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The American Musketeer : A Series


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Chapter Six: Revenge of the Musketeer

Milady de Winter was said to be one of the calmest assassins the Cardinal had in his employ. Nothing could faze her or disrupt her plans, so much so that if she couldn't do what had been asked of her she would get someone else to do it, either willingly by pretending to fall in love with them or like with Roger, drugging them and making them hers to control, but now that Roger had returned a hero to the Musketeer corps, she knew that time was against her and as she packed her belongings in order to flee to her ancestral home, she always looked over her shoulder to ensure that no one was at the door. Therefore when a gentle knock was heard, she froze, but showing no fear she opened the door to a man who looked very old and was supporting himself with a stick.
 
“Pity the old!” he said, weakly, “I was once a famed Musketeer, stronger than Porthos is today. Now I am a frail old man. Pity the old!”
 
“Certainly not” said Milady and closed the door on him, or at least she would have done if the man hadn’t put his foot in the way.
 
“Go away!” she said, but the man remained steadfast.
 
“Pity the old!” he said, and gently hobbled inside.
 
"I can have you arrested" she said, as the man stood there supported by his stick, "Do you know who I am?"
 
"I do, Milady" came the reply as the old man seemed to transform in front of her eyes from a weak, old man to the powerhouse that was Roger and as he stood up, towering over Milady by a good eighteen inches he said "I am the son of Porthos and I am here to do unto you, what you did to me!”
 
“Hah!” scoffed Milady, “I cannot be hypnotised!”
 
“Are you so sure?” he smiled, and ripped off his sleeves and gently bounced his biceps.
 
Milady stared at the muscle in wonder, shook her hand and was about to say something when Roger took a deep breath and hit a double bicep pose.
 
“Oh, yeah!” huffed Roger, “you like that don’t you? You want to feel the power surging through those biceps!”
 
“No” replied Milady, “I…” and then she went quiet as Roger flexed his triceps. Milady edged forward and touched the triceps and shook.
 
Outside the Musketeers peered in through the window with Porthos stifling a giggle.
 
“See” he said, “I told you that Roger was good at making a spectacle of himself!”
 
By now, Roger had exposed his massive chest and twelve-pack abs and was having a wonderful time. Milady was almost in his power praying to the muscle mountain in front of her.
 
“And now!” he smiled, “behold my true power” as he ripped off his pants to reveal tree trunk like legs and a loincloth that had trouble containing it’s contents. Milady wailed and fell to the ground.
 
“My lord” she said, “this worshipper begs forgiveness!”
 
As Porthos entered the house and patted Roger on the back he said "Go on, my friend, I know you want to. The other Musketeers are heading back to Headquarters" and with that he closed the door and said "I, the Titan, permit you!"
 
For the next hour the sounds of male grunting, female screams of delight and another voice urging the male voice to "show her what being a Musketeer really means"  could be heard and as it finished two men, Porthos and a barely conscious naked man held in the Titan's arms left the house with Porthos saying "You see, I told you that all she needed was a good seeing to. I don't think we need worry about her for a while"
 
The following day however as the Musketeers gathered in the office of their Captain, Porthos's assessment was put to the test.
 
“Gentlemen” said Captain Treville, “we have a problem!”
 
The Musketeers and Roger all looked at each other. Had Milady recovered her senses enough to report them all? A worried expression crossed their faces.
 
“The King has organised a end of summer ball next weekend, and as such has requested that the Queen wear the diamond studs that he gave her for her birthday last year. However, this request could bring about the downfall of the French monarchy!” Treville added.
 
“How?” asked Athos
 
“What I am about to tell you, gentlemen!” continued Treville “must never leave this room. The Queen is in love with the Duke of Buckingham, the Prime Minister of England!”
 
Everyone bar Roger gasped. To Roger this was all old hat anyway. The fact that the Queen of France and the Duke of Buckingham were having “political discussions” was nothing new to him at all. It was the whole basis to every Musketeer film he had ever seen, but what Treville said next did take him a little by surprise.
 
“The Queen, in a moment of weakness, gave the Duke two of those studs as a gift of kindness and as we speak he is sailing back to London. Those studs must be back in time for the ball. I dare say that I can count on you gentlemen!”
 
“A deadline?” said Roger
 
“That’s right,” said Treville as a clock chimed midday. “It is now 12.00pm on Monday, the ball is due to start at 8.00pm on Saturday and the Queen will make her entrance with the King at precisely 9.00pm. That gives you…”
 
“129 hours!” said Roger, smiling, “I’m not just a muscle head you know!”
 
“Indeed” said Treville, “so God speed Gentlemen!”
 
Roger and the Musketeers bowed and raced outside. The Musketeers jumped on their horses and were about to gee when Roger realised he didn’t have one. Just then the Shire horse that was his old horse trotted gently into the yard.
 
“You can’t ride that!” exclaimed Athos, “Shire horses are the slowest in the land!”
 
“You’d be surprised” said Porthos and trotted up to Roger as he mounted his steed. “First to the outskirts of Paris buys the next round?”
 
“You’re on!” said Roger and geed his horse that shot out of the barracks with such speed that the doors couldn’t be opened fast enough and a horse shaped hole appeared in them.
 
