Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan were unexpectedly released early from palace duty when the King took to his bed with a headache.
Arriving back at the garrison, they headed directly to the infirmary to relieve Aramis of his extended bedside duty.
Opening the door, though, they found no one inside. Alarmed, they raced back out the door, splitting up to search the garrison for them. When they didn't find them, they took the steps two at a time to talk to Treville.
Explaining what had happened, they watched the Captain's face pale and change, an intensely worried look emerging.
"The Court of Miracles! I almost wish the Cardinal had been given permission to raze it to the ground! Go find Aramis and bring he and Flea back. Do whatever you have to do, but get it done. I don't need to remind you that time is of the essence-if they haven't carried out their sick vendetta already!" The thread of near-panic in Treville's voice had never been heard by his Musketeers, telling them he thought it might already be too late.
Athos and his brothers exited quietly from a shaken Treville's office, leaving their Captain standing with hands flat and splayed on his desk, head down.
Heavily armed, they strode out of the gates with grim faces, heading once again for the Court of Miracles, determined to find Aramis and Flea alive, and to bring their beloved brother back to the garrison, back home.
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Having rendered Aramis helpless to resist them by their threat to Flea's life, he had put up no resistance when they had divested him of his weapons. Pulling his arms behind him, they tightly bound them, feeling more secure once they had rendered him incapable of putting up a fight to escape.
They moved more rapidly now, reaching the Court of Miracles quickly.
Aramis, remembering what had happened to him the last time he had been brought to the Court, felt an involuntary shudder race up his spine upon spying it ahead of them. He almost felt a sense of hopelessness this time, having come so close to death last time.
His brothers would come for him. He knew that. But they would be delayed for hours at the King's pleasure. He might very well be dead by the time they found him this time.
He still wondered who was behind this, who held the purse strings. He may never find out in this lifetime, he grimly told himself.
Once through the Court entrance, they began winding their way through the ramshackle streets and buildings, Aramis finding it almost impossible to keep track of their direction, in the possibly vain hope of getting loose and making his way out. He knew that only those who had grown up here, like Porthos, could move around deftly, knowing every street and alleyway.
He could hear some noise in the distance, gradually growing louder.
After what seemed like forever, they finally slowed down, a moment later, pushing open double doors onto a very large courtyard.
The scene that revealed itself stunned him. Now, the dull roar he had heard growing steadily louder explained itself at what he saw.
Stands had been set up around the courtyard, and were filled with very raucous people, mostly men. But what made Aramis' heart nearly stop in horror was the scaffold erected dead-center in the courtyard. A post with a hanging noose made him balk in his tracks, before he was roughly shoved forward towards it.
When they reached the bottom, he was forced up the steps,finally reaching the top, as the crowd's roar increased at sight of the victim they had come to see hung. They were pumping their fists, some of them with tankards they were drinking out of in their other hand. It was like they were being entertained, Aramis thought, his heart now pounding wildly at what they were about to do to him.
Flea had been forced up the steps, as well, and her eyes now caught those of Aramis, silently showing her shock and sorrow at what was about to happen to this kind man who had saved her life.
They were reaching for the noose, as the crowd's roar reached fever pitch, when a woman's voice rose above the crowd.
A woman, maybe around her middle thirties, looking small surrounded by all the men in the courtyard, made her way to the scaffolding. The people who had not been able to get seats so were standing, were parting like a wave to let her through.
Climbing the steps, she reached the top,moving to stand in front of Aramis. Her long black hair flying wildly about her, she looked aged beyond her years. Her face was rigid with her anger.
"At last-justice! You murdered the only man I have ever loved. Took his life without a thought! You should have died the first time we had you, but for the bungling of the men I hired in good faith."
Aramis, looking into the woman's eyes, saw the madness there. Ordinarily, he would have felt stirrings of pity for her, but not with his life in the balance. "I didn't..." only for the woman to shriek, "Silence! Your pathetic lies will not save you now!"
The woman suddenly swung around towards Flea. "And you…" pointing a finger at her. You should be long gone. That explosion ..the fire… Charon was mine. Then, you came along with your pretty face and seductive ways and stole him from me. You're next at the end of the rope."
Turning again on Aramis, her voice was becoming more shrill as she continued to work herself up.
"I thought at first you should die at the end of a blade, like you did to Charon. But this is far more fitting. It's justice! It's what the King himself has done to murderers!"
Turning to the crowd, she raised her voice, "Do we want justice here today? What say you all?"
The crowd roared again, lifting their arms and pointing their index fingers down in mock judgement.
One of the men who had brought him here, buoyed up by the crowd, grabbed the noose. The other two grabbed his arms, as if there were anywhere he could run in this madhouse.
His breathing had sped up to such a point now in terror that his heart felt like it was going to explode, as the man forced the noose over his head and tightened it at the side of his neck. The men holding his arms now let go, knowing he didn't dare move without strangling himself.
Aramis, locking his trembling knees to keep them from giving out under him and hanging himself, closed his eyes and began fervently to pray.