In this we meet the last two Musketeers and Alexandrie becomes the topic of conversation.

Chapter 4 –Two more

D’Artagnan studied the young man in front of him, there was a little of his elder brother in him the colour of his eyes for example. Despite the fact the boy was out of his depth and perhaps a little overwhelmed he had the feeling those pale sea green eyes were taking in everything and storing it away, Jacques had been much the same.

There was definitely intelligence in those bright depths and though the boy spoke little what he did say contained the wisdom and knowledge of someone older, and was spoken in such a way that suggested every word had been well thought out. His outward demeanor was calm, unfazed despite the constant noise and goings on of the tavern; the boy had probably noted every exit and decided which men would be more likely to cause trouble.

The very fact that Athos had taken him under his wing suggested that the young man had potential; of course Athos was also guided by respect for his father and brother but Athos never confused respect for a family with respect for an individual; that was earned. D’Artagnan had earned respect by challenging three Musketeers on his first day in Paris and then stayed for the resulting fight with the Cardinal’s men; he had nearly lost his head for it!

He had had it easier however; he had gained the respect of his friends and the Musketeers all at once, having had adventures that proved his worth to his friends and those adventures had led him to save the King’s life thus gaining the respect of his fellow swordsmen. There were still men that challenged him though, eager to test his skill and see if he was worthy of his reputation. Andre would have to earn respect separately and d’Artagnan knew only too well the burden of expectation having a respected and well known father, Andre had had a brother too; the expectation was doubled…

“How now my friends!” A voice boomed loudly across the room and there was an answering cheer from the other patrons. Alexandrie surmised that the man was well known in this tavern and was obviously liked, although thirty drunken men hardly seemed an adequate testimony of character.

He was tall and yet was a man of some weight despite the fact he disguised his middle with a large dark blue scarf, one of several about his person in fact. Another blue one was tied about his forehead and dangled down the side of his head, over the top of this was tied a string of small flat gold discs that caught the light as he moved. Thick dark waves that were even shorter than d’Artgnan’s were scooped back by the scarf and looked perpetually wind blown. He wore a dark blue and slightly worn satin dress coat over his white linen shirt and was trimmed with small gold buttons, two were missing. An assortment of beads and necklaces hung about his neck and tucked into the sash about his waist was a range of odd looking gadgets that she surmised must be weapons, and there was a knife hilt sticking out of the top of one of his dusty black boots.

He looked to more of a pirate than a Musketeer; he was a flamboyant character indeed and instantly seized the nearest serving girl who gave a squeal of mock fear and then giggled.

“Now, now Porthos,” Athos’ measured voice could be heard as he walked to where she and d’Artagnan sat. “Try to control yourself.”

Porthos opened his mouth to answer but seemed to suddenly notice d’Artagnan. “Ah! My young friend, it seems an age since I last saw you!”

“You saw me last Tuesday.” D’Artagnan pointed out.

“And what a droll day it was.” Porthos replied, pouring himself some wine. He caught sight of Alexandrie. “And who is this young fellow?”

“The boy I was telling you of.” Athos said from around his pipe stem.

“Ah yes, Andre.” He inclined his head to her and grinned merrily. Alexandrie was given the distinct impression that he was the lovable rogue of the group and couldn’t help but take an instant liking to him even if he was a little intimidating.

“So where have you been all week?” d’Artagnan leaned forwards onto the table.

“I went to visit the Tsarina of Tokyo.” Porthos replied smugly. “She was pleased to see me again.”

“The Tsarina of Tokyo?” D’Artagnan repeated in disbelief.

Porthos leaned forward and pointed a finger in warning. “Now don’t take that tone with me d’Artagnan I won’t have you insulting her again…”

“There’s a Tsarina of Tokyo?” Alexandrie asked in confusion.

“My dear Andre,” Porthos said condescendingly. “Everyone knows that there is a Tsarina of Tokyo.”

“I don’t.” D’Artagnan sat back and crossed his arms as though daring Porthos to argue back.

He did.

“Of course you do, she gave me my sword.”

Athos frowned slightly and looked mischievously thoughtful. “I thought the Empress of Germany gave you that?”

“Yeah,” D’Artagnan frowned. “Last time you said it was an axe.””And don’t you forget it boy, without it you would have lost that pretty head of yours.”

Alexandrie exchanged a confused look with d’Artagnan; Porthos had somehow lost the argument but come out on top and had the last words.