Porthos, Athos, Aramis and D’Artagnan laughed as they followed in hot pursuit.
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Chapter Seven : Divide and Conquer

“Whoa!” announced Aramis as they left an inn on the outskirts of the Bois de Bologne.
 
“Hey” complained Athos, “why are we stopping?”
 
Athos’s answer was met by the sound of a tree crashing to the ground.
 
Aramis rode up to the fallen tree and asked to speak to the person in charge of the operation.
 
“Good afternoon” he said, doffing his hat, “I’m sorry to bother you but would it be possible for you to explain why you are felling trees across a major public highway?”
 
“Public works!” sniffed the man and ordered the men to start chopping the tree up into smaller bits.
 
“I can quite understand the need to ensure that France is renowned for it’s highways” continued Aramis, “but at the same time was wondering if it would be possible for us to travel along this road?”
 
“Well” said the man, “it might be” and then took a whistle out of his pocket and blew it causing all the men to stop work and start downing gourds of wine, “if it wasn’t for the fact that we are now on a break!”
 
“A BREAK?” shouted Athos, “but you’ve only just started!”
 
“Listen, fatso!” replied one of the workers, “our union said we could have a two hour break every time we felled a tree!”
 
“FATSO?” shouted Athos back and dismounted, “You should show a little more respect for your elders!” and he drew his sword.
 
“And you should recognise the might of the unions!” replied the worker and en masse walked towards Athos brandishing their tools.
 
“Now gentlemen!” said Aramis, dismounting, “Surely we can sort this out in a non violent manner!”
 
Aramis’s request was met by one of the workers bringing his spade down on Aramis and it was only his quick reflexes that prevented him being knocked out as he parried the spade with his sword. It was then he noticed something inscribed on the wooden handle. “Made in Paris,” he read, “for Count Roquefort!”
 
“It’s a trap, gentlemen!” he shouted, engaging the workers. “You have your mission, now go!”
 
As Roger arrived on the scene with an apologetic "I'm sorry, but those men at the bar couldn't believe how big and strong I was and so just has to test me", Athos, Porthos and D’Artagnan darted past him down a nearby lane.
 
“This way, Roger” shouted Porthos and Roger followed.

The town of Chartes was experiencing what could only be gridlock. A trail of wagons was leading from the centre of the town occupying both lanes in either direction which considering the Musketeers only had 24 hours to catch the next boat to England wasn’t helping. Athos suggested going between the lanes of traffic but that suggestion was greeted badly by the drivers.
 
“We’ve been stuck here” he said, “for the last day and a half. Isn’t it just typical that you Musketeers think that you can lord it over the rest of us!”
 
The other drivers welcomed his comments and like the workers they raised a force opposed to the Musketeers.
 
“You need some respect thumped into you!” said Athos, dismounting. “I’ll meet you at the ship” he said to Porthos, D’Artagnan and Roger, “after I’ve given these people a lesson in general respect of those in authority”
 
Porthos, D’Artagnan and Roger turned around and rode off. As they did something was troubling Roger. He knew that traffic in the 1600’s was massively lighter than the 21st century gridlocks he knew, so how on earth could a traffic jam develop and not be noticed for over a day. Whilst idly thinking about he spotted a spade with the insignia of the Cardinal’s guards on it and pointed out to Porthos.
 
“Another trap!” he said and warned his friends to be careful
 
It was late at night when the Musketeers arrived at an inn in Amiens and despite having ridden for almost 14 hours, they were still hoping to be able to wile away some time idly entertaining themselves, which the innkeeper was more than happy to do so.
 
“I must say” he said, “as he poured another flagon of beer, “to have the Musketeers at my inn is a great honour!”
 
“Not to mention having two of the strongest men in France as well!” laughed Porthos as he and Roger locked arms for the tenth time that evening and commenced on another arm wrestling bout.
 
“Add to that one of the cleverest!” piped up D'Artangan.
 
No sooner had he spoke than a man stood up and came over and sat down by them.
 
"Yes, Monsieur" grunted Porthos, as he and Roger fought each other, "have you come to witness the two Titans battle?"
 
“What’s thirty five times seventy to the nearest whole number?” he asked.
 
Roger, Porthos stopped wrestling each other and with D'Artangan looked at him with astonishment.
 
“I said” repeated the stranger, “What’s thirty five times seventy to the nearest whole number?”
 
“One thousand eight hundred!” replied D’Artagnan, “but why are you…?”
 
“Times by the circumference of a circle and rounded up to the nearest hundred!” the man continued
 
“Five thousand five hundred!” said D’Artagnan
 
“And then times by the square root of five hundred and thirty one thousand, four hundred and forty one!” he added
 
“Er” said D’Artagnan, closing his eyes, “four million, nine thousand, five hundred!”
 
“Divided by,” continued the man, “cube root of nineteen thousand, six hundred and eighty three!”
 
“Oh” said D’Artagnan, “I, er…!”
 
D’Artagnan started to look a bit on the woozy side and Roger asked if he was all right.
 
“Shush” he said, and concentrated hard, “er, one hundred and forty eight thousand, five hundred!” he announced and then his eyes went all funny and he collapsed unconscious.
 
