Judging by the comments on the previous chapter you might need to get a hot drink, a blanket and a box of tissues before starting this chapter. There are also mentions of historical animal cruelty/death in this one.
One evening, after a tedious afternoon guarding the royal family as they entertained some visiting dignitaries in the palace gardens, Athos found Dumas lying forlornly on the bed. This was highly unusual as he usually came and greeted the Musketeer, appearing out of the shadows or some other strange place, demanding attention. Athos sat beside him on the bed and gave him a scratch on the head, which he pressed into.
"What's wrong with you today, hmm?" He asks the cat.
"Mroww," groans Dumas in reply, pressing up against his leg.
"I can take you to Aramis if you are feeling unwell. He's never worked on anything other than humans but he might be able to help. Or d'Artagnan, he might know about cats, growing up on a farm." Dumas sat up and climbed into Athos lap, rubbing their faces together. The Musketeer huffs in amusement as he rubs away the tingling in his face from the cat's tickling whiskers.
There was a knock on the door and Dumas dived under the bed. It would seem that the cat is still afraid of strangers. Behind the door is the landlady carrying Athos' dinner on a tray, who hands it to him without entering the room.
Man and cat settle at the small, worn table and Athos starts eating the hearty fare, hungry after a boring day watching other feast on rich and exotic delights. Dumas sniffed at the food but doesn't eat anything, he never does. Athos guesses that he eats somewhere else before spending his evening with him.
Food consumed he set the tray and used crockery and utensils outside his room on the landing and settled on the bed with a text on battle techniques that Treville wanted his opinion of.
As he read his book he noticed that Dumas kept pacing around a spot in front of the closed door. He had tried distracting the feline but after a while he decided to let him roam, ignoring him in favour of the book. Dumas would demand his attention if he wanted it.
Athos had just decided to finish the chapter he was on before retiring for bed when a small body jumped up onto the bed beside him and pushed it's dark head between his face and the book.
"What have you been doing?" The Musketeer asks of the cat, giving him a scratch under the chin. Dumas turned and knocked the book out of Athos' hands with a swipe of his paw and leapt onto the ground. Surprised, Athos got up and joined Dumas at the floorboard that he had been circling around earlier but now the cat was scratching at it, as if he was trying to dig through it. He then carefully grabbed the fabric of Athos' sleeve in his teeth and tugged until his hand was resting on the wooden floor, cat lying beside it. Clearly the cat was trying to tell him something.
Athos looked at the feline, confused.
"Do you want to get under here?" Dumas meowed in reply and reached out with a white paw to scratch at the wood again. Athos looked round and tried to find something to lift the floorboard; at this time of night his landlord would be asleep and wouldn't appreciate being woken up and asked if he had a hammer, crowbar or other useful tool. He manages to find a broken main gauche that he had been meaning to take to the garrison's blacksmith to repair or replace the snapped blade and tries to work it under the head of one of the nails.
The first nail came out easily but the second was refusing to budge and Athos was having a hard time getting it out without cutting himself on the blade of the main gauche. But with careful application of force and a bit of minor cursing the nail finally slipped out of the wood with a squeak and the floorboard was free.
Lifting it gently under a pair of watchful sapphire eyes he was surprised to find something underneath. There in the cavity between the floors was the skeleton of a small animal, a long iron nail still driven across the delicate ribcage. Dumas gave a pitiful meow and poked the skull with his black nose. Without thinking Athos' hand lifted to stroke his cat, fingers deftly finding the two scars under the fur that matched the skeleton with unnerving accuracy. Dumas turned to look at him and gave another small meow. Somehow Athos knew exactly what Dumas was showing him.
"Is this you?" He had heard of the old wives tale of hammering an iron nail thought the heart of a living cat, the body then placed at the entrance of the property, which was supposed to ward off the devil and his evil spirits. It would seem that a previous tenant believed in the practice. He had also heard of wandering spirits that had died a violent death that could never find peace until their body had been properly put to rest.
If his cat was the restless spirit of the cat buried beneath his floorboards it would explain everything - how he got in and out of the room when the door and windows were shut, why his landlord knew nothing of a local cat, why Dumas was never seen outside of his building, why he never ate.
Dumas, in answer to the question, rubbed his head against Athos' hip and purred. Athos replaced the floorboard, leaving it loose and picked his cat up and hugged him.
