Quarantine
By: Tidia
Beta: That Girl Six
Requested by: Phantom Dragon
Notes: I didn't set out to add so many characters, but as it takes place in a town and a town has people. Phantom Dragon wanted an angsty story, and I hope this delivers what she wants. Athos started talking to me more, which was unexpected.
Athos
Day 1
Athos glanced over to d'Artagnan as they rode to Chaumont. d'Artagnan returned the look with a glance. They had made it to Chaumont earlier than expected, which meant it would be Aramis and Porthos paying for dinner and wine.
"I am looking forward to a bed tonight," d'Artagnan commented. Three days on the road delivering missives with Aramis and Porthos acting as decoys was more than enough.
The older man focused forward, also dreaming about a soft bed as their journey was almost over after a stop in Chaumont. They entered the town limits, a pretty town of the north, welcoming with its greenery over rocky terrain. Yet, Athos noticed the quietness in what was usually a busy area. He glanced around in suspicion. "Let's settle the rooms first."
"I'll take the horses to the stable," d'Artagnan volunteered with a smile that showed itself more frequently away from Paris and Constance.
Athos dismounted by the stable so d'Artagnan could escort the horses in. It was diagonal from the nearest inn. He frowned since no one was there to greet them, but the young musketeer did not seem to be concerned. Having grown up on the farm d'Artagnan was accustomed to taking care of his own animals.
Athos glanced about the street. He saw a woman, head down and walking quickly. A dog barked in the distance. It was unnatural. Although he hadn't been through Chaumont in years, he did not recall any news about trouble. He hoped the inn provided some answers on the silence. He approached with a wariness starting to seep into his skin.
"Hello? Anyone here?" Athos called out. He heard footsteps behind him.
"There is no one in town," d'Artagnan announced. "I do not have a good feeling about this."
Neither did Athos. He hadn't moved past the front desk but now took it upon himself to head up the wooden stairs and continue to call out. d'Artagnan remained at the first level to scout the outside area.
"Athos, down here." d'Artagnan had come up the stairs part of the way to find him. The older musketeer had found nothing but empty rooms. He thought he had found the main bedroom of the owners, but everything seemed in place there as far as he could tell.
When Athos reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw d'Artagnan with his head down, leaning against the wall. "Seems as though the quarantine flag is no longer visible."
Athos slowed his steps. Quarantine. He hadn't just heard that word.
There was a priest with the Gascon who swayed slightly then stilled under the directed gaze of the former noble. Athos could smell wine, knowing his old friend and its scent intimately. It brought up an anger towards the priest for the same reason he was mad at himself: the wine only served to numb. "Quarantine? When? Why?" Athos reined himself in. "Father?"
"Ricard," the priest replied, bringing a hand under his ruddy nose. He wiped it back and forth, muffling his speech. "The Quirin boys promised me the flags were secured, but I saw you come in."
"They are not." Athos accentuated each word in a clipped tone that had the priest taking a step back. "This town has the plague?"
"Christ, The Black Death," d'Artagnan said, still leaning against the wall as if he was holding it up.
Athos ran a hand down his mouth. They were trapped. His mind couldn't, wouldn't contemplate that he and d'Artagnan would die here. He sought to find some grounding, curling his toes in his boots. "Are you providing sanctuary at the church?"
Father Ricard shook his head while keeping a horrified look on his face at that suggestion. "No. There is no entrance there. The people who are ill are brought to the tavern."
"The tavern." d'Artagnan pushed away from the wall to loom over the priest, using his height advantage much like Porthos did to be menacing. "Is there a physician?"
The priest nodded, his hand returning to his nose again. "Yes, he's still with us. Thank the Lord." Father Ricard made the sign of the cross.
Athos's anger flared again at the motion the priest made with his cross. He thought of Aramis and the cursed rosary of the Queen. But this was not the time. These lands were overseen by the Baron du Haute Marne. "Has the baron been informed?"
"A message was sent through a passerby. We can only assume it reached him."
