Tréville
Finally, he could leave Paris. It was a rainy evening, but Tréville was determined to set out immediately. He did not want to spend another night dreaming about gaping holes instead of eyes on the face of his best marksman. He could not imagine how he would deal with Porthos if it was true. If Aramis were now blind, he would lose both men.
The documents he had found in his archives had cast some light on Allancourt's motives. There was not enough information to formally accuse him, but enough to know that his main aim had been to destroy Athos. Not to kill him, but to destroy his soul. That was why d'Artagnan had been selected as a target.
Tréville had initially been puzzled as to why Aramis and not Porthos had been chosen as the second target. Then he had remembered that Aramis had had an affair with Allancourt's wife...and Porthos' protectiveness towards Aramis was not a secret,. However, it was evident that Allancourt had a good informant. The question was - who? It was not that complicated to get the details of the legendary bond between the Inseparables.
Tréville wanted to believe that the spy was not within the garrison. However, he had to investigate that possibility... just in case.
He took three volunteers with him, and headed toward Epi-sur-Esonne. The lack of any news was disturbing. He guessed that Porthos had remained with Aramis, while the others had gone to search for d'Artagnan.
It was the ride from hell. They stopped only for a brief moment to change horses. Tréville tried his best not to speculate about the fate of his men. The November nights were dark and stormy, and the desolate countryside was thick with mud. It seemed as if he was slogging through an enormous old battlefield, the remains of which were not recognizable.
Aramis, his eyes covered with a cloth bound around his head, was kneeling before the King. His pauldron was in his hands as he prepared to give it back to the monarch. Louis, fascinated by the gruesome reports he had heard, could not resist ordering Aramis to show him his wounds.
The silent Queen left, her eyes full of tears. She had refused the cross that Aramis had tried to return to her. He knew he would never be her champion again.
The King, with a kind of morbid curiosity mixed with disgust, was staring at the empty eye sockets in Aramis' deathly pale face.
Tréville knew would happen next. He was certain what would he find the next morning- Aramis dead in Porthos' arms. The blind marksman had finished himself off with his favorite pistol, the gold cross held tightly in his cooling fingers. The last Savoy soldier had finally met the end that had been fated for him. The Duke could sleep peacefully now.
"Captain?"
He awoke with a start, and offered up a silent prayer. God... please do not let this happen! Then he cursed, as he had not planned to fall asleep while riding.
He saw a few brighter points in the darkness, likely the flicker of candles near the windows. Some of inhabitants of Epi-sur-Esonne were not asleep yet.
He made his way to the herbwoman's house, and was astonished to see her mounting a horse.
"Madame?" he called urgently.
"Captain Tréville," she greeted him. "I am setting out to go help your men. Now that you are here, I hope I can count on your company," she said, bowing her head. Pierre sat on the horse next to her.
"Of course. Madame, what have you heard? What happened?"
"They found the bo… I mean, Monsieur d'Artagnan. There was a fight...they have quite a few men wounded, so Monsieur Etienne sent Pierre to fetch me."
He nodded, knowing that he had to ask about Aramis. He needed to know who was taking care of him. More importantly, he had to find the courage to talk to the marksman before leaving the village.
"Is Aramis here?" he asked quietly.
"No. They went together-all of them."
They had taken a blind man with them?! He knew Inseparables sometimes did foolish things, but Etienne should have... thought for them.
"He can see, sir," said Pierre timidly.
"What?" Tréville felt hope stirring in his heart.
"Monsieur Aramis did not lose his eyes," repeated the boy. Tréville suddenly felt several few years younger.
"That's good! Was he in good enough shape to fight?!"
"Well... one might say so," Louise replied swiftly.
They rode on in silence. Tréville knew he would have to get any further details about Aramis' condition from Porthos or from Aramis himself. Louise did not easily give up the secrets of her patients.
Instead, the Captain questioned the boy about the condition of the search party.
He had lost two musketeers-at least two.
They stopped for a few hours at an abandoned house, taking only a short rest after nearly three days of hard riding. Tréville was incredibly tired. However, there was no way they he wanted to stop longer than was essential for the horses. He was grateful that Louise was of the same opinion. In fact, it was the herbwoman who insisted on an earlier departure.
It was a grey, dreary afternoon when they arrived at the lonely farm on the little hill. Fog and smoke were coiled around the building. There were shadows lurking everywhere, and he suspected that there were guards hiding somewhere in those shadows.
"Don't shoot!" He heard a familiar voice call out. One of the shadows stepped into the road, and another one stood slightly behind him. Tréville spurred his horse into a gallop and stopped abruptly in front of Aramis.