“Plus one!” continued the man
 
Roger jumped up and stared the man down. It was then he noticed the tattoo on his shoulder, the mark of the Cardinal’s guards. Without saying a word, he gestured towards D’Artagnan, then to the man and punched him in the face knocking him out.
 
“What on earth did you do that for?” asked Porthos.
 
“He was in the pay of the Cardinal,” replied Roger, “and have you noticed that we seem to be being picked off one by one?”
 
“Oh?” replied Porthos
 
“Yes, Aramis was waylaid by those workers as he is famed for solving conflicts. Athos was waylaid because of his hot temper. This man was paid to confuse D’Artagnan which means…” said Roger
 
“The next trap will target our strength?” asked Porthos.
 
Roger nodded as he picked D’Artagnan up and asked the innkeeper to look after him. As soon as D’Artagnan was safe Porthos and Roger mounted their steeds and headed off to spend the night in the woods away from prying eyes.
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Chapter Eight: The Titan, The Pirate and the Fisherman
 
There were now only six hours before the boat left Calais for England and thankfully Porthos and Roger were within sight of the town. However as they rode over a hill, Roger stopped. Porthos woahed his horse and asked for the reason. Roger pointed to a bridge that seemed to have several people standing either side of it all holding pieces of rope.
 
“Another trap!” mused Porthos
 
“Yes” replied Roger, “and one clearly designed for a person of great strength!” and with that flexed his bicep under Porthos's nose expecting the Titan to grab hold and squeeze it. So it came as rather a surprise when Porthos held Roger's hand and looked at him, almost into his soul and said “No, one of us has to get through to England and that someone has to be you!”
 
Roger's eyes opened wide and as they did, Porthos smiled
 
"Roger” he said, “Why do you think I brought you here?. I could have chosen any number of muscle bound people from any time and any where in the world. I chose you because you said that you wanted to put your strength to good use. That’s the reason I allowed those witches to give you that potion. You are going to save the French monarchy!” and with that he charged for the bridge.
 
“Porthos!” shouted Roger, “Wait!” and geed his horse after him eventually catching him up just before the bridge.
 
As Porthos hit the back of Roger’s horse which reared up and accelerated ahead of Porthos and entered the bridge’s housing, the Titan called "Good luck, my friend!"
 
“NOW!” shouted a person and the people started to pull on the ropes. Roger emerged the other side and woahed his horse just in time to see the bridge collapse.
 
“PORTHOS!” he shouted and wanted to turn around and save his friend, but Porthos’s words rang true. He was the only person who could stop the French monarchy being ruined at least two centuries before time. He grabbed the reins and geed his horse as he rode away from the bridge hoping that the second most muscular man in France had somehow survived.

Roger arrived in Calais just thirty minutes before the boat was due to sail to England, but he didn’t know which of the various boats at the harbour was the one he had to catch. The most obvious one was the one that looked like a cruise liner, but that was being guarded by several of the Cardinal’s guardsmen. A rowing boat moored nearby piqued Roger’s attention. “One way of getting a cardio session,” he giggled and then he noticed a fishing vessel getting ready to sail. He’d always fancied being a fisherman so decided to go for that one, but how to get past the guardsmen.
 
“There” said Captain Widimir as the last of the people bound for England went on board the cruise ship, “all of them checked and no sign of those Musketeers!”.
 
Just then a very large man appeared on the dockside and started walking down to the harbour.
 
“Hey, you there!” announced the Captain and the man stopped.
 
“Ooh, argh?” he asked
 
The Captain examined the man very carefully. He was certainly big at least a good six inches taller than him and very strong. He wondered if this might be that son of Porthos the Cardinal had warned him about.
 
“Tell me!” he said, walking around the man, “what part of France are you from?”
 
“Ooh, argh!” replied the man, “The roughest part you can imagine. It’s the reason I am so big!” and he gently bounced his pecs, which quite impressed the guardsmen then added "These arms have wrestled some of the most powerful men this nation has to offer. Would you care to challenge them?" and with that he rolled up his sleeves to reveal two very muscular forearms.
 
“You may pass!" said the Captain, stepping to one side. However as the man continued along the wharf and the Captain gave the order for the cruise liner to leave a call of “Hold, sir! I was born in the roughest part of France and lived there for over forty years and I have never seen you before!” and with that he made a grab for the cloak surrounding the man and pulled it off to reveal Roger wearing only a pair of trousers.
 
“It’s the son of Porthos” he shouted, “Get him!”
 
Roger ran across the wharf and along the pier. The fishing vessel was within sight and there was only one thing for it. He was going to have to jump. He accelerated and jumped off the end of the pier. Unfortunately for the Captain and the guards, Roger’s substantial mass caused the board to snap and open a hole right in front of them. As Roger performed a perfect double somersault to land on the deck of the fishing vessel, the Captain and the guards fell through the hole into the sea.
 
“Na, na na na nah!” scorned Roger and then turned to the Captain of the vessel. “Permission to come aboard, sir!” he said, flexing his biceps and chest.
 
"Permission granted!" said the captain.
 
As the vessel sailed out of Calais harbour, Roger (now only wearing a apron for fish filleting) looked out from the stern. It was clear that the other Musketeers hadn’t made it. As he sighed, he heard a shout and looked up. There on the top of a hill near the harbour where the Musketeers. He waved to them and they waved back. Roger was the only person able to complete the Musketeer’s mission.