“That would indeed have been lamentable.” A low voice carried to the men sat around the table; it had the texture of velvet and yet maintained a wry drawl. Alexandrie turned to see a tall man leaning against one of the tavern’s pillars; he was well dressed in a chestnut brown coat with a matching jerkin that hung open to reveal a clean white linen shirt. Tall black boots rose to meet fawn breeches and an ornately carved silver cross hung down the loosened ties of the shirt that exposed a small amount of clean flesh.

He was handsome, with dark brown eyes that gazed directly at her and made her feel slightly uncomfortable, a small smile played across his lips as though he knew something that no on else did and it was surrounded by a small dark beard that was trimmed neatly about his chin and upper lip.

“Aramis!” Porthos’ excitement seemed to expand at the sight of the man who was evidently his closest companion. He heaved himself up and all but threw himself at the other who simply laughed and embraced him before settling next to him, opposite Alexandrie.

“Where have you been you sly dog?” Porthos asked as he poured the man some wine.

“Here and there.” Was the quiet reply that made Porthos shake his head.

D’Artagnan turned to Alexandrie and murmured in her ear. “Aramis has been elusive of late, he has been moving around quite a bit; we none of us know where he lives now.”

Alexandrie digested this before turning back to her study of the man sat opposite her. So this was the fourth Musketeer, another man famed for his skill with a blade and for his mercy.

Rumor had it that he had once been a student of the Cardinal’s but had been disgusted by the Cardinal’s greed and bid for the throne of France. They claimed he was deeply patriotic and had surrendered his God for his King by joining the Musketeers and protecting the Kings of France on numerous occasions, including the incident of three years ago in which it was said he personally saved the young King and Queen and arrested the Cardinal. For such a man to contemplate a life in the service of God Alexandrie figured that he must be deeply religious, however his reputation with the women of France from all classes was frequently the topic of conversation; it seemed that his second choice of vocation suited him far better…

“I see we have adopted another scoundrel.” Aramis said suddenly and turned his attention to Alexandrie, she found herself blushing under his gaze.

“Indeed no!” Protested d’Artagnan, coming to her defense. “I fear you have quite mistaken him.”

“Yes quite,” Interjected Porthos. “He is far too young to be a scoundrel, see he has no beard. You cannot be a scoundrel without a beard!” He burst out laughing.

D’Artagnan shook his head with a chuckle. “Porthos I have no beard and yet you remark quite frequently that I am a scoundrel!”

“Ah yes, a clean shaven scoundrel thou art!” Porthos grinned.

“In all seriousness however,” D’Artagnan continued. “Andre is not a scoundrel; he is too well mannered and honest for such a thing. Indeed I fear he is to be a good influence on me.” He finished in mock gloominess which made Athos smile.

“Heaven save us.” Porthos shook his head in despair.

“It is well enough,” Aramis pointed out. “You are too far gone to be reformed!”

Porthos gave him a playful punch on the arm before turning back to Alexandrie. “Your father never mentioned that he had a second son, I believe he said something of a daughter however.”

The others were watching her now and she could feel them waiting expectantly for an answer to the question that had no doubt been on all their minds, for even her brother would not have mentioned Andre. She chose her words carefully.

“A man is proud to be named a father sir and even more so when his first born is a son; he shall continue the family name and honor. A man’s first daughter is a blessing in sweetness and brings her own reputation and chance of alliance to the house. As a twin and middle child sir what am I to my father that my brother and sister were not? I doubt he knew what to do with me sir, a second son is merely assurance!”

Athos gave a small snort of laughter at the last and the others smiled. Aramis looked at her with a renewed interest.

Porthos toasted her. “Spoken like a true middle child, assurance indeed! Well said lad, Aramis my friend I believe we have found one of your nature,” He leaned across the table to Alexandrie. “Aramis has a penchant for words if they were wine he would be constantly drunk! He and I have a disagreement on how to tempt women, he once tried to take d’Artagnan under his poet’s wing but I’m afraid d’Artagnan has holes in his memory; useless for poetry!” He turned back to Aramis and gave him a cheerful slap on the back. “Perhaps you might like this one as your student!”

“Indeed,” Aramis murmured speculatively. “He would prove most apt.”

A/N So how do you guys think it’s going so far? It’s a little slow at the moment but we’re still doing the introductions and setting up the story, it’ll get better I promise…well I hope at least! As always read and review my lovelies x