Chapter XXXVIII
Anne could not remember doing anything but sleeping. It was the first time she did not have to worry about mounting her horse for hours after she had rested. She was in a safe place, inside, a fire warming her, and powerful sunshine often gliding on her face. Lying on a hard floor was not even an issue anymore, because she was so exhausted that every time she would wake up to take care of her son, it would only be a matter of minutes before she surrendered to slumber once more.
More often that not during that first day at d'Artagnan's estate, Aramis would be sleeping or dozing off next to her, strong arms around the baby's tiny frame, keeping him warm, protecting him, making him feel loved and cherished. The most important person of them all.
Aramis had been bemused by the conversation with Tréville, annoyed that the former Captain could think so little of his own life to dare ride back to Paris. However, he had no doubt that if he enlisted Porthos' assistance, the older man would never start this perilous adventure. He was too respected and appreciated to be left on his own, putting his existence in jeopardy. The other Musketeers ought to be safe and well. Discharging them all of their commissions alone was a great shame and the King would not humiliate them further. Louis XIII might be a capricious ruler, he knew how to be magnanimous. Sometimes.
It comforted Aramis to watch the woman sleep so peacefully, her body more relaxed than it was on the road, and her face undisturbed by nightmares. He hated the nights when they had to wake her up because she was thrashing, whimpering out of fear and even crying; all because of terrible dreams about their tragedies. Her attitude while they were travelling southward had been exemplary, nothing less that what he would have expected of such a brilliant and courageous woman. She still amazed him sometimes, his heart swelling with all the new aspects of her life he discovered and admired.
This life she had chosen for the sake of their son, for their sake, it might end up being a better lifestyle than what she was used to. Princesses seldom chose what would make their existence, fates in the hands of their parents and diplomacy. Surviving as an outlaw was dangerous beyond belief, there had been several instances which proved it on the road. His thigh throbbed as a bad reminder. Anne had never hesitated, though, always moving forward, helping as best as she could, helping more than she should, growing out to become the soldiers' equal.
Aramis smoothed her matted hair, blond curls tangled in a braid, weeds trapped in it. She looked like a child of the forest, and it was easy to forget for a few seconds she used to be Queen. It was more natural to forget that the baby squirming in his arms used to be the heir to the throne of France. From the very first time he had caught a glimpse of the rosy cheeks and tiny body nestled against Marguerite, all these months ago at the Palace, Aramis had never truly considered him as a Prince. His duty was to think as such, to protect his mother, protect himself, and protect the newborn.
It used to be a torture, a slow ordeal burning him up from the inside out, gnawing at his heart, eating him like poison. He would have never believed beforehand that there may be such a strong bond between a baby and the man who had sired him. He would have never imagined himself as a dotting father. As a soldier always on the road, always involved in great missions and each day facing the risks of death, having children was not a question to even consider.
Everything had changed with Louis, though. Whether the feeling aroused solely because he could not claim the baby as his and it was unfair, Aramis could never tell. The only thing that mattered was that he had discovered how big a heart could grow, how much room it could accommodate for such a small creature. It used to sicken him to have to keep watch while the King played with the heir; vision blurry with wishful thinking, unable to focus correctly on the task at hand. There had been days in Paris when the emotional pain would turn into such a physical one that completing his duties as a Musketeer was simply impossible. How else would have d'Artagnan bet him so many times at sparring?
Yet, now, there he was. Running for his life, battling with a receding pain in his leg, but his son in his arms. His son. In spite of the tumult around him, there was peace in his heart and mind from this thought. It was selfish to seek solace for his own self while it had destroyed the King and perhaps the kingdom. His Majesty would rise from it, monarchs always did. They took new wives, new mistresses, started new wars, raised new taxes, and then the past was just a distant memory. History said as much. Meanwhile, Aramis could focus on the family he thought he would never have, with the people he did not dare think could be his.
