Patience
Chapter 3
The next morning was a hard one for Porthos – the wine and the adrenaline from the night before were making even the simplest tasks of rising and dressing himself in time for the morning muster seemingly impossible. He hastily swallowed some breakfast as well as the surly mood the wine had left him with and headed out to the courtyard.
To say that Porthos was shocked to see Athos standing at the front of the group, his typical stoic and disciplined countenance back in place as though the night before had never happened, was a bit of an understatement. His eyes widened slightly as he made eye contact with the man. Athos's eyes bore into his own before he nodded slightly. Porthos returned the gesture and took his place at the back of the group of musketeers gathered for the muster, desperately trying to ignore the pounding that was blossoming behind his eyes.
Treville assigned the duties for the day and the cadets were split into two groups. Porthos joined his group and made his way towards the firing range behind the others.
Aramis was leaning on a musket as Porthos and the others drew near. His bright and energetic face was miraculous to Porthos. He was sure the marksman had nearly as much to drink as he had and, by all accounts, the man had spent the night tending to Athos, yet here he was, bright-eyed and buoyant as ever.
Porthos fell into line with the other cadets. On Aramis' mark, they all took aim and fired at the straw targets that were set up at the end of the range. Each pistol shot sounded like a cannon to Porthos. Half the shots missed the targets.
Porthos was relieved to see that his was one that actually made contact – though well outside of the red circle they had been aiming for. Marsac and another musketeer were walking among the cadets offering their input. Neither looked Porthos' way as he reloaded his pistol.
"You made contact, but you're too tense," said a voice at his shoulder, and Porthos nearly jumped. Spinning, he met Aramis' cocky grin. "Just relax and focus," he said, raising his own pistol and firing. The others applauded as the very centre of the target was punctured by the bullet.
"Come now!" called Marsac to the cadets with a proud grin at Aramis, "He wasn't even blindfolded for that one!"
Aramis dropped his head and chuckled before turning back to Porthos.
"Come, show me again. Shooting is as easy as breathing. Just breathe deeply. Focus on the inhale, and pull the trigger on the exhale," he said. Porthos looked at him doubtfully. He had never been much of a shot.
Aramis gave him a reassuring smile. Porthos lifted his pistol.
"Loosen your elbow," Aramis said. Porthos loosened his elbow.
"Now breathe, and fire," he said. Porthos took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. He inhaled again, his eyes staring straight down the barrel at the red, white and blue circles that awaited him. He held the breath for just a second, then pulled the trigger as he exhaled.
"Very good!" cried Aramis, when straw burst forth as the bullet impacted the target. "Well done!" The bullet had buried itself in the space between the innermost red circle and the blue one next to it. "True, it's not a kill shot, but it's much better. You would have only winged him last time, this time, you've at least slowed him down," Aramis said with a grin. Porthos couldn't help but grin back.
"Reload and try again," Aramis said as he moved on to the recruit next to Porthos.
As shooting practice ended and the targets were put away, Aramis called Porthos over.
"Your shooting is improving," he said encouragingly. "But care for your weapons is as important as your aim," he said. He pointed to the seat next to him where a number of pistols and muskets sat, and handed Porthos an oil-cloth. Porthos glanced over his shoulder.
"'sposed to be on stable duty right now," he said.
"By all means, if you prefer stable duty…I just thought I'd thank you again for your assistance last night," he said with a wink. Porthos couldn't fight the grin that came to his face. He gladly took the seat next to Aramis who showed him how to properly clean each weapon as they chatted merrily to pass the rest of the morning.
After lunch, was sword practice. At the command of Captain Treville, Athos and Aramis were called forward for a demonstration. Porthos and the other cadets watched in awe as the two men fought. To Porthos, it looked like dancing.
It was clear that the men were well matched. Athos' excellence with a sword and his exceptional technique was obvious, but Aramis managed to keep pace with him, placing blows with an elegant, though deadly accuracy. Their blades locked, as the demonstration ended and the two men withdrew grinning. With a quiet comment and a clap to Athos' shoulder, Aramis withdrew from the practice ring and took a seat to watch with the others as the cadets picked up their swords.
They had been paired up this time, and Porthos was grateful to have been partnered with an opponent. The other recruit's name was Michel. He had smiled at Porthos a few times, and had even offered him a "Good morning" on the odd occasion. They smiled nervously at each other as they bowed and took their positions.
Michel was pretty good with a blade and Porthos worked to keep up with him. Porthos struggled to wield the blade, but he was strong and surefooted and soon had managed to reverse their positions and push an attack of his own. The blade wavered in his hand though as his blows fell wide of their intended target. Athos stepped towards the two of them.
"Your sword," Athos said simply to Porthos, "it's not right for you. You're off balance," he said. Taking the blade from him, Athos walked towards the armoury. Porthos' brow furrowed in confusion. He looked at Michel who shrugged. A moment later Athos returned carrying a new blade.
"Here," he said handing Porthos a curved schianova. The heavier, broader blade instantly felt more comfortable in his grip.
"Try that again," Athos instructed as he stepped back. Michel and Porthos faced off again, and this time Porthos' strokes fell true. He could feel the shift in his posture with the added weight of the heavier blade and Michel's eyes widened as Porthos' strokes fell with more force than before.
When practice came to a halt, both he and Michel were sweating. "Good job," Michel said with a small smile.
"Thanks, you too," said Porthos, as the man turned to join some of the other cadets and musketeers gathered around the water pitchers. Porthos wiped the sweat from his brow; turning, he spotted Athos standing next to Aramis, a cup in his hand.
"Thanks for that," Porthos said approaching the two. "I could never quite get the feeling right with that other sword."
Athos nodded. "That doesn't surprise me. As I said, you were off balance. A traditional rapier was too light for a man of your size. I'm happy to work with you to improve your technique."
"'Preciate that," he replied. "Never had much use for duelling during the war," he said with a small grin.
Athos' eyes flared and his mouth twitched. Porthos was certain the man was fighting a smile. "No," he said instead. "I suppose the battlefield doesn't quite adhere to the formalities of a proper duel."
Aramis laughed, "That's one way of putting it," he said.
"You two," called Treville from his balcony, "My office. I have a mission for you."
"We best not keep him waiting," said Athos with a look at Aramis. "You did well today Porthos," he said and began to walk towards the stairs leading up to Treville's office. Aramis nodded as he followed.
"Looks as though we won't be able to continue our conversation from last night. If you pass by The Wren tonight, please make my apologies to Mademoiselle Giselle," he said with a wink as he followed Athos up the stairs with Porthos' laughter trailing after him.
Porthos ate alone again that evening, but was startled by Michel as he rose to return his plate to the refectory.
"Some of us were about to head to one of the taverns if you'd like to join us," he said shyly.
Porthos glanced over the man's shoulder to where the other cadets were waiting.
"Come on Michel," one man called impatiently, his arms crossed as he narrowed his eyes at them.
Porthos frowned slightly and shrugged his shoulders. "Thanks," he said giving Michel a small smile, "But I think I'll pass."
Michel frowned too. "I'm sorry. They're not all bad," he said quietly.
"'Preciate it," he said giving the man a small smile. "Maybe next time."
Michel nodded returning the smile before turning to join the others as they headed out the gates.
Porthos returned his plate to the refectory before heading back to his room in the barracks. He was exhausted, but still had the small smile on his face. Things may yet improve for him with the friendly overtures of Michel during practice and the promised assistance of Athos and Aramis to help his swordplay and shooting.
oOo
