Reconciliation
Chapter Two
For four days life returned to normal and Aramis began to forget his suspicions that something was wrong with Porthos. They had just finished an afternoon training the newest recruits to the regiment. Athos was watching d'Artagnan teach a class in sword craft when Aramis joined him.
"His skills are growing," Aramis observed.
"He has a natural ability. Treville believes mentoring the recruits will help to hone his skills further."
Aramis observed for a while, critically appraising their newest brethren. "Raw but promising," he said. "Their shooting, on the other hand, is going to take a lot of work."
"As is their hand to hand combat," Athos said drily, indicating the sorry bunch who'd had the misfortune of training with Porthos. Not one of them had escaped unscathed.
"It is perhaps unfair to expect them to fight our friend. We can't even best him and we have been training against him for years."
"A soldier has to be able to take a punch as well as deliver one. It is as important to be able to get up and continue to fight as it is to knock your opponent to the floor."
"True and it looks like they have been getting a lot of experience in that." Aramis smiled sympathetically as a particularly morose young man hobbled past him.
"Well I believe we are done for the day. What say you to dinner at the Wren?"
"It will certainly make a change from Serge's cooking." Aramis beckoned to d'Artagnan. "Enough for today. You can humiliate them again tomorrow."
D'Artagnan caught the towel that Athos threw at him and wiped the back of his neck. It had been a hot afternoon and he had worked the recruits hard. "They are improving," he said as he joined his friends. "Soon they will be able to hold their own against the Red Guards."
"That's not much of an achievement," Aramis said.
D'Artagnan shrugged. "They have to start somewhere."
Porthos deposited the final recruit on his back before wandering over, grinning broadly. "That wasn't much of a challenge."
"No-one is much of challenge for you," Athos said. "Even when it's two on one you usually manage to win."
"Well now that our duties are over for the day Athos has suggested that we retire to the Wren."
Porthos' gaze skittered away. "You go. I've got things to do."
Aramis frowned. "Your mysterious nocturnal wanderings again. I thought we were past that."
"You'd understand if you knew," Porthos said defensively.
"Then tell us," Aramis begged.
"I can't so stop askin'."
Athos gripped Aramis' sleeve and shook his head in warning.
"Very well, my friend. We will see you in the morning," Aramis said.
Porthos looked relieved as he took his leave and walked out of the garrison. Aramis barely waited for him to reach the street before turning to Athos and d'Artagnan.
"Something is wrong. I'm going to follow him."
"Whatever he is doing it is clear he doesn't want us involved," Athos said.
"Which is precisely why I'm worried. I will join you at the Wren later."
Aramis stayed well back from Porthos who was acting in a highly suspicious manner. More than once he thought his friend had seen him only to relax when Porthos continued on his way. They progressed from the main thoroughfare to an intricate maze of alleys by which time Aramis had a bad feeling about where they were going. The area around the Court of Miracles was still patrolled by the red guards but Porthos evaded them easily. Aramis came to a halt at the entrance to an alley and watched as his best friend disappeared into the Court.
Now he understood why Porthos had been so secretive. Aramis' last experience of the Court had been as a beaten prisoner, held to ransom at the whim of Porthos' old friend, Flea. His memories were of nothing other than cruelty and pain. Following his rescue Porthos had disassociated himself from Flea, claiming that he no longer had any feelings for the denizens of the Court. Aramis had believed him and now that was shown to be a lie. He felt a surge of anger so strong that he began to shake. In all the years he had known Porthos he had never expected betrayal. He knew that Porthos had once been romantically involved with Flea and wondered if he had rekindled that relationship. The thought of his best friend lying with the woman who had ordered his abduction made him feel physically sick. Well, he would have the truth now. He rested his shoulder against the wall and waited.
TMTMTM
Porthos was well known within the streets comprising the Court of Miracles. His presence was treated with wariness instead of the outright hostility that had greeted him on his first visit back to the scene of his childhood after Aramis' rescue. Flea had sent for him, much to his surprise. On that occasion he had demanded an explanation from her for Aramis' abduction. Her response had surprised him. She claimed that she had never expected him and his friends to steal the tax money. What she had wanted was to gain his attention in the hope that the Musketeers could help find a way to alleviate the dire conditions in the Court. That had all come to naught when her men, contrary to her orders, had beaten Aramis so badly that he had nearly died. When Porthos and the others arrived to rescue their stricken comrade they had been in no mood to offer assistance, despite the fact that people were ill due to poison in the food.