Athos rubbed his beard. It was not good to assume and trust a traveler to impart important messages, especially involving the plague. One did not wish to be marked by it or have others believe he carried it. Athos was quite sure that message was never delivered. "And his man here?"
"Dead. You are in his inn. They were the first." The priest took another step back as if trying to protect himself from the unseen disease filtering through the town.
The older musketeer had been in the presence of the priest enough and sought to dismiss him. "We'll see to it the quarantine flags are in place. Can you send the lads to us? We will need them as lookouts."
"Yes, I will send them." Father Ricard paused for a moment after repeating he would send the boys. "They have not succumbed." The priest patted his cassock over his belly. "I am sorry for your misfortune."
d'Artagnan pulled his gloves from his belt, twisting them in his hands. "Father, will you be tending to the sick?"
"I will be in the church." The priest turned away.
"With the wine," d'Artagnan mumbled loudly as from the window they watched Father Ricard walk down the street, weaving from side to side until he disappeared from their sight. "I don't trust him."
"Do not judge." Athos craved wine and knew he would give in before the day was done. It was easy to be overcome by a need for wine to make life or death bearable. In order to bear the plague, Athos knew he would need the fortification only spirits could provide. Anne would have her wish with one of them leaving the world to give the other one peace.
The two musketeers seemed momentarily lost, but by silent agreement they ambled to the stables, waiting for the boys to find them. Posting the flags was of the utmost importance, if only to warn their friends before their arrival.
"The plague. I never thought. . ." d'Artagnan started only to halt and go down a different path. "Castelnavet, next to Lupiac, was destroyed by the plague. We were in fear for a long time that it would spread. There were stories. It brings out the worst in people."
Athos patted his horse. There was the looting, fighting for food, the bodies left unburied. He shared none of this with d'Artagnan. Better not to confirm the stories as the truth, willing the residents of Chaumont to be good neighbors and help each other.
They walked their horses out and were greeted by two boys, not yet teens, hurrying towards them.
"Are you the Quirin boys?" Athos recalled the name the priest had given. The taller boy had darker hair, curling around his ears, while the younger one had lighter hair, the color of sand that fell into his eyelashes.
"Yes, Monsieur. I am Adolphe, and this is my brother, Dion," the older one made an introduction while the younger one remained silent, his red rimmed eyes accentuated by his hair.
"Are you well?" d'Artagnan asked, placing a hand on the younger boy's shoulder. He flinched away with a wild look at Adolphe.
Adolphe gave his sibling a nod, then provided an explanation. "We lost our mother."
"I am sorry." Athos bowed his head, as did d'Artagnan. They gave the woman a moment of silence. He forgot how much normal children relied on their parents, whereas for the nobility it was the tutors, servants, and governesses who provided the comfort. His parents sorted out expectations and disapproval. They had died before Athos had met Anne. Without their influence on his decision, he chose a commoner. It would not have happened had his parents been alive.
d'Artagnan gave the smaller boy's shoulder a squeeze before clearing his throat, eyeing the young men in mock scrutiny. He crouched so he could be at their level. "I can see you are brave men. What do you say, Athos?"
Athos played a long, understanding d'Artagnan's intentions. He walked in front of them in an imitation of Treville addressing the troops. "Quite. I think they can take on a mission."
"A mission?" Adolphe asked, standing straighter.
"A Musketeer mission," d'Artagnan added, pointing to his pauldron still too new, much too new, but the boys were impressed.
"Do you know two other brave ones?" Athos asked, still pacing back and forth, which helped him form an idea of sorts to keep some safe.
Anton pondered this for a moment. Athos could see he was a contemplative child, earnest in his seriousness of responsibility towards his brother. "Our cousins, Yves and Laure."
"She's a girl," Dion said quietly in a voice that had been in disuse as it was rough. Mourning had caused the stillness. Athos spared a glanced to d'Artagnan. There was a small grin on the younger man's face. Unspoken was that a girl could not be a Musketeer.
d'Artagnan bowed to Dion, bringing his head in closer to the boy. "I know a girl who can use a sword and a musket. She's as brave as any man."
