RESCUE
Athos, Porthos and Aramis were headed to a small chateau several days' journey from Paris. A member of Louis' court, the Comte de Mattaille, was so grateful for their assistance in recovering his daughter from a weaselly minor nobleman's clutches with her virtue still intact, that he had wanted to reward them. So, he had offered them a week's use of one of his minor properties for a vacation.
They were shocked, but happy, at the offer. Treville had given them the leave, and they were a day's ride away now. Aramis and Porthos were trying to outdo each other with what they wanted to do while they were there. On top of both of them's list, however, was getting as much rest as they could. It had been a very busy few months, and there bodies were feeling the afteraffects. Athos, as usual,was rather silent on the subject, but they knew he relished the idea, too.
The bantering continued, but Aramis had spied something off to the left that kept his attention. The others didn't pay much attention. At least, they hadn't paid much attention until Aramis, without a word to either of them, took off at a gallop in the direction of his focus the past few minutes.
Athos and Porthos, startled at the suddenness of Aramis' veering off, stopped and looked quizzically at each other. "Now, what in the world could be that important to make him take off like that? Porthos questioned, shaking his head.
Athos didn't say anything, just kept a watch on his brother's progress, which was leading towards a winding river in the near distance. He saw Aramis get off his horse and run down to the water, bending over when he got there. He couldn't tell what happened next, all he could see is Aramis tumble into the water headfirst.
"He is in trouble!" Athos yelled to Porthos as he urged his horse to a gallop towards the river.
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Aramis had been enjoying the ride. He always loved being out in the countryside. They were usually in a hurry on a mission, though, so he didn't always get time to take in the sights and sounds around him. So far, this journey had been pure pleasure, with more delights awaiting them when they got to the comte's country estate.
He saw the blue of a winding river in the near distance, and his eye followed the water, seeing various trees and shrubs here and there poking out from the rocks and stones scattered about at the water's edge, some nearly touching the water, they bent so far out over the river.
All of a sudden, his gaze focused on one particular tree, a large, ancient-looking oak, and it's small inhabitant.
"It's going to fall into the water," he thought, and in the same instant, instinct moved him to urge his horse at a gallop towards the river and that particular tree.
Reaching his object, he dismounted and ran towards the tree, starting to climb the instant he reached it. When he got high enough, he could see it wouldn't be easy to rescue the little fellow. That didn't stop him, though. When Aramis' compassion was involved, he didn't let anything stop him.
Stretching as far out as he could across the limb of the tree, he almost had it, but the little critter skittered away in panic at the new unknown menace to him. Aramis set one foot out on the branch to reach even further.
And that is when he heard an ominous crack, and felt the branch move under him. Trying to stay still, Aramis hoped it wouldn't crack all the way. But his luck had run out.
Another loud crack sounded at the same time Aramis suddenly found himself falling towards the river. He flailed helplessly as he descended, unable to reach anything to break his fall.
His body hit the water, his lower chest slamming into harsh contact with one of the many large rocks half-submerged in the river. He barely let out a groan of pain, when the broken-off branch hit him in head, adding insult to injury. Only half-conscious now, he weakly tried to steer himself towards the shore, but the river had other ideas, stubbornly carrying him along downstream, as Aramis desperately tried to hold onto consciousness, vaguely hoping Athos and Porthos had followed him, wondering where he was going. It was his only hope of survival right now.
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Athos and Porthos reached the riverbank only to discover their brother was no longer there. During their gallop, they weren't able to see if something had happened to cause Aramis to move somewhere else. Looking at each other in concern, they split up, Athos following the flow of the river, and Porthos deciding to try the other direction.
As Athos galloped away, Porthos heard a small sound coming from above his head. Looking up, he saw a tiny kitten clinging to a branch that was almost a twig, way to small to hold even the tiny critter. As Porthos watched, the kitten's grasp disintegrated, and it fell, landing on Porthos' shoulders, of all places.
Porthos, whose heart was also going out to the little ball of fluff, grabbed it by the scruff of its neck, and laid it gently down on the ground under the tree, scratching it behind its ears, then mounting and hurrying off on his search for his missing brother.
He saw nothing moving anywhere, his heart beating fast in fear of what might have happened to his comrade. He was just about to turn and follow in Athos' wake, when he heard him shouting his name in the distance. Urging his horse faster, he raced to join Athos far ahead.
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Athos was moving quickly downstream, scanning the water for any sign of Aramis. The water was moving very quickly, so he could have been carried quite a ways.
