IV

Brother, Porthos scrawled in his large, looping handwriting. His mind was a pinwheel of thoughts and ideas jostling for prominence, but this might be the only moment he could snatch to write to Athos in the next few days. The groundwork was laid for another attack later tonight; his men were out scouting the place from which to launch the ambush even as he tried to write.

He brushed off the memory of similar nights not that long ago where it would have been Athos sitting at this desk Porthos had inherited, likely scrawling letters of condolence to distant family members of comrades lost in battle, while he and d'Artagnan whiled away the hours with desultory chess games or knife throwing contests. He missed them constantly and dreadfully, especially in battle when he felt the loss of their balance at his back so keenly.

He pushed away the thoughts with a ruthlessness foreign to his nature, but an acquired habit he had learned to employ with the strictness of a general commanding men he must send to victory or defeat based solely on his strategies.

The quill clenched between his fingers required re-dipping, it had dried during his cogitations. He reached to draw the lamp closer, touched the quill to the quiver of ink holding to the lip of the jar and let his thoughts flow in a different direction than war.

Captain d'Artagnan couriered a copy of your letter to me at the front with the understanding that I was just as anxious as he to hear that your sojourn had come to a safe ending. Be advised, I expect my own communication sooner rather than later now that you are settled.

Enclosed with d'Artagnan's note was correspondence from my wife as well, with her thoughts on your letter. Elodie's accompanying message was quite insightful. She noted the d'Artagnan's were split on their receptivity of the news that you have returned to Pinon - Constance believing it to be the best place in the world for you, while d'Artagnan has reservations. In this, I feel obligated to side with d'Artagnan; I pray daily the ghosts of Pinon will not drive you back to the bottle, my friend. And that you will have the wisdom to recognize it soon enough to shake the dust of it from your boots before any such travesty should occur. But I will not belabor the point as I know in my bones that you are a different man than the one Aramis insisted we rescue all those years ago.

In reading between the lines, I believe I am hearing that you have come to terms with acquiring dependents. I do not have Aramis' gift of words to express the joy this gives me, knowing that you are discovering that well of happiness you capped off so long ago. That you have finally come to understand you are deserving of happiness and contentment I attribute to Sylvie's influence. Though me and d'Artagnan will gladly accept a bit of praise and glory for bringing you along to the point that Sylvie was able to sway your thoughts and actions. It is my most cherished hope that fatherhood will bring a flourishing peace into your life that will never be banished.

As Aramis' God has been gracious enough to gift me with a wife and child of my own, I, too, am coming to a new understanding. You will likely laugh when I tell you that I have discovered a new fear of death. These few months as husband and father have enlarged my life in a way I expect you understand now too. I find myself snatching everything chance I can to ride like the devil to be home with Elodie and Marie-Cessette even if it can only be for a few hours. It is no longer my fondest wish to die gloriously in the service of France. I want to die comfortably in my own bed, with my beloved wife by my side and our children surrounding us as I discharge my final duties and bless them one last time.

Nevertheless, I thank you for this opportunity to serve our country in this capacity. Aramis told me you were instrumental in both our elevations, yet again turning down any reward for your own service to the crown. The queen informed him you refused the post of minister, recommending Aramis instead. I would have suspected ulterior motives from anyone other than you.

As a result of your generosity, even sending home most of my pay, I have already been able to set aside a respectable amount toward a new life someday. Likely that will surprise you, given my penchant for throwing money away. I'll have you know, the day I wed I was as cured of gambling as you were cured of drinking the day you saved me from that flogging. For which I can finally find forgiveness in my heart. Command gives one a rather different perspective.

Though I pray it will not be my end, I am committed to ending this war. I will not shirk my duty here, nor break the faith you and the queen have shown in me. And now I have new reasons to drive the cursed Spaniards to their knees so they will beg for terms. It really is too bad the queen regent is not in a position to sue for peace; her brother might have accepted an overture coming from her.

But enough of war. I have other news. Elodie is enceinte again, we are expecting our first child together in March. The girls will be little more than a year apart, for Elodie is certain this one will be a girl as well. She told me on my last visit home a fortnight ago. I will admit, I'm all aflutter with the news. I want to shout it from the mountaintops and declare it from the depths of the valleys. I will have to have my armor resized for the pride puffing out my chest.

Alas, I must end this as Brujon is telling me the men are back with their report. We could be done with this war and home in the next six months if just a few others would side with me, but older, wiser heads must prevail, despite our success with my own tactics. I have come to the conclusion there are those here in this echelon that do not desire the end of war, the spoils of battle incite a kind of excitement they thrive on. I understand this to a degree, having been certain for most of my life I was not cut out for anything but soldiering. I will likely pay for this sin of hypocrisy, but the attitude disgusts me now and I am little able to tolerate it. I could benefit from some lessons on diplomacy from you my friend.

Yours in gratitude,

General Porthos du Vallon

Porthos glanced over the letter, set it aside to dry and turned to take report from d'Artagnan's protégé. Brujon was proving to be quite as good a solider as the Gascon.

"You've found a breach?"

"We have, General. The men are ready to move out at your command."

"I'll be along in a moment. Brujon," Porthos addressed his aide-de-camp as the young man turned to leave the tent. "I've a letter to Athos that needs sending off in the morning."

"I will make certain it gets on its way first thing."

"Send it with the dispatches to the garrison, d'Artagnan will see that it gets to Pinon."

"Very good, sir." Brujon bowed again and backed out of the tent.

Porthos rose and blew out the oil lamp. He could navigate the tent in complete darkness because - as had been their practice previously - everything was placed in precisely the same place no matter when they set up camp. He did not follow directly on Brujon's heels though, he paused a moment, hand on the back of his chair, head bowed, directing a simple prayer to Aramis' God. "Please not tonight, or for many nights to come."

TBC