CHAPTER 11
Treville leaned on the railing of the second story overhang, observing the two gloomy Musketeers sitting at the wooden table below in the courtyard. Though there was food in the bowls in front of them, neither man was eating anything, merely pushing food about in the illusion of consumption. The Captain sighed in frustration at the worsening situation. The two, along with d'Artagnan, had been furiously scouring the city non-stop for days, forgetting about all the niceties of life such as hygiene, eating and sleeping, trying to find a clue about the bald man and the green wagon that had apparently abducted Athos. It had taken a direct order, which was really a threat, to make the three stop long enough each day to eat, rest and perform some basic hygiene. Even now d'Artagnan had not yet returned, in spite of the fact that Treville had thought he'd been most specific about the rule of showing up in the garrison for dinner each evening.
As he was about to make his way down to once again lecture the errant musketeers, when an exuberant d'Artagnan burst thru the archway and made a beeline for the table where Porthos and Aramis resided. Quiet but animated conversation that did not filter up to Treville's level, occurred and suddenly all three men were on their feet and heading towards the archway.
"Stop!" the Captain commanded from his perch and the three men halted as one and turned in unison. As Treville made his way down the well-wore wooden stairway, he demanded, "Where are you going?"
The three men had the courtesy and the decency to appear a bit abashed at being caught trying to leave the Garrison without finishing, or in d'Artagnan's case starting their mandated evening meal. The Captain bound off the bottom tread, swiftly closing the gap between him and his men. "Did you forget the rule on eating and resting so quickly as that?" he snapped his fingers, as his eyes coolly raked each soldier.
d'Artagnan, always the eager puppy, bounced to the front. "We have a lead! A good solid lead on Athos!"
Treville was taken back a step, though he tried to keep his appearance neutral. It had been more than three weeks since Athos had gone missing. To find something, that might lead to an explanation of his disappearance was monumental. However, the Captain wasn't a man to be easily given over to hope, so he put a tight lid on his thoughts and feelings and spoke calmly. "What have you found?"
D'Artagnan drew in a breath and tried to provide a report to the Captain that didn't sound like three-year-old babbling. "We have been asking all the merchants in town if they have any customer that fits the description Nicholas provided us. We have had no luck until today when I asked a chandler, in the west-end of the city. He knows of a tall, bald man, with a limp, that drives a green, covered wagon!"
"That description, Cap, matches exactly what Nicholas told us," Porthos excitedly informed Treville, his dark, chocolate, brown eyes showing a glimmer of hope that had been absent for many weeks.
"Yes, I recall the boy's description. But why would a busy candle maker remember this particular man?" The former part of the question was directed towards Porthos and the latter d'Artagnan.
"Because the bald man buys a huge number of candles, all at once, when he comes into the shop. The bald man told the shopkeep the estate, where he serves, is quite distance from Paris and since his Lord is particularly fond of the scented candles this merchant makes, he stocks up."
"Did this candle maker perchance have a name or an indication of the estate's whereabouts?" Treville's eyes swept d'Artagnan's face praying his lips would answer yes, but he knew, the moment the boy's eyes broke contact and lowered, he was about to be disappointed.
D'Artagnan sadly shook his drooping head. "No."
A disappointed silence settled over the group for a few seconds before the young Musketeer added, "But he promised, the next time the man showed up, he'd let us know. That's something. Right?"
Porthos and Aramis both clapped their apprentice on opposite shoulders. "Absolutely," Aramis returned. "This is good news. You have done well, d'Artagnan." The farmer turned Musketeer's countenance brightened. The boy had taken his mentor's disappearance hard, as had they all.
As they grew introspective, their mood turned somber. Porthos and Aramis had known Athos a lot longer, and while maybe not understanding all his demons, they knew the depths of despair to which they could drive the man. It had crossed both their minds, more than once, that one day Athos' self-imposed demons might win, driving him from this earth. None-the-less, there had been no question in their minds they would love Athos with all their hearts, be his friend, his brother and his protector to the best of their abilities. They would go to hell and back for their beloved brother, as they knew he would for them.