A few hours later the captain came up on deck and found Roger languishing over the side of the boat heaving.
 
“Not got your sea legs eh?” he laughed
 
“On the contrary” replied Roger as he heaved aboard the biggest collection of fish the Captain had ever seen and dumped them on the deck.
 
“There must be a million francs worth here!” the Captain exclaimed, “best get to work then!”
 
They spent most of the day preparing the fish and were only halfway across the Channel when the work was done. During the time, Roger had noted that apart from the Captain, he was the only crewman on board.
 
“Yes” replied the Captain, “you are right” and explained that this was his last voyage. After he arrived in England, he would sell the ship and retire on the proceeds. “I fancy buying a house in the middle of the English countryside and explore my other passion!” he said.
 
“Oh?” replied Roger, “and what passion is that?”
 
The Captain looked up at Roger. “Have a guess,” he said, as he went below.
 
Roger wondered about what alternative passions a humble fisherman might have. Perhaps an variation on fishing say agriculture for instance, but if that was the case, why sell a ship when he’d be able to use it as a means of transport, so he ruled that out. How about something that has the same skills as fishing and considered the option that perhaps he wanted to be a minister in the church. It was possible, but most of the churches in the 1600’s were in the towns not the middle of the countryside. Surely he wasn’t going to go into politics he wondered as the Captain emerged back on deck wearing a cloak.
 
“I’ve not a clue!” said Roger.
 
“Okay” said the Captain, “I’ll help you. First of all the basics! I’m 60 next year and have been fishing since I was 20. That’s forty years of hauling in nets laden with fish. Next, I’m about 5ft 5 and weigh at least 10 stone and finally, like you, I love exposing myself to the weather. Now, what career do you think I could do with all that?”
 
Roger thought hard and then noticed that the Captain’s legs were exposed. He gasped.
 
“You don’t mean?” he said
 
The Captain nodded and took off the cloak to reveal a very defined and muscular body with nothing more than a loincloth covering his modesty
 
“I am retiring,” he said, “to take up a career as a strongman!”
 
Roger laughed and took off his apron. “Then let an expert give you a few pointers!” he said also sporting a loincloth.
 
For the rest of the voyage, Roger and the Captain competed against each other in a series of feats of strength and muscle control. By the end both men were completely naked, covered in sweat but had supremely pumped up bodies. As they sighted the white cliffs of Dover, the Captain smiled. “My new muscle home awaits,” he said.
 
Roger smiled back and decided to give the Captain a gift. He lay on the deck and challenged the captain to lift him over his head as many times as possible before they sighted Dover. The captain agreed and started to lift Roger. Roger congratulating the Captain rewarded every grunt of effort and just before Dover was sighted the Captain started to moan.
 
“That’s it!” shouted Roger, himself starting to moan, “feel the power of strength, revel in it and let yourself explode!”
 
The Captain huffed, puffed, moaned and groaned, threw Roger to the deck and roared as a stream of liquid started to pour into the English Channel from the Captain. As Roger got dressed in his Musketeer outfit, the Captain reeled backwards and into Roger’s arms. His chest was heaving and sweat was pouring out of him.
 
“Enjoy your retirement!” smiled Roger, “and if you need any assistance, feel free to message me and I’ll show you some more muscle!”
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Chapter Nine: Meeting His Grace, the Duke

Roger disembarked from the ship and bowed to the Captain.
 
“May all your pumps be big ones!” he laughed and he started to explore Dover. As he did a clock chimed eleven o’clock and Roger wondered how much time was left before he had to get back to Paris. He found a bookstore and consulted one of the newspapers, which was dated Wednesday. As Roger walked away his mind was lost in calculations.
 
“It’s now 11.00am on Wednesday” he thought to himself, “that means it’s taken 36 hours to cross the Channel by sail boat. Now England is one hour behind France so in Paris it’s midday on Wednesday. The ball is at 8.00pm on Saturday so that means I’ve got 24, 48, 72 hours till midday Saturday plus 8 equals 80 hours to go, take 36 hours off for the crossing leaves me with 44 hours minus sleeping leaves me with 28 hours to find the Duke of Buckingham”.
 
Roger stopped. “Yikes” he thought, “28 hours to find the Duke and get back here. I’m going to have to get my skates on, but where does the Duke live?”
 
Just then a man stepped out in front of him and they collided. The papers the man was carrying went everywhere.
 
“I say, my dear sir!” said the man clearly annoyed, “watch where you’re going!”
 
“Sorry!” apolgised Roger, “I was miles away” and he gathered up the papers. They were all headed with an official mark and were labelled “Chancellor of the Exchequer”. Roger thought that he recognised the name from somewhere and then remembered that the former Chancellor of the UK, Gordon Brown had become Prime Minister. Perhaps that meant that this person knew where the Duke lived.
 
“Excuse me!” he said, handing the papers back, “I’m looking for the Duke of Buckingham!”
 
“Oh” replied the man, “there’s a stroke of luck. I’m just off to visit him!” and shook Roger by the hand. “I’m George O'Malley, member of Parliament for Dover and Chancellor of the Exchequer!”
 
