GREATEST LEGACY
CHAPTER ONE: PONT VIEUX
A/N: This story takes place sometime during or after season 3, as Athos is Captain of the Musketeers and Tréville is Minister of War.
Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you.
Shannon L. Alder, Author
The greatest legacy one can pass on to one's children and grandchildren is not money or material things accumulated in life, but rather a legacy of character.
Billy Graham
The ground shook violently beneath the Musketeer's feet as the air above them filled with deadly projectiles of stone and iron; screams echoed under the stone bridge where the men took refuge from the deadly barrage. The same stone piers the men sought protection behind became an object of destruction as pieces of stone broken by the iron balls tore into the flesh of the Musketeers.
Hellfire from a multitude of cannon rained down on the company of men, bringing terror from the skies as the grapeshot hit the ground then exploded into daggers of stone and metal stabbing into nearby trees and flesh of men alike, while the solid balls barreled through everything in their path.
"Spread out!" Captain Athos yelled to his company. "I want you men to take cover evenly behind the piers with five or six men on each side—don't bunch up."
"You heard the captain," Porthos yelled out, his voice echoing through the archway. "Spread out," he waved his arms toward the end of the bridge.
Athos ducked low as another canister exploded, sending metal shards flying through the air, embedding shards deep into the walls.
"Keep low to the ground; don't give them an easy target!" Athos had to yell over the cacophony of noise echoing under the bridge. The roar of combat was deafening in open fields, but under the bridge the sounds were intensified as the echoes bounced between the walls of stone.
The men began to thin out, low-crawling through the dirt and grass to new positions inside the three archways stretched out over a tiny slice of land between the river and the canal. Athos looked at his three friends and, though he wanted his brothers near him, he ordered them away.
"You three need to spread out," he motioned to the archways ahead. "I don't want us all bunched up together. If something should happen, I don't want all of us. . ." the captain couldn't finish.
"Captain, someone should stay close by you. . ." d'Artagnan began but was cut off.
"No, spread out," the captain ordered the three men. "'Mis, look after the wounded, carefully, and don't get yourself hit. . . or we're all in trouble," Athos muttered under his breath.
Aramis observed his captain and shook his head. He knew his friend well enough to notice the worry from their dire situation deeply etched into his handsome features and he couldn't hold back the sigh.
How do we always end up in situations like this? Go to Castelnaudary and find out what is going on with Minister Tréville and General Turenne in Carcassonne. It couldn't be something as simple as the messenger got busy and hasn't returned the message yet? No, nothing ever is so simple with us. Aramis thought angrily to himself.
A new barrage of cannon and gunfire erupted, pulling Aramis from his angry thoughts to awaken him again in the hell he was trapped in. "Captain, I have no medical supplies with me," Aramis reported grimly. "I had to bail from the horse in such a hurry; I didn't have time to grab my satchel—Dammit!"
Athos nodded, but said nothing. No words were needed as he closed his eyes and shook his head at the news. "Do what you can with whatever means you find available," Athos ordered quietly in the lull of noise.
The lull didn't last long. Pieces of shrapnel from the exploding canisters mixed with a rain of Spanish arquebus and musket balls, all zeroed in on movement under the bridge. "If it keeps up like this, treating the wounded won't make a damn bit of difference—we're all going to be dead," the medic grumbled defiantly.
"Just go help the wounded," Athos ordered tiredly. "Stay low, we can't afford to lose you."
"Right," Aramis muttered as he low-crawled away to a man moaning in pain, two arches beyond.
A shower of lead and iron suddenly kicked up spouts of water, splashing over the men on the outside archway near the canal. The small island the Musketeers had clambered to for safety sat between the Aude River and its oxbow canal, surrounding the men with water on three sides.
The storm of metal landing in the water gave the appearance of raindrops. The swirling and splashing of the water reminded d'Artagnan of a school of fish in a feeding frenzy.
The young Musketeer stared at the water in amazement as his mind wandered back to when he was a boy growing up on his family farm in Lupiac of Gascony.
"Are you sure you're ready to stay on the river so long, son?" Alexandre d'Artagnan asked his young son, Charles. "We're going to be out there for hours; it is why we're bringing our lunch today."
"Oui, Père, I'm ready to spend the day with the fishes."
Alexandre laughed. "Alright then, son, let's go—the fish are waiting."
d'Artagnan fondly remembered tossing in chunks of freshly baked bread just to watch the fish swarm to their boat and fight over the pieces of bread. He would sit amazed at the activity in the water as an engaging feeding frenzy ensued. . .
"d'Artagnan, get moving!" Porthos yelled from behind as he pushed on the young man's boots to get his attention. The large Musketeer watched as the Gascon stopped to watch the water, seemingly in a trance, while oblivious to the fragments kicking up dirt around where the men lay.
"What. . .?" d'Artagnan asked in a daze.
