SAVOY DESOLATION.
Chapter One.
[ The snow is red, why is the snow red? Gunpowder fills the air, the few flakes that fell from the sky have spread themselves on my brothers bodies. The death cries emitting into the night air as they lay dying in agony, no this cannot be, why am I not dead, why am I hidden underneath the thicket, no they are all now dead, it has become silent. The forest is glows in the moonlight, the snow is making it glow, I see more blood, it surrounds my brothers. ]
Musketeer Cemetery
Funeral Mass
Musketeers who died at Savoy.
Paris 1625
The sky was ladened with storm clouds, thunder rumbled in the far distance. A slight icy wind blew through the trees making them rustle. A pair of weeping eyes glanced up as the priest spoke his liturgy and prayers. The trees seemed to bow over the row of coffin's as though knowing the deep sorrow felt by the mourners below.
The row of coffin's side by side each swathed in the Fleur de Lis shroud. The priest continued his funeral mass. Sobbing was evident as the familes wept openly, each one locked in their own world of anguish.
Aramis failed to notice as the eyes glared in his direction from beneath the hood. Oh how he weeps with the rest, how sorrowful he looks. Why did he survive? How did he escape the slaughter? I bet he deserted his comrades when they needed him most! Yes that would be it, he is a deserter, a renegade, a coward, he must pay the price for these brave musketeers who lost their lives in Savoy. But not as yet, I will bide my time, I will tarry, I know others who think akin to me. He will suffer as my brother suffered, he will suffer as Amelia has for her husband, he will suffer as Élise has suffered for her brother and Flora for her betrothed. He will be so very sorry, but it will be too late, by the time he realises what is going on he will be joining his slaughtered comrades in his own grave.
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Aramis stood at Captain Tréville's side, he felt nauseous, he felt like he wanted to roar out loud, his brothers had been massacred, why did he survive? the ambush came from knowhere as though planned. Theories whirled around his mind as the priest continued his mass. Why did Marsac drag me from danger, I could have helped them, I could have saved them, it wasn't to be, they died screaming, wounded and bleeding in the snow. Why did you remove your uniform Marsac? why did you dessert your brothers like that? Marsac's face was in his minds eye as he sobbed, he closed his eyes to allow the tears to flow down his despairing features. All he could visualise was Marsac's pauldron laying in the blood spattered snow.
xx
The young musketeer began to sway on his feet. Tréville realised he was still in no condition to be standing around, he had told him to stay in the infirmary, but the young man had been resolute saying he would get to the funerals by hook or by crook. He wouldn't argue that fact with him, afterall this whole Savoy massacre had effected him mentally, the nightmares were horendous, frightening even. Yes this young musketeer had been through hell, and was still living the horror in his own head, would they ever get the same Aramis back with them, his days had been filled with recovering from his own wounds he had received during the attack. Sometimes playing cards with his new found friend Porthos who would soon be receiving his own commission into the musketeer regiment.
The new cadet knew what had happened at Savoy, Tréville had told him the story. But Porthos seemed determined to make him realise that the deaths were not his fault, that his brothers died as heros's. The only reason he survived is because he was knocked unconsious and Marsac had dragged him into the undergrowth and away from danger.
Porthos had sat up with him many a night as the young marksman blamed himself for the slaughter. He had woken in the early hours his hair stuck to his head and face with sweat, he would yell out into the darkness, the names of his brothers until his voice became hoarse with the sheer exhaustion. The man was tormented by the whole saga. Not a day would pass without the young man feeling that of pure guilt. Tréville had mentioned he had forgotten even thinking when he last seen the man smile or even eat a hearty meal, all he did was pick and nibble, they began to fear he would just waste away.
xx
Aramis watched as each coffin was lowered into the ground, the priest moving along along the line slowly and sprinking holy water onto each one as he carried on his mass. He had a slight feeling someone was watching him, he could feel the eyes boring into his very sole. He glanced up and seen no one, just the bowed heads of the mourners as they wept. Mothers! Sisters! Wives! Brothers. Aramis felt his own sob in his throat as he caught his breath, he had become blurry with tears until he blinked allowing the flow of tears to run down his face.
Captain Tréville grabbed the young musketeers arm before he lost his balance, prompting Serge on his other side to follow suit.
