Where am I? Amelia stood in a dusty street. Tall buildings lined either side. She heard voices and noticed some kind of commotion happening.
There were four men in boots, pants, shirts, vests and large hats with feathers upon their heads. They seemed to be arguing. Amelia sneaked closer and stood between two buildings.
Two of the men drew their swords, while the other two stood to one side. The two with drawn swords began to fight.
However, before they hardly begun, a group of guards arrived and tried to grab the two. The two, in the wings, moved forward and the four fought the guards in unity.
Amelia didn’t know who the good guys or bad guys were, but she kept her eye on the one who appeared to be the youngest. He was extremely good looking with long black locks hanging to his shoulders. He carried himself quite straight and appeared self-confident.
Amelia watched as the battle continued. She gasped as the swordsmen she rooted for lost his sword. He continued to dodge his opponent’s sword artfully while trying to get to his blade where it lay on the ground.
Without a thought, Amelia ran from her hiding place, grabbed the sword and called, “Hey!”
All the men stopped, staring at her. She tossed the weapon to the young man and ran back to her hiding place. All eyes followed her and when she was safely tucked between the two buildings again, the men resumed their battle.
It was then she realized how out of place she looked in her skinny jeans, hot pink t-shirt and red canvas chucks.
The battle continued until several of the guards had fled and the young swordsman disarmed his opponent and sliced the man’s side. It was a serious wound.
As the remaining guards carried the wounded and fled, the four original men shook hands.
“Well, d’Artagnan, there may be room for you as a Musketeer of the Guard yet.”
d’Artagnan? Musketeer? Did her ears deceive her? She had just begun to read about them when she ended up here.
d’Artagnan’s gaze fell upon her. He approached slowly.
Amelia stood on shaky legs. She felt her face growing warm.
d’Artagnan stopped in front of her, his dark chocolate eyes scanning her from head to toe. Then he bowed, and when he stood, a slight smile tipped the corners of his mouth.
“Milady, I do not know where you came from, but I owe you a debt of gratitude for retrieving my sword for me.”
“No problem.” Then realizing he wouldn’t understand, she said, “Think nothing of it, sir.”
“Your clothing are quite unusual. I wouldn’t let the king’s guards see you dressed like that or you may be arrested and hauled off.” He winked.
“Yes, I will be careful. I . . .”
Before she could finish her sentence, d’Artagnan took a step closer, put a hand in her long, blonde hair, and placed his mouth upon hers. His lips were warm, soft and moist, and the kiss tender.
When d’Artagnan drew back, Amelia was breathless.
“Is there some way that I can be of assistance to you, milady?”
“Um, I’m not exactly sure, but I need to find a way to get home.”
“Where is your home?”
“In the United States.”
“I’ve never heard of that place.”
“Yes, well, it’s a long story. Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure something out.” She sounded more confident than she felt.
“I’m not comfortable leaving a lady in distress. Maybe I could, at least, get you some suitable clothes.” d’Artagnan took her arm and led her down the street.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, one of the librarians at the Manheim Township Library retrieved a book from the floor, The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas.