Chapter Two
'This weren't your fault.'
'I know, but if I had, even shouted out, you might not both be injured, and Aramis wouldn't be riding back to Paris alone,' said d'Artagnan quietly.
'Porthos is right, you were attacked, by surprise, by four men. None of us could have won against those odds.'
'The King is probably dead already, we have too much of a head start on you, don't see why you bothered sending a man to Paris. He won't be there in time.'
They all glared at the captive man who was now sat tied to a tree. Athos grabbed a spare bandage and walked over to the man who struggled against him. When Athos returned to sit by the fire the man was gagged and looked quite put out.
'Are you ready?' asked Athos as he picked up the needle.
Porthos nodded and leaned back to allow Athos to stitch the wound on his side. D'Artagnan nodded to Athos that he was ready and tightened his grip around his friend's arms. Porthos was notoriously bad at behaving when he received stitches, but they could not afford to knock him out. They needed him able to ride a horse once their medical needs had been dealt with. Porthos stiffened as the needle was pushed through his skin. Athos glanced up to see the man had screwed his eyes shut and was gritting his teeth against the pain.
By the time Athos had finished Porthos was sweating and on the verge of passing out. When d'Artagnan released him Porthos nearly crashed to the ground.
'Sorry,' whispered d'Artagnan as he grabbed the man and guided him back to lie down.
'No talking,' said Athos, 'Aramis was quite insistent. Porthos stay there for a few minutes, d'Artagnan can deal with me.'
Porthos nodded and remained where he was, panting slightly as he worked through the pain and composed himself a little. D'Artagnan left a water skin by him.
Athos quickly pulled the bandage from his arm and cleaned the wounds. He hissed in pain as he poured alcohol over his arm.
'The sooner we can get this done the sooner we can be on the road.'
'But Aramis would not appreciate us rushing the job,' Porthos managed to say as he sat himself up with a wince.
Athos watched as d'Artagnan readied another needle and thread. He watched as the needle was pushed through his skin, tensing up as it did so. He did not notice Porthos slowly moving around to sit behind him. The big musketeer slipped his arm around Athos' waist and pinned his uninjured arm to his side. D'Artagnan continued stitching. Athos knew he was close to passing out, but like Porthos fought against the feeling. But he felt light-headed by the time d'Artagnan cut the final stitch and wrapped a clean bandage around his forearm.
When he tried to stand he found Porthos forcing him to stay put.
'Now it's your turn to take a minute. You'll be no good to us if you start rushing around and pass out. Sit there for a few minutes. When you stop feelin' dizzy you can help us pack up.'
Athos nodded, he knew Porthos was correct. Much as he wanted to get on the road and follow Aramis there would be no point if one of them keeled over in the process. He watched as a pale d'Artagnan carefully repacked Aramis' medical kit away and tucked it into his saddlebag. Porthos had collected the rest of Aramis' gear, left in their friend's hasty departure. Porthos was moving quite gingerly, but he was up and moving which was as much as they could ask of the injured man. Of the three of them, Athos realised he was the one with the least injury, at least he was until d'Artagnan could shake off the headache and occasional dizzy spells he was obviously suffering from.
When they got back to the Palace, Athos would not be able to rely on either man in a fight with the assassin. But with luck, the assassin would have been dealt with by then.
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Aramis knew he could make the Palace in three hours, provided he paced the horse well. He intended to keep her moving at a steady pace for a couple of hours then allow her a drink at a lake they would pass before carrying on as fast as he could push her.
The situation was not ideal. With all three of his friends injured he knew he was the only one who could take on the current task. But at the time he wanted to look after their injuries. He knew that each of his friends were perfectly capable of sewing a wound or dealing with other simple injuries, but it did not stop him worrying.
Porthos would no doubt have complained about the stitches being put in, the man was quite pathetic when it came to dealing with pain. Athos would likely try to carry on as if he had not been injured, the cuts to his arm were not too bad but would cause him pain and discomfort. And d'Artagnan would probably be trying to talk and make the recovery to his voice take twice as long.