The Captain cleared his throat to get their attention. "Let us celebrate this bit of good news with a proper meal." The Captain started herding his ducklings towards the Garrison's indoor dining area, with a guiding hand on arms and elbows. All four passed thru the doorway into the room, which housed a number of tables and chairs.
d'Artagnan, who wasn't as wise in the ways of the world, or Captain Treville, protested. "But Captain we need too..."
"...sit here," Treville indicated hooking his foot around a chair, pulling it out and gently, though firmly, pressing on d'Artagnan shoulder forcing him to sit, "while Serge brings us some food." Looking over his shoulder, he indicated to the man to bring whatever was the fair for the evening meal.
Aramis and Porthos remained standing, until a meaningful glance from their Captain had them slinking into chairs too. "As this is a bit of a celebration, let me run to my quarters and get a nice vintage of red I have there." Turning on his heels, he headed towards the door, stopping just shy of the threshold. "And," his piercing gaze swept them all one last time, "you'd better be right here, eating, when I return. Do I make myself clear?"
Three silent nods answered his question with d'Artagnan appearing contrite, Porthos amused and Aramis resigned. "Good." With that, the Captain left the room and Serge and his helper stomped over to their table placing platters and bowls of food in front of them.
"Thank you," Aramis graciously replied, which earned him a small friendly grunt from the man before he headed back to his kitchen.
Porthos handed round plates and they all proceeded to help themselves to the food. The delicious odors and the first bite made the three men realize how hungry they really were.
"The Captain is a good man," Porthos mumbled around a mouth full of stew.
"Yes, I am," the Captain, acknowledged humbly as he returned with the promised bottle of wine. Grabbing four tumblers, he filled them, before settling in the fourth empty chair at the table. A bit of sadness emerged, as each man unconsciously acknowledge where the Captain sat was the seat usually occupied by Athos.
"We'll find him," Aramis spoke with absolute certainty. "I believe that with all my heart and soul."
"But not, if you run yourself ragged." The Captain pushed the basket of bread closer to the pious man who took the hint, selected a piece, and dunked it in his gravy. "You can start your stakeout of the merchant's shop, after a good meal. It will still be there. Have you given any thoughts as to how you will work the rotation?"
It came as no surprise to the trio, that the Captain had already figured out their next move. The three musketeers passed guilty looks amongst themselves. "No Cap. Athos was the planner."
Treville softly smiled at Porthos, affirming the truth of his statement. "Well I can't have all three of you sitting outside the shop for God knows how long, waiting for a bald man, with the green wagon, to materialize."
Another round of guilty looks had the Captain giving a small grunt. None of the three men sitting around the table had put much thought into the best way to proceed. Their hearts were in the right place; their brains hadn't caught up yet. This group needed their de facto leader, Athos, as much as he needed them.
Aramis, realizing the folly of their misguided enthusiasm to follow up on this significant clue, sighed. "Perhaps we were a bit hasty to depart. A rotating schedule, so only one of us is absent at a time, would be a wise course of action. Assuming, that is alright with you, Captain."
Smiling sadly, Treville took a sip of wine before answering. "I miss him too." He paused a moment to reflect, then interject some reality into the situation. "You realize this is a very long shot."
Porthos, the pragmatist, grunted in acknowledge. "But it's the only one we got. I won't stop searching for Athos."
Three sets of brown eyes stared into the one blue set at the table. "Nor will I stop you. I only ask you do it smartly and carefully. And, you need to think for you own well-being. Sleeping. Eating. You know Athos would be devastated if something happened to any of you, because of him."
Aramis deliberately picked up his fork, speared a piece of meat, and brought it towards his face. "We understand." Popping the food into his mouth, he thoughtfully chewed, then swallowed.
Treville rose from the table. "That's all I ask." I'll leave you to your meal and planning." With that, he headed back to his office, content his mission had been accomplished.
The remaining three men finished their meal and their plans on how to keep an eye on the candle maker's shop. If wasn't exactly that they didn't trust the merchant to keep his word and call them if the tall, bald man came back. But it was their only lead to finding their missing brother, and they simply couldn't leave anything to God or chance. They all had enough sins on their souls to wonder if God still favored them, so due diligence was probably their best bet and that meant keeping watch with their own eyes.