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"D'Artagnan and the Iron Mask or Two Years Later - Book 1"
Prologue
Exactly two years later, after the events described in my novel The Vicomte de Bragelonne, D'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos and Aramis indulged in conversation, accompanied by snacks, comfortably sitting on a picnic in the middle of a forest clearing.
“My friends, this picnic reminds me of a couple of others,” said d’Artagnan.
- By my sword, I know what you're talking about! - exclaimed Porthos. – Firstly, is this dinner at the La Rochelle fortress? Those were great days!
“I agree,” Aramis smiled softly.
- For our youth, friends! Why are your cups empty? - Athos exclaimed, although his cup could hardly be called full, because he had hardly drunk in recent years.
- Well, what about the second one? – asked d'Artagnan.
“Of course, the one where we planned this glorious event,” said Aramis with the same soft smile.
- That's it, friends! How glad I am that we are together again, as then, and as, I hope, always! - exclaimed d'Artagnan, knocking over his goblet of excellent Anjou wine. – And do you know what came to my mind now?
“Apparently, we’ll find out now,” Athos grinned.
“And the fact that the four of us have been keeping our finger on the pulse of history for almost forty years now.”
- For goodness sake, d'Artagnan, are we really that old? – Aramis protested.
“I remember, Aramis, you are not good at mathematics,” d’Artagnan inserted the pin.
- Not strong, by God! – Aramis answered.
“But in architecture,” continued d’Artagnan.
- Let's not talk about this! So what did you say about the pulse of history?
— I claim that history is us, and we are history. We sometimes correct its course, that is, I say that we hold the reins of this restive horse in our hands.
“As always, I agree with you, d’Artagnan,” Aramis replied after he furtively felt a certain envelope on his chest and made sure that the letter was still where it was supposed to be.
- And no one can stop us! - continued d'Artagnan. “No one will dare cross our path.”
- Nobody! - Aramis confirmed, - But for God's sake, be quiet!
“Can they really hear us here in the forest?” – d'Artagnan was surprised. “I heard that walls have ears, but there aren’t even walls here.” Only trees.
- Is it some kind of stupid wild animal? For example, a squirrel,” with these words Aramis phlegmatically shot into the bushes.
“I think I heard a scream?” – d'Artagnan was wary.
- Squirrel, sir! Squirrel,” Aramis objected.
- As for me, it was a whole boar! - Porthos exclaimed, - I think I’ll take a look.
- No need, Porthos. - Athos objected softly, - Aramis told you that it was a squirrel, therefore, it was a squirrel.
- Squirrel, or marten. I’m weak in biology, as well as in mathematics,” Aramis grinned.
“I hope there weren’t any other… squirrels with her,” Porthos grinned.
“We stayed too long,” Athos answered and silently indicated to Grimaud that he could tidy up his things. As for the horses, they were not unsaddled, so our friends easily jumped into their saddles and galloped off in the direction that I will tell our readers about a little later.
And now I invite them to return to my novel “The Vicomte de Bragelonne or Ten Years Later.” We will explain some of the dates of this story.
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