All of a sudden, he froze. Running down the middle of the river was an ominous red. Please, no, let it not be Aramis, he thought. But realistically, he knew it was, as there was nothing else in the water that he had seen. Raising his voice, he called Porthos' name, not even looking back as he urged his horse ever faster, following the telltale red in the water.
He had not gone far when two things happened. Porthos had caught up and swung alongside him, and they both spied their brother in the middle of the river, face down and still heading downstream.
Leaping off their horses, Athos and Porthos divested themselves hurriedly of their weapons and doublets as they headed for the water. Diving in, they swam as quickly as they could towards Aramis, calling his name as they went. He didn't answer, and they swam faster.
Rreaching him, they swiftly turned him over, wondering as they did so how long his face had been submerged. His eyes were closed, and he didn't respond when they said his name again. There was a bloody bruise on his forehead. Their eyes then traveled downward, searching for the source of the blood they had seen. The front of his shirt was saturated with it.
Each of them grabbed him under a shoulder, and began pulling him towards the shore. They had no choice but to move quickly, not being able to be as gentle as they would like to have been. He needed out of the water, his wounds treated , and emptied of however much water he had ingested as soon as possible.
Reaching the river's edge, Porthos lifted Aramis up gently into his arms. He remained totally unresponsive. They could now see the long bloody gash on his lower chest through the torn shirt.
Athos spread his cloak on the ground, and Porthos softly down upon it. When Aramis' head touched the ground, he began to cough weakly.
Porthos, rubbing circles on his back to let him know they were with him, asked, "Aramis, are you with us? Can you open your eyes for us?" But Aramis didn't reply.
Athos said, "We need to lift him up and help him to cough out the river water."
Porthos lifted Aramis against his shoulder, and Athos hit his back openhanded a couple of times, prompting Aramis to spew out water. Athos did this several more times, until he felt sure all the water had come out. With a groan, Aramis then collapsed back against Porthos again.
Porthos lowered him back down on the cloak, and Athos divested him of his shirt. The gash was still bleeding sluggishly, so Porthos pressed against it to stop the flow. Aramis had already lost far too much blood into the river.
Athos got up and went to Fidget, retrieving Aramis' medic bag. He drew out some clean cloths and handed them to Porthos, so he could use them to staunch the flow of blood. Pulling out a small bottle of alcohol and a needle and thread, he returned to Aramis.
"Hold him still," Athos told Porthos, then poured the alcohol into the wound. Instantaneously, Aramis shot up off the ground, screaming. Porthos gently but firmly got him to lay down again. Aramis' breathing was coming in ragged gasps. He was panicing because he didn't know what was going on. He wasn't conscious enough to do so. He just thought in his confusion that someone was hurting him. Porthos threaded his fingers through Aramis' hair, trying to calm him down, and gradually, he became quiet again.
Athos reluctantly picked up the needle and thread next. He never had an easy time having to be the one treating the wounds of his brothers. But with Aramis out of commission and being the one injured, he knew he had been elected to sew the wound up.
By this time, Aramis was unconscious, for which Athos was profoundly grateful. It was difficult enough to do this if someone was awake, especially if it was someone he loved as much as he did Aramis.
Taking a deep breath, he began, and thankfully, Aramis remained out through the entire process. Tying off the thread, Athos heaved a big sigh that he was finally through with that. Now, the just had to wait and hope and pray that nothing he had come into contact with in the water could bring along an infection.
Next, he used one of the cloths to clean the large bruise on Aramis' forehead. It looked to be clean, so he wrapped a cloth around his forehead. The bruise could well have been what was causing his unconsciousness, as it could have given him a concussion also, but they would not know for sure until he awakened. He also had various cuts and bruises from nicking rocks and debris along the way downstream, but, although maybe being sore, they were minor injuries. The amount of blood he had lost would, no doubt, cause weakness for a while.
Laying a hand on his brother's shoulder, he thought how thankful he was that they found him when they did. Much longer in the water, and it might have been to late.
Porthos had hold of Aramis' hand, the look on his face telling Athos he was thinking the same things he was. They could very well have lost their beloved brother.
Athos commented,"What in the world possessed him to ride pell-mell for the river that way? I confess I do not understand what reason he had for doing so."
Porthos, his eyes on Aramis' face softening, said, "A cat."
At that comment, Athos' eyebrows shot up, and he said, "A what?"
Porthos repeated, "A kitten. It was stuck up a tree hanging over the water."
Athos didn't even ask how Aramis could have seen a tiny kitten from the distance away that they had been riding. Aramis was the finest marksman in France, far better with a pistol or musket than anyone he had ever seen, and one of the prime reasons for that was also the reason he could spot that cat. And with his tender heart and compassion for all living things, there was no way he would let that kitten drop in the river and drown if he could help it.