One more high-pitched cry brought him back to reality, a present time where the baby was not the cheerful soul his father wished he could always be. Aramis patted his back, humming softly, and he did not care if Porthos believed him to be a dotting father, which was so unlike his natural personality. His actual personality was to care for the people he loved and the child was the first person on this list.
"There, there. You're going to wake your mother and we don't want that, now, do we? She is tired, she's been incredible. The best and I know you love her as much as I do. Sssshhhh."
The voice was so familiar to him now, a focus in the midst of Louis' trouble, strong lips uttering warm and singing words, almost a lullaby even when Aramis was not reciting one.
"Would you like some fresh air? It's nice outside, you know. We're in d'Artagnan's farm. It's very green and I reckon there are many sticks and rocks to play with. Would you like that? New toys to play with? I promise we won't tell Maman. Our secret."
Clutching the child close to his chest, one fist grabbing his dirty shirt and yanking on the golden chain of the crucifix, Aramis stood up awkwardly. Constance was sitting in the courtyard, her face turned toward the radiant sun.
"The Captain is in the stables, well, what is left of the stables. I don't know what you told him but he seemed even more upset than before," she said, turning her head in his direction and prepared to scold him. Her features relaxed once she noticed the child in his arms, the idea forgotten.
"Well, hello there. How is he?" She stood up, a bright smile on her face. The child looked at her with big eyes.
"Still upset, but I did not want him to wake up Anne. Fresh air will do him good. Do you remember Constance, Louis? Do you remember her? She used to stay with us before. She's a great friend of Maman."
"I don't understand Spanish, Aramis," she reminded him sternly.
"Porthos will teach you. He's a better teacher than he is a pupil. I said you were a friend of Anne."
"I hope I am."
"You know you are, Constance. She would not have confided so much in you if she did not trust you completely." She rejoiced at the idea, and the acknowledgment of the deeper bond between her and the other woman. "Would you do me a favour?"
Aramis did not have to ask twice. Constance happily gathered the baby in her arms, offering the chair to the soldier whose balance could not be trusted for a long period of time. She had longed to hold the child again, and it was rewarding to see that he did not mind.
"He's grown," she stated. "He will be very strong when he'll have recover from what is hurting him. He does take after you."
"If you ask Porthos, he will doubtless say that yes, Louis whines as much as I do." Constance laughed at Aramis' frowning face. It was difficult to fully realize that they were reunited, that they were safe and more or less well, and that despite their turmoil, there were still moments when they allowed themselves to joke.
"Whining? Handsome boys like yourself do not whine," she cooed, bouncing the child, holding the wooden toy Aramis had given her and using it to distract Louis from his pain. She was rewarded by a squeal, fingers moving rapidly to catch the familiar little horse. Aramis smiled in spite of his pounding heart and erratic breathing.
"Why don't you ask him? I'm certain he will state otherwise."
"There they are!" Constance exclaimed, turning around to notice Porthos and d'Artagnan riding back at the end of the dirt path. "They've been gone for hours! Where have you been?"
She sounded like a rebuking mother whose children had been up to some mischief, even though the soldier knew she would always be worried for them when they were separated. When they were all together as a group, they could stand up for one another. When they were apart, it was more delicate to do so. Louis squealed louder as he recognized Porthos approaching, the toy forgotten.
"Porthos was becoming acquainted with a charming young lady," d'Artagnan explained, kissing the top of Constance's head. He let go of his reins, letting the horse drift a few steps in search of weeds to munch on. She relaxed in his embrace, the baby studying this new person with interest, all the while sucking on his fingers, a gesture Anne often prevented him from doing. She believed it to be rude.
Aramis raised an eyebrow at his grinning best friend.
"Is that so?"
"I wouldn't call her a proper 'lady', but she was quite charming nonetheless."
"Didn't you go to purchase food?" Porthos was taken aback by Tréville's cold voice coming from behind them. While Constance had only been chastising them playfully, the older man seemed genuinely annoyed at the display of casualness and lack of gravity from his former soldiers. As far as he was concerned, Porthos could do both, but he had been serious for a very long time already, so he deserved a few moments of respite.
