been to and from Melun . . . .

Yes, things do occur, interrupted his father.

Please, let me finish. This is rather difficult to say, He sighed again.

While I was in Melun, I observed many things happening around me as I awaited for dinner to be served. The market and its people, the horses hard at work with their tasks and the buildings that loomed wearily above me. There were five unconventionally dressed men who rode up rather hastily to ask directions to Dreux and to procure fresh horses before they were off again. As my curiosity took hold of me, I had to find out who they were.

What is this leading to? asked the elder du Vallon, impatiently.

Pierre’ held up his hand as if to say, Wait a minute.

I was just getting to the point of it all. When I inquired who they were, an elder gent answered, Do you not know who they are, young man? For sooth! They are the king’s musketeers. I almost did not hear him when he said, I pity the fool that they are after. Now, Father, comes the big favor that I have been pondering for some time. Ever since I saw the musketeers, I have wanted to become one of them. Pierre’ paused for a few minutes, then recommenced, I wish to have your blessings so that I may go to Paris and become a musketeer. In fact just this morning, while I was out riding, two men tried to plunder a carriage that was travelling the narrow road that runs below our small hill. I prevented the men from making a bigger mistake then they already had. One of the occupants of the carriage asked if I were a musketeer, and when I replied that I was not at the present, I was informed that I should become one as soon as possible. I, for the life of me cannot begin to comprehend who the lady was. She was such a fair looking young lady. But she insisted that when I get to Paris I would find her within the domains of Palais Royale.

His father, who was very eager to listen to his son’s narrative, suddenly pushed his half empty plate away, and looked at the other members at the table.

The din around the table abruptly went quiet.

Pierre’ was quick to notice the change in his father and was the first to ask, Father, what is wrong? Why will you not speak to me or look to me?

Clearly disillusioned, his father slowly turned to face his son.

In a very melancholy tone, his father replied, My son, listen to me now, I beg of you. I know that this is not what you want to hear, but you must hear it. Best now than later. My father was for the Huguenots’ cause, and his father as well. Thus I became one too and ever since the Huguenots stated their intentions. There has been talk of their uprising if they do not get more freedom then they have. Your ancestors feel the state should be run by the Huguenots, rather the king, even though ol’ Henri was active for their cause. He did change religion for the appearance of it, nothing more. I know Henri wanted to remain a Huguenot, but could not if he expected to remain king. I know this is all very complex to explain to you. I know you think us Catholic, but it is only an illusion. It is said that Louis is a weak king and will not amount to much. Since that be the case, I forbid any of my sons to aid in the down fall of the state. What you did this morning to aid those people was very admirable. But, it is not good enough. Many thought me a royalist, but no, never! he said, pounding his clenched fist on the table for emphasis.

Poor Pierre’ felt so disheartened. He slowly got up from the table and meandered outside. He did not know which way to turn. He had his heart set on hearing his father’s approval rather than disapproval. He realized pursuing the subject was useless. Once his father’s mind was made up, very little could change it.

Even with his father calling after him, he did not hear any of the urgent pleas for him.

One way or another, I SHALL become a musketeer. deduced Pierre’, soberly.

Sure as clockwork, Montaire sought out his brother, who was by now sitting under a large tree, deep in thought.

This was one occasion where his father could not read his son’s thoughts but the younger brother could.

Pierre’s countenance thoroughly betrayed him. The refusal cut him deep. To the depth of his very soul, thus leaving him very despondent.

Looking up through clouded thoughts, he realized his younger brother was sitting patiently with him, waiting for him to speak.

Maybe I should have been more direct. PESTE’! There has to be some way to convince Father of letting me become a musketeer.

As his thoughts continued to meander, he mused, Though I am sure the cardinal is a fine man, he is not the strength, of the state. He may add some power as to some suggestions to the king on the Huguenot situations and their matters. So, I have no qualms against him or the church, it is just that I feel better serving the king as one of his musketeers. To Montaire, he reproached him, You said father would understand. Thus he did not. Then, not giving Montaire a chance to answer, he said to himself again, I also said it would be a task at first and a task it is.

Montaire’ quietly asked his brother, Pierre’, have you thought of any way to show Father the gallantry you thus possess? Telling him is nothing compared to showing him!

Now how do you purpose I do that? retorted Pierre’, with a touch of bitterness in his voice.

Well if you can not show him, perhaps you can make haste to Paris without him knowing. By the time he figures out what has transpired, you would already be in Paris, and there would be nothing he could do about that. replied Montaire, somewhat hypothetically.

Do you not remember the conversation we had prior to this?

Referring of course to one’s impulsive behavior and the con-sequences of the actions taken? Rest assured my dear little brother, he would find out, and me too for that matter. That is not the point of it all. The point of it being, I want his consent and his blessings. By the by, let us not get too funny about this. We have to be realistic about the whole thing, stated Pierre’, who tried to sound serious. Ah, but how? he asked himself more than Montaire’.

At great lengths, Pierre’ probed the depths and recesses of his mind to come up with a logical answer to his problem.

Time silently passed without being noticed. Suddenly he looked up. The sky had turned to hues of reds, oranges, purples and grays, signifying the sun was setting, and rather quickly at that.

Mon Dieu, he exclaimed, It is getting rather late.

With that, he and Montaire’ got up from their comfortable positions, Pierre’ was still deep in thought as they found themselves walking slowly back to the Vallon estate.

Upon arriving at the back of the stables, two of their valets were arguing rather loudly about something.

At the same time, Monsieur du Vallon was making his way to see what all the commotion was about.

He stopped short when Montaire walked past him. He then realized that Pierre’ was not too far behind.

From a safe distance, he continued to observe from the corner of the structure.

As he observed the present situation as the daylight faded, he thought to himself it would be a good opportunity to see how Pierre’ would deal with the two quarrelsome valets and settle their dispute.

Quietly, Pierre’ came upon the two unsuspecting valets and roared, WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!?

The two frightened valets just looked at each other with complete and unequivocal confusion and neither dared to speak, lest their heads might roll.

Pierre’ was not in the mood to play childish games, such as, Which cat has whose tongue? Once again, Pierre spoke, but rather softer than the first time.

Well, I am waiting.

The valet closest to Pierre’s right was the first to speak.

Rolande’ here has accused me of killing a good horse.

How dost he propose you did that? inquired Pierre’, in almost a whisper.

YOU DID , yelled Rolande’, in hopes of proving his point by raising his voice and feigning anger.

I did NOT!!, returned Jacques, the first valet, who was just as angered, but was not feigning.

Before either could let their fists speak for them or interject anything, Pierre’ thrust his body between the two of them and turned to the mischievous Rolande’ and requested to see the dead horse.

Closely, but unobserved. Gaspard followed with great interest. With even greater interest, Montaire’ followed at a safe distance too.

At the