Chapter Two
"Why kill a stable boy? He's not important... none of them have been important. He had nothing worth taking, and the others weren't robbed… This is killing for killing's sake." Aramis picked at his food halfheartedly.
They sat at the bench in the garrison, eating their meals, trying to figure things out… In truth a murder closer to home had shaken them all a little.
"Maybe it's not the same killer. This breaks the pattern entirely. A different victim, a different method of killing, and the body was disposed of. He has not bothered before…" Athos had paid a trip to the morgue earlier, where it was revealed Pierre had been killed by a blow to the head. There was no question that he died before going into the river.
"And what is more likely? That we have two killers on the loose in Paris?"
Porthos gave an amused grunt. "We probably have more than that. People are killed in the Court every day of the week. The only reason we know about this one is it happened to one of our own."
Aramis ran a tired hand through his hair. "Porthos… I do not wish to cast aspersions on your previous home or friends…"
"Oh, cast away, I know what they are." Porthos interjected with a sad smile.
"... but the inhabitants of the Court do tend towards the more criminal side of the fence. Those killings, as unsavoury as they are, have motives behind them. Unpaid debts, grudges, robberies… What is the motive here? Pierre was a simple boy leading a simple life, he had no enemies and nobody who would gain by his death."
The boy's sister and friends had all been questioned. Pierre was well liked, he kept his nose out of trouble, and there seemed to be no reason at all why anybody would want him dead. Once again they had hit a brick wall.
"Well gentlemen, d'Artagnan and I must be on our way, guard duty at the palace awaits…" Athos shot a look between Aramis and Porthos. "You two had better get what sleep you can if you're on patrol tonight. Keep your eyes open and report back anything out of the ordinary, if a rat so much as sneezes strangely I want to know about it - need I remind you Treville has given us only a few days more to keep this up?"
Aramis looked up from his plate, worry creasing his face. "Do you think the murders might start again once we've stopped the extra patrols?"
"I don't know, and I don't want to find out. So keep alert."
~oOo~
Athos and d'Artagnan were just returning to the garrison as Porthos and Aramis were making to leave.
"Have you seen Maret? He was meant to be on guard duty with us." Athos led his horse into a stable and started untacking. "He didn't turn up..."
"Not since muster this morning. He wasn't looking that well though, I noticed he was at the inn late last night. Think he went home to sleep it off?" Porthos' hands paused at his horse's girth strap as he turned to exchange a worried glance with Athos.
"We checked his lodgings, his landlady said she hadn't seen him since he left for the garrison."
A moment of uneasy silence passed around the stable. They were all imagining another body washing up along the Seine.
Athos cleared his throat before speaking again. "I'll go out and look for him, check along the river bank."
At that Aramis left his horse and came along the row of stables to face Athos. "We'll look, we're on patrol anyway, we might as well go down to the river. You go home and get some sleep, you look ready to drop."
Athos couldn't disguise the shadows beneath his eyes. This whole business and the extra patrols had them all feeling worn thin. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep knowing he's missing."
"Then stop here and have a look around the garrison, maybe he's fallen asleep in a corner somewhere. Plus you'll be here in case he returns…" Aramis put a gentle hand to his arm "... but please humour me and get a bit of sleep when you've done."
At that Athos gave a tired nod and relinquished the search to his friends.
Once mounted Porthos and Aramis made their way to the river bank. A full moon lit the water and silvered waves lapped gently against the shallow bank. A shiver ran through Aramis, and he pulled his cloak tighter to guard against the night's chill. Every discarded sack melted into a fallen body. It reminded him of the way broken trees in the snow became his brothers. Cracked birch branches reached out like skeletal hands, until Aramis shook his head and reality righted itself. He did so now and the debris of Paris took its place innocuously on the bank, lying there as if it had never been anything else.
