K is for Knife….
The four men ambled down the road towards the tavern after a hard day's work; tired, aching but ready to drink- Aramis was the first to push open the door, inhaling deeply as the familiar smell wafted over them; heat, alcohol and smoke. 'My round first lads, what is everyone having?' He asked lightly, turning back to the others.
'The usual.' Porthos shot back, grinning, before leading the other two in search of a table. Wine it was then.
Aramis smiled across at the barmaid as she walked towards him from the other side of the bar, her hair wild and a sheen of sweat on her face. He looked back behind her to a small group of men that were considerably worse for wear.
'Sailors?' He asked lightly, noting their worn uniforms and faded insignia. The barmaid nodded as she collected some glasses, pushing a strand of raven hair behind one ear as Aramis asked for wine. 'Just come from Spain this morning, rowdy bunch.' She said, half smiling- Aramis was sure she was used to dealing with men like them.
He wrinkled his nose at her as they cat called her back, waving empty glasses and whistling like she was a dog off the street. 'Thats nice.' He commented, pulling the glasses towards him as the barmaid filled a large jug with wine.
'Nothing I can't handle, Aramis.' She smiled, putting a hand on his as she began serving another man beside him. 'Thanks for the concern though.'
'My pleasure,' Aramis nodded, before stepping back to deliver the glasses before getting the wine. 'We're just over there.' He added, nodding to the sea of blue cloaks that he and the others were wearing.
The barmaid nodded in thanks, before rolling her eyes and finally giving in to the demands of the rowdy Spanish men at the other end of the bar.
Aramis sighed a little but let it happen- it was surprising what the barmaids in this city could put up with... 'Here we are...' He smiled as he finally got to the table with the glasses. 'Give me two seconds and I'll just-' his voice was smothered by the noise of drunken whooping and jeering. They all looked back as the men cheered, pointing to an unfortunate man who had dropped an empty glass onto the wooden floor.
'...get the wine.' He added, giving Athos a look- they exchanged a glance before he returned to the bar, grasping the jug of wine as he looked across at the bunch of sailors. The barmaid had run around the bar with a cloth to scoop up the glass, and the men had obviously taken the time to 'admire' her posterior as she bent down.
He quirked an eyebrow, trying to work out whether to help or not- from his experience of women, they didn't like being the centre of attention that made them feel small. By the looks of the barmaid, she was able to handle this- she gave them curt looks as she stood up, raising her eyebrows as she walked back to the bar, ignoring the jeers.
'What lovely people.' He commented drily as she passed.
She shrugged at that, putting the cloth away. 'They're the same wherever they come from.'
'Ah, but not me?' He replied, grinning as she gave him a smirk.
'No, Aramis, not you.' She smiled a genuine smile across at him- ah, how many times had he woken to that smile?
'Remember I'm just over there.' He smiled, before picking up the jug.
'Ah, my knight in shining armour, eh?' She grinned, before another punter caught her eye. 'I think I'll be ok.' She added, already taking another order.
Aramis grinned to himself as he walked back over to the others. He placed the jug down at sat next to d'Artagnan with a flourish, whilst Athos was already busy pouring the wine into the glasses.
'Rowdy bunch.' D'Artagnan muttered, cocking an eyebrow in their direction.
'Ah they're just having fun,' Aramis muttered as he took a slow swallow of his wine, 'probably been at sea for the past six months.' They all nodded in agreement and sat back, drinking heartily and joking merrily for a while as they rested their aching muscles from the day's events.
A few minutes later and the door crashed open- Athos looked round as the bar fell silent; all eyes were on the newcomers. 'Didn't think they were still around.' Muttered Porthos as he downed his drink and poured himself another.
'Who are they?' Asked d'Artagnan as he noted the expressions on his friend's faces; Porthos looked suspiciously as them as they sauntered to the bar; Athos looked on darkly before his eyes were drawn to his wine once more, and Aramis was looking at them with delight in his eyes, looking almost awestruck.
