After the last chapter, the consensus seems to be that Rochefort needs to watch his back, as there are hordes of readers out there ready to get rid of him. Can't say things really improve much for our boys in this next chapter but I hope you enjoy!
Despite his protests, d'Artagnan had been returned to his bed after he'd eaten, Aramis noting the pallor of his friend's face as the pain in his head increased, bringing with it a resurgence of nausea. They had been lucky so far and avoided a repeat of the previous night when the Gascon had emptied his stomach, but the medic was certain they would not have been so fortunate if the boy hadn't laid down in his bed when he had. The young man's appearance, curled on his side asleep, brought a smile to Aramis' face, felling content at having the boy once more among them.
He had been sitting there, watching over the Gascon for a couple of hours now, waiting on both Porthos and Athos to return. He was confident that the larger man would be away until late afternoon, determined not to return empty-handed in his quest to unearth the identity of the child messenger. Athos had stayed until d'Artagnan was settled comfortably in bed and then gone in search of Treville, who by then had been called to the palace. From the Gascon's window, Aramis could see that Athos had settled at the table in the courtyard, waiting for either Treville or Porthos to return.
A quiet shuffling noise from d'Artagnan's bed brought the medic's gaze back to his patient and he could see that the young man was becoming restless and was likely to wake soon. That was fine as far as Aramis was concerned, looking forward to every opportunity to push food and drink on his overly slender friend. Several more minutes passed before d'Artagnan drew a larger breath and his eyes opened, staring into nothingness for a good half-minute as the medic observed him quietly coming awake. The young man rolled slowly onto his back, a slight wince of pain crossing his features but gone just as quickly as it had arrived, Aramis nodding to himself at the fact that the salve he'd applied earlier was helping. Not wanting to startle the man, Aramis rose silently from his seat at the table and glided over, offering a soft greeting. "Hello, d'Artagnan, awake again, I see."
d'Artagnan's head rolled lazily to the side to meet his friend's smiling face and he gave a short nod. "I can't believe how much I've been sleeping, but I admit that it's helped."
Aramis gave a knowing nod, pleased that the rest was having the desired effect. "You should never doubt me, d'Artagnan. My advice will never lead you astray."
He was startled by a snort from behind him, Porthos and Athos having entered and heard his last statement. "What about the time you told him that girl Marie was sweet on 'im?"
"If I recall correctly, her fiancé took great exception to d'Artagnan's advances and he was fortunate to escape with his head still attached," Athos added, dryly, trying to keep the amusement from his face.
"My friends, what would I do without you so helpfully reminding me of my occasional failings?" Aramis asked, taking the teasing in good stride.
Porthos let out a guffaw as he clapped a hand on the medic's back, glancing toward the Gascon and pleased that their bantering had brought a grin to the boy's face. "Feelin' better?" he asked as he watched d'Artagnan push himself to a sitting position, legs hanging off the side of the bed.
"Much," he replied, slowing rising to a standing position, holding a hand up to Aramis to indicate he was alright as he momentarily swayed and then steadied. With a grin to his friends, he moved to the chest at the foot of his bed, intending to find a clean shirt. As he carefully bent to rummage inside, he asked, "What did you find out about the boy?"
Porthos' expression turned uneasy, clearly unhappy with the information he'd gathered. "I managed to get a name – Christophe. He's been alone since age five, pickin' pockets and doing any manner of odd job that'll earn 'im some coin." The irony of the child's story was not lost on his friends, recognizing the similarities between Porthos' experience and the boy's.
As d'Artagnan tucked the hem of his shirt into his breeches, Athos spoke up, trying to refocus the conversation back on their original objective of identifying the Gascon's kidnappers. "Did you manage to speak with him?"
"No," he shook his head. "He's slippery and it seems he's gone to ground for a bit. My guess is he earned a good payday for his role in trickin' the lad and is layin' low until he runs out of money."
"Surely a boy of that age would still have someone taking care of him?" Aramis pressed, unhappy at the thought of their only clue leading to a dead end.