Much to the musketeer's relief there were no bodies to be found, and so they turned their attention back to the streets of Paris. Everybody Porthos and Aramis came across was given a thorough questioning, but the streets were quiet for the most part. Nobody wanted to be out after hours when there was a murderer on the loose. Suddenly a great crash sounded from a back alley they were passing. Aramis leapt from his horse and brandished his sword in an instant.
"Stay where you are! Show yourself!" He bellowed as he charged down the alley with Porthos following close behind.
They came to an abrupt halt on finding a startled cat standing by a fallen crate. It paused for only a moment before fleeing at the sight of the two men ready for action.
Aramis let out a huff of breath in amusement. "It's just a cat."
Porthos gave a wry grin and sheathed his sword. "Think we'll have to report it to Athos?"
"Oh I don't think this is out of the ordinary enough. We had an excellent mouser at home when I was younger, it always seemed to take great delight in knocking things over."
The young musketeer stepped forwards to place the crate back on the pile it had come from. He stalled and let it go. The crate crashed at his feet, but the sound seemed to come from far away. Aramis' breath had caught in his throat.
There was a foot protruding from behind the pile…
As Aramis slowly walked around to the other side, his heart fell through his feet. "Oh no…"
Concealed behind the crates, Maret was lying propped up against the wall. Blood blossomed from a point in his chest and it had run to pool on the ground beneath him. Beside him lay his dagger, dipped in red. His eyes were open and as vacant as Amelie's had been. Aramis wanted to turn away, but he felt fixed to the spot, staring as intently as Maret. He felt Porthos draw alongside him. The man was a steady comforting presence. He placed a hand on Aramis' shoulder and seemed to deflate with a sigh.
"Maret… He didn't deserve this." Aramis felt the hand at his shoulder tighten. "When we find the killer, I'm going to-"
"No. He's going to hang." Aramis interrupted, his voice was hard, though tainted with sorrow. "He's going to hang, and we're all going to watch."
The hand disappeared from his shoulder as Porthos turned away with a growl.
Aramis tried to tear his eyes away, but he couldn't… Moonlight reflected against the pooled blood just as it had touched the river. He stood transfixed by the bright points in the dark ichor.
"Hang on, what's this?"
Porthos broke Aramis from his vigil. The young musketeer turned to find Porthos picking up a strip of parchment a few feet from the body. There was a visible scrawl across it.
"What does it say?" Aramis asked.
Instead of reading it, Porthos handed the parchment to Aramis with a look that said he was more than a little disturbed.
"The Lord has prepared his people for a great slaughter and has chosen their executioners…" Aramis licked his dry lips. "It's a bible verse."
"What man of God would do this?"
"I don't know…" Aramis answered quietly. "We need to find Athos."
~oOo~
The same frustrating lack of leads surrounded Maret's death. There was no reason for it... There was no reason for any of the killings. It left Aramis irritable. He patrolled the streets at night kindling anger in his heart. He wanted to cross paths with the killer so that he might let his fists fly and release his mounting wrath.
One thing they did have was the note. With a religious connection the musketeers had set about visiting churches and questioning the priests. Not one had noticed any suspicious people amongst their flock. Nor would they break the inviolable seal of confession to reveal any telling sins.
It added to the frustration, but something in Aramis wouldn't allow himself to get angry at a priest. Instead he channeled his anger towards finding the killer. With a musketeer dead Treville had allowed their night patrols to continue, and Aramis stalked the streets with a renewed zeal.
"Keep up!" Aramis cursed under his breath.
Porthos, Athos and d'Artagnan were attending other duties, which left Aramis on patrol with one of the newer recruits - Allais. He was nowhere near as enthusiastic as Aramis. Perhaps he hadn't been with the regiment long enough to feel that sense of brotherhood and anger at one of their own being killed.
"I thought I saw-" Allais gasped as he jogged up to Aramis' side.
"What? What did you see?" Aramis stopped and rounded on him.
"Nothing, it was nothing. Just a shadow."
