Authors note: This is a prequel to Chapters Five and Ten.
Not a particularly Musketeers ish title.
Trigger warning in the notes at the end. Please check if there is something that might upset you.
Athos opened his eyes and tried to straighten his neck. He could not lift his head. All he could do was stare at his lap. He watched the water drip from his hair onto his breeches; he could feel the water soaking his shirt. It was cold. He started to shiver. He had been uncomfortably cool before Luc had chucked the full bucket of icy water over him.
The thug laughed as he dropped the bucket on the ground. Athos watched it tip over and roll in a loose circle before stopping by the support post for the tent.
A fist grabbing his hair forced his head up, he looked at Luc who leered down at him.
'You awake now? You gonna tell us what we wanna know?'
Athos did not respond. He stared at the thug, looked at the gap in his teeth that gave him a slight lisp. They had played out the conversation several times already. Athos had lost count.
Every day they dragged him from the tent they chained him up in overnight. They tied him to a heavy chair in one of the encampments bigger tents. Sometimes they tied him to the main post in the middle of the tent. Luc, Louis, or Paul would then take turns to try to get him to talk. Louis would shout at him and punch him. Luc toyed with him, soaking him, and burning him with pokers. Athos had an array of burns along both arms. He knew the man would start on his body or legs soon enough. And Paul, who was the one that tied him to the post, would flog him and hit him across the back.
Athos could not list every injury. He tried. He tried every night after they had finished with him. He rarely finished his injury catalogue by the time the exhaustion forced him to sleep.
But he remained silent.
Today it was Luc's turn. And that meant a soaking. The man would leave him shivering for some time whilst he kept asking the questions. Eventually, Luc would be forced to throw blankets and animal skins over him to warm him up.
The tent flaps were pushed open. The leader of the mercenaries stepped in. Luc took a couple of paces back. Athos knew the camp was well organised. The leader kept a tight control on his men. But the men were well paid and all ex-soldiers. They understood discipline.
'Time for a different tactic,' said the tall man.
Athos did not know the leader's name. He was always referred to as the 'General'. Athos did not believe the man could have reached the rank of General, but in the world of the mercenary, a leader of men could give himself any rank he saw fit.
Athos saw a look pass between the General and Luc. Luc sneered and nodded; a chuckle escaped his lips.
Paul and Louis crowded into the tent.
'It's all set up, sir,' said Louis, who was younger than the other two but no less cruel in his interrogations.
'Bring him.'
The General turned on his heels and walked from the tent, flinging the flaps apart as he went. Athos caught a glimpse of the pale blue sky. The only time he got to see the sky, was when he was taken from his prison to the tent where they tortured him. He always made sure he looked around on those short walks each day. He knew the camp was big. He knew it was full of capable men. He knew it would be difficult to escape from.
Over the days and weeks and, he was sure, months, Athos had listened as much as he could. He knew some of how the camp was organised, and he knew the routines of some of the men. He knew when the guards would patrol passed the back of his tent. He knew the rotation of the guards who watched the front of his tent. Some of the things he knew were going to help him escape. He still did not know how, but he was determined he would.
The thugs untied him. He was too weak to fight them. Paul held him still as Luc bound his wrists behind him. The thug wrapped the rough rope around his arms, pulling his shoulders back painfully. Athos let out a grunt as they pushed him forward. The men chuckled. Athos was convinced they saw it as a victory every time he reacted to the pain and torture with an audible sound.
Athos did not reward them often.
A few of the other mercenaries moved out of his way as he was forced forward. He stumbled a few times, but Louis and Luc kept him upright. They walked him towards the centre of the camp where he knew there was a big tree and a clearing.
His step faltered as he reached the clearing.
Had the leader given up wanting to get information from him? Was his usefulness at an end?
Athos stared at the noose that slung over a branch of the large tree.
They pushed him closer to the rope.
Athos looked at the leader. The man looked smug. He was calling Athos' bluff. If he had something to say, he would say it. This would not be a continued interrogation. This would be one chance. And if he did not speak, he would die.
Paul wrapped another rope around Athos' knees. The three thugs worked together to lift him onto a stool that was under the noose. Louis climbed onto a second stool to loop the noose around Athos neck. They pulled the rope close to his neck; Athos felt his breathing speed up. He tried to maintain his stoic, nonchalant, expression.