"As soon as we get back to the garrison, I want him to return to the infirmary." whispered Tréville to Gautier his second in command. Gautier nodded, "Very wise captain, I will have doctor Vincent prepare him a sleeping draught."
"He should never 'ave come captain." muttered Serge on his other side.
Tréville knew Serge was right, but the young man had stood steadfast.
"He would never have forgiven me Serge...it means so much to him." he replied.
Serge was nodding. He knew his captain was quite right. Aramis was guilt ridden for no reason. How dare Marsac dessert him so, he might have made a difference to the young mans mind if he had remained with him.
"If anyone should feel guilty...its Marsac." whispered the older man.
Tréville glanced at Aramis. He could see he was in his own grief stricken world and was unaware of himself and the others as tears ran down his face.
"I hope I never see that coward again as long as I draw breath." he muttered between clenched teeth.
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Musketeer Garrison
1625
One day after the funerals.
The sound of steel hitting steel reverberated around the garrison courtyard as the men sparred with one another.
Captain Tréville walked from his office followed by a young cadet, both descended the wooden steps and onto the ground below. The two watched for a couple of minutes as the cadets sparred and grappled
"Porthos! yelled Tréville suddenly making the big cadet shoot a glance at his audience.
Porthos yielded his weapon and patted his opponent on the shoulder. "Same time on the morrow then." he growled.
The big man wiped his sweaty face and neck on a rag and approached his superior officer who was accompanied by a young man.
Porthos eyed the young cadet before casting his eyes on the older man.
"Captain?
"Porthos this is Athos...he will be joining you and the others on the morrow for sparring, I want you to put him through the paces. But for now you can show him around the garrison.
"Pleased to meet you Athos." acknowledged the big cadet holding out his hand.
Athos took it. "And you."
"How is Aramis captain? asked Porthos suddenly.
Tréville's features changed to concerned in an instant. "He is in a bad way mentally, he is still blaming himself for the killings of his comrades, I have sent for the kings new physician, he may have some knowledge of this."
"I will go and visit later...see if I can talk some sense into him." commented the big cadet,
Tréville sniggered. "Well good luck with that lad...he is in his own world at this moment."
Porthos shot a glance to Athos and sighed out loud.
Tréville walked away leaving the two young men watching after him.
"Come! said Porthos lets start with the armoury, you can see how much weaponery we keep within the garrison.
Athos followed the big cadet into the building.
"Who is Aramis." he asked.
"He is a musketeer here, he was caught up in Savoy, everyone was killed! slaughtered! it was like a massacre...he and another musketeer survived...he blames himself for their deaths."
Athos shook his head slowly, he felt some concern for this man he had yet met.
Porthos unlocked the armoury doors and turned to the new cadet.
"Are you from Paris lad? he asked as both young men entered the chamber.
"I was born just outside Paris." answered the young man bluntly. He began to scan around, well they are indeed prepared for come what may, thought the young cadet.
Muskets, Pistols, Swords and Daggers lay in rows in their own mounted chests against the stone walls. Crates of musket balls were piled up in the corner neatly. In the opposite corner there were barrels of gunpowder stacked up. Next to a crate of hand mortars.
"You certainly have plenty of ammunition...looks like you are expecting a war." muttered Athos.
Porthos grinned. "You never know the bloody minute with these Spanish lot...you 'ave to prepared for anythin' ."
Athos picked up one of the swords and began to slash it back and forth as though inspecting it. Swooshing noises emitted into the air.
Porthos grimaced as he watched. "Careful...bloody 'ell...tell me not to get on the wrong side of you."
Athos replaced the sword back into its sheath and continued his browsing.
"'ave you ever shot a pistol or musket? asked Porthos.
Athos had picked up a mortar before placing it back in its place. "I have used a pistol many a time and a sword and dagger if you must know."
Porthos eyed this young cadet, he seemed on the quiet side, did not say much, just answered without opinion. He looked akin age to himself.
"Come I will show you where we eat, we have an older man, used to be a musketeer in his day, he cooks for us all now...and is very good at it I must add."
Athos raised his brows and followed the big man from the armoury.
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Dining Chamber.
"This is Athos, he is new here Serge." growled Porthos sitting at one of the tables and pouring out some ale. Athos followed suit.
"Pleased to meet yer lad. I 'ope you like mutton stew...thats one of me specialities."
Athos grinned slightly as the older man spoke. "I enjoy mutton stew very much, and that smells most appetizing I must say."
