Promises to Keep
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost
Aramis was lulled to sleep by the gentle swaying of the carriage taking him south to Orléans; no sooner had he nodded off when the carriage hit a bump in the road and jarred him awake.
He heard the soft giggles from Cécile sitting next to him and smiled as he squeezed her hand gently. He looked at her watching him and his smile grew wider. "How did I ever get to be so lucky?"
"Why, Monsieur Aramis?" Cécile feigned innocence, fanning herself furiously. "Whatever do you mean?"
"How did I get to be so lucky—or so blessed—to have met someone as beautiful as you? Here I am, sitting next to a beautiful lady while holding her lovely hand," he paused to kiss her lips, "and kissing her sweet lips."
"My handsome and charming Aramis." Cécile cupped his cheek with her hand. "I am the one who is lucky."
Aramis leaned forward to meet her lips in a soft kiss; he pulled her closely to him in a tight embrace as they kissed passionately. A deep hole in the road caused the carriage to jolt with a tooth-jarring bounce, knocking the couple's foreheads together with a smack.
Cécile cried out with surprise then began to giggle as she watched Aramis rubbing tenderly at the growing red bump in the middle of his forehead. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh," she snickered. "I know, it's not funny," she continued to giggle. The nurse fanned herself even more furiously while trying hard not to burst into a fit of laughter.
"No apologies necessary," Aramis smiled. "I think injuries sustained while kissing you are more than acceptable."
Cécile nestled her head on Aramis' shoulder and closed her eyes, allowing the swaying of the carriage to lull her to sleep.
Aramis smiled at the lovely lady sleeping beside him and softly kissed the top of her head. His smile soon faded as he stared out the carriage window, his thoughts turning to the friends he left behind at the garrison. He wished that he would have had more time to oversee Athos' recovery; especially after allowing the lieutenant to exert himself to the point of exhaustion on their foolhardy walk to the tavern. As a medic, I should have known better," he quietly berated himself.
I hope you rest well, Athos, so you can finish healing. Maybe Porthos and d'Artagnan will take better care of you than I did. Porthos is strong; he won't so easily give in to your ill-timed desire for adventure and cravings to drink. Aramis shook his head and frowned.
I pray duty remains light at the garrison so they can keep an eye on Athos. I almost feel sympathy for Porthos and d'Artagnan having the responsibility of watching over a restless and very grouchy Athos. Aramis couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of his friends dealing with a grumpy Athos without him around to help.
Growing worry tormented the back of Aramis' mind; he couldn't shake the feeling that he shouldn't have gone away on this journey. I'm sorry, Athos, but I lied to you. I promised that I wouldn't worry about you while I was gone—that I'd have a good time—but it's not true. I won't stop worrying about you until I am back at home with my brothers where I belong.
Athos blinked back the sunlight accosting his tired eyes as he was awakened by a hacking cough. The Musketeer partially curled into himself, turning his face into the pillow until he could catch his breath; it was an action that didn't make any sense, but it seemed to work. Breathing in and out slowly, the cough finally abated its assault on his weary body enough for him to rasp out a request for water.
Porthos handed the sick man a cup of water, watching with concern as Athos greedily gulped it down in one sip. "You alright, eh?" he paused. "That is quite a cough you 'ave." Compassion radiated from the large Musketeer's eyes and stopped Athos' protests before they could even slip off his tongue.
"I'm fine," he smiled fondly at his friend. The warm look on Porthos' face instantly melted away Athos' annoyance and objection at being fussed over for a mere cough. "I'll be fighting this cough for a while it seems," he sighed softly. "No need to worry, it'll clear up soon enough."
A loud snore rattled from the sleeping d'Artagnan who was folded awkwardly in a chair beside the bed. The two men turned to watch their youngest brother sleeping with amazement. Porthos and Athos exchanged glances and smiled, each wondered how the Gascon's snoring wasn't waking him from his slumber. In addition, the Musketeers marveled at how the lanky man could sleep twisted in that small chair.
A soft knock on the door, followed by Captain Tréville stepping into the room, was enough to rouse the young Gascon from his sleep. "What's going on? Oh, I guess I fell asleep." D'Artagnan winced as he sat upright in the chair, his hands reached to massage the pain in his stiff back and neck.
"Good morning gentlemen," the captain greeted formally. "Porthos and d'Artagnan, I need to see you both in my office immediately." Tréville turned on his heel and left the room with the door open, fully expecting the two Musketeers to follow behind him.
Porthos and d'Artagnan exchanged apprehensive glances before looking at Athos, who was staring at the open door where the captain departed just seconds before. "That didn't sound good," Athos frowned. "Perhaps the captain has a mission for you," he surmised. "You boys better go and not keep the captain waiting."
"I'll be right back." Porthos clapped Athos on the shoulder, then he and d'Artagnan stepped out toward the captain's office. "Let's go see wha' the captain wants, eh."