"Probably," Porthos conceded. "Most of the children are organized and they give back a portion of what they earn…" He trailed off, rubbing a hand across his jaw as he considered his next words. "It was odd, no one wanted to say who Christophe's workin' for. I've got Flea lookin' into it for me but it might take a day or two."
d'Artagnan looked to the other two men from where he sat, back again on the edge of the bed so he could pull on his boots. Both seemed satisfied with Porthos' explanation and Athos gave a short nod, "I went to speak with Treville, but he'd been summoned to the palace. I'll share these additional details with him when he returns. Until then…"
He was interrupted by a knock, the door swinging open before anyone even had a chance to move. When Treville could see inside, he found Athos and Porthos facing him with hands on their pistols, and Aramis preparing to leap towards d'Artagnan to protect him. Sighing, the Captain stepped inside, pushing the door closed behind him, realizing how on edge the four were and that his news would do nothing to ease their anxiety. "d'Artagnan," he nodded at the young man. "It's good to see you up. How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine sir," d'Artagnan answered automatically.
"Captain, what brings you here?" Athos queried, correctly reading the tension in the man's face and posture.
"I need your word that you will hear me out and take no action unless we've all agreed," Treville stated, knowing the magnitude of what he was asking, but praying that the loyalty he'd earned from his men throughout the years would carry them through the next several days.
"Captain," Porthos began but Treville stopped him with a hand.
"I need your word," he repeated. "Please, trust me."
The three looked to Athos as the Captain had expected and Treville held his breath a moment as he met his lieutenant's gaze, infusing his expression with as much sincerity as he could muster to convince the man to support his request. Finally, Athos responded, "Very well, Captain, we give you our word." He could see the other three nodding behind him in agreement.
"Thank you," the Captain acknowledged. "The Ambassador to Spain was murdered and Rochefort has been tasked with the responsibility of apprehending the killer." Athos' heart clenched as his eyes drifted to the Gascon, Porthos and Aramis noticing and glancing at their youngest who still waited for the Captain to finish speaking.
"When was he killed?" Aramis asked, already dreading the answer.
"Around midnight, last night," Treville replied. "d'Artagnan, there are Red Guards waiting outside to arrest you and take you to the Chatelet where you will remain until your trial commences in two days' time."
"What?" the Gascon sputtered, shocked at the accusation. "But I was being held against my will at that point. You didn't find me until hours later."
Treville nodded wearily and Athos could see how much his current duty was weighing on him. "Rochefort believes his disappearance was part of it," Athos stated, certain of his words even before he saw the confirmation in the Captain's eyes.
Porthos swore as he glared at the officer, "You can't tell me you believe he did this. You saw the shape he was in when you found him."
Aramis joined in immediately after, adding his own words in d'Artagnan's defense, "What proof do they have of d'Artagnan's involvement?"
"They have a witness as well as his sword and main gauche, and Rochefort has confirmed that the latter was the weapon used to slit the Ambassador's throat," Treville revealed unhappily.
The men fell silent at the Captain's words, recalling well the day when Athos had gifted d'Artagnan with the engraved and deadly dagger.
The bandits they'd been pursuing had split into two groups in a last ditch effort to get away from the Musketeers who pursued them. Both groups were small, consisting of only three men, so Athos had no qualms about dividing their quartet so that each could pursue one of the trios. d'Artagnan had ended up beside Athos when the older man had successfully shot one of the men trying to evade them, bringing their quarry down to two. The Gascon had dug his heels into the flanks of his horse, drawing his sword as he closed the distance between himself and one of the bandits, happy to leave the last man to Athos' expertise. After clashing blades on horseback, d'Artagnan and his opponent had eventually ended up facing each other on the ground, the challenges of managing both beast and blade an unwelcome trial. The young man knew he had the bandit on the defensive and was confident of defeating him with another few well-placed strikes, and he spared a glance in Athos' direction to confirm the man was also winning his contest.