His description of Constance sounded wistful, wishing he were with her than in this town stuck in the Black Death where he would never see her again. Athos would not see his wife; death would finally end it all. He wasn't ready to leave this world yet, as much as he craved it. He shook his head to break the impasse. It couldn't end in this way for d'Artagnan at least. "Find them, then meet us at the entrance to the east and send them to the entrance at the west."
"Wait, you'll need provisions on this mission." d'Artagnan opened one of his saddle bags on his patiently waiting horse, took out a wrapped cloth, which Athos knew contained dried meat. He handed it to the oldest boy. Both of their young faces lit up, probably having not eaten well since their mother's death. "Share it," d'Artagnan ordered.
The boys scampered away to seek out their cousins and commit themselves to their missions. Athos and d'Artagnan watched them for a while before mounting their horses.
"Provisions?" Athos teased at his protégé's softheartedness.
d'Artagnan shrugged his shoulders. "I remember when my mother died and my father was lost. They shouldn't go hungry."
Athos never worried about food. He wondered if d'Artagnan's leanness was a result of subsisting on minimal foods at times although he had height. "We will use my provisions if need be."
Until a little before the sunset, they set up the quarantine flags of yellow at the main entrances to the town. Athos decided if someone wanted to come through the woods, they were there for nefarious purposes, deserving to be quarantined.
The children were in position to provide warnings and to report to them a sighting of other musketeers. It was the job of adults, but no child need be among the destruction of the plague. Athos approved of d'Artagnan's idea of treating the duty like a game.
When they finished, they returned to the town and headed to the tavern near the inn. It was an odd choice for a makeshift infirmary, but understandable if the church would not provide solace. They were greeted by the sour smell of vomit and the moaning of the sick as they lay on blankets on the floor.
There were others who seemed to be doing the tending, forcing water on their patients or wine. There seemed to be no one in charge so Athos made an announcement.
"We're Athos and d'Artagnan of the King's Musketeers."
An older, portly gentleman came to standing with a groan, but he looked around them seeking more. "What are you doing here? Why did you break the quarantine? Did you bring help?"
Athos shook his head. "We were misinformed about the quarantine. And you are?"
"The physician, Lucien Campion." He wiped his hands on his apron. "Come, let us talk privately. Marie, call me if I am needed." He gestured for them to follow him outside, then around to the side to another building where they went up the wooden stairs.
There was a room reminiscent of Athos's apartment in Paris, down to the wine bottles on the table. Impoverished, but there was evidence at one point it had been clean.
d'Artagnan gestured to the bottles. "Is everyone a drunkard in this town?"
"You have met Father Ricard, eh?" The physician cleared some of the bottles and opened a fresh one, placing a cup in front of each of them as they sat.
"We've had the pleasure." Athos was more civilized with his opinion.
Lucien drained his cup, eyed the bottle again, but stopped himself. Athos recognized the action. "Father Ricard uses the wine to forget. I use it to accept that we are surrounded by death and I am helpless."
"When did this start?" d'Artagnan asked, taking a deep drink. "The priest mentioned the inn keeper?"
"Victor and his wife." The physician nodded. "I did not want to believe it was the plague at first, but then the others..."
"Why did you not believe it was the plague?" Athos was familiar with the symptoms, having seen the dreaded Black Death come to France.
"Their necks are not swollen, no buboes, but the weakness, the fever is all there." The physician rubbed his eyes.
Regardless of what it was, it brought death.
d'Artagnan glanced at Athos. "Monsieur, you should probably rest. We've made sure no other unsuspecting traveler will enter and will help where we can."
Athos admired the new musketeer's earnestness, wondering how long it would last after the bodies were buried. The only help the former noble man could think about offering was soldiering. It did not fit.
The physician nodded, and the musketeers excused themselves to allow the man some peace before returning to the makeshift infirmary.
The remaining citizens of Chaumont were shut in, leaving the streets empty. "We should patrol, become familiar with the area, secure weapons," Athos suggested as they started their walk. It was true what d'Artagnan had said earlier: there could be looting from desperation. Better to put a stop to it before it could start. The church was ahead, the largest and strongest building in the area with a high tower for a better view of the surrounding area. "I also would like some wine."
d'Artagnan nodded and followed, lost in his own thoughts. Athos did not want to pry. There would be time for confessions and conversation.