Aramis growled and stalked onwards, only slowing as they came across a man up ahead leaning against a wall. He seemed to be watching a window.
"He's up to something… tread carefully." Aramis tried to move into a position around the corner where they could watch without being seen, but he was too late. The man took a surreptitious look about him and set off at a brisk walk on spotting the two musketeers.
Once again Aramis swore colourfully. "Let's follow him, don't be too obvious now."
As they walked the streets the man kept snatching glances over his shoulder. He drew his cloak about him and pulled his hat down to conceal as much of his face as he could.
"Look at him, he doesn't want to be seen." Aramis whispered under his breath.
Allais nodded and followed eagerly.
The suspicious stranger wound a circuitous route about the city, and then he ducked down a back alley.
A predatory grin took Aramis' face. "I'm done with this cat and mouse game. Allais, you follow after him and I'll cut around to head him off. We'll have him trapped like a rat."
Aramis set off at a jog after giving Allais a push towards the darkened alleyway. Eventually he rounded a corner and nearly crashed into the man they were pursuing. The stranger had been running, his breath came hard and fast like a scared rabbit. Aramis took a hold of him and dashed the man against the wall.
Between breaths he managed to gasp out terrified words. "It's not me! I didn't do it!"
"What didn't you do?!" Aramis roared.
"I haven't killed anyone!"
"Then what were you doing lurking about under that window?"
"My wife… I was watching my wife. She's having an affair with the butcher. He left his ring on the bedside table… See…" He fished a ring out of his pocket and waved it at Aramis.
The young musketeer snatched it up for a cursory examination before going on to give him a more thorough search. Now seeing the man close up he didn't seem the killing sort. His manner reminded Aramis of Bonacieux, he didn't even carry a weapon.
"My apologies Monsieur… Perhaps you should consider what you can do to make your wife happier at home, hmm? Now be on your way."
Aramis gave the man a push towards the street and turned back to the alley with a litany of 'thank you's echoing behind him.
"Allais?" The lad should have caught up… the alley wasn't that long.
Surely he hadn't gotten himself lost? There was only one way in and one way out as far as Aramis knew… but it would be like Allais to get himself into trouble. Aramis had rescued him from a humiliating defeat at the hands of the Red Guard not too long ago. They were ducking his head into a pig trough.
"Allais?" Aramis shouted again as he walked down the alleyway. A note of fear unfurled in his heart.
And turning a corner there he was. Spread eagle on his back in the half light. A sword impaled the young man through the middle and his face was frozen in a silent scream.
Aramis ran to his side and dropped down, hands hovering awkwardly over the body, unsure where to touch… whether to touch… He suddenly felt guilty at being so harsh with Allais. They should have stuck together, he should have protected the lad.
As he knelt there, struggling through hitched breaths, Aramis noticed a length of parchment held in place by the blade. He looked the rapier up and down, from it's elegant swept hilt to where the point disappeared in Allais' body… the parchment sat slightly bloodstained above the wound. And suddenly it reminded him of something else. Aramis recalled the relentless rain… he knelt before a sword standing upright in Marsac's grave.
Shaking his head, Aramis reached out to pull the parchment away. Scrawled across it were words slightly obscured by red, but it was clear enough to read.
Cursed be he that doeth the work of the Lord negligently, and cursed be he that keepeth back his sword from blood.
From somewhere far away screams filtered through the trees… Aramis shook his head again. There were no trees here, just walls. Brick and stone... no wood. There was blood though. So much blood. Spattered, spread and pooling… Cold grey faces, frozen, with staring eyes. Just as Allais stared now. Aramis sat back and clasped his hands before him, his eyes locked on to Allais' greying face and he tried to suppress a sob... He should have done something. He should have protected them… What use was being a soldier if he could not protect his brothers?