Roger stood in amazement. “Roger Dixon” he replied, “Cadet Musketeer! And did you say O'Malley?"
 
George nodded as he whistled for a carriage. He got in and gestured for Roger to follow suit. It was a bit of a tight squeeze but Roger just about managed.
 
“Big aren’t you?” smiled George as he sorted out his papers.

“Tell me, Roger” asked George as they rode towards London, “do you know anything about economics?”
 
“Only the smallest amount!” admitted Roger, “why do you ask?”
 
“Well” replied George, “it’s this speech I have to give to the Commons on Thursday. I’m not sure if I have the right sort of ring to it”
 
“Read it anyway” said Roger, “and I’d be happy to pass judgement on it”
 
George smiled, “Are all you Musketeers so helpful?” he asked and started on his speech. “Mr. Speaker” he said, “In accordance with the custom of this House, I intend to lay before you…”
 
“And hand over all your money!” came a voice from outside.
 
The carriage shuddered to a halt and Roger had to prevent himself from being thrown into George’s lap. A gun poked through the window of the carriage. “Your money or your life!” continued the person holding it.
 
“Oh, blast!” said George, “it’s those flipping highwaymen again!”
 
The door opened and a smartly dressed man with a mask greeted them. “You are indeed correct my lord!” he said.
 
“But this is the fifth time this month!” complained George.
 
“Maybe” smiled Roger, “but this is the first time this month you’ve got some muscle!” and with that he barged out of the carriage throwing the highwayman to the ground.
 
“Get him!” growled the highwayman as the rest of his group charged towards him. Roger drew his sword and decided to do a little kebabing but was stopped by a sword flying over his head and landing just in front of the rest of the gang who froze. They looked up and stared.
 
“Ah ha!” smiled Roger, “scared of a bit of French beef eh?” he said as he flexed his biceps.
 
The highwayman, now cowering in the bushes, was a jabbering wreck. “It’s the Purple Knight!” he gasped, “Run for it!”
 
Without a moment’s hesitation the gang fled leaving Roger to thank the Purple Knight who jumped down from the roof of the carriage.
 
“Come now!” he said in a familiar voice, “One good turn deserves another eh?” as he took off his hat and revealed himself to be George.
 
“A government minister” said Roger as the carriage arrived in London, “who has a secret identity as a protector of the British people?”
 
“I know,” said George, “brilliant wheeze isn’t it?”
 
“But how?” asked Roger
 
“Well, when I became an MP back in 1610, I wanted to do more than just serve my electors” replied George, “Whilst in the Commons library I picked up a book about an lord called Robin from the manor of Loxley who went about Nottinghamshire disguised in a green hood and became known as Robin Hood. I thought that perhaps I might be able to do the same!”
 
“But what if…?” asked Roger?
 
“If I get killed you mean?” replied George, “Never going to happen. The best swordsman in the world, a certain Mr. Treville, taught me. I believe that you might know him!”
 
As the carriage stopped outside Buckingham House, Roger’s mouth opened wide in amazement.
 
“You know Monsieur Treville!” gasped Roger.
 
“That’s right, perhaps you’d be kind enough to remember me to him when you get back!” said George, “Well, here we are, Buckingham House home to the Duke of Buckingham. Would you care to follow me please and I’ll introduce him to you!”

“If you’d be so kind as to wait here a moment” said George, “I’ll tell the Duke that you’re here!”
 
Roger was wowed by the opulence of the place. He’d always wondered what Buckingham Palace looked like on the inside and whilst a couple of centuries early it was still fairly impressive. There were paintings on the wall, marble statues lining the corridors and the floors were so polished it was very easy to slide on. As George was taking a long time he decided to practice his ice skating (although he admitted that given his new size it wasn’t going to be as easy as per usual) but that said he did a wonderful little routine ending with a quad triple salco and gliding to a halt just in front of the Duke.
 
“Very nice!” he said, “I didn't realise that Musketeers could skate?"
 
Roger stumbled as he realised the Duke was present which made the Duke laugh.
 
“So you’re the fellow who’s travelled all the way from France just to meet me eh?” he said, “George has told me all about you. Come into my study and perhaps you can tell me what’s so important!”
 
Roger was led into the biggest study he’d ever seen and whistled at the grandeur of it. The Duke sat down behind a desk and asked George if he wouldn’t mind staying as well and then asked Roger to relate his story.
 
Roger told him about the studs that the Queen had given him and how the Cardinal was trying to ruin Her Majesty by making it appear that she was having a relationship with the Duke.
 
“Complete nonsense!” said George, “Yes, the Duke and the Queen are friends but only because they are rulers of their nation!”
 
“Alas” said the Duke, “he is telling the truth. I have been having an affair with the Queen of France for the last five years. It started when I first became Prime Minister and attended a dance at Versailles. I saw her and was smitten with her from that moment on!”
 
“But your Grace” exclaimed George, “what about that statement you gave saying that unless France withdrew from the Canary Islands by the end of the year, we’d be at war!”
 
“I have to convince the nation that I am a good Prime Minister,” said the Duke and stood up and walked to Roger, “You’ve seen Her Majesty haven’t you? Isn’t she one who can take your breath away with but a mere glance?”
 