"You can daydream later, whelp, but now is not the time," Porthos shoved at the Gascon's feet again. "I'm stuck ou' in the open back 'ere!"
d'Artagnan quickly low-crawled to the last pier, just before the bank of the canal. "Hurry up, Porthos!" the Gascon cried to his friend as a canister exploded nearby, kicking up clouds of dust and dirt. He threw himself against the wall, hugging the ground closely, as pieces of metal buzzed through the archway like a swarm of angry bees.
Porthos took the right side of the archway, opposite of where d'Artagnan lay huddled close to the curved wall on the left. The two friends were no more than twenty feet apart but it might as well have been a city block.
Most of the Musketeers were hugging the ground, while others were standing flush with the pier's outer walls facing south, opposite of the cannon barrage. Suddenly, a fired grapeshot exploded, wounding two men with a spray of lead balls.
Athos then realized that his men were surrounded and were being targeted from positions held on higher ground near the fortified city, exposing both sides of the bridge to danger.
"Get away from the piers," the captain yelled to men. "Take cover inside the archways and stay down, as close to the walls as you can. Stay away from the ends where they can see you—they have us under surveillance and they see our every move. Dammit!" Athos cursed over the thundering din.
"We're going to have to dig in here," Aramis yelled to Athos. "Unless we can cross the canal and take cover behind those trees," the medic pointed to a grove of trees just right of the bridge.
"No, the Spaniards would cut us to pieces," Athos countered. "It appears they have the high ground all around us. Every time we make a move, they have their mark on us," the captain shook his head angrily. "We're safer if we stay here; the bridge should protect us fairly well enough."
"Unless they try demolishing the bridge… and us along with it," Aramis added with obvious agitation at their predicament.
"Well, if we stay under here long enough, that's a strong possibility."
"How are we going to get out of here?" Aramis asked.
"Since it's quite evident that they have us under surveillance, we're going to have to wait until dark before we can make a move." Athos carefully studied the walled city just up the hill from the bridge.
"So close," Aramis followed his captain's eyes to the fortress sitting atop the hill, "yet so far away."
"We don't know where the enemy is positioned exactly or how many are out there." Athos scanned the scenery outside the archway and frowned. "In fact, it would be better if I sent out a scout team tonight to reconnoiter first; they can determine if there is a safe path into Carcassonne."
"And until then. . .?"
"Until then, we dig in," Athos resolved, his jaw set. "Men, keep your heads down and don't give them an easy target," the captain yelled loudly enough for all the Musketeers to hear. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes sir," echoed the answer from down the line.
"God help us," Aramis muttered as he crossed himself.
Earlier, Castelnaudary:
"Captain Athos, five days ago I sent a messenger to General Henri de Turenne and Minister Tréville in the city of Carcassonne for a status report on their plans for my army. I need to know whether I will be leading my troops into Spain for an attack and, if attack is imminent, I need the general's planned route and target locations." Lieutenant General François de Créquy pounded his fist down on the desk.
Athos stood at attention, keeping his eyes forward, as he quietly listened to the young general rant angrily.
"I haven't heard back from Carcassonne and I can't move my troops until I have word from the general and the minister of what their plans are," the French army commander scrubbed a hand down his face.
"Sir, I can take a company of Musketeers to Carcassonne to determine the status of Minister Tréville and General de Turenne, if you would have us go," Captain Athos offered.
"Yes, Captain, take your Musketeers into Carcassonne and send back a messenger with the general's orders as soon as possible."
"Sir, it is possible that the enemy has troops in the area and your messengers were taken hostage," Athos studied the map. "I would like to take about thirty of my men," he paused, "just in case we run into any problems."
"Thirty men should be sufficient, since we know not of the situation down there," de Créquy nodded. "But if you run across the enemy, chances are that you will be greatly outnumbered. According to General Turenne's orders, I cannot move my troops unless I hear from Carcassonne."
"Understood," the captain nodded.
"Captain," the general continued, "should you need our help—if Carcassonne is under attack—send a messenger requesting help and I will come with my troops immediately. Communication is imperative, Captain. I must know what General de Turenne and Minister Tréville want me to do with my troops."
"Very well, sir," Captain Athos turned to leave. "I will form up my company and we will leave at once."
Later, Pont Vieux, Carcassonne:
Captain Athos and his small company of Musketeers rode south toward the walled city of Carcassonne without incident until they reached the Pont Vieux crossing over the Aude River.
As the Musketeers arrived at the bridge, a musket ball whizzed by the ear of Captain Athos and hit the man riding behind him. Another ball zipped by d'Artagnan's head, who ducked as another ball flew past.
"Who the hell is shootin' at us?" Porthos yelled as a ball flew past him, he ducked to the side and crouched low.