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A couple of hours later, Aramis began coughing and choking. His brothers were on either side of him, semi-dozing. When they heard him, Porthos hurriedly lifted his upper body up while Athos once more hit his back. Aramis coughed more water out. They repeated this a couple more times again until no more water came up.
Aramis was only about half-conscious during this. Afterwards, his breathing began speeding up, as he didn't really know what was happening and was confused and a little panicked. Both of his brothers spoke softly to him, gently tracing circles on his back and shoulders as they spoke until he gradually calmed down and his breathing returned to normal.
Porthos said, "You back with us, Aramis? How 'bout opening those eyes?"
Aramis' eyes gradually opened, revealing exhaustion and confusion. "Wha..."
Athos told him, "You fell in the river and got carried downstream, Aramis. You're safe now, but you the fall injured you, and you took in a lot of water. Try not to move around yet, as you have a rather nasty gash in your chest, and a concussion from something hitting you in the head."
"River?" Aramis asked, obviously not remembering his mishap yet.
"Right. You fell in. You do not remember?" Athos asked, in some concern that Aramis' memory was blurred yet.
Aramis just lay there for a few moments with his eyes once again closed. Then, his eyes flew open, and he tried to lift himself up, only to gasp in pain and drop back into Porthos' waiting arms.
"Mischief," he managed to say.
Athos and Porthos looked at each other, not having a clue what he meant, then looked down at Aramis again, who repeated the word.
"I am afraid we have no clue what you mean, Aramis," Athos told him.
Aramis was utterly exhausted and his eyes were drooping closed, as he whispered, "She fell."
Eyes meeting once again, Athos and Porthos could only smile in exasperation as they realized their brother could only have been referring to the source of their present situation. And he had actually given the cat a name!
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Later in the day, Aramis woke again, just as groggy and confused as before. Athos was having guilt pangs, as he realized, belatedly, that hitting Aramis on the back so many times, albeit needed to remove the river water, probably had caused his brother a lot more pain from the injury to his chest. He decided he needed to look at both injuries again.
Carefully unwrapping the bandages around Aramis' chest, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that, so far, no infection was noticeable. The bump on his head was red, but that was to be expected. He just wished he had more medical knowledge to know if the concussion was a major one, as they might need to stay put for a while to let him rest.
Aramis, after the first few moments, became more alert, but Athos didn't like the fact that he kept waking up not having his mind clear yet. He decided they should stay where there until next morning, when hopefully, his brother would be well enough to travel.
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Aramis was a little more himself when Porthos woke him in early evening. He remembered why they were there, and what had happened to him. Athos took that as a very positive sign of his getting better. Athos and Porthos wanted to try giving him some dinner, along with as much water as he could take. Surprisingly enough, he ate a good bit of the stew, and drank quite a bit of water. He was still very tired, though, and his eyelids closed again shortly afterward.
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Next morning, Aramis was even more clear-headed, so Athos decided they could continue their journey-slowly. Aramis again ate what they gave him.
Then, realizing they were going to leave, he lifted himself off the ground while Athos and Porthos were saddling their horses. He stood dizzily, getting his , walking like he had just imbibed too much wine, he headed slowly for his brothers.
Athos and Porthos nearly had a fit when they turned around and saw him coming. He just smiled at them.
"Aramis, what do you think you're doing?" Porthos said with a look of panic on his face.
"I'm walking," Aramis answered glibly. He had no sooner said this than his knees buckled under him, causing him to fall.
"We are not amused, Aramis," Athos replied, rushing to his side to assist him down to the ground.
"I'm perfectly f...," Aramis began.
"If you say you are fine, I am going to treat you to a definition of the word," Athos said, but with a slight smile.
"We will see how well you do today again, and if you seem well enough by tomorrow morning, we will go then.
Aramis glared at him, but answered, "Fair enough," breathing heavily now, as the movement had caused pain again in his chest.
Aramis slept through a good portion of the day, waking around early evening, so they gave him as much dinner as he could take.
They relaxed in the early evening, and Aramis enjoyed being alert enough to join in the light bantering. He and his brothers teased each other about how they might never get to the looked-for vacation they had been given. Athos and Porthos, though, fell silent when they saw the sadness in Aramis' eyes.
Athos said, "It's not your fault, Aramis."
"But I am the reason you are not enjoying the much-needed time off that we have been given. Instead, I caused an accident, and you are having to take care of me."
"There is nowhere else we would rather be, Aramis. You do know we love and care about you every bit as much as you do us, do you not?," his eyebrow cocked as only Athos could do.