Serge chuckled. "Good...now here get that down yer...I've seen more meat on my grubbly apron."
Porthos guffawed loudly at the old cooks words making Athos smile.
The two men began to eat.
"I heard about Savoy...bad business I believe." commented Athos as he spooned up the mutton.
Porthos poured ale into two tankards and placed one in front of the new cadet.
"I try and keep Aramis occupied in the day time if I get the chance, otherswise he starts thinking things in his 'ead."
"What kind of things? asked Athos eyeing the big man.
"Well you 'eard the captain...he blames himself for all this bloody slaughter...he 'ates the thought of surviving without the others."
Athos took a swig from his tankard. "It is not his fault they died...you could say that about any battle."
Porthos was in his own reverie as Athos spoke, just staring into space. "This was different...it was like an ambush...they didn't even get a chance to prime any weapons...at least in battle we have that option."
"Was he the only one who survived? asked Athos.
Porthos grimaced as he thought. "No...another bloody musketeer named Marsac survived with him...but he deserted Aramis and fled, leavin' his pauldron and iniform on the ground."
"Where is this Marsac now? asked Athos intrigued by the whole scenario.
"We 'avn't seen sign nor light...and we don't want to...I will bloody kill him myself for what he did...bastard! growled Porthos.
The new cadet could see how just speaking of his friends plight was making him become angry. He changed the subject hastly.
"Phew...I'm filled up to the brim" he sighed
Athos pushed his bowl of mutton away and reached for his ale.
"Aint you eatin' anymore? asked the big cadet.
"I have had ample thank you."
Athos watched as Porthos grabbed his bowl and began to finish off the stew.
The young man smiled.
"Im going to visit 'im if you wanna come along? asked the big man.
Athos glanced up and nodded. "Yes of course...lead the way."
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Garrison Infirmary.
The infirmary chamber was dimly lit, half a dozen beds stood side by side. Athos followed Porthos as he approached another bed, a man lay on his side with his back to them reading, a lone candle flickered in its holder on the night stand.
The man glanced up as Porthos stood in front of him and smiled. "Aramis my friend how are you feelign this day?
The big cadet grabbed two chairs and sat down in one, he ushered Athos to sit.
Aramis looked at him with a vacant stare, before forcing a sad looking smile.
"Hello mon ami...I am feeling somewhat better today...even though I cannot sleep well."
Aramis averted his eyes to the other young cadet.
"Who is your friend?
Porthos grined broadly. "This is Athos...he is a new recuit...I will be putting his through his paces on the morrow."
Athos eyed the man, he noticed that he had been reading the Bible when they entered the chamber. He was a very handsome looking man, but he could see the hidden anguish behind those brown eyes of his.
"I am pleased to make your acquaitance monsieur Aramis." said the young cadet.
Aramis nodded. "You too...Athos...are you from Paris?
Athos figited in his seat. "I come from a village just outside Paris monsieur, somewhere I would rather forget."
Porthos frowned."That bad hey?
The cadet side glanced the big man. "Lets just say I do not wish to speak of it."
Aramis and Porthos exchanged glances.
"Each man to his own I suppose." muttered Porthos.
"Indeed." muttered Athos.
"I believe doctor Vincent is permitting you some light duties mon ami? smiled Porthos glancing back at Aramis who was pulling up his knees to lean his arms on.
"I just want to stay here forever...I am thinking of resigning my commission."
Athos shot a glance at Porthos. The big mans features said it all.
"NO! NO! NO! why my friend...get that notion out of your head...you are needed here in the musketeer regiment. Besides who is gonna train me to shoot like you?
Aramis lifted his sad eyes and patted his friends knee. "You will soon be receiving your commission mon ami...you are going to make a fine musketeer...you do not need me."
Porthos frowned and cast a glance to Athos.
"There is nothing here for me now." murmered Aramis sadly. "They are all gone."
Athos hadn't failed to notice the tears in the musketeers eyes. The poor man was tormented with grief and guilt.
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To be continued...
Hi Guys,
Hope you like the new story so far.
Halfway through the next chapter I will be taking you back to 1630 five years on. That is were the person who was watching him at the funerals makes an appearance, and is ready to claim his revenge on him for the deaths of the men at Savoy.
All will make sense when you read it.
Please review, means alot.
Thank you
Pippa xxx