But, thought Aramis, his focus should be on the assassin, and the King. The idea of someone masquerading as a Musketeer and simply walking into the Palace unquestioned was a worrisome one. There had recently been several new Musketeers commissioned. Most of the longer standing members of the garrison would be recognised. But knowing that there would be new faces around, the people at the Palace would not question a uniformed soldier walking through. Only another Musketeer would know that the man was not one of their own. But the Musketeers currently at the Palace did not know to watch out for an infiltrator.
The quicker Aramis reached Paris, the better.
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'What are we going to do about him?' asked d'Artagnan, his voice still no more than a hoarse whisper.
'He'll 'ave to ride with one of us, my horse can manage two. Question is, do we want him conscious or not?'
D'Artagnan looked over at the sandy-haired man, who was out of earshot, but was watching them intently as they made their final preparations.
'We will leave him,' said Athos, 'we do not have the time. Once we are back at the Palace we can send someone to collect him, he will only be alone for a few hours. It is a risk I am prepared to take.'
Porthos nodded, 'don't tell 'im though.'
Athos sighed as he looked at Porthos, who was grinning, d'Artagnan could not help a smirk himself.
Porthos looked up at the saddle of his horse, d'Artagnan realised his problem and tapped him on the shoulder indicating he would give him a hand up.
'Not sure I like you quiet,' said Porthos as he allowed himself to be helped up onto the back of his horse. D'Artagnan shrugged his shoulders with a smile.
He crossed to Athos who was waiting for assistance, 'thank you,' he said when he had settled himself, 'you need to dictate the pace. I do not want you falling from your horse by allowing us to travel too fast, neither of us is in much shape to help you back up at the moment.'
D'Artagnan nodded, he had no intention of jeopardising their journey. They were all worried about Aramis, even though they knew he would not be alone when he reached the Palace there was still the chance that something could happen to him on the journey. The would-be assassin might lay in wait for him or recognise him at the palace and attack him before he had the chance to warn anyone of the danger.
'You could leave me,' suggested d'Artagnan.
He shrugged his shoulders again when both Athos and Porthos glared at him.
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Aramis dismounted and rushed towards the Palace. As he neared the closest entrance he saw Treville looking at him quizzically.
'There an assassin, coming here. He might already be here, he stole d'Artagnan's uniform, he'll look like a Musketeer.'
Treville took the information in quickly, he turned to the two Musketeers guarding the door.
'Pierre, get back to the garrison, muster every man you can find, bring them back here to start a search,' said Treville.
Pierre nodded and ran towards the stables to carry out his orders. Treville turned to the other waiting man.
'Barbotin, find the Red Guard captain, update him with what has happened, they are to search the grounds. Try to instil in him that I would rather he did not shoot every Musketeer he sees and tell us later that he thought it was the assassin. Stay with them, you know the newly commissioned men.'
Barbotin nodded and ran in the opposite direction, collecting two more Musketeers as he went.
'Where is the King?' asked Aramis as he fell into step beside Treville who was walking with urgency through the Palace.
'Probably still in his chambers…he will not be pleased to be disturbed so early. But his safety is paramount.'
They ascended to the first floor of the Palace and made their way to the King's private apartment. Treville nodded at the two men on the door who stood aside to allow him and Aramis to pass. Treville pushed the door open and entered the Kings chamber.
'I did not call for anyone,' snapped the King from across the room. He was stood at the window looking out.
'Sire, your life is in danger. There is an assassin.'
'There are assassin's everyday Treville, what makes this one different?'
The King turned and looked at them, both men bowed respectfully.
'This one is dressed as a Musketeer, Majesty, he may be able to enter the Palace unnoticed.'
The King's amused expression turned to one of annoyance, 'how was this allowed to happen?'
Treville did not have an answer to the question, the King looked to Aramis, who after a brief nod from Treville answered.
'We were attacked, Sire, d'Artagnan's uniform was taken from him. One of the attackers told us of the plan. I was sent to warn you.'
'You were attacked? You are supposed to be the best soldiers. You are my Musketeers.'
Aramis did not respond, he knew it was not his place to do so, despite wishing to tell the King exactly what he thought of the man.
'We will increase the guard, Sire. I insist on one of the longer serving Musketeers being at your side until we have caught the assassin. The longer serving men will recognise the assassin.'
'So, I am to be protected by the very people who allowed me to be in danger in the first place?'
Treville took a breath before answering, 'yes, Sire. Aramis will stay with you for now. A search is already being organised. Please, Sire, I will need you to remain in your chambers for now.'