What he saw disturbed him, a patch of red high on Athos' right shoulder indicating where the bandit had managed to draw blood. The Musketeer still held his blade in his dominant right hand, but d'Artagnan could tell that it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to defend himself. Another slash at his opponent gave him a second opportunity to look in Athos' direction and he frowned as he saw the bandit pushing Athos inexorably backwards with each punishing blow, towards, what d'Artagnan remembered, was the edge of a particularly high cliff, overlooking the river below. Fear now gripped him and made his sword arm strong, and the Gascon wasted no more time toying with his opponent, finishing the man with a final thrust to the chest. As soon as his blade was free of the bandit's body, d'Artagnan was turning and running toward his friend, Athos now standing dangerously close to the edge of the precipice. Time seemed to slow as Athos managed to clumsily avoid the strike aimed at his side, and moved just far enough out of the way for the bandit to overbalance and bring him within Athos' reach. The Musketeer took advantage and grabbed at his attacker's doublet, pulling him forward enough so the man's momentum brought him over the edge and into empty air, falling into nothingness. d'Artagnan experienced a split second of relief before he watched Athos waver, his back foot searching for firm ground and finding nothing to hold him. He began to fall as well, the Gascon flinging himself forward as he dropped his sword, managing to catch Athos' left hand as he swung precariously over empty space.
As lean as d'Artagnan was, he'd never considered his build a disadvantage, at least, not until that moment. Gravity could not be convinced that the Gascon was the heavier man and Athos' weight had them both sliding further downwards, Athos now pleading with d'Artagnan to release him. d'Artagnan's fury spiked as he growled an inarticulate "No!", reaching for his dagger to plunge it into the ground, momentarily halting their downward descent. The Gascon had screamed, ranted and begged Athos to climb upwards, as all the while their combined weight bent the blade of the young man's main gauche. The older man had struggled his way upwards and, if asked, neither could explain where he'd found the energy to complete the task. By the time their two friends had dealt with the other bandits and found their way back to re-join them, the two men lay side-by-side at the edge of the cliff, utterly spent. Aramis had fussed over Athos' wound while Porthos had whistled lowly at the damaged dagger but, to his surprise, d'Artagnan had merely grinned like an idiot at how well the short blade had performed.
It was weeks later when Athos' wound had healed and they were sharing a lazy meal together in the sunshine that the older man had presented d'Artagnan with a cloth-wrapped bundle. The Gascon had looked at him in surprise but Athos gave away nothing and waited patiently for the boy to open his gift as the other two men watched. When the brown sacking fell apart, d'Artagnan had inhaled sharply at the dagger that was revealed. It was beautifully designed, but clearly still a soldier's weapon, with a blade that was both honed to a fine edge and so perfectly balanced that the young man knew immediately he'd been spoiled for any other blade. "Athos, I can't possibly accept this," d'Artagnan said, eyes still drawn to the main gauche. "It's too much."
"Is my life not worth as much?" Athos asked.
"What?" the Gascon stammered, caught off guard by the odd question. "Your life is worth far more than this."
Athos nodded sagely, "Then you will accept it as a token of gratitude for having saved it." He'd walked away at that point, leaving d'Artagnan inspecting the dagger to find where Athos had had it engraved with his initials, while his two friends looked on fondly with smiles on their faces.
d'Artagnan looked around his room, realizing for the first time that his weapons were missing. "They took them from me so they could implicate me. This is why I was taken, wasn't it?" The look on his face was devastated and Porthos moved to sit next to the boy, placing an arm around his shoulder.
"The King has spoken on this?" Athos questioned, already fearing the answer.
"Yes, Rochefort has the King's ear in this and Louis fears war with Spain if a swift resolution isn't found," Treville confirmed.
d'Artagnan drew a steadying breath as he stood, Porthos rising with him. "Alright, I'm ready to go."
Athos was at once proud and devastated that his protégé would so willingly give himself up, and he watched as Aramis snagged the Gascon's doublet, handing it to him as he said, "It may feel warm outside but inside the prison walls it's cold. Best put this on." He waited until d'Artagnan had done as he'd asked and then drew the young man into a hug, holding him for several seconds before releasing him.