"I don't know but. . ." Athos began but was cut off as a grapeshot ball exploded nearby, sending a cluster of lead balls zipping dangerously close to both horses and Musketeers with lightning speed.
"Dismount and take cover under the bridge!" the captain ordered his men.
The Musketeers flew out of the saddles and ran to the safety of the arched bridge as the horses ran off in a fright the opposite direction. The men bunched up in a horde around the first arch of the bridge, attracting the fire of the Spanish cannon and muskets now zeroed in on their position.
"We need to spread out," yelled Porthos to the captain, "or we're all going to be killed!"
"How deep is the river?" d'Artagnan asked aloud but received only shrugs and a shake of the head from Porthos and Aramis in response.
"It's not that deep," the captain said. Actually, he didn't really know the depth of the water but swimming across the river to safety sure beat sitting idle, exposed to the enemy's lethal gunfire and cannon shot.
"Follow me," Captain Athos ordered as he stepped into the water. "Keep your powder and weapons above water; it appears the river is only waist deep."
Aramis followed directly behind Athos, holding his powder horn and pistols in his hands as he crossed. Porthos and d'Artagnan, and the remainder of the uninjured men followed behind, some ducking under water as musket balls splashed into the river.
Porthos and d'Artagnan hugged the stone pier as musket balls whizzed by and splashed into the water and the muddy riverbank.
"Go on, hurry up!" Porthos ordered the men behind him to go on around him. The large Musketeer exchanged worried glances with the Gascon as they watched two Musketeers writhing and sinking in the water after being shot.
"You get Huguet," d'Artagnan yelled to Porthos, "and I'll get Auzenne." The young Musketeer waded out to the wounded men only to be stopped short by a strong grip to his arm.
"If we go out there to rescue them, it's suicide," Porthos growled. "Bloody hell, we can't leave 'em though either. Dammit!" The large man rushed into the water to retrieve Huguet, only to see the man's body jump as two musket balls hit their target from somewhere in the trees.
"Dammit to hell!" Porthos yelled as he swam quickly back to the safety of the riverbank and the stone pier. He turned to find d'Artagnan pulling Auzenne behind him by an arm just as a ball hit the Gascon in the upper arm, causing him to lose grip on the wounded Musketeer.
"Damn!" the Gascon cursed but managed to reach out and catch the Musketeer as he started to float away. Suddenly, a ball hit the downed man in the head with a sickening thud. "God, no!" d'Artagnan cried as he fell backward and began to sink under the water.
Porthos leaped into the water after his friend, grabbing him by the collar to stop him from being carried downriver by the current. "I've got you," the large man sputtered as he tried keeping his own head above the water as d'Artagnan splashed and fought against the hand pulling him. "Stop fighting me, pup, I've got you."
d'Artagnan stopped fighting and allowed himself to be pulled by Porthos to the riverbank and the safety of the bridge. The large man dragged himself and the Gascon out of the water to crouch low behind the stone pier on the grassy island. They sadly watched as Huguet and Auzenne were caught by the current, their dead bodies floated away without last rites or ceremony.
"Get behind the piers, into the archways," yelled Athos to the men. "Don't crowd together—spread out," he ordered.
Present Time, Pont Vieux, Carcassonne:
"I hope the scouts will find a way to get into the walled city tonight," Aramis sighed. "I don't know how long we will last, pinned down like this."
"We're low on ammunition. . ." Athos stopped himself. He closed his eyes and sighed at the desperate situation he and his men have found themselves in but, for the sake of the men, as captain, he must appear strong. If this situation was meant to be a test of his leadership skills, Athos didn't know if he would have the ability to get his men out of this seemingly impossible predicament alive.
The captain ached with the pressure of command, knowing the weight of his decisions meant life or death for his men. Whether he was ready for it or not, Athos held the lives and the welfare of the remaining Musketeers in his hands. The captain determined that he would do everything possible to get these men to Carcassonne alive, but groaned knowing they were in for the fight of their lives—in every literal sense.
A/N:
Pont Vieux: In 1315, construction began on the Pont Vieux, crossing the Aude River just in front of the old walled city of Carcassonne, France. The bridge has 13 arches, varying in diameter from 10 to 14 meters. It is known that two arches collapsed in 1436, and were restored. In 1559 and thereafter, several changes have been made without the original character of the bridge being affected. The 1820 restoration of the original shape of the bridge was the most affected change—evidently, there was a large bridgehead on the left bank that was torn down. The grassy island between the river and the canal remains unchanged from the earliest of time, from the photos I've checked. Every year on Bastille Day, they have a grand fireworks display over Carcassonne and you can watch the display ON the bridge and surrounding area, with 100,000 of your closest friends!
Bridge terminology:
Pier: A pier, in architecture, is an upright support or column for a structure such as an arch or a bridge. The Arc de Triomphe in Paris is supported by 4 massive planar piers.
