Thank you so much for the warm welcome back and the comments; it was lovely. So, slightly shorter than hoped, here is a little something to keep you going over the weekend whilst I 'battle with the battle!'
CHAPTER 43
By early evening, the anticipated attack still had not happened and, after most of the day spent in hard graft, the men were at liberty to rest. It was pointless having spent time rebuilding the defences if the men were too exhausted to fight and, as the light began to fade and the temperature remained balmy, the men lay or sat in the open and talking in small groups. Two fires had been lit and their illumination bathed the relaxing men in a warm glow.
The three hunters had returned mid-afternoon after a particularly successful outing; a small deer, two rabbits and two doves. They were responsible for lighting the fires and, having speedily and deftly skinned and plucked their prey, they had set about cooking the meat slowly on hand fashioned spits and the labouring men were teased by the mouth-watering aromas as the afternoon progressed.
At last, Athos called a halt to the work, satisfied that nothing more productive could be gained. There was not enough for twenty-eight soldiers and five prisoners to eat their fill. Athos was determined that his captives would not have the opportunity to claim that they had been mistreated or half-starved even though he knew that Treville had not been afforded that same consideration. If truth be told, there was nothing else to give them, not even a crust of stale bread. Athos had to make a decision as to whether the men devoured it all at the one sitting and rested well, or ate a smaller amount guaranteed not to assuage their hunger and risk rumbling, aching bellies overnight in order to have something with which to break their fast the following morning. The choice had been simple and the men had sat contentedly eating slices of hot roasted meat skewered on knives, the savoury juices running down their fingers and the cleaned bones discarded.
With their makeshift feast concluded, Athos gave further instructions to the men, assigning them to specific places. The marksmen in the towers had their own musket and brace of pistols but they were given the same again along with a bigger proportion of the ammunition as well as the assistance of a man to spend his time reloading the weapons as quickly as possible. The rest would have sufficient powder and shot to discharge their own weapons three or four times before resorting to their rapiers in close combat.
Treville was sitting on the stairs leading up to the main door and watching Athos circulating amongst the men. He stopped by each group, crouching down to be at eye level with the men who sat on the ground whilst he spoke with them and standing with others to impart words of encouragement, a hand reassuringly on the shoulder or clapping their arm and smiling at something they said.
Movement at Treville's side heralded the arrival of Aramis who sank onto the step next to him with a loud sigh.
"All is prepared," the marksman confirmed.
"Good; now all we have to do is wait," Treville concurred.
"Do you think they'll risk a night attack?"
"I doubt it unless they're seriously lacking in common sense; the terrain on the approach is not conducive to an assault under cover of darkness."
They sat in an amicable silence for a few minutes and then Aramis chuckled. Treville raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"Athos has been very innovative; I cannot help but feel as if I am getting ready for a siege over three hundred years ago," he explained.
Treville nodded in agreement. "It has certainly taken initiative."
"Before he was brought here as a supposed prisoner, Athos told us an incredible story about an English king who besieged a castle using forty pigs and their fat."
"Intriguing, but what a waste!"
"That's what Porthos thought." They both laughed at the typical response from the big man.
"Why am I not surprised that Athos would know such a tale?" Treville asked.
They lapsed into a comfortable silence again as together they watched the subject of their conversation continue to circulate. He had reached four men that included Clarence and Davide and they evidently had questions for him for he inclined his head and listened attentively before responding. Clarence spoke again, his words going unheard by those who watched but the content obviously amused the temporary commander as he suddenly flashed a broad smile and patted Clarence on the back before moving on to the next group to establish how those men were faring in the build-up to the big attack.
"He makes it look so easy," Treville said softly.
Aramis gave him a sideways glance. "He had a good teacher." His words were equally quiet but he wanted the older man to take careful note of what he was saying.
Treville shook his head, attempting to negate the compliment. "What he has cannot be taught. It can be nurtured and developed but what he has is natural. Tell him that and he shies away like a frightened colt. Let him have his head and he leads by instinct."
Aramis was tentative in his next question. "Do you ever wonder, if things been different, with his ability as a leader he would have made a good comte?
Treville thought carefully before answering. "Yes but not a happy one."
"You really think so? Would – she," and Aramis still struggled with saying the name of the Comtesse de la Fère aloud all those weeks after Athos had banished her. "Would she have been enough for him?"
"He might have tried to convince himself that she was but I believe the intense passion of young love would not have lasted. Yes he would still love her with his entire being but the running of an estate would have stifled him. He would have sunk into a monotonous routine which he would have done well but it would have been without challenge; it would have failed to stretch him. Leading the men gives him that opportunity, that challenge, but I suppose that it's something we will never know for sure."
"Did he tell you what's been happening at the garrison and to him?" Aramis wondered just how much Treville knew.
The older man smiled. "I am sure I have had a very truncated version; you know as well as I that when it suits him, Athos can be a man of very few words."
"I'll rephrase that. Exactly what did he tell you?" Aramis fervently hoped that Athos had opened up to the superior soldier in a way that he rarely did with his friends.
"He said he'd been flogged, humiliated, something about poisoned mushrooms and being made to drink alcohol. I didn't fully understand so I'm sure he omitted a lot," Treville explained.
"You could say that ….." Taking a deep breath so that he could organise his thoughts, Aramis then continued to spend the next fifteen minutes giving Treville a detailed, chronological account of all that had transpired at the garrison since the Captain and his six musketeers had ridden out through the arch en route to Normandy. His final comment gave a chilling indication of the way Athos' mind was working. "He made the three of us promise that when the opportunity arose, we were to leave Delacroix to him."
"As is his right, don't you think?"
Aramis voiced his concern. "I fear he will show him no mercy."
"I disagree."
"You do?"
"He will be sparing Delacroix a court martial and execution and will afford him the chance of some sort of honourable death, namely in battle. Let's face it, a fight is something he has taken pains to avoid as much as possible in recent years. Delacroix has never bested Athos in any practice that I know of and certainly won't in a fight to the death unless …." His voice trailed off as an alarming thought occurred to him.
"Unless what?" Aramis' eyes widened in the face of Treville's disquiet.
"Unless he finds some way to turn things to his advantage."
"Cheat, you mean?" Aramis barely breathed the words.
"For want of a better word," Treville said grimly. "When it comes to the fight, we must try to watch Athos' back. I would not put it past Delacroix to have some sort of plan up his sleeve."