"We did buy food. A large amount even." He gestured to the many bags strapped to both horses. "I won't refrain from enjoying myself from time to time. I won't spend a miserable life simply because we had to abandon everything." He held Tréville's stare, defiant until eventually the other shook his head, jaw set and eyes narrowed. Tréville did not reply. There was too much animosity between him and the others, and Aramis did not like it at all. It was not how he had imagined their reunion would be.
"And you shouldn't, Porthos. Does she have a name, your girl?"
"I think... Was it Charlotte? I think it was..." He scratched his beard, eliciting laughter from his friends. Constance looked at him intently, then at d'Artagnan, studying his face carefully. Then, she slapped his arm, startling him.
"Ouch! What did you do that for?"
"You've been drinking!"
"A couple of beers, yes. It is hot."
"With what money?"
"Mine," Porthos said, although his slim wealth had considerably lessened because of their little detour to the tavern. Aramis was stifling bouts of laughter, wincing because it hurt. D'Artagnan did not seem content to be under Constance's scrutiny and ire.
"And don't you think that we could have had a better use for the coins you wasted on alcohol and women?"
"We didn't waste any money on women!"
"I sure hope you did not!"
The baby joined in her shouts, squealing so loud it was almost a screech. She focused a few seconds on him, her eyes shooting daggers at the young soldier who was busy ignoring her by unloading the goods they had bought. He was eager to show they had done some good deeds while they were in the village. Porthos found it rather enjoyable to watch his friend be the target of her fury. Aramis had to give in to the laughter, his cheeks hurt from holding it in. It was refreshing, it was a reminiscence of old days when they could act recklessly and not endanger the future of the country.
"Where are we going to find money to feed all of us now that you gave most of it to the innkeeper?"
"There are many ways, Constance."
"Let me rephrase it: ways which would not put us all in jeopardy?"
"Aren't they adorable?" Aramis asked Porthos on the side. Constance glared at them both, but they did not stop smirking. His friend concurred, nodding.
"They bicker like an old married couple."
"Even worse than Athos and Milady."
"Which is not a feat I imagined could be achieved. What? Don't yell at me!" Porthos joked, raising one arm in front of his face as Constance shot him a dark look . It made Aramis chuckle even louder. The baby did not know where to set his attention, too many events were happening at once, and it truly seemed that it was enough to lessen the pain he was in. It was definitely enough to lessen the pain his father was in.
All of a sudden, the argument had stopped, Constance's face was a mask of serenity and contentment. Not an ounce of anger displayed on it. The arm d'Artagnan had put around her waist did not trouble her, whereas she had just chided away from his hand on her shoulder minutes before.
"Actually, there's something we haven't told you yet."
"We married on the road."
Porthos almost choked on his laughter. Aramis almost lost his balance, the chair rattling to the ground as he stood up too quickly, ignoring the throbbing in his leg.
"You what?"
"Are you joking?"
"When?"
"But now you are stuck with him for the rest of your life!" Porthos barely staggered after d'Artagnan had pushed against his shoulder at the last remark. "Good luck, Constance." d'Artagnan shoved him again. His arm was so tight around Constance's waist that she wobbled because of the move. There was such a bright smile on her face, though, that it did not matter. Before she could add anything, or answer more pressing questions, she felt strong arms around her shoulders. She was pressed powerfully to Porthos' chest along with d'Artagnan and the child in her arms.
"You'll always be my favourite sister." She laughed at his determined tone.
Aramis joined in the hug, until the baby was squirming so much that they had to disentangle. It was the first time she had been part of such an embrace, and although she had no doubt that she belonged in their close circle, it made it even more real. She had gained a bigger family than just the man she loved, the man holding her hand firmly, the man kissing her cheek, the man she had been so angry at but could not bear to shout at now.
Tréville watched the scene from the outside, always glad to see Constance and d'Artagnan happy. After everything that had befallen them, they needed to hang on to what was real. It had been a surprise on the road when d'Artagnan had suggested marriage, Constance scolding him and urging him to be serious because it was not the time or the place to jest. The former Captain had often seen d'Artagnan jest, but it had not been one of these moments. There had been such a delighted sparkle in the woman's eyes that it had been worth the delay and the danger.
