All For Love

Chapter 11: Sea Sick

Calais

The quickest way from France to England was by Port Calais. On it's northern borders and the narrowest point in the English Channel, the town of Calais has been rich for inheriting English delights and trading for French staples such as tin and wool. Salty sea wretches swear upon the lives of their mothers on the clearest of days the White Cliffs of Dover could be seen from the edge of their trading docks.

Shipyards are painted in wooden glory. Hailing from all over the two countries were men of trade and most revered marksmen. It wasn't a pleasant place to soak in the Channel's waters on their own. In fact, a non-experienced Channel sailor would drown in his step even on the calmest tide.

The villages connected to the long windy road of the merchant's cobblestoned pavement. And then finally from the marketplaces drew the beginning of the sea bearing estates floating on crystal blue water. Smoke would rise from small encampments from lit cigars and the heavy air of tuna mixed with port wine.

Cargo holds stacked what seemed to be a mile high in hefty baggage to protect the precious insides. Ropes ran along as a safe line for those with the tad bit of hesitant sea waves syndrome. Oddly enough, amongst the sailors and bracing captains at wheel, were French soldiers on horseback, meandering through the shipyards for six wanted fugitives.

Jussac on his white, dumpy steed narrowed his eye at the horizon for any sign of the culprits. A weather eye to his left and right, brought the trio of guards inspecting papers and throwing them back quickly. The process was slow but surely would turn out effective.

The Captain puffed out his chest envisioning clapping iron clads around Athos and his band of ruffians. It would bring him shining pounds of money and dignity after their last foolhardy attempt. No matter! He would best them. One way or another.

Hard to believe they were right under his nose, he failed to spot two creeping shadows back to back.

Antoinette hid herself from view thanks to a cool alley. The hot day broiled her cheeks bright pink. Pulling back the slightly damps curls from her collar bone, she looked to and fro with her companion for any signs of detection.

Right by her ear, he casually whispered, "Happy now?" The hot steam rolled back to her neck. "You wanted to travel and by the fates they have cursed us to the sea," Her neck turned in closer to the shady, cold stone walls they backed up to.

She lazily rolled her head to him. "Yeah, as soon as we return I'm going to have a serious conversation in confession," A smirk she wore disappeared seeing Aramis' upsetting grin. Banter was his ability but something told Antoinette otherwise to joke about. She eyed his unsteady posture. She huffed to her side. "By all means, this doesn't make me one bit happy,"

Aramis observed her stiff figure lean into his arm. "We're out of Paris," He quirked an eyebrow. Was that not what she had asked for days ago?

Sarcastically, she said, "Keen eye," She didn't bother to fix a lonesome curl brushing her right shoulder. Her features softened. "Not with a purpose," Her eyes cast down and then refocused to the yards. Antoinette changed the topic. "We could get a better range upon the ship dockyards," Her point of range was engraved in Aramis' brain before they stealthed with the shadows. His feathered black hat covered the brim of his eyes and his cape covered his Antoinette's figure to the best he could in daytime.

His nose crinkled. The odd scent of unbaked tuna rolled his stomach. It was wonderous how sailors could attempt to eat uncooked fish and not deposit their stomach linings, staining the blue water. "And risk with the fish people?"

"That ledge will do," She climbed the small set of stairs where a small unkept balcony full of bird droppings decorated the walk area. Cargo holds were already stacked almost to the balcony itself. Giving them a 270 degrees view of the docks and the patrol guards they must get past.