CHAPTER 26
Hat in hand with what he hoped was an excited expression on his face, Aramis met the Marquis by the manor's heavy wooden double doors. The two men headed outside into the sizzling heat with the drone of the insects making it quite unpleasant. Though it took less than fifteen minutes to walk to the fortress-like building, and their pace was quite leisurely, both men were uncomfortably sweaty upon arrival.
Aramis couldn't help stopping and staring at the structure in front of him. It was literally a fortress albeit a smallish one. The Marquis noted his fascination and enlightened him on its history. "My ancestors use to house prisoners way out here when the ruling party did not wish to have them in Paris. As luck would have it this abandoned fort was already on the estate, and when the King made it known of his wishes to have certain extremists as far from his royal person as possible, it didn't take my ancestors much to convert this fine structure into a suitable prison. Eventually, Kings stopped sending prisoners and this place was left to deteriorate. However, when I started up my little games this seemed like a perfect place to house my fighters as well as conduct the duels. It didn't take much to convert it as you will see inside. My first wife, a delicate creature, didn't relish the idea of having such brutes too near the main house. You understand."
"Of course," Aramis replied as he studied the fortress. As far as he could see there was one way in and one way out. The stone walls appeared thick, tall, and highly impenetrable. Aramis gestured towards the gate. "Is this the only way in?"
"Yes," Lemione replied as he moved forward again.
"Well," Aramis commented as the duo moved past the guard and through the wide-walled archway, "your wife must have felt most safe."
"She did although she remained delicate and a worrier. Not whom I wanted to marry you understand, but my father arranged it as she was from a good family." He looked over at Aramis and knowingly shrugged.
"It is the curse of the nobleman not to be able to marry for love," Aramis commiserated. Though he thought, Athos had broken with tradition and married for love and look where that had gotten him. However Aramis, the romantic, would believe to his dying days love could prevail.
"She died more than ten years ago giving birth to our son who also died." The Marquis didn't appear the least bit disturbed by the death or his wife and infant son. Being charitable, Aramis chalked it up to the fact it happened a long time ago and the grief had dulled.
"And you have never remarried?" Aramis asked conversationally as he followed the Marquis towards a wooden building inside the fortress walls. "What about an heir for the estate?"
"It's on my list," the Marquis answered in a tone that indicated this conversation was over.
Out of the corner of his eye, Aramis saw a small lad move from the shadows and dart across the open courtyard towards one of the internal gates. He didn't have much time to ponder the event as from the shade of the building a man stepped forth, dressed neatly in the manner of a guard.
"This is the Captain of my guards and keeper of this facility," the Marquis explained moving close enough to the Captain to give him a resounding slap on the back. "Captain, this is the Comte de Noyen."
Respectfully, the Captain gave the impression of a small bow.
"He will be betting on tomorrow's duel and thought it best to inspect the merchandise before betting his hard earned cash. Well," the Marquis laughed, "perhaps the cash wasn't so hard to earn, after all he only had to be born the first son to get it."
Aramis and the Captain laughed at the attempt at humor. "We should all be so fortunate," the Captain returned though there was no doubt the 'we' was really 'he', who was a poor soldier. "Would you like to rest in the shade for a moment and partake of some refreshments before inspecting the men?" A table and chairs stood ready in the shade with wine and fruit.
"What an excellent idea. It is unbearable even for August," the Marquis noted as he took the best chair leaving Aramis and the Captain to figure out the rest of the seating arrangements. The Captain, who was certainly not a fool, allowed Aramis the second best chair before he settled in the last one and poured the wine.
The lad who'd been stationed by the main gate to give Jehan a warning of the Marquis arrival came bursting through the gate, across the hot sands of the training arena and slid to a halt in front of the trainer. "They have arrived!" he breathlessly announced.
Jehan was quick to action knowing his Lord expected the men lined up and ready when he entered the arena. "On your feet! Follow me!" He walked into the middle of the training area and instructed the men to line up in the pre-determined order.
Athos was the last to leave the shaded area. The sun hit his damp, dark, wavy hair, and his headache, which had abated a little in the shade, came back with a vengeance. However, he couldn't let it overwhelm him, so he lifted his head a little higher in defiance and marched after the rest of the men taking his place in line. Once they were satisfactorily arranged, Jehan walked down the line doing a last minute inspection. When he got to Athos, he reached out and adjusted his shirt to better conceal the bandage underneath it.
The plan, with the boy at the gate to watch, had seemed fool-proof. What they hadn't counted on was the refreshments that the Marquis, his guest, and the Captain were now enjoying at a leisurely pace, while the fighters stood waiting and sweating in the training yard. Athos was finding this unfortunate delay particularly vexing as he tried not to pass out again. To keep his mind occupied, he made mental bets on which of the drops of sweat running down his back would reach the waistband of his trousers first.
Finally, the gate creaked open and all the men's heads bowed and their eyes, other than Jehan's, immediately focused on their boots. They all knew that the Marquis when he made these inspections expected to see them in that posture.