The priest was disappointed to see them, but he allowed them entry and took the bottles without a fuss. It may have been Athos's hand on his sword or the disgust on d'Artagnan's face that caused no quarrel.
They decided the inn would be where they would sleep. They could have separated, had their pick of rooms, but instead stayed in the same room to rest. Athos slept, seeking to wake up in his own apartment instead of Chaumont.
(())
d'Artagnan
Day 2
d'Artagnan dug holes with a scarf wrapped over his mouth like the other men. Athos had gone to get the priest and more wine. The older musketeer made an oath that only wine would pass through his lips, much like the physician and the priest. d'Artagnan would have agreed but was used to cool water while working on the fields. He had filled his skin with water, taking ample drinks throughout the day.
The priest had stumbled in, obviously providing the blessings under protest. But he sprinkled the holy water, and the men gathered their bowed their heads during the prayers.
Once Father Ricard left, d'Artagnan returned to digging.
"Stop," Athos said, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder.
"I want to finish." The backbreaking work left him sore, unthinking in the monotony of many bodies to bury with no one organizing the work to be done. Athos and d'Artagnan had made a plan as best they could to help the people of Chaumont until they could no longer.
No longer be alive.
d'Artagnan allowed Athos to pull the shovel from his hands, guide him away, and push a wineskin towards him. "Rest."
It was a cloudless sky, blue in magnificence, but the hard-packed dirt with multiple graves in the cemetery was not the place for this type of day. These graves would mostly go unmarked, which sickened d'Artagnan. No one would know where to mourn or to place flowers.
They saw Adolphe coming towards them at a fast pace, a trickle of sweat on the side of his face. "Monsieurs, the other musketeers are here!" Adolphe took a few deep breaths. "Dion is watching them."
d'Artagnan tried to hide his grin at the thought that a little boy was holding off Aramis and Porthos.
"Thank you, Adolphe. We should make haste." It would be good to take the horses out for a bit.
d'Artagnan lifted Adolphe to Athos's waiting arms. He sat the young boy in front of him. The boy smiled tremendously in awe of being with a musketeer on his horse.
The Gascon could no longer hide his grin as he recognized the feeling that young Adolphe was exuding. He thought he would be a musketeer for a long time, or at least until he was cut down defending King and country, not plague. d'Artagnan wanted to share with the boys how he himself had been the son of a farmer and had made it to be part of the king's guard. Would they be the last to know his tale?
Once the thoughts started he could not control them. d'Artagnan licked his lips, frowned as he returned his concentration to his horse and seeing his friends. The Gascon had to concentrate on the moment, not the limited future.
There seem to be a staring contest between Dion, who held the quarantine flag and Porthos, who looked to be edging closer to the boy. Aramis remained in the distance with his arms crossed.
"Porthos, come no further," Athos called out as he deposited Adolphe gently to the ground. The older Quirin sibling ran over to his brother, pulling him further away from Porthos.
"Congratulations on getting to Chaumont first," Aramis quipped. "This wasn't the welcome we expected."
"Is this true?" Porthos pointed to the yellow warning. "The plague?"
d'Artagnan and Athos dismounted from their horses with d'Artagnan gesturing to the boys to come closer to them so they could hold the horses while the musketeers talked.
"It's true." They walked so they were in the middle between their friends and the boys. They could go no further.
Aramis mounted his horse.
"What are you doing?" Athos asked, putting his hands up.
"Coming in," Aramis replied, his clothes dusty from their travels along the countryside.
"No," Athos ordered. "Porthos, stop him."
They were the inseparables, pulled to be with each other at the bitter end. It was selfish, but d'Artagnan did wish they were all together. He had the belief that nothing was insurmountable for the four of them together. The thought almost bubbled out of d'Artagnan, but he stopped himself as it made him sound boyish.