The young man may not know what the future held for them. They may die any day, be discovered by Red Guards or betrayed by strangers. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was the love he had for Constance, so it only seemed logical for him that it be official. It was not the ceremony he would have wished for under other circumstances, because none of their friends were with them, but Athos, Porthos and Aramis had been in their mind the entire time. Even Anne.
Constance felt at peace with the world, now that her life was truly tied to d'Artagnan. Ever since the solar eclipse she had known it deep in her heart, but it was comforting to make it official, to take this important step in their common life, to start one together.
"Congratulations," Aramis said, reclaiming his son who was agitated by the display of emotions, eyes unable to settle and screeches making the adults wince yet smile. His father kissed Constance's cheek soundly, confident that her husband would not try to push him away. He smirked at d'Artagnan above her head.
"I propose a celebratory banquet tonight!" Porthos boasted, flinging his arms around, basking in the feeling that they may enjoy themselves for a few hours before they would inevitably have to deal with more important issues.
"If we indeed are running low on money, I would not deem it wise."
"Oh, Captain! It is always good for our spirits."
"You will be the first to complain when we will only have carrots to eat in a couple of days," Aramis stated, busying his son with the crucifix which soon found its way inside the tiny mouth.
"We're almost in July," d'Artagnan reminded them. "You may not be aware of it but soon, it will be the harvest season. Many farms will be employing more men to help."
Porthos scoffed.
"You're the farm boy, not me."
"It's either that or we will starve."
"Don't be so dramatic, Captain. I'll be more than happy to help once I have recovered," Aramis promised.
His best friend glared at him, frowning. It was not an appealing prospect for Porthos. Working in the fields was a task he had never done. It was so remote from what he was used to. He had no desire to leave his friends, though, because he had no idea where he would rather be. If they were to remain in Gascony until Aramis had healed and Anne as well as the baby had regained their strength, he may have to do what people on the countryside did.
"All right," he decided. Tréville seemed satisfied. "Are we all staying here for the time being then?"
"It is pointless to push forward when we are not absolutely effective. He's been better but he may be upset again very soon."
"And I'm afraid he will, Aramis. I think he's teething," Constance explained. Bewildered, he swiftly put one of his fingers in his own mouth to clean it, then earned a displeased cry as he took the crucifix from his son. Louis was satisfied to be given a strong finger to suck on while his father felt for teeth. She was correct. How could he have missed it? He let the child gnaw at his finger, which was what he needed to feel better. Aramis sat down on the chair.
"Captain? Are you staying as well?" he asked, uncertainty clouding his voice. Tréville considered the question for some time.
"It would make one less person to feed if I went."
"Where would you go, though?" Porthos was not pleased by the prospect. He, more than the others, was attached to Tréville, more affection and history between the two of them. "You should stay here with us until we decide on a new plan, if we ever do. I have gambled to win money before. I could do it again."
"Or you may lose it all." Porthos rolled his eyes, d'Artagnan scoffed, Aramis raised an eyebrow.
"Please! It's me we are talking about. I never lose all my money at cards."
"We could ask Anne for her earrings once more," Aramis suggested, proceeding to explain to their companions how they had gathered some money at the beginning of their journey. Tréville looked thoughtful, yet accepting. It was the best solution now that they could not rely on a steady pay.
"But I cannot attempt this nearby. This is how the Red Guards found us the first time. I ought to put some distance between us, perhaps even lead them on a false track, who knows?"
"I'll go with you," Tréville decided. It may prevent Porthos from being distracted from his mission. Besides, one week of idle waiting in the deserted farm was becoming too much to handle. He required action. The other Musketeers looked at him, who appeared to be angry at them all, yet eager to help any way he could.
Being back on the road, even if it was only temporary, did not appeal to Porthos. At least he would be with a person who mattered much to him, the closest he had to a parent.