Porthos agreed, saying, "You have nursed us back to health so many times, I don't have enough fingers and toes to count them, Aramis. And taking care of each other is what brothers do."
Aramis was silent a few moments, and then said,"I do not know what I ever did to deserve you two for friends." He paused again for a few moments, and then couldn't resist saying, "Of course, I am the handsome, witty one of the group." Athos and Porthos gave mock frowns of protest, but, in truth, they were so glad to see Aramis able to tease again.
The food and company soon tired Aramis, and he fell asleep again right afterward.
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Very early next morning, Aramis was asleep when he was awakened by an odd sensation on his cheek. He was very comfortable, so he ignored it, not even opening his eyes. A few moments later, now a little more aware, he felt the same thing.
Curious now, he opened his eyes to find a pair of small dark eyes looking back at him.
Aramis was now wide awake.
"Mischief!" he cried, awakening Athos and Porthos in the process.
Gathering the little bundle into his arms, Aramis stroked its head, and it started purring.
"I think you have two friends, Aramis," Porthos said, pointing to Aramis' right. There sat a large butterscotch-colored cat, watching the proceedings with interest.
"I'll bet that is his mother," Aramis said, still stroking the little kitten's head. Mischief looked like he could stay there all day.
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After a light breakfast, with Mischief purring on his lap, Aramis declared that he was well enough to travel that day. Then, he looked first at Athos, then at Porthos, deciding how he would bring up the next subject. But they both knew him too well, and said almost in unison, "No, Aramis,Mischief will not be traveling with us."
"But..."
"He cannot come with us," Athos said. "You are not in good enough shape to take care of anyone or anything other than yourself-and that is with our assistance at the moment. Besides, they look well-cared for. They are obviously someone's pets. How would you feel if you had a pet you loved, and it just disappeared one day because a traveler took a liking to it?"
At that, Aramis hung his head, as they were right. He had been thinking of himself, not even wondering if the cats were someone's pets. Scratching Mischief behind the ear with one hand, and his mother under the chin with the other, he said, "Very well. You make a good point. But I will miss Mischief, even if she did attract my attention, and start the whole debacle. She didn't mean it, though," cuddling her close to his shoulder, while she continued to purr in contentment.
They put out the campfire and stowed their cooking pot on Porthos' saddle, before saddling their horses preparatory to resuming their travels. Aramis, with Porthos' assistance, mounted his horse after saying goodbye to Mischief and his mother. They slowly left the campsite, and resumed the direction they had been going before the accident.
A half-mile into their journey, Athos happened to look behind him, and frowned.
Porthos and Aramis turned, wondering what Athos had seen. There were Mischief and his mother following them!
Before Aramis could even say anything, Athos said, "No, this is not a sign that we should change our minds and take them with us. We will just..."
Out of the corner of his eye, he spied two young children approaching them, their eyes on the additional 'travelers' who had joined them.
As they drew nearer, Athos asked them, "Would these animals be your pets, by any chance?" hoping against hope that they were.
The children, a boy of about nine and his sister, who was about five, nodded their heads. The boy stepped forward and said, "We have been looking for them. They went missing a few days ago, and we were afraid something happened to them."
Aramis slowly dismounted, not without a wince of pain. He went and collected the two cats, and brought them to the children. Putting Mischief in the little girl's arms, and his mother in the boy's, he solemnly said to them, "You have two very affectionate pets here. You need to take very good care of them. All right?"
They smiled and nodded, then started to turn around and head to their home. Aramis stopped them by saying, "What are their names?"
The little girl stroked the bundle in her arms, and said, "My mama named this one Mischief, 'cause she said she is always getting into trouble." Athos and Porthos stared at Aramis, not quite believing the astonishing coincidence. Aramis just shrugged his shoulders, saying, "The name was just meant for that kitten. It's perfect, even though she doesn't mean any trouble to happen," stroking her head one last time, reluctant to leave her behind.
Athos was almost afraid of asking what the mother's name was, but couldn't resist.
The boy said, "Her name is Patience," and all three Musketeers burst out laughing at the perfect combination between the two. Porthos said, "Well, I never would have believed...", but was laughing so hard, he couldn't finish what he had started.
The Musketeers said goodbye to the children, and went on with their journey. They got about a mile before Aramis said, "I think I will enjoy a few days of quiet after the mischief-making." He then chuckled as Athos and Porthos' twin glares were aimed at him.
"Come on. Let's see who can get there first," he said irrepressibly, kneeing Fidget to a gallop in supreme unconcern for the aches and pains that would be his companion that night when they finally got to their destination.
The End