"There is already a physician here," d'Artagnan added. The man was overworked but had not become ill. d'Artagnan had hoped to help, but the bodies required internment first.
Aramis dismounted, stepped closer to Porthos. "What are the symptoms?"
"Vomiting, fever, weakness," d'Artagnan listed them off as he remembered them.
Aramis wiped a hand down his face, all but confirming he thought it was some sort of deadly disease, too.
"The young lads?" Porthos asked, gesturing to Adolphe and Dion, who were talking to the horses.
d'Artagnan wished they could send them out of Chaumont, but they had to remain. "They've been exposed."
"Go to Paris; return with supplies and give a report. Bring these back." Athos tossed the papers he was supposed to deliver.
Aramis caught them. "Even in darkness there is light. I hope God will let this pass by you." He took off his rosary, laying it down on a rock. "When I return you better be wearing it, Athos."
"Stay alive. We'll be back. We owe you some wine." Porthos seemed to study them for a moment.
"The best money can buy," d'Artagnan added. What they had been drinking was below mediocre.
Athos and d'Artagnan remained, watching until they could no longer see their friends. The young musketeer walked over to the rosary to bring to Athos, who hesitated before slipping it around his neck, hiding it from sight.
d'Artagnan patted it before they turned to retrieve their horses. They left Adolphe and Dion to their duties to return to the town center.
"I'm going to assist the physician."
Athos raised his brows.
"I tended to the animals on the farm. It's not much, but it's something." It was a task, something to do instead of waiting for the plague to find them. "Unless there is some other duty for me?"
Athos shook his head. "I will check on Yves and Laure. See about arranging for others to assist them and feed them. Ask about weapon stores."
"Perhaps we can find the time for sword work? Maybe train some new recruits?" This was far from a normal situation, but d'Artagnan craved it. He knew Athos did as well. All was better with a sword in hand.
"Very well." Athos bowed his head.
They parted with d'Artagnan steeling himself as he entered the tavern. Lucien was sitting in a chair by a window, his head bowed, looking like he was sleeping. A woman was moaning.
Her lips were dried and cracked. d'Artagnan saw the empty pitcher and sought the well, filling the pitcher with water, then filling the bowl. He helped the woman sit up, offering her the bowl to drink from.
She drank like a bird, coughing, then settling once again. He laid her back down. Spending time going from person to person, adding a blanket, changing a cloth placed on a forehead to cool the fevers. There were another two caregivers along with him. Not enough to tend to all the patients.
"There are more upstairs," the physician said beside him, still disheveled. "This isn't musketeer work."
d'Artagnan shook his head. There was no justice in illness, nothing tangible to fight.
Athos
Laure and Yves had been quarreling, so they sat at a distance from each other on their own rocks. Athos found himself acting as a diplomat between warring parties. He approached Yves first, who explained the difficulties of having a sister to watch over, but also that he was not going to give in on his point.
"You are arguing over who will be the first to call the warning to someone passing by?" Athos repeated to make sure he fully understood.
The boy puffed out his chest and pointed to himself. "I should do it. I'm older."
"That is a valid point." Athos recognized the same justification he'd used as a boy with his brother. Oh, had Thomas hated that line of reasoning.
He approached Laure with a bow, but she kept turning her back on him because he had spoken to her brother first. "Mademoiselle, your brother would like to give out the warning to any visitors."
Laure showed her disgust at that suggestion. "No. That's not fair. I am never allowed to do anything, and I yell louder."
"I see. That is an important skill," he agreed because he was at a loss for words. There had been no little girls at La Fere. However, he thought of an idea. "Mademoiselle, you are also very graceful. Perhaps you should rest your voice and wave the flag." He leaned into her and lowered his voice. "The flag is always noticed first."
The girl's eyes drifted to the flag. "He can give the warning first, but he can only say it once."
Athos nodded. "Not only graceful but wise. Would you like to tell your brother?"
She stood up and marched over to her brother and hugged Yves. Sisters and women were so different than brothers and men.
Athos waved to them to make his exit. He would send d'Artagnan next time to deal with the children.
