A week after the invitation, we had loaded up our horses and said our goodbyes to Mr and Mrs Cordon as well as some of our other friends and neighbors. Mr Cordon said to not distract Frederick's training, while Mrs Cordon said that she's sad to see me go but that she's glad I'll be closer to her son.
When we left Gascony, I felt a weight lift off of me. I wasn't sure there would ever be a time where I left, though I had often dreamed I never let it become an expectation. I'm like that, I suppose. I always dream but never expect, or rather never fully act on my plans. Perhaps it's caution or maybe fear. I cause all the trouble I want here but when it really comes down to it, I can't talk my self into doing what I truly want. It's less pain but also less pleasure.
My horse, Shakespeare is rather new so while she isn't the most reliable she is dearly treasured, As she was a gift from my Father on my 16th birthday. He said he saw a spirit in her fighting to break free, and that that's what he saw when he looked at me. She also is very mistrustful of people and will fight them if needed. Kindred spirits.
After a day of riding, we stopped over in a town to rest. We check in at an inn and part to our rooms, managing a "goodnight" before practically floating to our beds.
I'm awoken the next morning, to the sound of Charles knocking on my door. We went to the local tavern to eat breakfast, and got a few stares thrown our way but otherwise a somewhat warm welcome. The serving woman was chatting with some men in the corner. There voices were so loud though, the conversation seems to draw a lot of people into it.
"The Musketeers were here not but a few days ago. Said they were looking for some man, apparently the King asked for him specifically. His little errand boys didn't find him though and went to the next town over." A man told the group.
"The Musketeers are not errand boys." Another man adds.
"They looked very agreeable to me" the serving woman added.
"What's a Musketeer?" I whip my head back when I hear Charles address the group. He just gives me a shrug and turns back to them.
The man who began the story scoffed.
"You've never heard of the Musketeers? Have you been living under a rock boy?"
Another man adds "They are only the Kings most trusted and personal guard. They are a special group of soldiers trained to master the sword and musket."
The group goes back to chatting and we finish our food. After gathering our belongings we are back on the road. About 7 hours after leaving that town, we are a few hours out of Paris when we hear a stage coach fast approaching us. We both steer our horses out of way and let it pass without haste. But after it passes, it suddenly stops. For a moment everything I quiet until I hear the cocking of a gun beside me, I turn to see a masked man holding a gun pointed at me. I look over to Charles who is already dismounted his horse. He goes to grab his sword but stoped as a gun is pointed at him as well, also by a masked man. A few other clothed faced men jump out of the coach and draw their guns. 6 to 2, we are outnumbered. I try to fight the man that holds his gun to me but the one holding Charles grabs him and holds the gun to his temple.
"Try that again and the boy dies." A man from the middle of the group says.
I still and put my hands back up.
The lead man's voice is scratchy, and aged. He smirks and circles me, looking me up and down.
"You're a feisty one, I like that. But don't be stupid." He stops in front of me, and grabs my chin.
Before he can say anything, he grins and roughly grabs my arm. Bringing my hand in front of him. He slides my Fathers ring from my hand.
He bites it and turns back to the group "Gold!"
The men cheer.
"Please, that was my Fathers! It's all I have left of him."
He just sighs "well..no" he laughs. The men laugh and then begin to ransack our belongings. They take all our money and throw our clothes onto the ground and dirt.
The ones who rode in the Coach get back in it and hurry off while the two beside try to jump on our horses. Shakespeare rear and kicks but when the man hits her behind she runs on. The group ride off towards the city.
"Are you alright?" I run over to my brother.
"Yes, but" he points in the direction towards Paris, which looks like it's still quite a miles away.
"We'll have to walk the rest of the way."
We start repacking our belongings and begin the trek.
"I'm sorry about Fathers ring and Shakespeare. Maybe we'll find both when we are there."
I flare my nose "I will. I'm gonna get them both back if it's the last thing I do. My possessions may be few but that ring is everything to me. Shakespeare is a smart girl, it won't be hard to find such a restless spirit."
"I'd argue, but that horse has a mind of her own."
"Let's go, we'll have plenty of time to chat."
We both look ahead of us again and groan.
YOU ARE READING
The Female Musketeer
Historical FictionDaria La Vielle was just a farm girl. The Three musketeers Athos, Porthos and Aramis were just soldiers. But all four found they were more than just titles given to them. Love, Revenge and Swords make for a good time. but when it comes to being a wo...
