Falsely Accused

Chapter one

D'Artagnan was scared. He was about to die. He was not about to die in battle. His death was pointless and wrong.

Porthos had been shocked. He could not help him.

Athos had made an effort to save him. He had failed.

Aramis had walked away from him. He had agreed that d'Artagnan should die.

D'Artagnan had been abandoned. He had been betrayed.

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The Previous Morning...

'Leave him alone, we've done nothing to you,' said the young woman as she tugged at the arm of the man who had pushed her husband up against the wall.

'Shut up Sarah,' said the man with a sneer, 'the sooner he learns his lesson the better, I don't like snitches.'

'Please, you're hurting him.'

Sarah tried to pull the man off her husband a second time, but she lacked the strength. The man holding him against the wall was tall. Taller than her husband who was clutching at the man's wrists trying, ineffectually, to free himself, a look of fear in his eyes.

When a gun was pushed into the man's cheek he slowly released his captive and backed off a few paces. Before turning his back and running away without looking back. The man disappeared around the corner.

'Thank you, monsieur,' said the man who had been attacked.

Sarah looked up at the man, a Musketeer, she realised, recognising the uniform. The Musketeer stepped forward and held out his hand to help Sarah's husband peel himself off the wall where he was still leaning.

'Thank you sir, Vincent thinks my husband told the local landowner he had been thieving. He didn't, but Vincent won't believe us.'

'Sounds like Vincent should be taught a lesson, if we see him again we'll 'ave a word,' said a second Musketeer who was still mounted.

Sarah looked around and saw two further soldiers sitting on their horses watching the event unfold. One was grinning, the other did not look amused.

'Are you going to see the Comte?' asked the man.

'Yes,' said the Musketeer.

'You won't find him at his house, he'll be by the lake, they're executing a robber this morning.'

The Musketeer glanced across to the other soldiers, the grinning one had sobered at the news of the execution.

'Thank you,' said the unamused Musketeer, 'd'Artagnan, come on...we will head for the lake.'

Sarah watched as the one called d'Artagnan remounted his horse, he nodded at her and her husband before following his comrades along the road at a trot.

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'You are too good...for your own good,' said Porthos as they rode away.

D'Artagnan smiled, 'I was hardly going to leave them being attacked was I?'

'If he hadn't intervened, I would have,' said Aramis looking back at them both.

They were trotting towards the lake where the couple had said the local Comte would be. The news that an execution was to take place was not pleasant. Justice had to be done, but some minor nobles took too much pleasure from dishing out their own punishments.

Treville had despatched them the previous day to visit Damien Paquet, a local Comte and landowner. He was a useful emissary between the King and other minor nobles in the area. He had the ear of several of the men whose attitudes were not quite as royalist as the King would have liked. The King liked to remind his noblemen that he was the King and they should do his bidding.

Porthos did not like this sort of assignment. Athos was always the one who did all the work, the rest of them generally ended up just waiting. But the show of numbers was needed to enforce the message.

The village the Comte owned was situated by a large lake. A bridge crossed the lake at one end where it narrowed before turning into a small river which led down from some rolling hills. The stone bridge was well maintained, it was wide enough for two carriages to pass each other and consisted of two arches which met in the middle, a flared base protruded slightly from the water where the arches joined.

The village, on the opposite side of the lake, had a few houses, a tavern and a blacksmith. Porthos could see a few stall holders with their wares on display set up around a small paved area, open on one side to the narrowed part of the lake.

Shouts could be heard from the bridge. As they approached they could make out a small group of people stood on the bridge with three men on the wall that acted as a barrier along the side.

Porthos guessed this was the execution party. He baulked at the thought. Having once been on the receiving end of such a sentence he had every sympathy for the condemned, innocent or guilty.

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The Comte lived in a large house set a short distance from the main village, up a winding track, it looked down on the rest of the buildings. Aramis could make out a large courtyard in front of the house with a covered walkway that ran around the outside. The Comte was a man who knew how to spend his money, not only did he maintain his home, he also kept the impressive bridge that linked the two sides of the narrow part of the lake in good condition.

As they began to cross Athos took the lead, the other three dropped back to let him do the talking. It was clear Athos hoped to stop the impending execution, but luck was not to be with them.

