Chapter Three
D'Artagnan had sat in the corner of his small cell and watched as the sliver of daylight that framed the ill-fitting door had disappeared. He shivered, he was cold. He could not wrap his arms around himself. They had left him with his hands bound behind his back. He could not feel his hands. He was thirsty and hungry.
His captors cared little for his wellbeing. Athos had asked why he was still bound and why he had not been provided with water. The answer from the guard had been that it was pointless to give water to a condemned man.
Athos had left, his brother, the man he looked up to had walked away without looking back. As the door to the room had been shut Athos was crossing the courtyard. The man had not even gone back to the Comte to try to reason with the man again.
Aramis had turned against him almost immediately. He had said nothing to defend him. At least Athos and Porthos had complained that the accusation was wrong. Aramis had agreed that he should die. Aramis had practically applauded the decision to have him executed.
How could his friend have thought that he was capable of such a heinous crime? Aramis was one of the most trusting people he knew, and yet, at that moment he had agreed with the Comte and taken the others with him when he left. Porthos had followed blindly, at least Athos had made a weak attempt to get him out. Although d'Artagnan wondered how hard the swordsman had actually tried. Aramis had probably swayed them both to his way of thinking.
The light was beginning to return, his time was soon to be up. He wondered what it would be like, to drown. Would it hurt?
Noises outside brought him back to full alertness. He could hear several footsteps approach. The door was pushed open. The Comte and his son were stood a few yards from the door as three men entered the small room. One of them opened the barred cell. The three entered. As he was hauled to his feet, he made the decision that he would not go quietly or meekly, he would not simply walk to the bridge and his death. He would make it as difficult for the men as he could.
He did not support his weight, the men had to hold him up and drag him from the cell. He kicked out at the men and shouted at them, he even resorted to spitting at them. Paquet gave an order, d'Artagnan found himself on the ground of the Courtyard, his face being pushed into the dirt. The three men leaned on him keeping him still.
A rope was looped around his legs and tied firmly. They pulled him back up to stand and proceeded to drag him out of the courtyard. He had tired himself with the struggle and allowed the men to pull him along.
He expected to see his brothers, at least Athos and Porthos, in the crowd of people who had gathered to witness his death. None of his brothers were there. The crowd that had gathered were shouting at him, a couple of boys threw rotten fruit at him.
The betrayal of his brothers was all he could think of. Aramis had clearly persuaded Athos and Porthos to leave him. He felt sad that he would not see them again. He did not care about Aramis anymore. But Athos, the man he looked up to and Porthos who was always there when he needed him. D'Artagnan missed them both.
They had reached the bridge, he was pushed up to stand on the wall along the bridge. Two men climbed up beside him holding him still. He stared down into the water below the bridge, he was breathing quickly. He had been scared before, but nothing compared to how he felt at that particular moment. As he had been brought down from the house he had shouted out, protesting his innocence, but as he had neared the bridge the sheer fear of what was to come had rendered him silent.
Another rope was tied around his ankles, he glanced at the rope, following it with his eyes to the statue it was tied around.
With no ceremony the Comte stepped forward, he looked up at d'Artagnan who had to twist around slightly to see the man.
'You are a scourge on our society. We will be better off without you.'
The Comte heaved the statue off the bridge, for a split second d'Artagnan was able to watch the rope uncoil. He was pulled from the bridge with a jerk.
In the second it took him to fall to the water he held his breath. He wondered why his natural reaction was to hold his breath, what was the point?
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Athos could hear the baying crowd above him on the bridge. The people of the village had been there for a while before d'Artagnan was brought out. There had been a general murmuring to begin with but, as the time of the execution had neared, he had heard angry shouts.
The three of them had been in place for some time. They could not afford to be spotted taking up their positions under the bridge. Athos was waiting on the other side of the bridge, underneath, on the small patch of muddy shoreline that stretched between the water and beginning of the stone arch. Aramis and Porthos were perched on the flared section of the underside of the bridge where the two arches met. They were crouched down waiting. Both men were wearing only their underclothes, they had swum over as the noise of the growing crowd had risen to a point where any splashes they made would not be heard.
