Aramis was at last well enough to be put on limited guard duty at the palace in two days time, provided he did so accompanied by all three of his brothers. He was jubilant at once again being allowed to perform his Musketeer duties.
His brothers hadn't told him of the "deliveries" that had been made recently, not wanting to disturb his recuperation period. But they had vowed to each other that Bernard would get to him 'over their dead bodies', and stuck to him like glue everywhere he went to his amused frustration.
Over breakfast that morning, Porthos said to him, "You know we're supposed to be on guard duty together, don't you? No wandering off in pursuit of the ladies yet," he teased.
Aramis no longer had the interests he had once had, not since he and Anne had been together. But he also knew he needed to keep that fact from his other brothers. He already had one brother who could throw daggers at him over the matter without touching his weapons. He just gave Porthos a teasing look and didn't respond.
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The day before Aramis' first assignment back on duty, all four friends spent the morning together sparring with each other: swords, followed by target shooting and then hand-to-hand.
To absolutely no one's surprise, Aramis hit the bull's-eye four out of four times. Athos gave him a gentle fencing session, still wanting to take it easy on him. He and d'Artagnan engaged in a mild sort-of playful wrestling match.
Then Aramis turned to Porthos, saying, "Your turn Porthos. Come on!"
Porthos , leery of hurting his friend while he was recovering, visibly hesitated, finally saying, "I think we've been at it enough for today. Think we should see what Serge has ready for us?" looking to each of his brothers, and hoping Athos and d'Artagnan would back up his suggestion. Porthos was fully aware of his own capabilities, and of how playfully restless his brother could be while trying to convince his brothers that he was getting back to full strength.
Athos and d'Artagnan were indeed aware of Porthos' ploy, and played along. But as they did, Aramis' brows came together in both upset and frustration.
"All of you are coddling me! You're going easy on me and letting me win! I'm fine. Don't treat me as a child!"
Athos thought to himself, 'he's far too intelligent for us to have tried to fool him, and as a result, he feels insulted. I cannot say that I blame him, as I would feel the same'.
He tried smoothing things over, saying, "Aramis, you are doing fine. We can see that. None of us came close to beating you in the shooting, and you would have held your own with the swords even if I had not hung back a little. I have fenced with you many times, my friend, and you are quite good, you know." Aramis did smile at that, and everyone relaxed again. "We will have another session soon, and will have to be on our toes against you then.
Now, would you like to work your charms on Serge, and see if he will part with some of the peach tarts for us that I saw half-hidden in the back of the kitchen?"
Aramis' mind had changed direction now, as he was thinking of how much they cared for him that they would have worked so hard to take it easy on him. He didn't for one moment think they hadn't, but he wouldn't say anything further on the subject. He gave in readily, to his brothers' relief.
As he sauntered off in the direction of the kitchen, Porthos let out a big sigh of relief, saying, "I can't say as I blame him much. I'd probably be upset myself if I felt any of you were going too easy on me. Let's go sit down. With Aramis doing the asking, we may get a whole plate of those mouth-watering tarts!", rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
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The next day, the set out for the palace, deciding to walk rather than ride. Aramis was just so happy to be back on duty, and the feeling spread to all of them. They talked and laughed their way to their destination, stopping along the way at the apple vendor's, where the elderly man who owned the cart greeted Aramis warmly.
"It is good to see you well again, Monsieur Aramis," he said, handing him a large, shiny red apple.
Aramis started to reach into his pocket for a coin, but the man stopped him, saying, "Not today, with all we've heard that you've been through. My treat!"
After thanking him, they finished their walk to the palace, with Aramis crunching through his apple with gusto.
Aramis' brothers surrepticiously kept a watchful eye out for Bernard, but things stayed peaceful and quiet, for which they were thankful.
None of them had any idea where the former stablehand was, but the palace was the last hiding place they would have guessed him to be.
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They had an uneventful day, the King having retreated to his rooms with a slight stomach upset, and nothing else going on.
The Queen, having not been informed that Aramis was back on duty, was quite pleasantly surprised at the sight she beheld when she moved to the windows to obtain better light in which to read.
Aramis and his brothers were almost directly below her windows! Later, Anne would be thankful that none of her ladies-in-waiting or any of the maids were with her at the moment, as she had been totally unable to keep a big smile from lighting up her face at the sight of her lover on the grounds and looking so well again. She had to stop herself from calling out to him, not knowing who might be within hearing distance. 'Thank God,' she thought, 'he is finally well again'.
Someone else saw the Musketeers, as well,but his thoughts were anything but thankful.
Bernard, spying Aramis from Philippe's upper story room, was livid when he saw the man he had tried so many times to kill, enjoying guard duty almost beneath his nose.
'Laugh while you may, Musketeer,' he sneered. 'It will be your last time'.
He had barely finished the thought before he was heading for a back room of Philippe's suite, where the nobleman allowed him to keep his things. Strapping on a pistol and grabbing one extra one, he stalked out of the room and the palace, still remembering caution and using one of the servant's entrances. There would have been a big to-do made seeing someone of his station coming from the rooms of the nobility, using the main door.
He paused outside, deciding on where to lay in wait for his victim. Stopping a servant that he had befriended in his time at the palace, and asking him if he knew how long the Musketeers would be on duty that day, he received the news that they had only one hour left. Then, the servant volunteered further information that he didn't understand why they had walked instead of coming on horses that day as usual, puzzled why anyone would walk when they had horses for their use. 'Lazy man,' Bernard thought to himself. 'Master probably has to keep on him to get anything done,' but grateful for the further information.
Heading in the direction of the garrison, he finally chose an advantageous position on a second-story rooftop about halfway there. 'None of their fellow Musketeers at the garrison or anyone from the palace would be within earshot here,' he smirked to himself.
Settling himself in, he began to wait in anticipation.
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Aramis continued the lightheartedness along the way home, even though by now, he was beginning to feel close to exhausted, as he hadn't been this active for weeks. To himself, he thought, 'I wonder if Anne was in her rooms,' knowing full well which rooms his beloved occupied in the palace. I wish I might have seen her today,' he continued, but knowing how dangerous that always was for them.
Partway there, he began to feel a prickle of unease at the back of his neck, as if someone was watching them. Looking around, he didn't see anything out of the ordinary to trigger that sense of danger. Then, the same sensation happened a second time.
Thinking he should warn his brothers, he started to turn, when Porthos suddenly grabbed him and in the same motion, pushed him to the ground, shouting, "Ambush!"
The big man had no sooner given his warning, when he uttered a groan of pain, and collapsed to the ground, unmoving.
Aramis, on his knees after Porthos' actions, dropped fully to the ground, and in one fluid motion, rolled his body and fired upward, a scream echoing in the street as a body plummeted to the ground from his deadly accuracy.
Athos and d'Artagnan, pistols drawn, ran to check the body.
Aramis, ignoring the now still body lying in the dirt of the street, bent over his friend. "Why, Porthos?" he softly said. "Why did you take that bullet?" he cried out in anguish.