Time passed, Aramis was not aware of it. Minutes turned into hours, but they were of no consequence... Not unless they could turn backwards and bring the dead back to life. Eventually there were voices and hands pulling at him, but he pushed them all away with a growl. In the end a warm hand took his shoulder, and Aramis seemed to melt at the contact.
"Come on… Come away. You can leave him now, we've got him."
Finally Aramis turned his eyes away from Allais and looked up to find the familiar face of Porthos.
~oOo~
Later that morning Aramis sat in bed staring at the wall, watching the most fascinating of nothing. Around him there was a conversation going on he would greatly liked to have been part of, but he just couldn't find the words…
"He's still a bit shaken. Don't think he'll be up for doing duties today." Porthos offered as Athos stood warily at the door.
"Very well, will you stop with him? I have to speak with Treville."
"Of course, he'll probably be all right in an hour or so." Porthos looked his way. Aramis could practically feel the worry coming off him in waves. "He hasn't been like this since… well, you know."
"If you need anything, let me know. When he's…" Athos seemed to struggle to find the right words, he tried again. "When he's... more himself, we'll be heading back to make a few enquiries of the locals. Will you join us if you feel able?"
"I will."
Aramis heard the sound of the door as Athos left, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the wall. Nor could he tell how much time had passed before he was able to speak. His voice was faint when he used it.
"I'm sorry… I'm keeping you from your duties."
"Not at all." Porthos reached out to squeeze his knee. "Anyway, you're part of my duties. You were out there… will you tell me what happened? If you can."
Aramis swallowed heavily and gave a stiff nod. "We were following a man… Allais went after him down an alley and I headed around the other side to cut him off. I caught him... he'd been watching his wife… affair with the butcher you see." Aramis pulled out the ring to show Porthos as if it would prove his point and tell its own story.
Clumsily Aramis put it away again, and then he drifted off for a moment, caught by the way faint dust motes danced in the thin light from the window.
"Aramis?" Porthos prompted.
He started suddenly. "I didn't hear any screaming… Not from him. Not from now."
"The man you followed, what happened to him?" Porthos tried to guide Aramis back to his previous train of thought.
"I let him go… He wasn't a killer, hadn't got it in him. And then I went to find Allais… he was screaming, but I didn't hear anything."
"I know... was that how you found him? Did you touch anything?"
"Impaled on his own sword… That's how I found him. 'Cursed be he that doeth the work of the Lord negligently, and cursed be he that keepeth back his sword from blood.' It was written… impaled with him…" Aramis fished around in his pocket and drew out the parchment.
Porthos took it delicately and read the stained words with a frown.
"Athos needs to see this. Will you be alright while I find him?"
"Yes… Go... Don't let me keep you. This killer needs catching."
Porthos looked at him uncertainly. Aramis hated that look, it was the one he always used when the young musketeer insisted he was fine and Porthos thought differently.
Aramis gave his arm a reassuring pat. "I'll be alright. I won't move from the bed, I promise you."
"If I find you up and about, questioning folk…" He left the threat hanging in midair.
Aramis gave him the most innocent smile he could summon. Porthos didn't seem convinced, but he left all the same.
True to his word Aramis remained in bed. He slept the hours away. Aramis expected to be woken by Porthos soon after taking to his sheets. However it was dark when he heard the door to his room open. Someone set about lighting a candle, and then they gave Aramis a slight shake, bringing him to wakefulness completely. He winced slightly, feeling a pull at his ribs… He couldn't remember receiving a blow there, but unexplained aches and pains were part of a soldier's life.
The young musketeer blinked heavily and struggled to focus on the face flickering above him in the candlelight. The face coalesced into Athos' grim features. Porthos slipped in behind him.
Aramis sat up and stifled a yawn. "What is it?"
"There's been another killing. Paquin was stabbed in his bed... run through with his own dagger. This was left behind." Athos held out another piece of stained parchment. The words were messier, but still legible…
'I will send the sword to kill, the dogs to drag away, the vultures to devour, and the wild animals to finish up what is left.'