As the noises increased above them Athos watched as Aramis stood and looked upwards as he began to take several deep breaths, the marksman was ready for the first part of the plan. Athos knew the next two or three minutes would decide d'Artagnan's fate.
A roar from the crowd, the statue fell, closely followed by their wrongly accused brother. As the statue splashed into the water Aramis dived after it.
Athos found himself holding his own breath, he watched as Porthos stood. The big musketeer was counting, his mouth silently forming the numbers as he did so. When he reached thirty he followed Aramis, diving under the water.
All Athos could do was wait and wonder how many of his brothers would return to the surface.
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The water was cool, not too cold but cool enough that he knew they would all suffer if they did not get out again quickly. But that was the furthest thing from his mind as he swam down, following d'Artagnan's decent.
The bound man had his eyes shut, Aramis was pleased to see he had held his breath. The chances of them getting him back the surface alive if he had not done so were slim. As it was the chances were not good. Aramis hated his plan, but neither Athos or Porthos had been able to come up with a better one.
The statue settled on the lake bed, a cloud of silt thrown up as it did so. D'Artagnan floated above the statue, he pulled at his binding a little, but seemed somehow defeated and accepting of his fate. Aramis hated seeing the man in such a state.
Another kick of his legs saw Aramis below the restrained man, the dagger he held had been sharped the night before. Aramis set to work slicing through the rope, he looked up, d'Artagnan was again struggling. He tried not to think about what d'Artagnan was thinking. He wondered if his friend was aware that they were in the process of rescuing him.
Aramis sensed Porthos' approached, he was glad, the effort of cutting the rope had cost him, he knew that he would have to surface soon. Porthos grabbed d'Artagnan, he looked down at Aramis just as he cut through the rope. With d'Artagnan free Aramis had no choice but to surface, his need for air paramount. Aramis had to trust that Porthos carried out his part of the plan correctly or they would all be caught.
Whilst Aramis had the luxury of being able to surface by swimming straight up, Porthos had to take d'Artagnan closer to the far side of the lake. If Porthos were to take d'Artagnan back up to the spot he had entered the water, the chances of the noises he would no doubt make on surfacing drawing the attention of those above was too great. D'Artagnan would be confused and probably splash about, if the crowd above were quiet they would hear the noise.
As Aramis surfaced he gasped for breath, panting. He quickly swam towards the far shore, he could see Athos anxiously watching the water. A few seconds later a disturbance a few yards ahead of him saw Porthos and d'Artagnan appear.
The restrained man gasped, and coughed, he was struggling to breathe. D'Artagnan continued to panic as Porthos pulled him towards the shoreline. Athos waded a few feet into the water and grabbed d'Artagnan, pulling the man to the safety of the shore.
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'Just breathe, slow down, we've got you, concentrate on your breathing, don't think about anything else,' said Porthos quietly into d'Artagnan's ear, he repeated the phrases over and over as he pulled the struggling man to the shore. He was grateful when Athos appeared and grabbed d'Artagnan under the arms and pulled him the rest of the way.
They pushed him onto his side as his shoulders continued to heave. He coughed and spluttered, it was obvious the man was in pain from the action of the continual coughs at the same time as he desperately tried to take a breath.
Porthos crouched in front of him, holding his shoulder, keeping him on his side. Athos was busy untying the rope around his legs and ankles. Aramis, who had caught up with them was knelt behind their brother unwinding the rope that was wrapped around d'Artagnan's wrists.
They could still hear the crowd above the bridge cheering. Porthos was glad of the noise, despite the reason behind it. D'Artagnan was still coughing, still confused.
Now that the ropes were gone the second phase of their plan could begin.
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When he had been grabbed, he had almost taken a breath. But some part of him knew that he should not. He did not know what was happened, but it seemed to be a good thing. He fought the urge to take a breath for as long as he could despite the growing pain in his chest. He was pulled upwards, he could not understand how he was not still attached to the heavy statue.
As he reached the surface he managed to open his eyes and realised it was Porthos who had him. He had not been abandoned by his friend. They surfaced at the same moment that he was forced to take a breath. He coughed, trying to clear the water away, he was struggling to take a full breath. His chest hurt as he continued to cough.
