TRAVESTY OF JUSTICE.
Chapter Twenty Four.
The musketeers sat around the table in the middle of the infirmary, having eaten breakfast together. The old veteran Serge was collecting bowls and plates, he paused in mid flow and glanced at Athos as he lay motionless in the bed.
"I 'ope the lad wakes up soon, I am makin' me chicken stew for dinner...I know he favours that." he growled.
The others glanced at the older man as he murmered the words.
Aramis followed his gaze and nodded with a slight smile.
"Let us pray the pleasing smell will rouse him Serge."
Porthos drank ale from a tankard and smacked his lips.
"Sounds good to me Serge, I'll 'old me bowl under 'is nose, that will suffice."
d'Artagnan grinned.
"Worth a try maybe...but I really wish he would wake soon."
Aramis heeded his friends banter with slight hesitancy, he so wanted Athos to rouse, the longer he remained unconscious the longer he became worried, maybe now was the time to summon Lemay.
" I loathe head injuries, so complex...maybe it is time to fetch our excellent physician."
o
That moment the musketeers glanced up at one another as a sudden loud tumult and disruptive din emitted from the courtyard prompting Porthos and d'Artagnan to grab their pistols and bolt towards the door.
Serge glanced towards Aramis who had also grabbed his pistol.
"Serge stay with Athos, lock the door behind me...do not let anyone enter."
Serge nodded as Aramis buckled his swordbelt on and shut the door behind himself.
Aramis peered towards the gates to see a man being led into the courtyard, his hands tethered to a horse. He noticed Claude and Victor approach Porthos and d'Artagnan.
Aramis quickened his swift walk as Porthos suddenly brought up his fist and knocked the man to the ground growling obscenities.
"You bastard you lit the fuses, you tried to kill Athos...I'll rip yer bloody 'ead off...
The mans mouth oozed blood as he was knocked to the ground cowering away from the big musketeer.
"PORTHOS! STOP THAT NOW! suddenly reverberated around the courtyard.
Everyone turned to see Captain Tréville as he entered through the archway into the courtyard, he swiftly dismounted his horse and handed the reins to one of the stable boys.
"He will receive punishment...but not like this." he growled.
Porthos stood almost statuesque, his fists still clenched as he glared into his superior officers face before catching Aramis and d'Artagnans glances.
Tréville approached, his eyes fixed on the man on the ground.
"Who is this? he asked turning to Claude.
"He is one of the two associates we have been watching Sir, the other escaped, but Jules and Eudes went after him as he fled into the forest."
"On your feet NOW! growled Tréville eyeing the man.
The man struggled to stand, his wrists still tethered with hemp.
Victor grabbed him by the arm to aid him.
"What is your name? pressed Tréville.
The man spat out blood and wiped his two hands over his ashen face.
"I do not answer to musketeers." he seethed shooting a glare towards his audience.
Aramis felt his teeth clenching with enrage.
He had tried to kill Athos, yet here he stands defiant.
The medic slowly walked around him, eyeing him from head to foot.
"Maybe you would rather answer to Cardinal Durand would you not? he asked almost theatrical.
Porthos and d'Artagnan exchanged knowing looks.
"Aramis! not now." growled Tréville turning to Claude.
"Lock this viper in the cells...I do not want to look at him a moment longer."
Aramis watched as Claude and Victor prodded the man in the back almost making him lose his balance.
"Move..now! yelled Victor.
"I have to get back to Athos." said Aramis turning on his heel towards the infirmary.
The medic suddenly glanced up as one of the scullery lads came running towards him.
Monsieur Aramis! Monsieur Aramis!...Serge sent me to fetch you...its Athos...he is waking."
Aramis' walk swiftly turned into a hastened scurry as he ran towards the building followed by the others in close pursuit.
Serge was ready and waiting at the door as he heard the rapid footfalls approaching, the door was swiftly opened as Aramis rushed in. His eyes averting towards Athos' bed, he frowned as he noticed his friend still motionless. He turned to Serge appearing perplexed.
"I thought you said he was awake Serge? he inquired sounding almost iritated.
Serge grinned.
"The lad opened 'is eyes...I swear...he opened them and groaned a bit." replied the veteran.
Porthos, d'Artagnan and Tréville entered, pausing in their tracks at the foot of Athos' bed, each giving each other an irresolute glance.
"Thought he had woken? asked Tréville moving to Athos' side. He looked over to Aramis with a questioning look on his face.
Aramis said nothing, he was watching his friends chest move up and down, then that second he noticed the swordmans eyes flicker slightly, the medic felt his own stomach churn slightly, hoping his friend would be compos mentis.
It's so dark, I heed voices, feel pain in head and body, shapes moving over me, those voices, I know them, am I in hell, is this what death is, someone call my name, the house, the blast, feel like I want to throw up.
"There then...look...said d'Artagnan through tremulous tones.
Porthos moved next to Aramis, both men swapping slight smiles.
"Athos...Athos, can you hear me mon ami? murmered Aramis sweeping the swordmans hair away from his face. "Come now, open those eyes for me, we have tarried for so long in wait for you to wake."
A low groan emitted from the injured musketeer as his eyes rolled under the lids.
"Hu...rts...pa..in...hur..ts." he croaked.
"I know my friend, I shall fetch you something for the pain." replied Aramis turning to the nightchest.
That instant Athos heaved and coughed.
"Si...ck...sick." he gasped.