The Marquis went through the gate first into the training yard, followed by Aramis, with the Captain bringing up the rear. Aramis strained to see the line of men in the distance, his eyes desperately sweeping down the row of bowed heads looking for one in particular. His heart began to beat harder in his chest as he focused on the dark haired, bowed head, fourth from the right. His eyes ran up and down the man's physique and he was fairly sure it was Athos, even though he appeared thinner. Aramis tried to keep his face neutral as they approached the line, but he swore his heart was beating so loud that it would betray him to the Marquis and the Captain.
Athos, eyes downcast, had no idea how close his beloved brother was to him. He heard voices, but the buzzing in his ears was making them indistinct and fuzzy.
The Marquis started on the far end of the line from where Athos was standing and he stopped in front of each of the fighters and gave Aramis statistics on them, almost as if they were race horses. Aramis fretted that Athos might give him away when it came to be his turn to be scrutinized by the Marquis, so when they were one man away from Athos, he started loudly asking questions about the fighter in front of them praying his brother would recognize his voice.
Athos did hear Aramis' voice and thought that on top of everything else he was now hallucinating. Keeping his head bowed, he bit down on his lower lip to try to keep his muddled brain focused on the task at hand. Only a few more minutes and this would be over and he could collapse in peace.
"This," the Marquis exclaimed as he moved in front of Athos, "is the one I was talking about. He will be fighting tomorrow and winning lots of money for me." He rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation.
Aramis stepped between Lemione and Athos turning a critical eye on his brother. "I don't know, Guillaume." He reached out and clamped a hand on Athos' bicep. "He appears rather scrawny to me."
Hardly daring to believe, but unable to stop himself, Athos slowly raised his head until his green eyes met with those of the man standing in front of him holding his arm. He didn't say a word. He didn't need too. His eyes said it all; joy, sorrow, confusion, pain, hope.
Aramis, knowing his face wasn't visible to anyone but Athos, smiled and mouthed "Brother."
As much as he wanted to gaze upon the blessed face of his brother forever, Athos knew protocol called for his eyes to be averted, so with a last look of despair, he cast his eyes downward again to avoid suspicion.
Aramis' heart broke at the down-trodden man standing in front of him and he desperately wanted to offer Athos some comfort to sustain him until they could plan a way for him to escape. Under the guise of still examining the man he was supposed to bet on, Aramis placed both hands on the man's shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. "I really don't feel any muscle tone. Are you sure you have the right man?" Aramis kept his hands on Athos' shoulders but shifted his gaze to the far end of the line where Henri stood. "That man down there seems like a much more impressive specimen."
As the Marquis and Captain's focus shifted from Athos to Henri, Aramis leaned forward and placed a kiss on the top of Athos' head. "Faith and courage, my brother," he whispered. As he glanced down hopping to see an acknowledgement from Athos, his eyes spotted the red-tinged bandage now visible because he had shifted Athos' shirt when he grasped his shoulders. "You're hurt!" he hissed and that did get a reaction from Athos.
From under his unruly bangs, Athos eyes flickered upwards as he warned, "Don't. It will get us killed."
Aramis didn't understand what was going on or even whom 'us' was for sure, but he heard the pleading desperation in Athos' six words, so he merely released the man's shoulders, straightened his shirt to conceal the bandage again, and turned to face Marquis. "I have my doubts though you haven't steered me wrong yet, so I guess I will bet on him."
The Marquis moved away from the men, heading back to the gate, chatting away about the upcoming duel. He kept hinting that it would be something spectacular, but when pressed by Aramis, clammed up, saying he wanted it to be a surprise.
Once Jehan was sure the Marquis and his guest had cleared the compound, he released the men to return their quarters. The common room had food laid out on the tables for their evening repast and the men, all but Athos, eagerly found places to sit.
Athos wearily continued to his cell and sank onto his pallet in a stupor. A part of him wondered if he had really seen Aramis or if it had been some heat produced hallucination. He wanted to believe, had to believe that his brothers had come to rescue him. So he clung on to that small shred of hope to make it through his nearly sleepless, pain-filled night.
That night back in the main house, it took all Aramis' persuasion to keep his fellow Musketeers from immediately heading to the fortress prison and breaking Athos free. Though he shared their desire to rescue their friend as quickly as possible, he knew that putting care into the plan could mean the difference between escaping alive and unharmed, and the unthinkable opposite. Also, Aramis reasoned with them, they still had no idea why Athos was a captive; could his captivity be of his own choosing? Some sort of mission? They knew it wasn't sanctioned by Treville, but perhaps Athos had been given direction by another?
Arguing reduced to grumbling and finally a bit of under the breath muttering as d'Artagnan and Porthos cooled down and realized their friend was right. They had to proceed slowly with caution and thoughtfulness. However, if they determined their brother's life was in danger, then they would bring the fury of a tornado swiftly down upon the heads of anyone trying to hurt Athos.