Porthos was pulling him through the water. He could not work out what was happening. He felt himself being pulled out of the water. Firm ground was underneath him, he was dragged further up the bank and pushed to lie on his side. He continued to cough and take small breaths. Porthos had told him to concentrate on his breathing. He did as he was told. He closed his eyes and did not think about anything but his breathing.
He felt the ropes being removed. He was pushed up to sit, he allowed it to happen, he did not resist. His doublet was undone and pulled off his shoulders.
'Just keep breathing, let us do the work,' said Athos as he tried to pull his arms free. D'Artagnan managed a nod before being doubling over with another fit of coughs.
With his doublet gone, d'Artagnan found himself being laid back slightly. He was leaning on something warm, or someone. Porthos, he thought, the big musketeer wrapped his arms around him, sharing his own body warmth. D'Artagnan kept his eyes shut as he panted and coughed.
'Just keep breathing for us, that's all you need to do,' he said, d'Artagnan thought that Porthos did not sound calm, even though he was trying to.
His boots were pulled from his feet. He was a little surprised to find his breeches being undone, and peeled off as well, but he did not have the strength to resist. Despite Porthos' attempt to keep him warm, he found that he was shivering. And tired. He wanted to sleep. The feeling had crept up on him, but now it was overwhelming.
Athos and Porthos had come back for him, they had rescued him. He had not been abandoned.
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As Porthos held the now limp d'Artagnan in his arms, Athos turned his attention to Aramis who was busy dressing Vincent's corpse in d'Artagnan's clothes.
'That was a good idea...paying those lads to keep the crowd noisy. Do you really think this will work?'
Aramis continued to ease the soaked breeches up the uncooperative corpse's legs as he replied, 'I have no idea, but they do look similar and we know Paquet will pull the body out. If there is no body he will know that d'Artagnan has escaped.'
Athos detected the concern in Aramis' voice and the slight tremor in his hands. His friend was clearly cold despite the activity. And his part of the plan was not finished yet.
Together they dressed the lifeless Vincent in d'Artagnan's doublet and pauldron. As Aramis got to work on the boots and ropes, Athos returned to Porthos and the sleeping d'Artagnan.
Porthos shivered, 'I'm not sure I'm doing 'im any good really.'
Athos was inclined to agree, he walked a few yards away and collected the bundle of blankets and Porthos and Aramis clothes.
'Sorry,' he said as he draped Porthos doublet around his shoulders and threw a blanket over d'Artagnan, 'I should have thought of that sooner.'
Porthos managed a chuckle, 'I think we are all a bit preoccupied.'
They looked across to Aramis who was finishing tying Vincent's hands behind his back.
'Does it look the same?'
'Yes,' both Athos and Porthos said at the same time.
Aramis sat back on his heels and contemplated his work for a few seconds. He nodded to himself before rising. He grabbed the end of the rope that was tied around their doppelganger's ankles. He wrapped the rope around his wrist several times as he began to take a series of deep breathes.
'Be careful,' said Athos.
'Don't risk yourself. We need you more than Paquet needs a body…' said Porthos.
Aramis turned to them both and smiled. He took another few deep breaths before walking out into the water dragging the body of Vincent behind him.
Aramis swam with ease back out to the flared section under the bridge where the two arches joined, the body of Vincent floated behind him. He reached up to where he and Porthos had been waiting and grabbed a loosened rock to use as a weight. After taking a few deeper breaths he pulled the rock into the water using it to drag himself, and Vincent, under.
'I should 'ave gone with him,' said Porthos as he shivered again.
'No. There is no point risking more lives than necessary.'
Porthos did not respond, he continued to watch the calm surface of the water. When Aramis had suggested they not only rescue d'Artagnan but put Vincent in his place, they had both thought it a step too far. But Aramis had pointed out that Paquet would drag the body out of the lake within the hour. If there was no body Paquet would come after them all.
Aramis was the strongest swimmer of the three of them and had been the obvious choice for the second phase of their plan. He had to tie the body to the statue in the same way d'Artagnan had been.
They continued to wait, the seconds ticking by. Porthos shifted slightly as he strained to see out across the water. Athos' hands had reached up to his weapons belt, he had begun to unbuckle it. He knew it would be foolhardy but even if he was only retrieving Aramis' body, he was not leaving his friend out there alone.
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