"I'll bury you tomorrow. I'll find you some nice things and I'll give you a good send off. You've helped me, now I can help you." The cat in his arms sagged in relief and purred louder. "One last night and then you'll be at peace."
They spent the night curled around each other as had become their custom.
The next day as Athos went on his duties he kept an eye out for the best spot to bury his little friend. The thought of Dumas leaving his life forever hadn't quite sunk in, though what little he knew about ghosts told him that that was the most likely scenario. As he past the edges of the royal gardens by the river he thought he had found the best place. It was quiet, away from the main thoroughfares and had a good view of both the gardens and the city. If he didn't know that he would most likely be buried in the Musketeer's graveyard at the end of his life, when ever that would be, he would have liked to be buried in a place like this.
A trip to the market, at day's end, secured two more essential items for the funeral, a small but sturdy wooden box with a hinged lid and a scrap of soft fabric to line the box. He also borrowed a spade off his landlord before mounting the stairs, box slung under one arm.
Dumas was sat on his bed, waiting and looking solemn, as if he knew that these hours were the last few he would have on this earth. Athos joined him, showing the cat the box and the lining as they rested in his lap. Dumas rested his white front paws on the edge of the box so that he could lean in and give the insides a sniff. Seemingly satisfied, he leapt off the bed and sat expectantly by the loose floorboard.
Athos joined him and carefully lifted the plank of wood, exposing the cat skeleton once again. Placing the open box by the hole, he started to lift the bones one by one and placing them carefully in the box in the same position as he had found them. When he lifted the skull Dumas gave a mournful meow and bumped his nose to it. Athos cave him a sympathetic stroke down his back and put the skull in its position in the box. When he got to the ribcage he picked it up carefully and examined it before grasping the long nail and pulling it free from the ribs. The bones went into the box, the nail went on the dresser as furthest away as he could reach. His cat was not going to be buried with his murder weapon.
As the last bone went in, Dumas moved from his position by the box, sitting with his paws up on the lip, examining Athos' every move, and pushed the lid down. Athos caught it before it could slam shut and closed it carefully instead.
Box once more under his arm, though he was carrying it with more care this time, Athos and Dumas descended the stairs, pausing to grab the spade resting against the wall at the bottom of the stairs in his free hand, and walked out into the streets of Paris. The light was just starting to dim as night-time approached and the streets were starting to empty, so no one paid much attention to the pair as they walked to the spot Athos had chosen to bury the skeleton of his cat. He had half expected Dumas to disappear as they exited the building as he had never seen the cat outside of it, but he decided that the ghost must have had to keep close to his remains, and as Athos was carrying them, he had the cat by his side.
He had decided against wearing his full musketeer regailer, but not only would he have only drawn attention to himself (to others he was only burying a cat, not an honourable soldier who had given up his life in the service of his king) but he was there as a grateful friend not a musketeer. Soon they were there, man, ghost and the skeleton of a dead cat, standing under a tree by the river.
Dumas gave the area a quick examine before lying down on the ground and pointing with his nose at a point before him.
Spade at the point indicated, Athos started to dig.
Once the hole was big enough for the box to fit in he stopped and knelt beside the box and the cat.
"I think it is time for your soul to rest, Dumas," said Athos picking up the box and cradling it in his arms for a second before placing it carefully in the ground. "I hope you finally find peace. I'll miss you."
The cat rubbed himself against his side, purring, and he ran his fingers through the fur, trying to memorise the feeling. Dumas allowed this for a few seconds before moving to the pile of loose earth and digging with his paws, filling the hole and turning his white feet a dirty brown. Athos joined in and soon the little casket was covered with a small mound of earth.
Athos picked up Dumas and held him in his lap, knowing this would be the last time, and cleaned their hands and paws with a handkerchief. Clean once again he cradled the cat to his chest and buried his face in the fur, trying to hold back tears that threatened to fall.
He was tempted to unbury the box and keep the remains with him so that Dumas would stay with him, but he knew that the cat was a restless spirit and needed to be put to rest. It would be unfair to the cat, who had only brought him happiness and kindness.
After a few minutes Dumas let out a plaintive cry and wriggled out of the man's grasp. He sat on the mound of earth and head butted Athos as if trying to get him to leave. The man understood that it was time to say goodbye and stood up slowly, giving Dumas a scratch behind the ears one last time.
"Goodbye Dumas. Thank you for helping a broken man see that there is some good left in the world. Rest in peace, I'll miss you." The cat gave a meow in reply, seemingly saying thank you. Athos grabbed the spade and walked away, tears down his face, thankful that by now the streets would be empty in the dark. Turning back as he reached the corner he took one last look at the grave site.
