The Court of Miracles

Chapter One

"Monsieur Aramis. Monsieur Aramis."

The frantic calls were accompanied by heavy blows to the door. Aramis surfaced from a deep sleep, his sense of self-preservation sending his hand to grasp the knife that always lay beside his bed. He sat up, running a hand through his disordered hair. "What do you want?" he shouted.

"It's about Porthos."

Aramis immediately leapt from the bed and unlatched the door. The man standing outside was a stranger. "What's happened?" He led the way back into his room and began to dress.

"He's hurt and sent to tell you that he needs help."

He quickly wrapped the blue sash around his waist and buckled on his sword belt. "We need to get Athos and d'Artagnan."

"There isn't time. It's bad, Monsieur."

"Where is he?" He put on his hat and gloves, trying to still the fast-paced beat of his heart.

"I'll take you to him. It isn't far."

Aramis followed the man out of the garrison and into the empty streets. He knew Paris intimately but was soon led into a maze of alleyways that he didn't recognise. "How did he get hurt?" he asked as they hurried along.

"I don't know."

"Wait." Aramis grabbed onto the man's arm. "What's your involvement in this?"

"I just did as I was told. I'm sorry." The man twisted free and ran into the darkness.

"Wait. Where's Porthos?" Aramis called frantically.

"Sleeping off a hangover with some whore."

The new voice startled Aramis and he reached for his sword. There was a rush of footsteps and he found himself surrounded by half a dozen heavily armed men. He moved his hand away from his weapon and held it up to show he wasn't looking for trouble. "What's going on?"

"You're coming with us." The leader of his assailants was tall and lanky with a scar down one side of his face and a hungry look in his eyes.

"I don't think so."

"You're outnumbered and I don't much care if you come peaceably or not." The man moved closer and drew his knife. With the weapon pointed unwaveringly at his throat Aramis decided that it would be futile to resist. He stood quietly while he was disarmed and bound.

"You are making a mistake," he said. "I am a King's Musketeer. My friends will find me."

"We're counting on that. Now, shut up."

The order was accompanied by a blow to the side of his head. He staggered, only saved from falling by a firm grip on his arms.

"What do you want with me?" he asked once the ringing in his ears subsided.

"Keep your mouth shut or I'll have you gagged."

The leader of the ruffians appeared to have a very short temper. He noted that for future reference. "That won't be necessary." He lapsed into silence, trying to work out why he had been targeted. The story about Porthos had been nothing more than a ruse to lure him out so this was no random attack.

He was at a severe disadvantage and it was late enough that there were no people on the street to witness his abduction. His one crumb of comfort was that they hadn't killed him outright which meant that he had some value to them. A hood was placed over his head, disorienting him. Sounds became muffled and, without his eyes to guide him, he had no idea where they were taking him. He was pulled forward a few paces before he was hoisted into a wagon. Lying on his stomach with his breathing constricted by the material over his face was unpleasant. Something heavy was draped over him before the wagon lurched as someone else got in. A boot connected with his spine, holding him down. It became even harder to catch his breath. With a creak of the wheels the wagon began to move, taking him into the unknown.

TMTMTM

It was a beautiful spring morning when the Musketeers gathered in the yard to eat breakfast. Athos joined Porthos and d'Artagnan with orders from Treville. "We've had reports of a group of bandits robbing travellers on the outskirts of Fontainebleau forest. The Captain wants us to check it out."

"Nice day for a ride," Porthos said, cutting a slice of cheese.

"Why send us?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Treville seems to think it would be a good idea if we left Paris for a few days. Apparently he's heard of our recent differences of opinion with the Cardinal's guard. We're to stay out of Richelieu's way until it all settles down."

"It was a good fight," Porthos said, grinning. "They really shouldn't have insulted us."

"Yes. Calling us sons of whores was a mistake," Athos said, pouring a mug of ale.

"Although in my case it wasn't far from the truth," Porthos added. "Not that I'm going to stand by and let anyone say anything bad about my mother."

"Quite right. Then, of course, they compounded their mistake by accusing you of cheating at cards."

"Which was true," d'Artagnan remarked.

"Just because something's true doesn't mean you have to let them get away with it. I was just in a mood for a fight."

"You're always in the mood for a fight, Porthos." Athos looked around the yard. "Have either of you seen Aramis?"

"Not since last night. He had an engagement with a young lady," d'Artagnan said with a smirk.

"He knows better than to be late. Treville won't be happy. Any idea who she is?"

"He didn't say but it isn't like him to spend the whole night with his latest conquest. He usually comes back to the barracks to sleep."

"We should check his room." Athos led the way to the sleeping quarters and knocked on Aramis' door. When there was no answer he pushed it open and looked around. "He was definitely here. Look at the bed."

"He can't have gone far," d'Artagnan said. "Maybe he's in the stables."

They returned to the yard to be greeted by one of their comrades. "There's a boy outside says he has a message for Porthos," he said.

Porthos raised an eyebrow and walked over to the child who looked to be no more than ten years old. "I'm Porthos."

"Flea told me to come get you," the boy stammered. "She said it's important."

"Flea?" Athos asked. "Is that the woman from the Court of Miracles?"

"She and I grew up together. We'd still be together if she'd agreed to leave that hellhole. What does she want with me?" he asked the boy.

"She said to come quickly."

"I can't leave my post. Tell her I'll come and see her in a couple of days."

The boy opened a sack he was carrying and awkwardly hauled out a pistol. "Flea said you'd recognise this," he said.

Athos grabbed it before Porthos could move. "This belongs to Aramis." He frowned severely at the child. "Where is our friend?"

"I don't know nothing about him." The boy started to tremble fearfully. "I swear. I've told you everything she said.

"I'll tell Treville," Athos said. "Then we'll all go."

"Just Porthos."

"He's right. I'm accepted there. You saw how hard it is for any outsider to get in when you came for me."

"If anything has happened to Aramis I won't let your friendship with this woman get in the way."

"Let me go and talk to her. I'm sure we can work this out."

"I hope so, but we all know Aramis wouldn't voluntarily give up his pistol."

"Stay here. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Athos waited until Porthos had moved out of earshot. "Follow him, d'Artagnan. See what you can find out, but be careful. I am going to speak to the Captain."

D'Artagnan nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. "We'll get Aramis back."

"Yes, we will, and anyone who gets in our way will be made to pay."

Tbc