Patience
Chapter 9
The marketplace was busy as Porthos and Athos traversed through the vendor stalls. It was strange for Porthos to be canvassing the marketplace for thieves. It was not so long ago that he himself would have been looking to relieve a nobleman of a few coins. His brow furrowed as he spied a boy he knew leaning casually against a vendor's cart. He was too casual. It was practised.
Porthos halted in his tracks, startling Athos. Grumbling, he approached the vendor.
"Oy! Monsieur, your purse is exposed. I'd be careful if I was you," he said, as the boy's hands quickly hid themselves behind his back.
"Thank you, monsieur," said the man as he stowed his purse and moved away.
Grabbing the boy by the elbow, Porthos marched him across the market until they were standing in a more secluded alley just off the main traffic.
"Porthos! Let go!" cried the boy as he struggled meekly in the big man's hands. He let go and the boy made to straighten his shirt.
"Alfonse, ya gotta be more careful," he said to the lad. The boy was clearly poor – his face and tattered shirt were both smudged with dirt and he looked to be about ten, but it was hard to tell – he looked like he could definitely use a few good meals. "Who sent you here?" Porthos asked.
"Charon," said the boy. "It's time I start contributing."
Porthos scowled. "Here," he said, fishing in his pockets and pulling out a few coins; Alfonse's eyes widened as he received them. "Buy yourself somethin' to eat first, then give the rest to Flea. She'll make good use of them."
"Thanks," said the boy with a grin.
"Alfonse," said Porthos reaching for the boy once more. "Be careful. If the Red Guards had caught you there would be nothin' I could do," he said. "Think before you do what Charon says. Listen to Flea, and if you're ever worried or in trouble, come find me at the Musketeers' garrison, ya?"
The boy's eyes grew even larger as he nodded. Porthos mussed his hair and the boy scampered off.
"I take it you know the urchin," said a voice over Porthos' shoulder. His stomach dropped to his feet as he turned slowly to face Athos.
"We come from the same place," Porthos said warily. Athos said nothing.
"Look, I know we're supposed to report things like that, but he's just a kid. Lad was jus' hungry," said Porthos with some urgency.
Athos looked at the man's anxious expression. "I have no idea what you mean," he said softly. "I haven't witnessed anything out of place," he said.
Porthos grinned at the swordsman. "Athos, look," he began.
"I believe there is much we should probably say to each other," Athos interrupted.
Porthos grinned again. "Maybe tonight? Over a drink?"
Athos' lips quirked in a slight smile. "I should like that," he said.
They turned back to their patrol, both men in much lighter spirits, when suddenly chaos broke loose. Two men had begun to scuffle, knocking over crates and barrels in their path. Women shrieked as the brawlers crashed past them and vendors shouted and attempted to gather up their wares. Athos sighed and made to intervene, but the two men broke apart suddenly.
One man had drawn a pistol. The other man lunged for it and the pair fought for control of the weapon. The people in the marketplace ducked for cover as the pistol wavered. It lowered and fired. Two men hit the pavement.
The gunshot had drawn two other passing musketeers who tackled the two fighters in the street, seizing the spent pistol.
"You alright?" one of the musketeer's called over their shoulder as he bound one of the men's hands behind his back.
"Think so," grumbled Porthos. He had landed roughly as the shot went off. Someone had knocked him to the ground. That someone was lying near him.
"Athos? Athos!" cried Porthos as realization of what had just happened dawned on him. He rolled the man onto his back where the bleary blue eyes stared up at him. Blood was leaking out of the man's side through his doublet.
"Athos is hit!" he shouted, causing both musketeers to spin and face him. "Looks like the bullet passed through, but he's bleedin' heavy. Can't tell if it's bad."
"Garrison's not far. Can you carry him?" the nearer musketeer cried.
Porthos nodded. Pulling the scarf from Athos' neck, he shoved it up and under his doublet so it was between the man's flesh and his leathers in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. Athos groaned in pain.
Quickly, but as gently as though he were lifting a baby, Porthos gathered Athos into his arms and all but ran with him back to the garrison.
"Athos's been shot!" he called seeing Captain Treville as he crossed the garrison's gates.
"Get him to the infirmary," he responded leading the way and holding the doors for Porthos as he carried Athos inside.
"What happened?" asked Etienne, one of the garrison's other medics, as he began to divest Athos of his doublet. The man's side was coated in blood, his scarf soaked through.
"Fight in the marketplace. We went to break it up. One man pulled a gun and it went off when they were fightin' for it. Athos…got hit."
Etienne nodded. "Well, you may have saved his life by slowing the bleeding," he muttered. Turning to his Captain, he said, "It's a through and through. Should be fine once it's cleaned and stitched. Doesn't seem to have hit anything important."
Treville nodded. "Fetch me when it's finished or when he comes to," said the Captain as he exited the infirmary.
"Porthos, I'm going to need your help with this," said Etienne, as Athos gave a loud groan as his senses returned to him.
"Athos," the medic said as he placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "You've been shot on your left side. The bullet passed through, but I'll still need to clean it and stitch you up to prevent any infection. You've lost quite a bit of blood."
"Aramis," muttered the man, somewhat groggily. Etienne smiled.
"Aramis is still away on his training mission in Savoy, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me." Athos nodded.
"Porthos?" he asked, his voice sounding hoarse.
"Here," he croaked and cleared his throat. "I'm here. I'm fine – not hurt, thanks to you," he said, stepping into the man's line of sight. Athos stared up at him, blue eyes burning into brown, and he nodded, the relief visible in his gaze.
"Alright, let's get this taken care of," said Etienne as he approached carrying a pot of boiled water. "Porthos, I'm going to need you to hold him down." Porthos and Athos both nodded. Porthos placed one hand on the man's shoulder and the other arm across his thighs as Etienne moved into position on the man's opposite side.
"Sorry Athos, this is going to hurt," he said and without any more preamble, he began to pour the water over the wound to clean it. Athos' body reacted reflexively to the pain and Porthos had to exert quite a lot of pressure to keep the man's legs still and his shoulders pinned to the table. Next came the alcohol and if possible, Athos thrashed and fought harder as the liquid burned at the wound. He stilled suddenly and Porthos' eyes bulged.
"Don't worry, it's for the best," said Etienne, "This way he'll be out for the stitching." Porthos blanched slightly. In all his years of battle, it was always the stitching of wounds that threatened to undo him. He looked at the slack face of Athos as Etienne prepped his needle. Some blood seemed to be dripping from his mouth. It looked as though the man had bit his cheek to stop himself from screaming in pain.
Porthos took a clean damp cloth and dabbed at the blood. Taking another, he placed the cool cloth on Athos' forehead.
"Thanks," said Etienne. "I don't expect him to get a fever, but the cloth will help keep his temperature level should it start to rise from the exertion and It'll definitely help with the headache he's bound to have from the blood loss." Porthos nodded and said nothing. A few moments later Etienne had finished his stitching and had covered the wound after dousing it once more with the clear liquor.
"Aramis showed me this one," he said as he coated the wound in the poultice. "Soothes the inflamation and helps to fight infection. You're welcome to stay by him. He'll probably be confused when he wakes and shouldn't be alone." Once again Porthos nodded. He seemed to have lost the ability to speak as he had witnessed Etienne tend to the wound.
"Great," said Etienne. "I'll go report to the Captain. I'll have some food sent up to you in a bit. You should get him to eat something."
The door swung shut behind the medic. Porthos took a seat in the chair next to Athos. Athos was so still...
He refreshed the cloth on the swordsman's head and then gently took his lax hand in his.
oOo