'That is barbaric,' said Aramis quietly as they realised how the poor prisoner was to meet his doom.

The man in the centre of the three stood on the wall along the edge of the bridge was struggling against the men on either side of him. He had his arms tied behind him firmly with rope. His knees were similarly bound. His ankles were bound with another rope that was also attached to a stone statue, the rope entwined around the arms of the female form immortalised in the white stone. The statue was teetering on the edge of the wall, it was obvious to the advancing Musketeers that the statue was there to weigh the condemned man down. The Comte meant to drown the man.

Athos quickened the pace of his horse, but to no avail. One of the men pushed the statue off the side of the wall, a split second later the bound man was yanked off with force plummeting to the water below with a scream of terror.

The group of people who were stood on the bridge paused for a moment before moving away. They walked back towards the village, one woman remained at the edge of the bridge looking over at the ripples that had been left by the man's entrance. After a few moments, she too retreated slowly. One of the other women who had attended the execution waited for her, pulling her into a firm embrace as they walked away.

Three men remained. They looked across to the Musketeers as they reached them.

'I suppose you would have liked to stop that,' said the oldest of the three men. The man, in his late forties, with thinning brown hair spoke with sarcasm.

'It was my intention,' said Athos, 'but I do not have the authority to overrule you, I am, after all, a simple soldier.'

Aramis hid a smile, as Athos, who was rarely a 'simple soldier' continued to talk down to the Comte, even after he had dismounted.

'I am Athos of the King's Musketeers, I have several messages from his Majesty for you and the other local noblemen.'

The Comte nodded, 'I can't accommodate the four of you, you will have to stay elsewhere.'

The Comte eyed each of them with contempt. He clearly had no respect for them as soldiers or men.

'We do not need accommodating,' said Athos, 'just a little of your time in which to pass on the messages.'

'Very well, we can do it now. Not here though, up at my house. I'll not be needed here for another hour.'

The Comte looked at them all again, before speaking, 'I have the body pulled out of the lake, see the other rope there,' he pointed to a couple of men standing by a rope which was secured at the end of the bridge, trailing into the water where the condemned man had fallen.

'The body is put on display as a warning to others.'

Aramis glanced across at d'Artagnan who had pulled a face of disgust at the thought. Porthos was looking back towards the lake, clearly not enjoying the conversation.

One of the younger men was looking at them all, he glanced back at the Comte, 'father, why does it take four of them to deliver a message?'

'Because the King wants to show me that he is serious about the messages they have to deliver, now I will meet you in the courtyard in a few minutes.'

The Comte turned his back on them and continued to speak to his son quietly for a few minutes. Athos remounted and led them further up the hill. They dismounted outside the gates to the courtyard. As they would not be staying there was no point stabling the horses. D'Artagnan led his and Porthos' horse, while Aramis took the reins of Athos' and his own towards a small stand of trees with low branches.

'I don't much like our host,' said d'Artagnan, looking down the road toward the Comte and his son who had just started to walk toward the house.

'I know,' replied Aramis as they loosely tied the horses to the branches, 'whilst I agree that justice must be done, there are less barbaric methods to deal with wrongdoers.'

'And putting the body on display is just...horrible.'

Aramis nodded, 'it is, I don't believe it even acts as a deterrent to others. Crimes still happen, regardless of what is done to the criminal. Desperate people, because let's face it most of them are desperate, do desperate things.'

They wandered back toward Athos and Porthos who were waiting for the Comte and his son before entering the courtyard.

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Athos listened to the man as he bemoaned the King, the Comte knew that Athos would not relate what he was saying back to the King word for word.

'Monsieur Paquet,' said Athos, who could not be bothered with etiquette, 'if you are quite finished we will take our leave.'

Paquet looked annoyed at Athos for not calling him by his title. Athos did not care, the obnoxious man did not deserve to be a landowner, let alone a Comte. The Comte glared at him for a few moments and was about to wave them away when he paused staring passed them. A man had entered the courtyard at a run. He skirted around the edge and approached the Comte with a dignified bow, despite his heaving shoulders as he tried to catch his breath.