As the medic stepped away, Porthos stepped forward to embrace the boy, whispering quietly in his ear, "Do whatever it takes to stay alive until we can fix this." d'Artagnan nodded and the larger man released him, stepping back to join Aramis as the two waited for Athos' reaction. The young man took a couple of hesitant steps forward, uncertain about how to interpret the look on his mentor's face. He raised a tentative arm, intending to shake the man's hand and was pulled abruptly forward as Athos gripped him tightly, d'Artagnan leaning into the comfort of the older man's hold. "We will find the evidence to exonerate you from these charges. Have faith in us," Athos declared lowly.
When they parted, d'Artagnan locked gazes with Treville, repeating his earlier words, "I'm ready." The Captain turned and led the way outside, d'Artagnan following with his head held high as they made their way along the walkway and descended to the courtyard. The three inseparables stopped at the top of the stairs, Athos pinning Rochefort with a harsh glare as the other man simply nodded in greeting, a sick smile of satisfaction painting his face. The guards made quick work of securing d'Artagnan's hands in front of him and the Musketeers watched as the Red Guards left the garrison, taking their recently returned brother with them.
When the group was out of sight, Treville looked up to where the three men were still standing, their morose mood tangible even across the distance that separated them. He turned wearily toward the stairs and climbed slowly, feeling every one of his years pressing down on him at having surrendered one of their own to the Red Guards. When he reached the top of the stairs, he turned toward his office, knowing intuitively that the others would follow, surely eager to create a plan of action that would see their fourth returned to them. He pushed open the door to his office, removing his weapons and laying them on a side table before pulling out four glasses and his best brandy, distributing the glasses before splashing a healthy measure of the strong amber liquid into each. They drank deeply, Aramis refilling the glasses as Treville took his seat, sitting back to look at the men standing before him. As he'd expected, the men wore matching expressions of devastation mixed with anguish, and he was certain that, if asked, each man would claim responsibility for the Gascon's current predicament, even though the notion was utterly ridiculous. If anyone in the room deserved the blame, it was him, and a part of him was disgusted again at his inability to protect the men under his command.
"So, what's the plan?" Porthos broke the silence, asking the question that consumed all their thoughts.
The Captain's gaze drifted across the men, the look on Athos' face daring him to state that he had no plan, and promising retribution if that were the case. "We have two options. We either find the real killer or find the evidence needed to clear his name. The King has promised a fair trial, but that will mean little if we have nothing that refutes the evidence in Rocehfort's hands."
Athos' face was thoughtful and Treville knew he was putting his strong tactician's mind to the problem. "The evidence that Rochefort possesses – a witness and d'Artagnan's weapons. Who is the witness?"
Treville pinched the bridge of his nose against the headache that sat dully behind his eyes as he answered, "His aide, Navas. The description he gave fit d'Artagnan and I'm certain he'll be present at the trial to identify him as Perales' killer."
"So our best course of action is to identify the true killer," Aramis stated.
"And our best lead is to find the child, Christophe, and find out who hired him," Porthos concluded.
At the questioning look on the Captain's face, Athos elaborated, "Porthos was able to identify the child who lured d'Artagnan from the garrison, but he's pulled a disappearing act of his own. We're hopeful that Flea will be able to track him down for us."
"That's does seem our best course of action," Treville agreed. The statement brought little comfort to the group and they were painfully aware that two days might be wholly insufficient to accomplish their daunting task. Of course, they'd faced similar odds when Athos had been accused and they'd successfully cleared his name; none of them wanted to be reminded that, in that instance, Athos had already been standing in front of the firing squad and a delay of even another minute would have seen their friend taken from them permanently. With nothing further to discuss, the men filed from the room, Treville pulling a fresh piece of parchment toward him along with a quill. There was little he could do to help the three with their current task but he could take steps to formulate a contingency plan if it should become necessary. With a heavy hand, he dipped his quill into the ink and began to compose his message.
