"Yes, Monsieur Athos. I told him to move with stealth, just as you said."
"Excellent," said Athos. "I do not much care for running away like a thief in the night, but it would be the prudent thing to do. I did not like the look of our innkeeper. He was a shade too friendly for having been wakened in the middle of the night."
Moving on tiptoe, they crept down the stairs and out the door, heading for the stables. Their horses were all saddled and awaiting them, but there was no sign of Grimaud. Athos glanced about him, searching for his servant.
"Grimaud!" he called, softly.
There was no reply.
"Grimaud, damn you for a laggard, where the devil are you?"
An answering moan came from within a pile of straw, from which a boot could be seen sticking out. Athos rushed over to the straw pile and, pulling by the foot, dragged out Grimaud, who appeared to have been bashed over the head. He was semiconscious and bleeding profusely from the scalp. At that very moment, they were attacked.
A group of men dressed as peasants, yet betrayed by the fine rapiers which they brandished, leapt out at
them from all corners of the stable. One appeared over the stall behind D'Artagnan, stabbing down viciously with a dagger. The quick-witted Gascon ducked aside and caught the man's arm, dragging him over the stall and flipping him down onto the ground. He twisted the dagger out of the would-be assassin's hand and stabbed him with his own weapon, plunging the blade into the man's chest. He sidestepped a lunge from another and dropped him with a right across the jaw, then swung into the saddle and yanked free his rapier.
Lucas and Andre both drew their swords and daggers and met the men who charged them. Lucas turned a sword away from his attacker and booted its wielder in the groin. He quickly slashed his dagger across the man's face, then turned to meet his next opponent. D'Artagnan came riding up at that moment, rearing his horse and interposing it between Lucas and two swordsmen, giving him time to swing up into the saddle. The stables became filled with the sounds of ringing steel.
Andre parried one sword-thrust with her dagger and engaged another with her blade. She executed a quick beat and disengage, then quickly thrust the point of her rapier into her opponent's eye. The second swordsman lunged again and she twisted her body, feeling the blade ripping through her cloak and passing perilously close to her ribs. She moved into the thrust, trapping the man's blade and stabbing her dagger deep into his abdomen. The man fell, clutching at her and dragging her off balance, taking her down with him. She fought free and started to get up, turning in time to see another man bearing down on her. D'Artagnan ran him down with his horse and she took four running steps and leaped over the hindquarters of her horse and into the saddle.
Athos had pulled out his pistols and fired at the first onrush, dropping two of his attackers. He barely had the time to drop his pistols and draw his sword before he found himself beset by three opponents. He dodged a thrown dagger and it embedded itself in a post behind him. However, his ducking the dagger had given his opponents time to hem him in and he stood braced with his back against the post, fending off the three rapiers that darted in at him. He parried one thrust, kicked the man in the groin as he parried yet another, and felt the third blade scrape along his arm. He lunged quickly and killed one man, but that one was immediately replaced by another. Andre had already bulled her way through on horseback to the outside and Lucas and D'Artagnan were both mounted up and by the door, keeping attackers at bay.
"I am taken!" Athos shouted. "Go on, D'Artagnan! Spur! Spur!”
D'Artagnan only paused long enough to hurl his dagger at one of Athos's attackers, seeing it thud home into his back.
"One for all-" D'Artagnan shouted.
"Get the devil out of here!" screamed Athos.
They set spurs to their horses and galloped off after Andre, their number now reduced to four. Planchet, alone, had managed to leap into the saddle and gallop out the stable door before their attackers had closed in on them. He was waiting for them further down the road, looking terrified.
"Coward!" D'Artagnan shouted at him, leaning over in the saddle and flailing at him with his hat. "You should have stayed and fought!"
"With what, Master?" Planchet cringed, attempting to ward off the blows.'' I don't have a sword!"
They rode at breakneck speed for St. Omer, beyond which lay Calais.
"Hawk One, where the hell were you?" Lucas said, furiously.
There was no reply.
"Hawk One!"
Silence.
"Damn you, Hawk One…" It suddenly occurred to Lucas why Hawk One was not responding. He simply wasn't there. Cobra had said that he would pull several men off the operation to check his allegations against Mongoose. He had been coldly efficient in making his selection. If what Lucas had said was true, then the Timekeepers would be striking back in Paris and manpower would be needed there. If Lucas had lied, then he had been disarmed of his most effective weapon and, as a traitor, would not require reconnaissance reports. The second floater could very well be overhead and he most likely was. Cobra had said that they would be covered every inch of the way. But Hawk Two was on a different frequency and, in any case, until the truth was known, he would not be reporting in to Lucas. Effectively, they were on their own.
Thus far, everything had happened according to the original scenario. History reported that D'Artagnan and all three musketeers survived the mission, but Andre and Lucas were both extraneous factors. That gave fate a lot of leeway.
A short distance outside Calais, D'Artagnan's horse collapsed. Planchet's animal was all done in as well, so Lucas and Andre each took a passenger and they barely reached Calais, their horses totally exhausted. Dismounting, they made it to the port on foot and sought out the captain of a small skiff, who was already engaged in a discussion with another gentleman. D'Artagnan ran up to them and interrupted, asking if they could set sail at once to England.
"I say, sir," said the well-dressed gentleman, somewhat taken aback at the Gascon's rudeness, but the captain raised a hand, silencing them both.
"As I was about to tell this gentleman," the captain told D'Artagnan, "I am able to set sail at once. However, this morning an order arrived stating that no one should be allowed to cross without permission from the cardinal."
"I have that permission," said the well-dressed gentleman, taking out a paper and holding it out.