This story is a sequel to Hunter's Moon and you will have to read it first otherwise this one won't make sense. It is told entirely from Aramis' point of view and contains Aramis and Athos whump but very little d'Artagnan and Porthos. It is set between episodes 2.7 and 2.8.

Voices from the Past

Chapter One

Aramis slit the belly of the trout, cleaned out the guts and impaled it on a stick. He handed it over to Athos who sat on the other side of the fire before turning his attention to the second fish. He leaned back against his saddle and held his supper over the flames. They were still three days from Paris, returning from a mission to deliver official letters to various provincial landowners. As those letters notified of an increase in taxes their arrival had proved to be most unwelcome. The King was too far away for retribution but his messengers could, and were, held accountable. They had left the last manor house hurriedly ahead of the Baron's dogs.

Once the fish was cooked Aramis brought out some bread from his saddlebags while Athos fetched a skin of wine. They were both relaxed and happy to be on their way home.

"I wonder if they ever found out the identity of the fake Princess Louise," Aramis mused.

"Unlikely. I'd be more interested in knowing who paid her to assassinate the King's council members. Whoever it was clearly didn't want her talking." The woman had been found dead from a stab wound in her cell only a few hours after her arrest.

"There is one obvious candidate." Aramis picked at his fish being careful not to burn his fingers.

"Rochefort," Athos said with distaste. "He is certainly the one who benefited most."

"First Minister of France." Aramis drank from the flask, wiping his hand across his mouth. "We should have let those villagers hang him."

The sides of Athos' mouth turned up in the smallest of smiles. "It would have made our life easier and perhaps Treville wouldn't have lost his position as Captain."

"It's surprising that the King hasn't appointed someone new. I'm sure Rochefort will have someone in mind."

"Yes. One of his lackey's no doubt."

"Why can't the King see him for the snake he is?"

"He knows how to be in the right place at the right time. It was a masterstroke being the one to kill Marmion. Now that's all the King remembers…that and the fact that the Musketeers allowed him to be taken prisoner by a madman."

"He still blames us for being kidnapped by slavers too," Aramis said gloomily. "Sometimes I think we are doomed."

"Don't forget the Archbishop being assassinated while we stood a few feet away."

"Nothing has gone right lately. Even the Queen can't get close to the King now."

"That is concerning. She has always been a stabilizing influence on him. With Rochefort whispering in his ear who knows what he'll do." Athos finished his food and laid down his plate.

"It was Rochefort's idea to raise the taxes." Aramis passed the wineskin to Athos. "Said the treasury needs funds in case of war with Spain."

"He's not entirely wrong. War's an expensive business."

"Spain, as far as I can see, has done nothing to alienate France yet war is all the people talk about. Anti-Spanish sentiment is rife in Paris although the streets are quieter since Emilie disbanded her host."

"You still feel guilt?" Athos looked at him searchingly. "You were only doing your duty."

Aramis sighed heavily. "I know. I can't help feeling that I ruined her life."

"Her mother did that. How would you have felt if she'd led that rabble into battle? They would all have been slaughtered. You saved them."

"Perhaps." Aramis lapsed into silence, his fingers caressing his crucifix.

"Every faction in a war believes that God is on their side. It is a convenient fallacy to convince the gullible to fight."

"Some causes are just."

"The quest to wrestle land from another country is not just. Neither is slaughtering innocents in the name of religion. Surely there is enough room in this world for people of different faiths."

"Catholicism is the one true faith," Aramis said. "At least that was what I was brought up to believe. Now, I think everyone finds their own path to God." He raised his eyes to gaze at Athos, knowing that his friend held no belief in a divine being. Too many bad things had happened to allow him to believe in a loving and forgiving father. "Perhaps one day you will find your way."

Athos drank deeply before setting the wineskin aside. "You have enough belief for both of us, my friend."

The fire was burning low when they settled down for the night. It was midsummer and warm so both shed their weapons and coats before lying back on their bedrolls. Aramis lay on his back with one arm under his head and gazed at the stars. It was sublimely peaceful, unlike at the garrison where it never seemed to be entirely silent. There were always people on the streets, drunks, footpads and honest folk who worked late into the night or rose before the sun. He closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.

He came awake to the sound of a pistol being cocked and the cold metal of the barrel pressing against his temple. His right hand automatically sought out his sword, stilling when the weapon was pushed even harder into his skin.

"Don't," an unfamiliar voice told him.

The gun was removed and the man holding it walked into Aramis' line of sight. He squinted at him, trying to make sense of the situation. The man looked to be in his twenties with straggly light brown hair and a scar on his cheek. Efforts to grow a moustache had produced a fuzz on his upper lip.

Aramis sat up and looked towards where Athos had been sleeping. His friend was awake, also held at gunpoint and looking furious.

"What is the meaning of this?" Athos asked. "We are King's Musketeers and to attack us is treason."

"Shut up," the man guarding Athos advised.

"If you are looking for money you have come to the wrong place," Aramis said.

"Oh, you're worth plenty of money."

Aramis turned his head to look at the newcomer and had to stifle a gasp. The last time he had seen Bastien Hebert the man had been hauled off to prison charged with an offence that should have seen him hung.

"You were in prison," Aramis said.

"I told you that I have many friends," Hebert said. "The jailors are not incorruptible."

"What do you want?" Athos asked.

"Your friend and I have unfinished business."

Aramis tensed. Hebert had been hired by the Duke of Savoy to kill him. If this was to be an execution he was badly placed to fight back.

"Put these on." Hebert slung a pair of shackles at Aramis who made no move to pick them up. "You too." Another pair landed at Athos' feet.

"I don't think so," Athos said.

"Or I could have Patrice shoot you and leave your body for the vultures," Hebert said. "My orders are only to take him." He gestured towards Aramis.

"Where are we going?" It was a relief to know that he wasn't in immediate danger of dying. However, any thoughts he might have harboured about a swift escape were dashed when two more men entered the clearing.

Patrice held his gun to Athos' head and Hebert kicked the shackles closer to Aramis.

"If you want your friend to see the sunrise you'll do as you're told."

"Aramis, don't."

Patrice drew back the gun and struck Athos' temple with the barrel. Athos swayed but managed to cling on to consciousness. Aramis reached for the chains closing one shackle around his left wrist and the other around his right. He didn't move while Hebert used the key to lock them.

Athos was too stunned to protest when Patrice secured his wrists and hauled him to his feet. He was prodded forward, passing Aramis at a stumbling walk. Hebert hunkered down to stare into Aramis' face.

"He's my security for your good behaviour. Do as you're told and he will live. Give me any trouble and he's dead. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly." Aramis rose to his feet and obediently followed Athos. He had a bad feeling about where they were being taken but any attempt to escape now would be suicidal. They would have to watch and wait until an opportunity presented itself.

Tbc