'Just a gang of sailors that trawl these bars.' Porthos muttered in answer, shrugging as he sat back down. 'Nothing special.'
'Nothing special?' Echoed Aramis, who turned to him with a quirked eyebrow. 'These guys are the envy of most men- they're just...I don't know...' He trailed off, shrugging himself. 'I've looked up to them for a while.'
'Really?' Athos muttered, eyebrow quirked. 'They kill people for money.'
'So do we?' D'Artagnan shot back, earning a snort and appreciative glance from Aramis.
'They look cool while they do it.' He returned with a finality about it, and he drank his wine in silence as Athos scoffed a little and did the same.
The arrival of this new gang seemed to only exacerbate the emotions of the already drunken Spanish sailors. They nudged each other and muttered darkly from behind the collars of their coats, eyes roving the new group as they clamoured to the bar. The barmaid smiled broadly at them- Athos mused that they'd been in here before.
The next few minutes passed in loudness but a relative calm- the men stayed their separate sides of the bar and the barmaid flitted between them, filling their tankards and cleaning down the wooden surface.
After an hour or so Aramis was starting to feel the doubled effects of alcohol and a hard day's work- he downed the rest of his wine and looked at his comrades, who were also beginning to wilt with tiredness.
'One more for the road?' He asked the group at large, smiling as Athos nodded, wiping red liquid from the corners of his mouth.
'I'll come up too.' He muttered, standing up and wiping a hand down his face. 'You just can't control these people, can you?' He added, shooting a teasing glance to d'Artagnan and Porthos, both of whom were still nursing half a glass each.
'Terrible...' Aramis grinned, before he and Athos made their way slowly to the busy bar, filled with people clamouring for the attention of the sole barmaid.
'Where's Juliet?' Aramis called to her as he and Athos finally fought their way through.
'Sick.' Came the reply as the barmaid pushed damp her away from her eyes. 'I've done this shift before.'
'Oh I bet!' Aramis smiled, casting her an admiring glance. A man stood beside him elbowed him in the sides as he fought to get into a better position. 'Careful, my friend,' he muttered as the man glowered up at him. 'Closing times not for a little while yet!'
The man regarded him with taut disdain, lifting his chin and pointedly ignoring the both of them as he whistled at the barmaid.
Aramis felt irritation rising- she wasn't a dog. He withheld a snappy remark as the barmaid gave him a short shake of the head as she arrived, a plastic smile now on her lips.
He sighed, something that Athos could hear even above the din of the bar. 'We could go somewhere else?' He muttered as the barmaid served the ansty reveller.
'No, we can stay here- I want to make sure no one oversteps the mark.' He replied as he watched men cackle and call for the barmaid's attention. 'Why can't they just be patient?'
'Thats sailors for you.' Athos returned as the barmaid finally came to take their order. 'Everything fine, Miss?'
'Perfectly fine, thank you.' She replied, shooting them both an appreciative smile. 'Two ships arrived an hour ago, from what I've heard- these men are here for one night apparently.'
'Good.' Aramis muttered darkly, before smiling across at the barmaid as she gave him a soft smile. 'What? I'm worried about you.'
'You really have no need to be,' she replied, teasingly rolling her eyes, 'I can fight my own battles as you well know.' She added, putting a hand on his and squeezing, letting it linger there for a few seconds. This was all it took to get the man who had elbowed Aramis riled up.
'You're with a bloody musketeer?' He growled, his drunken, loud voice carrying well even in the crowded bar area.
The room fell silent- each man looked across at the barmaid, at the way her hair flowed down her back, perfectly complimenting her blue eyes, and the delicate curve of her bottom in her dress. They couldn't have her going out with a dirty, dirt-scuffed musketeer.
'You can do so much better, love.' The man added, a yellow smile spreading on his features.
'No, I'm not with him.' The barmaid muttered, taking her hand off and taking a step back. 'I'm not with anyone.'
'Shame.' A man on the other side of the bar added, eyebrows raised in suggestion. 'I can bet one of us will show you what it means to be with a real man!'