His next visit was to visit Adolphe and Dion's father. The boys had assured him they had gotten their father's permission, but Athos felt responsible. Although the roads in Chaumont were quiet, Athos noticed that it seemed as though the disease had not reached the outskirts of the town. There was life present in the flowers, the animals, and movement inside and around homes.
The Quirin home was simple, and Athos could sense the shroud of mourning that veiled over the homestead. Athos called out when he knocked on the door and found no reply.
"In the back," a voice called out.
Athos followed the voice and the sound of hammering, finding a man fixing a chicken coop. "Sir, my name is Athos of the King's Musketeers. Your sons are providing us a service."
"Jean," the man put down the hammer and introduced himself. "Adolphe and Dion informed me. I should thank you; since their mother died I haven't been tending to them as I should."
"Was yours the only house touched?" Athos could see a few homes in the distance with the same sloping roofs, wood, and stone.
Jean scuffed his boot, looking down on the ground. "Yes, in this part. My wife's sister became ill, and she went to help. I begged her not to, but she told me she was strong."
"I am sorry," Athos said, very uncomfortable with the widower. "Father Ricard said that the baron's man has died. Is there anyone who will take his place?"
"Probably Firmin. He's a pompous ass." Jean pointed in the opposite direction. "You'll find his chateau past the town center a ways."
Athos nodded. "Does the town have a store of weapons?"
Jean frowned. "Taken to the chateau."
"Thank you." Athos would plan to visit tomorrow along with d'Artagnan. They needed those weapons and was nervous about them being held in an unknown location with illness rampant. "Would you like your sons at home?"
"No." Jean shook his head. "They've told me they are training to be musketeers, and that musketeers do not get the plague."
Athos hoped that was the case.
d'Artagnan
d'Artagnan was at the well filling up the buckets when he saw Athos. Sitting on the stone edge, he resisted accepting the death surrounding him. With the bucket up, he scooped a drink with his hands.
"Are you ready to check on our other charges?" Athos asked, holding both the horses.
"As soon as I bring these to Lucien. I will be a moment." d'Artagnan brought the water to the physician and informed him he and Athos would be checking the perimeter of the town.
Athos informed him of the events so far, and d'Artagnan tried to hide his amusement as he pictured the older musketeer dealing with willful children. "We will have to tell Treville about this," d'Artagnan teased the older man.
"I will not hear the end of this, will I?"
d'Artagnan decided not to reply, looking forward to informing Porthos and Aramis, hoping he would be able to tell them. They had to survive to see their friends.
Athos, though, got the last word when it came to their rapiers. Adolphe and Dion provided a rapt audience of apt pupils. d'Artagnan helped Dion while Athos gave his attention to Adolphe, correcting his stance. The Gascon wondered how long Athos was married and if there had been a child lost before Milady's hanging. Athos would have made a great father, a patient and attentive one. This made d'Artagnan think about his father, and his stomach twisted in response.
He could be seeing his father in the next life soon.
d'Artagnan adjusted the stick in Dion's hand, guided the young boy in the motions he found awkward. "If you practice, then you'll be able to triumph over your big brother." He said it loud enough for Athos to hear.
"That day is a long way off, Adolphe," Athos replied.
d'Artagnan did not hide his laughter this time. There was hope that if these children were still well, then maybe they would survive. They would not join their mother. "Are we to quarantine for forty days?" He hadn't thought about the length of time until now, because he was so overwhelmed.
Athos squinted into the sun. "Perhaps shorter depending on what the physician tells us, but we should plan for those days."
They returned to the town and walked through on a casual patrol before returning to the inn for the evening. Athos retrieved a few more bottles of wine for the evening and the next day. They had hunted for game, cooking some for the boys and taking the rest back with them to eat at the inn.
"If I were to be trapped in quarantine, I am glad it is with you." d'Artagnan felt his cheeks heat in a blush. "Because Aramis and Porthos would talk too much, of course," he added the quip for his comfort.
"I am the better company." Athos raised his glass.
d'Artagnan nodded, glad his friend understood what was left unsaid. Thank you for believing in me.