Aramis shot a glance to Porthos.
"Turn him onto his side quickly." ordered the medic reaching for a bowl ready to catch the vomit.
Porthos did as Aramis asked just in time as the injured swordsman retched and heaved, throwing up his entire stomach contents into the bowl. The foul stench of vomit filled the air.
Porthos swapped a concerned look with d'Artagnan as their brother gasped and snorted. Aramis swiftly wrung a cloth in cold water and wiped his brothers face and beard, before holding a cup of water to his mouth.
Athos sipped it before laying back onto the pillow.
"Rest now my friend." comforted the medic pulling the blankets over his friend.
"Dear God...why has he vomitted so violently Mis? frowned d'Artagnan sounding worried for his brother.
Aramis was mixing one of his concoctions into a cup, he turned slightly.
"It is the blow to the head he received, I am somewhat glad he did, it is when there is no response one has to worry mon ami."
The medic moved to Athos' side.
"Porthos if you would be so kind and hold up his head whilst I administer this." he asked.
The big musketeer was up in an instant as he slid his arm under Athos's shoulders.
"Come on 'thos, time for yer medicine, even if it does taste like rat droppings."
d'Artagnan stifled a chuckle.
Aramis gave the big man a quirk of his brow as he held the small cup to the swordmans lips, he watched as he grimaced with the sour taste of laudanum.
"Don't...like ...it." gasped Athos screwing up his eyes tightly making them water.
"I know it is not pleasent my friend...but it will help with the pain you are enduring." murmered the medic catching Porthos' concerned glance.
Athos suddenly winced as pain seared through his body from the sword wound, tears filled his eyes as the agony became evident upon his features.
"Carfeful Porthos, I do not want him to undo my stitching." said the medic helping the big man to lay Athos back against the pillow.
Aramis swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, he could almost feel his brothers anguish as he suffered through the throes of torment.
"Do you still need Lemay? asked Tréville moving to Athos' side and shooting a hastened glance towards Aramis.
Aramis wiped his hands on the cloth as he eyed his injured brother, before turning to the older man.
"I think we should wait, see what the laudanum does, he should feel some relief very soon."
All eyes averted as Athos attempted to speak.
"Were...am..I? he croaked.
Aramis sat in the chair next to his brothers side and felt his forhead, the last thing he needed was a fever.
"You're in the infirmary mon ami...you have been unconscious for several hours...you had us all worried for you." replied the medic.
"Yes...we all thought we had lost you Athos." added d'Artagnan.
"It takes a great deal to keep 'thos down, fights to the bitter end." growled Porthos with a grin. "You will have to tell us 'ow you managed to get out of that hell hole."
"He can save that for another day my friend...right now he needs rest." said Aramis.
"Let me know if you need Lemay Aramis." growled Tréville suddenly. "I shall be in my office chamber if I am needed."
The medic nodded as Tréville vacated the room.
Serge followed the musketeer captain.
"I will take my leave lads, need to get the chicken stew prepared. He be needin' somethin' in 'is belly."
The door closed behind the veteran as he left.
"Is the pain easing my friend? asked Aramis stroking Athos' hair from his brow.
The injured musketeer slowly opened his eyes and nodded slightly.
"Why is it...so dark...in here Mis?
A deep frown suddenly set on the medics features as he shot a swift glance towards Porthos and d'Artagnan, his stomach began to churn over as he looked back at his frriend.
"Dark? inquired d'Artagnan through tremulous tones. "What does he mean Aramis, the sun is still shining through the windows."
Porthos glared at Aramis, the look of a sudden concern was evident on the big musketeers face.
"Aramis? he growled prompting the medic to sit at Athos' side and grasp his brothers arm.
"Athos...it is still light mon ami, tell me, what do you mean when you say dark?
Aramis, it's Aramis, I can see his shape in the darkness. He touches my arm.
Athos stared up at the ceiling as the others waited for his reply, the three men stood almost statuesque, not wanting to hear the answer.
"I do not...see you Aramis...light some candles. So dark."
d'Artagnan put his hand to his mouth and took an intake of breath, his eyes filling with moisture as he swallowed the lump in his throat.
"Tell me this is not happening? snorted the Gascon through tears.
Porthos walked towards the window and stared across the courtyard, he felt physically sick. He turned back into the room and stared over to Aramis, the medic was wiping his eyes.
Aramis wanted to yell out loud in anger and frustration, he felt suddenly helpless to help his brother.
"Can you see any of us mon ami? he asked Athos.
Athos coughed slightly, his eyes not leaving the ceiling.
"Shapes...it's dark Aramis, why can I not see you? he replied, his voice breaking in mid sentence.
Aramis averted his eyes to his two friends, tears had spilled down the medics face.
"We need Lemay...NOW! he yelled hoarsely.
Before he had spoken the words, Porthos and d'Artagnan had turned on their heels and left the chamber.
The sound of Porthos' growl reverberated around the courtyard as they went.
"I'LL KILL 'EM FOR THIS...NO ONE WILL STOP ME!
oooooOOooooo
Hi Guys,
Sorry about the cliffy.
Hope you are all staying well with this horrible Coronavirus doing the rounds. It's like a nightmare, if only people would just buy what they need instead of bulk buying, its crazy.
Glad you are still reading the story. Thank you for your awesome comments, love them.
Speak soon
Pippa xxx
.
.
.
.
.
.