“Well” he replied, “I’m personally more interested in the strong and silent type, but I can imagine that under some circumstances Her Majesty might have that effect on people!”
 
“And she had that effect on me!” continued the Duke, “and that’s why I want to be able to return these studs to her in person!” and so saying he opened a box and took out the two diamond studs. Inside his mind, Roger leapt for joy and looking around saw a clock that was approaching six o’clock. “6.00pm on Wednesday” he thought, “add 36 hours to cross the Channel takes you up to 6.00am on Friday, twenty four hours to get to Paris means 6.00am on Saturday which is 15 hours before the Queen is due to emerge”.
 
Roger bowed to the Duke. “Your Grace” he said, “I would be delighted to act as your escort to Paris, but as I hope you can understand I’ve had a very long day. May I suggest that we set off first thing tomorrow morning so that we will all arrive refreshed and you will be able to take in the full beauty of Her Majesty!”?
 
“It’s true,” said the Duke, “what they said about the Musketeers. They are all perfect gentlemen! I consent to your agreement, sir. George, we will meet here at dawn tomorrow and then, oh my dear Queen, I shall return what is yours!”
 
George and Roger bowed and left the room and then both burst out laughing.
 
“Oh dear” said George, and pulled a bell. A butler appeared and bowed.
 
“Yes my lord” he said
 
“I strongly suspect that His Grace will need a change of clothes for tomorrow” said George, and then paused, “Actually make that two changes of clothes!” and with that he walked off laughing his head off with Roger following also finding it hard to keep a straight face.
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Chapter Ten: The Ultimate Sacrifice and Reward

“Sir!”
 
A man came running up to George just as he was getting into the carriage to take them home and whispered something in his ear
 
“What?” exclaimed George, “you’re serious!”
 
The man nodded.
 
“Roger” he said, “I do apologise but that darned opposition have decided that I have to explain my most recent Budget again. That’s the fifth time this week. I am convinced that they’re just making life hard for me!”
 
“Should I come and show them some real hardness?” asked Roger, and bounced his pecs under his uniform
 
“It would be very appreciated but I don’t think that Mr. Speaker would allow it!” George smiled and then addressed the carriage driver, “Take Mr. Dixon home would you John!”
 
The carriage driver acknowledged the instruction as Roger got in and geed the horses.
 
“Right!” said George, “if it’s an all nighter the opposition want, it’s an all nighter the opposition shall get!”
 
The official home of the Chancellor was quite an imposing little pile. Roger always had a soft spot for houses in England and this house was no exception with a wonderful façade, a few turrets and a very nice terrace that Roger could just imaging himself posing on in the heat of the day. He got out of the carriage and knocked on the door, which opened, and a small man opened it and looked Roger up and down.
 
“Johnson?” Roger asked
 
“James, my lord!” he replied, “Johnson isn’t feeling well and I’ve been asked to look after Mr. O'Malley's house for the meantime. Can I be of help?”
 
Roger fumbled around for the letter that George had given him allowing him to enter his house. James looked at the letter and nodded and allowed Roger to enter. He took his hat and put it on a stand and asked if he would like some food.
 
“Yes please!” said Roger, “on the biggest plate you can find!”
 
“Certainly, sir!” replied James and went into the kitchen. He came out a few moments later with a massive griddle and showed it to Roger.
 
“Is that big enough, sir?” he asked.
 
“Plenty!” smiled Roger and took a look at the room, “Impressive place isn’t it?” he asked
 
Suddenly, everything went black as he crashed to the floor. Going in and out of consciousness, Roger heard only snatches of what was going on.
 
“Tie him to a chair” said one person
 
“This poison should keep him quiet,” said another.
 
“The Tower of London?” asked a third
 
Roger moaned as a cockerel crowed and the sun started to peer into to the gloom. He opened his eyes and groaned.
 
“Not another prison?” he asked and as his eyes accustomed to the gloaming, he noticed the predicament he was in. He was naked, save for a loincloth, with his arms locked in chains and held above his head and his legs chained to the ground. Taking a deep breath he pulled on them, but not even his enhanced strength and power could break free. Just then there was a commotion from outside the door and George hurried in. Waiting until the guard had closed the door, he then approached Roger.
 
“Roger” he said, very quickly. “It was the Cardinal again. His lackey paid someone to prevent Johnson from going to my house yesterday and replaced him with one of their spies. As far as I understand they clonked you on the head with the griddle and drugged you with a poison that has made you as weak as a new born lamb and if that wasn’t bad enough, the Duke’s already halfway to Dover with the studs!”
 
Roger took a deep breath and pulled against the chains again but they refused to budge.
 
“And I’m not exactly in a position to help!” replied Roger.
 
“Not yet” said George and he produced a gourd. “Tell me, have you heard of homeopathy?”
 
“I’ve heard of it,” replied Roger, “but never understood what it meant!”
 