The King sighed and waved Treville and Aramis away, 'very well. You can guard me from the door.'
Both men bowed and retreated. When they reached the doorway Aramis took up a position to the side of it.
'I'll have you relived in a couple of hours, if we have not caught the man by then. Where are the others?'
'They were all injured in the attack on us, nothing serious, but bad enough to slow them down. It may be another couple of hours before they get here.'
Treville nodded, before saying quietly, 'if he becomes difficult, send word to me and I will send you some help.'
Aramis smiled and nodded, 'let's hope we can catch the man before he has a chance to become difficult.'
MMMM
Four days after the assassin made his way to Paris and there was still no sign of an attempt on the Kings life.
D'Artagnan shifted slightly, as he stood by the door of the King's private study. Usual guard duty involved standing, generally in pairs outside a room. The two would be able to quietly talk which helped to pass the time. But this, on his own, with no one other the King was interminably boring. Treville had quickly realised that the men acting as close security for the King would need to be rotated frequently.
The King was tiring of the increased security and spent much of his time berating whichever unfortunate Musketeer was protecting him at any given time.
When Treville had given out their duties that morning, Porthos had slapped him on the back and wished him good luck. They had all taken, several turns now, but d'Artagnan was getting the brunt of the Kings ire. Aramis had been quite apologetic for telling the King whose uniform had been stolen. The day after the attack, when d'Artagnan was no longer suffering the effects of his near strangulation and had taken a turn at protective guard duty the King had spent a good hour criticising him for allowing himself to be attacked. Treville had offered to relieve him of the duty but d'Artagnan wanted to take his turn.
'I want to walk in the gardens.'
'Sire, you know that is impossible until we have finished searching.'
'It's been weeks now,' said the King grumpily, 'there is no assassin.'
'It's been four days, Sire, and the search is nearly completed. The Captain is considering reducing the number of guards.'
The King threw himself into a chair. He picked up a book, looked at it for a few seconds before tossing it back on the table he had found it.
'If you hadn't allowed someone to steal your uniform, this wouldn't be happening…are you going to be punished?'
D'Artagnan did not quite know how to answer the question. He had felt very guilty about being attacked and having his uniform stolen, but even he knew that there was nothing that he could have done about it.
The King smirked and said to himself, but deliberately loud enough for d'Artagnan to hear, 'I suppose being stuck in here with me is punishment enough.'
D'Artagnan found himself agreeing.
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A week later and Aramis settled himself by the door of the Kings study. Treville had deemed it long enough for the guard to be stood down the following day. The search had been fruitless. Aramis was glad the close guard duty had lasted as long as it had. Porthos had been quite smug for the first few days when his injury was still causing him problems and he could not complete a turn with the King. Aramis wondered if Treville had added a few extra days guard duty deliberately so that Porthos would be forced to take a turn. The big Musketeer had not looked happy when Aramis had relieved him two hours before.
The door opened, and Aramis instinctively put his hand to his sword. Two servants entered the room carrying trays. They crossed to the table beside the seat the King was sat in. They served him his drink and food before stepping back a few paces waiting to be dismissed.
When the door was pushed open again, with force, Aramis knew it was not right. He pulled his sword and stepped forward to meet the latest arrival. The man wore the uniform of a Musketeer, but Aramis recognised d'Artagnan's pauldron by the scratches on it caused by Porthos during a particularly enthusiastic sparring match a few weeks before.
The man had already levelled a gun towards the King who did not seem to have noticed the danger he was in. Aramis yelled a warning, causing the assassin to turn slightly towards Aramis as he fired the gun. The shot buried itself into the back of a chair a few feet to the left of the King. The two servants ducked down, terrified. The King merely stared in shock at the drama playing itself out in front of him.
The assassin retreated a few yards whilst pulling another gun from his belt. Aramis was closer to the King, and knew he had no choice but to act as a human shield. He rushed forward and grabbed the King firmly, pulling him from his chair, and propelled him towards another door.
'Move,' Aramis said as he turned back to the assassin who was struggling to get a clear shot.
The King was uncoordinated in his movements, but managed to make his way to the door with Aramis keeping a firm hold on his arm, keeping the monarch in front of him.
The assassin fired his second gun.
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