A bit of a struggle with this one. I keep thinking I'm winding it up and then realise I have a few more loose ends to tie up but it shouldn't take more than one or two chapters to get to the end now (hopefully!).
As ever, I'm very grateful for all feedback.
Enjoy!
A Simple Mission
Chapter 13
Athos and Porthos left Aramis to rest while they boiled some water and prepared everything that would be needed to clean him and his wounds up. Both keenly monitoring for any sign of fever or breathing difficulty, they were reassured, by the minimal signs of either, that exhaustion was the biggest factor in his condition and decided not to disturb him until they had to and then only for the shortest time possible.
As Athos checked Aramis' saddlebags for what remained of his medical kit, he happened to look over at Climence who'd been considerably quieter since Porthos' return; in fact now, for the first time, she looked genuinely scared as she craned her neck slightly towards the camp and, specifically, the man laying there: Concerned at the survival of a witness to the full extent of her complicity in the whole attack, he wondered?
Returning to help Porthos who had everything else readied, including his and Athos' spare shirts, which would, no doubt, be required for one purpose or another, Athos took a moment to pull a low branch across and secure it to an adjacent tree before draping a spare blanket over it to form a screen: He saw no reason to give Climence any more information or detail about Aramis' condition than was unavoidable.
"Keeping the draught out...?" Aramis' eyes were opened and he was, ill-advisedly attempting to sit up. Porthos, exasperated, immediately leant in to support him, refraining from any rebuke only because they'd have had to have woken him anyway...but even so...
"Much as we're aware of your exhibitionist tendencies, there's a time and a place..." Athos responded good-naturedly, "...feel better for your nap?"
Even through the layer of grime that coated his friend's face, the darkened shadows of sleep-deprivation were clear; it didn't take a doctor to work out that he'd been awoken simply by the amount of discomfort he was in. However that small amount of rest did seem to have been enough to allow him to think and speak clearly, for a short time at least.
Porthos started to gently remove the dirtied leather coat, sliding it off his shoulders, right arm first. He couldn't help noticing that the bulk of the dirt and mud was concentrated on the upper half of his body, as though it had been poured on him from above; he shuddered at the thought, Perrot's words from just a couple of hours ago still echoing in his mind.
The filthy and ruined shirt removed with equal care, and immediately discarded as unsalvageable, revealed a large area of bruising down the whole right hand side of his body and extending some way across his back.
Porthos drew his breath in over his teeth, he'd known about the painful rib injury but he'd no idea it was so extensive:
"How'd you do that?"
"Collided with a ravine wall...," Aramis paused, regarding his best friend with all seriousness, sensing how raw this subject still was for him. "One way to stop, I guess."
Porthos smiled weakly:
"Arnica?" He removed the familiar, and frequently used, pale salve from the medical supplies.
"That'll do it, I couldn't reach to apply any..."
Porthos nodded, just grateful for his friend's apparently miraculous escape, and handed him a dampened cloth to wipe his face clean of some of the dirt while he started to apply the salve to the bruised area far more gently than would ever be normally expected from a man of his size.
Aramis accepted the cloth gratefully, appreciating the warmed water in the chill air even as it accentuated the sting of the myriad small cuts and scrapes on his skin from the impact of stones and grit.
Treating each other's wounds had become almost second nature to them over the years and they worked systematically, all recognising what needed to be done.
To distract himself from the discomfort, particularly as the dressing on his arm had adhered to his skin and its removal was far from pleasant, Aramis started to give them a brief outline of what had happened; he noticed both his companions bristling visibly as they heard about the naive young cadet's behaviour and Climence's role in his unresponsiveness when the ambush had taken place.
He'd just started to relate exactly what happened at the ravine when he had to clench his teeth hard to prevent himself from crying out as the sodden bandage was removed from his leg and the, now ragged, wound was exposed. Only once it was cleaned and closed again, without any of the anticipated complaints about the uneven stitching, he was finally able to calm himself a little as the searing pain began to gradually subside.
By the time the process was over, he was breathing as heavily as his pained muscles would allow and too exhausted to offer any further explanations or information.
Noting he was starting to shiver in the chill air of the September morning, they hastily dressed him in Athos' spare shirt and managed to coax him to drink just a little tisane of healing herbs before he drifted off to sleep once more, huddled under a pile of blankets.
TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM
The Louvre, mid-morning.
Treville, entering His Majesty's presence, was not best pleased to see Cardinal Richelieu hovering just behind the King's shoulder. He had hoped his audience would be private.
Not for the first time, he considered His Eminence's overt interest in this particular matter to be more than a little disproportionate, surely France's First Minister had more important tasks to attend to?
"Well, Treville. What news of the Duke's letter?" The King was already short-tempered having been confined to the Palace grounds for the last couple of days due to the limited number of Musketeers available to protect him.
"Your Majesty, it appears my men were ambushed at some point after leaving the Duke's chateau. One was killed, the other is presently missing; we believe him to be presently pursuing the attackers. Two further Musketeers are also attempting to intercept the men responsible."
"And how do they know where they're going, or even if the other one's alive?"
The King's lack of concern that a man had been killed in the course of a mission on his behalf was nothing unusual but, nevertheless, rankled Treville as much as it ever did.
"He was able to send us a brief message with their intended destination..." Treville's words tailed off as he was temporarily distracted by a very odd look that seemed to flit across the Cardinal's features before the man modified his expression to look like he'd just eaten something unpleasantly sour, as he normally did.
As usual, the King noticed nothing amiss and said brightly:
"Well that's very resourceful. So when can I expect my letter, Captain?"
"I can't say for certain, Your Majesty, although, I would warn you, it's likely to be at least a couple of days before we get news. But my best men," he ignored Richelieu's sneer, "are dealing with this matter and they will do everything possible to recover the stolen item and complete its delivery at the earliest opportunity."
Louis' face took on that sulky look he always got when he didn't like an answer however he trusted Treville and saw no reason that he would be deliberately evasive, so seemed to be prepared to let the matter rest for the moment.
"Very well, Captain. Keep me updated. You're dismissed."
Treville was already mid-bow and about to remove himself from The King's presence when The Cardinal interjected:
"I'm sorry, Captain, but I don't believe you told us where you believe these miscreants to be heading...?"
"It's a small town over two days ride from the city, Your Eminence. This is why I do not anticipate receiving any news in the immediate future."
"Yes...but the name...?" Richelieu almost hissed the question.
"Er... yes, that's right. What's the name of the place, Treville?" Louis asked, entirely clueless as to why that might be relevant but feeling that he should enquire so it looked like he understood whatever was happening.
Treville was getting very tired of The Cardinal's point-scoring with regards to this matter. The name of the town would mean nothing to The King, in fact he had probably never even heard of it, but now Richelieu was trying to make it look like The Captain's report had been incomplete or even deliberately misleading.
"The town's name is Auchonne, Your Majesty," he stated, doing his best to keep the irritation out of his voice.
This time, Treville noted, there was no change to the expression on Richelieu's face, not even the self-satisfied grin he'd been half-expecting, and concluded that it could only be a trick of the light if the man looked slightly paler than normal.
"Will that be all, Your Majesty?" Treville was tired of The Cardinal's games and was anxious to be attending to more immediate matters.
"Oh yes, of course...well I hope this is all sorted out soon and your men don't mess up again..." The King waved his dismissal as his concentration waned.
Inwardly seething, Treville stalked from the chamber looking to exit the palace as swiftly as possible: His resources were stretched to breaking point and now he barely had enough men to carry out the most basic of duties; he certainly didn't have time for The Cardinal's petty one-upmanship.
He was vaguely aware of Richelieu excusing himself from His Majesty's presence as he left the room, something about an urgent task: This didn't improve Treville's mood any, knowing The Cardinal had had no other reason for being there but to try and diminish The Musketeers reputation in front of The King, yet again.
So preoccupied was he with concern for his men in Bellacoure, the ongoing battle to staff a full duty roster and his irritation with His Eminence's obvious attempts to undermine him at every turn, the departure of a messenger pigeon from the vicinity of The Cardinal's offices failed to register in his mind as he rode away from the palace and back to the garrison.
TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM~~TM
While Aramis got some much-needed sleep, Athos and Porthos had divided immediate tasks between them.