When he answered her summons out of curiosity and a need to confront her about Aramis' treatment she had taken his hand and led him through the streets. Rochefort's blockade was doing its deadly work. It was the children and the old who were suffering the most. It had opened his eyes and his heart and he found himself asking what he could do to help. Thanks to his experience as a soldier he was now a good strategist and he had come up with ways to avoid the blockade so that food could be brought in. It troubled his conscience knowing that the food was stolen but times were desperate. Now he came to help distribute the food.
As he walked he thought about his friends. Athos and d'Artagnan had a distaste for the Court after what had happened with Aramis. Aramis himself had been deeply traumatised by his ordeal and Porthos would never want to put his friend in the position of having to relive those days. No, it was better to keep his visits a secret.
He arrived at the building where Flea held court. He walked past the guards and into the large room where he found Flea sitting on the dusty ground surrounded by children. All were listening to her with rapt attention as she described how to pick a pocket. He drew back into the shadows to watch her. The wariness that marred her features was utterly absent and her face was lit with a rare smile as she looked fondly at the youngsters. When she sent them off she ruffled the hair of many of them and offered hugs to the youngest ones.
Porthos chuckled. "You'd make a good mother," he said, walking into the light.
"How long were you watching?" she asked, standing and brushing dust from her skirts.
"Long enough to know you love them all. Why let yourself get so attached?"
She walked over to him, her hips swaying gently. "Do you remember what it was like growing up without parents?"
The smile left Porthos' face. "Not somethin' you forget."
"Then you have your answer. Most of them are either orphans or have parents who are sick or addicted to drugs. Add to that the ever present hunger and they need to know that someone cares about them."
"You were a feisty little one," Porthos said with fond remembrance. "You were always taggin' along after Charon and me. It didn't matter what we did, we could never shake you."
"We three were good together." She moved closer. "Why did you leave?"
"Why did you stay?"
"This is my home. These are my people. They needed someone to look after them. I knew Charon would make a good King but he never really cared as much as I did."
"Is that why you got together with him?"
"A girl needs a protector," she said coyly.
Porthos laughed. "You can look after yourself as well as any man."
"It could have been you. We had good times, didn't we?"
For many years Porthos had thought of Flea as his little sister. Then, when she turned sixteen he had begun to see her in a new light. He'd lost his virtue long before but with her he'd felt more than a sense of physical release. Looking back now he could see Charon's growing jealousy but at the time he'd only known that something special had happened. She'd given her virginity willingly and they had delighted in each other's company. Gradually though Porthos had found that it wasn't enough to stifle his growing desire to leave the Court. He had begged her to accompany him and would never forget the look of betrayal on her face the day he packed his meagre belongings and left the streets he'd called home for eighteen years.
"Yes, we did."
"Why wasn't it enough for you?"
"I just felt there had to be more to life than stealin'. For months I thought you'd change your mind and come to find me."
"I thought about it," Flea admitted. "But, I don't belong on the outside."
"You could belong anywhere." He put a finger gently under her chin and tipped her head up so that they were gazing into each other's eyes. "I won't ask you to leave again but know that you will always be welcome." He brushed a gentle kiss on her lips before stepping back. "I'd better get on with what I came to do. Aramis is gettin' real suspicious so I can't stay long."
"You should tell him."
"He wouldn't understand."
For the next couple of hours Porthos collected food from the central store and delivered it to those folks who were too unwell to get it for themselves. Everywhere he went he was greeted with expressions of gratitude which helped him push aside the guilt he felt at deceiving his friends. He was in a good mood when he finally left, smiling to himself as he crossed the invisible boundary that separated the Court from the rest of Paris. He looked to right and left before crossing the road and was halfway across when he saw a figure emerge from an alley opposite him. A string of colourful curses raced through his mind when he saw who it was. Aramis' face was a mask of betrayal. He watched Porthos for a moment before turning and walking away.
Tbc