Porthos and d'Artagnan walked through the open door of the office to find Captain Tréville leaning against his desk, waiting expectantly for their arrival. "Shut the door," the captain ordered.
D'Artagnan shut the door then joined Porthos standing in front of the captain. "What is it, Captain?"
"I have a mission for the two of you," the captain began, his tone and features serious. "This mission is of the utmost importance. It is highly classified and could cause dire consequences if this," Tréville held up a sealed letter, "gets into the wrong hands. There is no one that I trust more for this mission than you; considering we are still short of men due to the recent illness—with Aramis on leave and Athos still sick—it is up to you two to effectively and safely deliver this letter to the recipient."
"Captain, if we are to put our lives on the line for that piece of paper, might we at least be told of what the letter involves?" D'Artagnan inquired, though he put little hope in learning the subject of the secret correspondence.
"I myself do not know the nature of this letter, d'Artagnan," the captain shook his head. "It is not my place to question the king, nor the subject of his private correspondence, I simply obey his orders. As King's Musketeers, it is our duty to follow the king's commands without question. We do not question the king; we follow his orders."
"Yes sir, we understand that but. . ." D'Artagnan was interrupted by the captain.
"This sealed letter is private and is to be delivered directly into the hands of Marie d'Hautefort at the Château Royal de Blois, where she is currently a guest of Duc d'Orléans." Captain Tréville ignored the questioning looks from his Musketeers and continued on. "The king believes this letter is worth risking the lives of his Musketeers in order to have it safely delivered. This confidential correspondence is restricted only to the writer and the recipient; the subject matter of which is none of our business. Am I clear?"
"Yes sir," the two unhappy Musketeers answered in unison.
"I understand that you are not happy with the secretive nature of this mission." The captain softened his tone, allowing his demeanor to relax as he sat on the edge of his desk. "However, the king is depending on us to deliver this letter and I do not wish to let His Majesty down. Let's get this mission done and get you back home safely, agreed?"
"Agreed, Captain." Porthos nodded as he inhaled, glancing anxiously at d'Artagnan.
"When do we leave, sir?" d'Artagnan asked.
"You will leave immediately," Captain Tréville answered, watching his Musketeers closely. "Serge has prepared some food for the road and your horses are saddled; just pack up your belongings and get going. It's about a two day's ride to Blois, so I expect you both to return in five days, at the most. If you are not back in five days, I will send a search party after you. But, please, don't make me come looking for you two," he paused. "I have too few men to spare as it is."
"We'll do our best to ward off evil bandits, raiders and hooligans that wish to do us harm, won't we Porthos?" D'Artagnan joked as he clapped the larger man's shoulder.
"Rubbish." Porthos dismissed the very idea of danger with a shrug. "We'll ride to Blois like we're mindin' our own business on a routine mission; nobody will have reason to mess wit' us."
"Nevertheless, Porthos," the captain stood to his full height. "You must keep your guard up and about you at all times. Watch your surroundings and make sure you are not being followed; always remain vigilant and aware. Speak to no one and make haste. Do not stop, except overnight to rest. Good luck, gentlemen."
"Thank you, Captain," the two Musketeers nodded.
"Put this someplace safe on your person, Porthos; do not let this letter fall into the wrong hands." The captain stated his warning with deliberate intent as he handed the larger Musketeer the letter.
"Yes sir," Porthos replied, clenching tightly to the letter. His dark eyes brewed with a hardened sense of determination. "We won't let His Majesty down; we won't let you down, neither—not if I ca' help it."
"Very well," Tréville smiled. "A safe journey and godspeed, gentlemen." The captain clapped each of the boys on the shoulder then rounded the desk to sit in his chair to begin paperwork. "Porthos, a moment alone, please."
Porthos and d'Artagnan exchanged a quiet glance as the young Gascon left the office and shut the door. He went back to Athos' room to begin gathering their belongings, all the while wondering what the captain needed to discuss with Porthos that he couldn't say in front of him. Why is the captain keeping me further in the dark but not Porthos?
Athos had sat awake in bed- leaning against several pillows- while waiting impatiently for his friends to return. I should be in there with them, dammit!
Just as the sick Musketeer began to doze, he finally heard the heavy sound of boots coming toward the door and sat up in anticipation. Athos was instantly alarmed at the grim expression of d'Artagnan as he entered the room alone.
"What's going on?" Athos asked, looking out the door for the large Musketeer. "Where's Porthos?"
"He's coming, the captain just needed a word with him alone." D'Artagnan spoke to his friend as he gathered up his weapons belt.
At last, Porthos entered the room, his features looking dour with his jaw set hard and his lips pursed.
"What did the captain say?" Athos grilled Porthos. "Did you get a mission?"
"Yeah, we go' a mission," Porthos replied. Without another word, the large Musketeer gathered his doublet draped over the back of the chair beside Athos' bed.