Porthos had drawn the short straw and was presently bootless and standing knee-high in the freezing cold river catching some fish: He was cursing slightly as he looked at the paltry amount he'd managed to trap so far, thinking that Aramis would have collected a more than adequate amount by now and would be happily warming up on the bank by the fire while he prepared the fish for grilling; he also wondered how much longer it would be before he'd start to lose the feeling in his feet and they'd have to make do with what they had or go hungry.
Athos admirably masked a smirk at his friend's frustration while he used the small awl he always carried on his saddle to pierce a few holes either side of the rents on Aramis' coat and leather trousers so that he could at least patch them enough to give some protection to his wounds. There was no question of them spending the rest of the day here and he knew they'd have to move soon or risk spending another night out of doors, which, with an injured man and a prisoner in tow, was far from ideal.
Running repairs completed, he took a little bread and some water over to Climence. Whilst he had no interest in her health or well-being, it stood to reason they'd have their hands full keeping Aramis upright once they were forced to move on; her fainting for lack of food was hardly going to help matters. Her expression remained as malicious and resentful as ever when he approached but she did, at least, accept the refreshment with a little grace.
"You know you'll hang." Athos was never one to beat around the bush.
He looked at her, noticing a certain resignation underneath her deliberately hard exterior; whilst nothing excused what she'd done, he couldn't help wonder what privations had driven someone so young to be so callous, not even flinching when the man up on the ridge had lost his life so suddenly.
There was no doubt in his mind that she was a nobody in this operation. Planning to intercept any message bound for The King, particularly one in the possession of his elite guard, would have to have been undertaken by someone with a great deal more to lose or gain than a small-time criminal such as Climence. Now he knew that Aramis was alive and going to be all right, he found himself more readily inclined to consider some degree of negotiation, particularly if it meant finding out who was really behind all this.
"You know, if you were to co-operate a little, we might be able to...put in a good word for you...?"
She laughed mirthlessly.
"So I get to grow old behind bars...no thanks, I'd rather hang."
"And this was so important to you you're prepared to hang alone?" Athos retorted.
He could see the doubt in her expression but she remained silent so he rose and turned to walk away.
"I don't know who they are," she said suddenly, causing him to turn and regard her once more. "We only met the man twice, in the room at the back of a bar in Auchonne."
"Who's we?"
"Bouchier," she nodded her head toward the opposite bank to indicate who she meant, "and me. He asked if we could do the job and gave us money to recruit the others. Then he just told us to be ready when he needed us. We'd get paid the rest once we delivered the letter to him."
"And he's waiting for you in Auchonne?"
She nodded miserably.
"Did he say anything else?"
"Only that he was well-backed and would have the one hundred livres ready for us when we brought him the letter."
"Well-backed indeed," considered Athos. Small wonder the temptation had proved overwhelming; he imagined most petty criminals would jump at the chance of a payday like that. It also meant that the backer for this was extremely serious about preventing that letter from reaching its destination.
Knowing they couldn't delay travelling onwards for much longer, he weighed up their options: Auchonne was closest and could be reached comfortably by nightfall, there would doubtless be an inn they could stay at and it also offered the opportunity to get to Climence's buyer; however, who knew what amount of control this person had in the town, or if there were more men, Aramis was hardly in a condition to fight should they run into trouble there.
Replaying Climence's words in his mind, a thought occurred:
"You mentioned you didn't know who 'they' were...?"
"I only ever dealt with him, he was the only one who ever spoke."
"So there was someone else there...when?"
"Only the first time we met. She stood in the dark, in the corner. She had a long cloak and it covered her face. I've no idea who she was..."
"So how do you know it was a woman?"
"Her perfume," Climence snarled, resentfully, "smelt expensive."
The information was illuminating; the unknown woman would appear to be the source of the money and would take them a step closer to whoever was behind this, if they could apprehend her.
Climence had finished the bread she'd been given and watched silently as Athos untied the end of the rope attached to the tree and indicated she should stand. She looked at him warily, obviously disinclined to trust what he may do next, and the surprise was evident on her face when he led her as far back from the river's edge as the bank allowed, securing her again in a slightly more comfortable spot where she would be able to sit normally without getting her feet soaked.
"Let it not be said that co-operation does not have its rewards," he simply said as he returned to the camp.
TBC