The Comte beckoned the man forward. The four Musketeers stood waiting to be dismissed. Athos was contemplating just turning and going when he noticed that Aramis was looking in his direction. Aramis shook his head slightly, Athos nodded in return. His friend had read his mind and did not want him to do something he might later regret.

They continued to wait. The breathless man was talking quietly to the Comte, Athos could not hear what was being said, but he took a greater interest when both the Comte and the man looked in their direction. The expressions on their faces were serious. Athos wondered what the man was saying. After a few more minutes intense discussion the man stepped back and walked across the courtyard to where the Comte's son, Marc, was stood. Another conversation took place before Marc disappeared from sight into the main house.

The man nodded to the Comte and walked a few paces closer to the Musketeers before stopping behind d'Artagnan and Porthos.

The Comte took a few steps forward, towards the four of them before he spoke again.

'A young woman in the village has been attacked. She has been assaulted, sexually, by a man.'

'My sympathies,' said Athos, unable to hide his confusion, 'I fail to see what that has to do with us.'

The Comte continued as if Athos had not spoken, 'in my capacity as landowner of the village it is up to me to dispense justice, and justice will be done. I cannot allow the women of the village to live in fear that they will be attacked each time they leave the safety of their homes. I do not wish to see a sexual predator allowed to prey on innocent young women.'

Athos glanced across at the others. D'Artagnan and Porthos looked confused, Aramis looked concerned.

'The description that Marie gave of the man who attacked her means that I already know who the man was.'

The Comte moved his gaze to settle on d'Artagnan.

'What?' said Porthos taking a step towards the Comte.

Athos held out his hand and shook his head, Porthos paused, his face a picture of fury. Aramis was watching the Comte carefully. D'Artagnan was trying to hide his shock at the obvious accusation, but he was failing.

'I do not know who the poor woman has described but it cannot be my friend. He has been with at least one of us all day. He has not had the chance to attack anyone, not that he would anyway.'

'I do not believe you. You are trying to defend your man. I have jurisdiction over you and I will pass judgement.'

Porthos took another step forward, Athos knew that given the chance the big musketeer would tear the Comte limb from limb in a bid to protect his brother. D'Artagnan managed to stand his ground.

'I haven't attacked anyone. When the woman sees me she will see that she is mistaken. Where is she? Let me prove to you that it was not me.'

The Comte replied, 'not only did she describe you physically she also described what you were wearing, your uniforms are quite distinctive.'

'Arrest him if you must, but there will be a trial, where the victim will be cross-examined, by myself,' said Athos who was stopped from continuing by the Comte.

'There will be no trial, he is guilty,' said the Comte, 'and I pass sentence immediately. He will be executed in the morning.'

'What? But I haven't done anything, all you have is a description. There must be another man dressed in a similar cloak and pauldron. The colours are not uncommon,' said d'Artagnan with a slight hint of desperation in his voice.

Three men stepped forward, one of them pushed Porthos back a few paces as the other two grabbed d'Artagnan who tried to shrug them off.

Porthos took a step forward but was grabbed by the arm. Aramis glared at him, then glanced over at Athos.

'Leave him,' he said with unusual venom in his voice, 'if the Comte says he's guilty he must be. I don't want anything further to do with him. Filthy animal, attacking innocent girls.'

Porthos stared at his friend as if he had gone mad. Athos could see the shock in Porthos eyes and the look of utter betrayal in d'Artagnan's. But Aramis continued his verbal attack on their friend.

'I always thought there was something wrong with you. The way you look at women. It isn't right. You leer at them all the time,' Aramis paused and looked across to the Comte, 'Sir, I think you will be doing France a great favour by ridding it of something so disgusting.'

Aramis turned and walked from the courtyard, dragging a stunned Porthos behind him. Athos followed giving Porthos a look that made the big Musketeer stop pulling at Aramis. The anger was clear in Porthos eyes as he allowed himself to be walked from the courtyard.

Athos turned back to d'Artagnan, the younger man looked shocked and betrayed, his breathing was quick. The two men who had grabbed him were binding his arms behind his back and removing his weapons belt. As Athos followed Aramis and Porthos from the courtyard he saw the two men forcing the bound Musketeer away in the other direction.

D'Artagnan could not hide the fear as he was taken away.

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