“Basically it means treating one ailment with the same ailment!” replied George, “in this gourd I have concentrated belladonna the strongest poison in the world. My theory is that it should cancel out the poison preventing you breaking free and allow you to escape. There is however a chance that it might go wrong and kill you. Which is why I have to ask you this question. I believe that Musketeers when they are accepted into the corps agree to put their lives on the line in defence of His Majesty. At the moment, His Majesty is going to be ruined unless you can help the Duke get to France before 9.00pm tomorrow evening. And the only way you can do that is to break free from those chains, which means drinking this. Therefore, do you agree to take that risk?”
 
“I agree!” said Roger and pursed his lips
 
“I knew you would!” said George, giving him the contents, “and just to make sure that nothing happens to you I’m going to stay and make sure this works!”
 
“Yuck!” said Roger after he had finished “tastes like muck!”
 
“Yes” replied George, “I did wonder about adding some molasses but they are out of stock at the moment. Now all we can do is wait and hope!”
 
Roger suddenly felt rather light-headed and then grimaced.
 
“Are you all right?” asked George
 
“Crushing!” he gasped, “left side all numb!” and with that his head fell forward.
 
“Roger!” shouted George. Grabbing a long tube, he placed one end on his chest and the other end in his ears. He was listening for the thump; thump that he knew everyone had inside them but couldn’t hear it. “Oh, my Lord!” he said, and looked for something heavy. He found a large rock and started to bang it against Roger’s chest. “Come on!” he shouted, “Thump!”. He spent at least a minute and in desperation went to the other side of the room, and threw the rock straight at Roger’s chest followed his own fists.
 
Roger gasped.
 
Grabbing his tube, George listened carefully. The thump, thump had returned and was getting louder and stronger. A growl, then a groan, and then a roar soon followed it as Roger, almost fuelled by the strength of Hercules himself, pulled the chains out of the wall and landed on the ground where he grabbed the chains holding his legs and ripped them out of the floor.. George leapt for joy and shook Roger’s hand. But Roger hadn’t finished yet. He started to run on the spot and then beckoned George to climb on his shoulders.
 
“Oi, guard!” he shouted, “You’d best open that door as I’m getting out of here!”
 
His request was greeted by laughter.
 
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” he said and accelerated forwards demolishing the door and leaving a trail of dust behind him. He jumped off the battlements of the Tower of London and asked George in which direction Dover was. George pointed due south and Roger ran off faster than a speeding bullet, his heart pounding like a steam engine and Roger's whole being filled with only one description.
 
"I'M A SUPERMAN!" Roger roared
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Chapter Eleven: The Crossing of the Channel

The Duke dismounted his horse next to the harbour in Dover and looked at a nearby clock that chimed midday.
 
“Oh, for goodness sakes!” he moaned, “what is it with Frenchmen and their inability to keep to a schedule. I mean I can understand George having a lie in but this Roger did insist that we be in France as soon as was physically possible. I mean I got up at half past four this morning, half past four just to be on time and when dawn arrived who was there? No one! I wonder if I should have a cabinet reshuffle when I get back?”
 
His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of what could only be described as thunder and yet the sky was clear and blue. Looking up the hill from the harbour, the Duke thought he saw a cloud of dust heading towards him. Wondering what it was, his query was answered by a shout from a voice he knew very well indeed. His Chancellors!
 
“STOP!” screamed George.
 
Roger jumped in the air and pushed his legs into the ground. Slowly but surely Roger screeched to a halt right in front of the Duke (although he was level with the Duke’s boots as he had created a very long hole from where he jumped to the edge of the harbour). George jumped off Roger’s shoulders onto the harbour and was met with a grim face.
 
“And what time do you call this?” asked the Duke, “we had agreed to leave Buckingham House at dawn!”
 
George explained about what had happened to Roger and the Duke’s face changed from one of menace to one of fear. “Then we’re still in danger?” he asked. George nodded as Roger clambered out of the hole.
 
“Phew” he gasped, “that was a good cardio session. George, can you tell me how hard I’m thumping?”
 
“The question is” said the Duke, looking at Roger sternly, “not how hard you are thumping, but how much money you are going to pay for creating that hole!” he said pointing to the mile long hole Roger had created. Roger apolgised and explained that he was still getting used to his new found powers but that being a Musketeer he would fund any repair bill that the Duke sent. The Duke smiled and went to find a boat heading for France.
 
“So?” asked Roger, hitting a side chest pose
 
“Oh, right!” said George and pulled out his tube. Placing one end on Roger’s chest he gasped in amazement. “The thumps are so fast I can’t count them!”
 
“Well, try this,” said Roger, “I’ll look at that clock over there and say “Start”, you count the number of thumps until I say “Stop” and then we’ll have an answer. Ready? Start!”. Fifteen seconds later Roger said “Stop” and asked George how many he’d counted.
 
“Sixty four!” he replied.
 
“Sixty four?” said Roger amazed, “Really? Sixty four?”
 
“Yes” replied George, “is that high?”
 
“That means,” said Roger, unable to believe the numbers himself, “that I am thumping two hundred and fifty six times every minute. That’s not humanly possible!”
 
“Ah” said George, “that will be the effect of the belladonna clearing out that poison you were given. You’re compensating! Wouldn’t like to know how long it will last for, though!”
 
“By the grace of His Majesty the King of France”  the Duke read from a parchment as he walked towards them, “Notice is hereby given that due to an outbreak of a disease in our sheep flock all boats are being turned away from France to ensure that the disease doesn’t spread. The barricade will be imposed from midnight on Friday to midnight on Sunday. God Save the King!”
 