Dumas was still sitting over his skeleton, silhouetted from behind by moonlight reflected off the calm river, looking regal as only a cat can.
With a heavy heart Athos walked away from the animal that had brought him so much happiness and peace over the last few months.
The next morning Aramis was manhandled down an alleyway by Porthos, just before passing through the garrison's entrance archway. He looked at his friend, confused.
"Porthos, what?"
"Athos is looking upset," he replied. "Like how he was when he first joined the Musketeers. You know you're better at talking to him when he's like this than me. I'll hold off the whelp so you can talk to him for a few minutes."
"I'll go see what's wrong." Aramis said, patting Porthos on the arm as he passed.
Entering the garrison he spotted Athos sitting at the long table, arms crossed on the wood before him, head hanging and staring blindly at the floor. He was the picture of misery.
Sitting down beside him, Aramis regarded his morose friend.
"Athos, what's happened? I haven't seen you this depressed in months! Is it Dumas?"
"Dumas is gone."
"He'll come back. You know how cats are, he's probably after a lady. A few days and he'll be back, he's too fond of you to run off for too long." Athos shook his head.
"I think he's gone forever." He tried to think of a way to explain what happened without Aramis thinking he had gone crazy. "Last time I saw him he seemed to be saying goodbye." He had made friends with the ghost of a cat, perhaps he had gone crazy.
Aramis wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulders and drew him into a hug. He could tell how upset Athos really was.
"I'll make sure to tell Porthos and d'Artagnan and we'll keep an eye out during our patrols, we'll find him. If I'd known how happy that cat made you, I would have got you one years ago! If he doesn't come back in a week or two we'll get you another cat. I know it won't be the same as Dumas, but it'll be something for you to go home to again." He felt Athos nod against his shoulder as he relaxed into the embrace. After being touch-starved for so long, the ability to stroke and hug a living being without being judged or leaving himself open to weakness must have been liberating. No wonder Athos was missing him.
Spotting Porthos and d'Artagnan come through the gate Athos straightened up, but still looked a bit miserable. D'Artagnan looked confused and concerned at the state of his mentor.
"Are you ok, Athos?" Aramis answered for him.
"Dumas is missing. I said we'll keep an eye out for him."
A clatter of boots and voice called from above.
"You four. My office."
By the time they had reached Treville's office Athos had schooled his features into his usual impassiveness, though those that knew him well could still tell that something was troubling him. Treville was included in that small number.
"Is everything alright, Athos?"
"Yes, Sir," he replied "My cat is missing. Nothing to worry about." Treville looked like he was not satisfied with that answer but didn't comment on it.
For the next few days Athos performed his duties with his usual efficiency, but he had lost the peaceful and satisfied calm that he had gained whilst Dumas was around. He had even gone back onto the drink and was drinking as much as he usually had before the business with his ex-wife. His friends didn't know what to do. Dumas had only been a cat but he had wormed his way into Athos' soul and it didn't look like he was coming back. Not even Porthos' contacts in the Court could proved that Dumas had even existed, let alone any knowledge of where he was now. The only thing that they had discovered was that after stumbling drunk out of the taverns he visited a patch of ground by the river and just stood there, bottle in hand, staring silently before staggering home an hour later.
Athos sat in the corner of the tavern, drinking heavily in the shadows. He knew that his friends were watching him concerned from across the room but he didn't care.
He felt like there was almost not point to his life anymore. Twice now he thought he had found happiness and both times that happiness had been ripped from him. Sure he still had Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan, but they were Musketeers, they led dangerous lives and they could be taken from him any day. He could only hope that he would go before them. His friends and his duty may have been the reason to get up in the mornings, but Dumas had been the reason to go home and now that he was gone he felt like a piece of him was missing.
He took another swig from the bottle and tried to drown out the memories.
Yes, Dumas is a ghost. I told you this story was weird!
The reason Dumas can understand Athos (he could, I tried to make it obvious but I'm no expert in cat behaviour) is that he has been around long enough (think 50+ years) to learn to understand basic language. He showed himself only to Athos as he could see that they shared the same broken feelings and he only trusted someone like him to finally lay him to rest as past experience with people ended badly (and with a nail through his heart). The cat + nail charm is completely my invention so don't ever try it!
One more chapter to go – it ends happily, I promise!