'I don't date my customers.' She replied stoically, wiping a hand down her dress and pointedly ignoring Aramis' eye. 'Especially sailors.' She added in a whisper as she turned to continue her job,
'And why ever not?' One of said sailors growled, leaning over the small bar and grasping her arm, meaning to turn her back. Aramis' eyes widened as she struggled, eyes wide with a small amount of fear as the men started to jeer and growl.
'Hey!' He cried, bodily jumping over the bar and coming to a stop near the two of them- he pulled the man's arm off hers, noting with distaste and anger the red finger marks on her pale skin. 'I think you've had enough!'
'Back off, musketeer!' The man spat, hauling his arm away with anger in his drunken eyes. 'Get back to your King you jumped up fool!'
'Jumped up fool?' Aramis echoed, turning to Athos, who had also vaulted the bar and was stood beside them, 'that's the best he can do?'
'Well I don't know, 'Mis...' Athos replied, eyes roving the group of men in front of them as the atmosphere turned electric with drunken anger, '...I'd hate to be called a jumped up fool!'
'True, it did sting a bit.' Aramis acknowledged, before turning back to the man in question.
'She doesn't want it mate, leave it.' He said, voice dark.
'She'll come over to the idea, won't you sweetheart?' He smiled, making to grab her arm again- Aramis stepped in with a growl, getting bodily between the smaller woman and the sailor. 'She said no!' He repeated, a hand to his chest- he pushed as the man leaned in forcefully, arms outstretched.
He tipsily staggered back, and did exactly what Aramis was silently praying he wouldn't do. He fell to the floor with a groan, taking a line of glasses with him as he flailed at the bar to keep his balance.
'Bugger.' He muttered as the men looked up at him, suddenly bereft of the prospect of a stand-off and their drinks.
'It had to be you, didn't it?' Athos returned with a growl as the men started clamouring forward. 'If everyone could just calm down!' He shouted above the sudden raucous din. 'I will pay for an extra drink for all of you, courtesy of the musketeer regiment!' He sighed and looked over to d'Artagnan and Porthos as the men ignored his offer. The two men nodded back and began to make their way to the bar.
'I thought the prospect of free drinks would clinch it...' He muttered sarcastically to Aramis, who he saw was making sure the barmaid was ok.
'The tavern masters going to kill me!' She whispered as she rubbed her arm- Athos grabbed Aramis as the men started climbing over the bar, growling like animals.
'Its alright- just go inside and tell him what's happened!' Aramis instructed as she opened the small door to the parlour and shut it behind her. 'Now, where were we?' He muttered, before staggering back as a fist connected with his jaw.
'Oh yes, I remember.' He growled, before returning the favour.
Athos also growled in his throat as a man grabbed the front of his jacket and propelled him forwards into the bar- he twisted at the last minute, grabbing the hand and twisting it to make him drop to the ground. He punched the side of his head and he fell back, unconscious.
'Look what you've done!' He shouted across to Aramis as he battled two burly men with tattooed knuckles. 'Treville will have our hides!'
'It wasn't me!'' Aramis shot back, yelping as a fist connected with his cheek.
'Well it bloody well wasn't me!' Athos growled, turning to a man who now wielded a chair- he ducked the wood that the man held as if it were paper, and dived to the side as it was thrown at his head. As he recovered he heard a gargled yelp and saw Porthos kick him away like a rock. He nodded his thanks, pulling himself up ready for the next tourney. A blinding, sickening pain suddenly caught him in the shoulder, drawing all the breath from him in it's agony.
He faltered on suddenly weak legs, his hands going to the source of the pain- his eyes widened as his fingers latched onto steel. A knife.
He turned around, pain trickling alarmingly across his shoulder as he did so- he saw the bar brawl-if it ever could be called that- was almost over; men were picking themselves up and heading for the door, and the ones who were still on the ground didn't stir.