“The Cardinal!” all three said as Roger and George slammed their fists into the hands but then Roger had a thought and whispered something into George's ears that caused the Chancellor's eyes to open wide in wonder and turn a little red in the face. As he did he simply nodded and with that Roger said "Your Grace, find me a rowing boat and all your problems will be solved!"
 
As the Duke, George and Roger got in, Roger's mind was reeling. George had confirmed what Roger felt had to be possible, namely row the Channel in 12 hours, at an average speed of 2.25 miles an hour which whilst quite a bit slower than the world’s best rowers, but unlike them Roger felt he would never tire out and being able to row without stopping at that pace for the whole time. He was, to all intents and purposes, a literal Superman!
 
“Well?” asked the Duke, “what are you waiting for?”
 
“Sorry!” said Roger as he started to row.
 
About an hour later, they came across a very large ship also heading in the same direction as them towards France. This was quite odd thought the Duke and so decided that he should tell them about the barricade. He was about to shout to the ship when Roger shushed him. On the deck was Milady, clearing on her way back to France safe in the knowledge that her mission had been a success. Slowing down to half his speed, Roger tried to avoid being detected. However, George sneezed and Milady turned around. As she saw the boat, she snarled and looking around, spied some barrels on the deck and gave the command to start throwing them at the rowing bow.
 
“Take the oars!” said Roger to George as amidst a hail of barrels, he dived into the sea and starting swimming towards the ship. Taking a deep breath he dived underneath the surface.
 
A minute later a man with a worried expression on his face approached Milady and whispered something in her ear.
 
“We’re sinking?” she said in a loud voice.
 
Just then Roger popped back up. “You might want to do something about that hole in your hull!” he laughed as he climbed back into the boat and rowed past the sinking ship with the Duke and George laughing at the panic on board.
 
The sun was setting in the west and the boat was making rapid progress. George taking measurements with a sextant said they were in the middle of the Channel and should arrive in Calais by sunrise and then a thought struck him.
 
“That means you’d have to stay awake all night!” he said to Roger
 
“Not a problem!” said Roger, and explained that he wasn’t feeling tired at all. George scratched his head and asked the Duke if he should offer to take over the rowing but the Duke was already fast asleep.
 
“And about time, too!” said Roger, as he stopped rowing.
 
“What are you doing?” asked George, but was silenced by Roger.
 
“You have done so much for me" he said, "I feel that I have to repay you in some way. I cannot help but notice the way you look at me. Would I be right in assuming that you have never been this close to such a man like me before?"
 
George nodded and replied "The last man I saw with a physique like yours was my brother a decade ago. He was the strongest man in the British army and yet, was killed in battle that same year. Ever since I have wished to be in the presence of a man who was bigger and stronger than him!"
 
As Roger stood up, he took a deep breath and hit a front lat spread pose moaning "Oh, yeah! This is the stuff eh?”
 
George simply nodded as Roger sat down and continued to row and as he did so George watched almost hypnotised by the motion and power of Roger's physique. Remembering his tube he asked permission to listen to the thumps from inside Roger, which was given, and counting to fifteen counted the number of thumps in that time. As he finished, he looked up and whispered “One hundred and twelve!”
 
Roger smiled, bounced his pecs and carried on rowing, but was secretly concerned. “That’s 448 beats a minute” he thought to himself, “in other words two and a half times my maximum heart rate. If a doctor saw me, he’d be convinced I was having a heart attack and yet I don’t feel ill at all. In fact I’ve never felt better. Heck, I reckon I could bench 3,400lbs for reps and not feel tired” and with that gritted his teeth and accelerated the rowing. George noticed the increase in speed and smiled, and then asked Roger a question.
 
“My lord” he said, “in my country it is not usual for men to demonstrate their prowess in front of other men, let alone when one of those men is naked and yet I would like to let you know that at the moment I would like you to do just that. I want you to row as fast as you can!”
 
Roger smiled, took a deep breath and picked up the pace even more. Every stroke launched them across the sea and every stroke make George more and more impressed. Roger knew what was coming next and offered to stop.
 
“No!” said George as he started to undress, “let me see you work that body to the maximum of human level!”
 
Roger smiled as George revealed himself to be just as lean as Roger was, but a lot less muscled, but as George lay down in the boat he placed his head on the seat so that he could see Roger at all times and started to moan. Each moan was like a hit of the most powerful steroid on earth to Roger and he increased the pace. It wasn't long before both men were gritting their teeth. Roger, pushing his body to the absolute limits of superhuman endurance and George, wishing to cum without waking the Duke. Roger smiled and taking the tube that George had listened to his heart with, he placed one end on the end of the George's eight inch hard cock and placed the other end into his mouth then biting down on the end, resuming his rowing with a simple nod. As he did George's eyes opened wide as Roger began to taste George's cum entering his mouth. As he did, he nodded again and closed his eyes and pushed himself harder than he had ever done before. His muscular body, now drenched in sweat, reflected the moonlight and as George orgasmed into a blissful sleep Roger's twelve inch cock responded and a trail of cum followed the boat as it powered across the Channel to France
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