The large Musketeer started for the door when Athos caught his arm, stopping him short. "Wait a minute, dammit! You're just going to leave without talking to me?" he was incredulous. "What is the miss…?"
"Athos, we don't have time to explain," d'Artagnan curtly interrupted. "We're in a hurry and we've got to get on the road."
"Porthos, wait a moment, please." Athos held firm with his steely grip then pulled himself to his feet. He wobbled and swayed in place, though his grip on the strong arm did not loosen. The lieutenant shook away the dizziness as the blood thundered in his ears and his vision greyed. "Tell me where you are going, Porthos," he whispered, leaning into the large Musketeer for support.
"This doesn't concern you, Athos." D'Artagnan snapped, growing impatient while waiting at the door. "Porthos, we need to go now."
"I'm not letting go until you tell me where this mission is taking you." Athos wrapped his fingers tighter around Porthos' arm; his steely tone growled low and threatening. "If my brothers are riding into danger, might I have the courtesy of knowing where you are going in case something goes wrong? Am I not worthy of such information?"
"This is a confidential mission, Athos." D'Artagnan hissed quietly as he stepped back into the room and shut the door.
"Goddammit!" Athos exploded in anger. "This is me you are talking to… I'm not some damn fool, greenhorn recruit!" The Musketeer uncharacteristically cursed then fell heavily on the edge of the bed as he was overcome with another wave of dizziness. He rested his head in his hands, staring at the floor while saying nothing more.
"Alright," Porthos relented. He hated keeping secrets from his brothers every bit as much as he hated secrets being kept from him. Besides, he was right that if something happened to them, Athos should know where they were going. The large Musketeer knew they were already at a disadvantage without Athos and Aramis to watch their backs; why make matters worse by keeping the lieutenant in the dark?
"We have to deliver a private letter from the king to Marie de Hautefort at the Château Royal de Blois. We don't know what the let'er says, but I'm guessin' it must be somethin' important. Once we put the letter in 'er hands, we're free to come home." Porthos clapped Athos on the shoulder with false enthusiasm. "What coul' possibly go wrong, eh?"
"You just had to ask, didn't you? Plenty can go wrong, Porthos!" Athos snapped, growling and throwing his hands up in disbelief. "Do you realize this mission will take you into river country where highwaymen and raiders are known to prowl? Did you think of that?"
"Of course I thought of it, dammit!" Porthos snarled angrily. "We are Musketeers, Athos. Every bloody time we have a mission like 'is we put our lives at risk," the large man reminded. "I am not going to cower in fear from an assignment expected of me; no matter where our missions take us."
"That is not what I am saying, Porthos." Athos hissed through his teeth. "You should know I never would eschew from my duties as a Musketeer either. Do you think so little of me that I would even suggest such a thing?"
"Of course not, Athos." Porthos' angry tone softened.
"All I am saying is for you to keep your eyes open and watch each other's back," Athos warned. "I know the village of Blois well; as I also know the road between Orléans and Blois. There are sordid characters who loiter along the river looking to raid the deliveries from ships and also to rob unsuspecting travelers. Speak to no one while on that road, or even in Blois, for that matter. Trust no one; be wary of everyone."
"Athos," d'Artagnan exclaimed. "You speak as though we were Daniel heading into the lion's den."
"That's exactly what I am saying," Athos deadpanned. "That area is a den of thieves, d'Artagnan, so be careful. Dammit, I should be going with you!" The Musketeer growled as he slammed his fist down on his knee.
"Rubbish, 'at's the last thing you need right now, Athos," the large Musketeer voiced softly. "A dangerous mission like this is no place for you just yet. Sight tight here; we'll be back before ya know it." Porthos squeezed Athos on the shoulder reassuringly.
"I wish I shared your confidence, my friend," Athos shook his head. "But nothing is ever that simple with us, you should know that." The Musketeer lieutenant stared at his friends, concern etched on his face. "Don't make me come down there looking for the two of you," he forced a smile.
"We've already heard that same threat from the captain," d'Artagnan huffed with amusement. "Don't worry, we'll be back before you even have time to miss us," the Gascon promised.
"I already am worried, d'Artagnan," Athos muttered. Something is not right about this mission. I don't know what it is, but I have a bad feeling something is going to happen. "Both of you be careful. . . and watch out for the lions."
A/N:
Marie de Hautefort (1616 - 1691), was a lady-in-waiting and a royal favorite of King Louis XIII and King Louis XIV. She was the trusted friend and confidante of both kings, even acting as political advisor—particularly for Louis XIII. It was proven that she spied against Cardinal Richelieu for Queen Anne, and was one of the Queen's most trusted informants, working more for the queen in secret than the king.
Marie de Hautefort was born in Hautefort and raised at the Château de Hautefort in the Périgord, located in the beautiful Aquitane region of southern France. For the sake of the story, I have Mademoiselle Marie staying at the Château de Blois, which was given as a gift by King Louis XIII to his brother, Gaston, duc d'Orléans.