He sucked in a breath as d'Artagnan came to his side- the younger man's eyes widened as the colour drained from his mentor's face. 'Aramis!' He called, looking over to the man as he saw off one of the last few men- he turned, and Porthos saw he had a bloody nose and a bruise blooming on his cheek.
His eyes turned from showing victory to concern as they fell on Athos. 'What happened?' He asked as he quickly made his way to their sides- he didn't need to ask again as he took in the injury.
'Just get it...out.' Athos hissed, bloody hands ready to take it off himself- Aramis shushed him and shook his head, grasping his hands and pulling them down. 'If you do that it'll bleed more,' he explained, knowing the horrible effects of blood loss from his time in battle. 'I need to clean it and then I can see what needs to be done.'
Athos groaned and leaned back on an upturned table, eyes shut as Aramis carefully took the blade and moved it a little to see how much damage had been done. 'Seems to be a small blade.' He mused to himself, thankful it wasn't a dirk or even a dagger. 'More like a letter opener, really.' He added, earning a small scoff from Porthos.
'So, you're telling me...' Athos muttered, eyes screwed shut in pain, 'that it's not even worth a good story?'
'Sorry, mon ami.'
'Typical...' He replied, a smile tugging at his lips. 'Lets just get it over with.'
'Right- d'Artagnan, alcohol. Spirits will be better; whiskey, vodka, rum.' He instructed before turning to Porthos. 'My medical kit is in my coat, and we'll need bandages.' He turned back to Athos as the two men nodded and went to get the equipment.
'Stiches?' Athos grunted as he moved; the blade seemed to bite even more.
'I'm afraid so.' Aramis muttered, sitting back on his haunches. 'Only a couple though.'
Athos nodded and sat back, feeling his legs begin to shake. 'Could do with a drink.'
Aramis nodded and went to collect the glass- he chose brandy as it was always something his mother used to swear by when someone had a bad experience. 'Here we are..' He muttered, pouring it into a glass and handing it to him
. Athos took a gulp, his eyes bulging wide as he swallowed the fiery liquid. He nodded thankfully as his tongue got used to it, and he handed the glass back to his friend, a smile on his lips despite the pain. 'Cheers.' He muttered. He soon sat back, however, as the other two returned to them.
Aramis ripped open the rest of Athos' shirt and immediately poured a bottle of spirit onto it, trying his best to ignore the protesting hisses and curses of the man below him. 'All done!' He smiled as the blood ran down his chest, mingling with the alcohol. 'That wasn't so bad, was it?' The curse he got back made him laugh out loud.
'Right, I've got to take the blade out now...' He muttered, turning serious. 'Ready?'
'Just do it.'
'Here we go...' Aramis gently but firmly took hold of the blade and pulled cleanly upwards, wincing himself as Athos jerked out a breath and moaned out a protest. 'Almost there.' He added, before bringing the tip upwards and away, putting it on the wooden floor of the tavern before shoving a clean bandage into the wound. Athos groaned at the pressure, but he knew it had to be done.
'Have I ever told you...how glad I am that you're a medic?' He said instead as Aramis took hold his hand and placed it on top of his wound.
'Ah Athos don't, you'll make my head swell!' Aramis grinned, before giving a small bow as Athos arched an eyebrow. 'I am to please.' He added, before gathering up the other bandages.
'Come on, let's get you up and to a matron who knows what she's doing-' he muttered as he and d'Artagnan supported Athos. 'I don't expect I should be the one to stitch it up...' He added; his head swam with the effects of the wine. 'I fear I have lots of apologies to make for this.' He added sorrowfully as they took in the bar. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, he mused as he saw only a couple of broken tables. Treville would probably have him on stable and boot cleaning duties for the next month, but he was glad the barmaid didn't come to harm.
He wondered whether to leave her a note, but thought that a face to face apology would probably serve him better.
'Come on,' he muttered, putting a supporting arm around Athos as he led them onto the streets, in the direction of the nearest hospital. 'Let's go get you seen to properly.'
Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! I wrote most of it today whilst battling a stinking cold, so I hope it's alright! :D
Next chapter up soon!
Please review! xx