It was indeed a shadow of Aramis. The man was deathly pale, with dried blood covering part of his face. He had a bandage on his head. His eyes were empty of emotion, although there was a spark of recognition there. His disheveled hair was matted with blood.
"Captain. Madame Louise." The marksman acknowledged both of them with a small bow of his head.
Tréville tossed his reins to Pierre, and dismounted. It seemed as if Aramis flinched, but the marksman was not aware of it. His body swayed as his eyes rolled back. He never touched the ground, as in one swift motion the Captain caught his marksman. He was surprised at how light Aramis was. He was sure he had never felt the musketeer's bones so easily, not even after Savoy…
Several musketeers rushed to help him.
"Take him inside-gently! He has many injuries!" ordered Flea.
"Do as she says!" declared the Captain firmly. His words earned him a brief smile from the blond woman, who had her arms full of guns.
"You are the healer, aren't you?" she asked Louise, her voice husky. "They need you," she stated simply, then ran after the men carrying Aramis.
Tréville followed them, motioning for Etienne to come with him.
"Aramis?!" gasped Porthos
"He's fine...he has only fainted. I wasn't aware that part of the ritual of greeting your captain involved fainting," Flea said teasingly, trying to relax Porthos a bit. She ordered the men to lay the marksman down near Porthos.
"Report!" demanded Tréville, his eyes fixed on Etienne. He listened to his lieutenant's account in silence. When Etienne had finished, the Captain glanced at the Inseparables.
Aramis was sitting up, supported by Flea. Louise was busy checking on Athos. Tréville approached them.
"I hear it's bad." He observed Aramis closely as he waited for a reply.
"Yes, it is," replied the medic simply.
Louise nodded in agreement
"Aramis, you have done well. I'll take care of him. You should eat something."
"I'll get some broth," offered Flea.
"No… we don't have much left. Save it for the wounded men."
"So, you are not only injured, but also short of food?", asked Louise slowly.
Tréville cursed himself for not having thought to bring supplies with him.
"Well, then it's fortunate that I brought some things along with me," said Louise with a smile. "I baked some bread with a large amount of herbs especially for you, Aramis. I have also some fresh cheese. Pierre, prepare a good dinner, please."
The captain was really impressed by the herbwoman. The way she took over, confidently giving out orders, was quite amazing.
"Aramis, I want to hear your report from the time you spent in captivity," he said quietly, sitting down near the marksman. He was quite sure that the man wanted to back away from him, but there was no room to do so.
"Sir… may I resign my commission?", the Spaniard asked softly.
"We have had this conversation once before, and the answer is still no, Aramis. I'm waiting for your report."
He remembered the young, broken soldier standing in front of him several years ago. Aramis had wanted to turn in his pauldron then. However, the Captain could ill afford to lose another man, especially not after the loss of 21 soldiers. Aramis had not survived the massacre only to resign.
Aramis gave him a concise report, but he avoided looking the Captain. Tréville noted that Porthos was giving the Spaniard silent support, his hand resting on the medic's leg.
That is a good sign, he thought with relief. Their bond has survived. Their trust has survived.
"Aramis, your request is denied, but you will be given the time you need to recover-and I will allow your brothers to care for you if they wish."
"Always," replied Porthos, his voice hoarse but sure. "I told you once, 'Mis, the Captain won't let you go unless you find a better marksman than you."
Tréville waited for Aramis' retort, but none came.
The Spaniard put his hand on Porthos' shoulder.
"You should eat something," he said gently.
"I prefer your horrible brew. God, did I just say that?!"
Tréville smiled to himself. He trusted that Porthos would save Aramis once more. He glanced over at Athos. Louise was dripping some liquid into his mouth. He fervently hoped that the herbwoman and Aramis could save his lieutenant. He did not even want to think of the alternative.
Riversidewren, thank you. I can only confirm that you don't have the direct influence at the story.
Guests, I wish I could answer you personally and discuss with you your points of view. As there is not such a possibility I'll try to answers shortly. There is a difference between kill himself and commit suicide. Maybe Athos would not shoot himself or stabbed but drink himself to death or be a little too sloppy in the fight. However the combination of grief and alcohol may make one do things without thinking about others. As for Aramis – he is at the edge – emotionally and physically drained. He had have no time to recover after tortures and the need to save d'Artagnan has been his lifeline. Once again maybe he would not die exactly by his hand but he would effectively court Death. However in his current condition everything is possible. Maybe I was too delicate in my description to give the right impression of what he has survived / what was done to him.
As to Porthos – the one whom Flea knows the best – I agree with her – he would go and kill Allancourt regardless of consequences.
What can I say more – Flea does not know the Inseparables well. Her intention was to show d'Artagnan that he was cared. She did it in her own harsh way.
Thank you all for reading and reviewing.