'What information were you carrying?' asked the General.
Athos looked at the man but did not speak. He felt his knees trembling. He wondered what it would feel like to die at the end of a rope. He knew it would be painful. Slowly strangling, unable to take a breath. He had seen people die by hanging. It was not quick. It was not painless. It was torturous. There had been a couple of occasions he had been grabbed and throttled. He knew what it felt like to be starved of life-giving air. He knew what it felt like to see the greyness creeping in. He knew the pain. He knew the torment. But he had not been alone on those occasions. His brothers had been there. One or the other of them had dealt with the miscreant that had attacked him.
His brothers were not there now.
Athos was alone.
Athos was about to die.
The General watched him for several seconds before nodding.
Paul walked forward with purpose; he paused before lifting his foot, ready to kick the stool away. Athos closed his eyes.
He opened them again when he heard his captors laughing. The General had a cruel grin playing across his mouth.
'Tomorrow, if you do not speak, we will kick the stool away.'
The tall man walked away; Athos could hear him chuckling.
It took every fibre of his being not to sink to the ground as Louis and Luc pulled off the noose and took him off the stool. Paul pulled his knife from his belt. He pointed the knife at Athos' face for a few seconds. He pressed the tip into Athos' cheek, before bending a little to cut the rope from around his knees.
His tormentors walked him back to the tent where he would spend the night, a rusty chain keeping him from escape. They pushed him to the ground and roughly pulled the scratchy rope from his arms before snapping the manacles around his wrists. Luc managed to kick him in the stomach before the two men left him alone. Athos remained on the ground, lying on his side. He stared at the rusty chain, looking at the links which wrapped around the old flagstone. He might have had the strength to move the stone a few feet when he had first been captured.
But not now.
Not now that he was half-starved and beaten. Not now that he was going to be hanged the next day.
He had no information to give the General. Not that he would have given the information up. Athos was loyal, and if that loyalty meant he had to die, he would face it.
He only managed to catalogue the cuts and grazes on his arms before a restless sleep took him that night.
It was Paul who kicked him the following morning. A thick rope in his hands, an expression of mirth on his face. Paul pushed him onto his stomach and leaned heavily over him, pinning him to the ground. They both knew he could not fight back, but Paul wanted his fun. Wanted to torture Athos more in his final minutes. The rough rope was wrapped around his wrists. Athos could feel the ropes biting into his already grazed wrists. He supposed his grazed wrists were the least of his worries.
The big man pulled him up to stand and pushed him out of the tent. Luc and Louis were waiting outside the tent. Louis was holding a chicken leg. A scraggly dog was watching him. Louis lowered the meat towards the dog, who walked forward, its tail wagging in expectation. Athos felt sorry for the beast. Louis let the dog get almost within biting distance before raising the chicken and shouting at the dog. The old dog scampered off. Athos watched it go. He watched it skirting around another couple of thuggish mercenaries, one of whom threw a boot at it, narrowly missing. The dog disappeared amongst the tents.
The thugs laughed. They looked at Athos, saw him watching the dog's plight and made mocking sympathetic noises. Luc and Paul pulled him towards the centre of the camp again. Athos could feel their hands on his arms; Paul was squeezing hard. Bruisingly so. But what was one more bruise when he was about to be hanged?
The noose was still there, swinging slightly in a breeze that toyed with the leaves in the big tree. The stool was below the rope again. They repeated the routine from the previous day. Athos was pushed onto the stool and the noose looped around his neck.
'Are you going to talk? Or are we going to watch you dangle?'
The General was somewhere behind him. Athos looked at the sky; he watched a bird soaring high above.
'Then, you die.'
Athos was aware of someone moving towards him. He heard a boot kick the stool.
He dropped.
His fall was stopped by strong arms around his waist, holding him firmly.
Athos felt faint; he was not a man who fainted; he was a soldier. He was a Musketeer.
But they had tricked him into believing he was about to die - twice. And he had believed his tormentors both times.
The thugs and the General were all laughing hard.
As the noose was removed and he was led back to his tent, Athos stared at the ground. He felt beaten. Physically, and mentally. It was the mental weakness that worried him. Some part of him, some rational part knew he should fight the urge to withdraw within himself completely. But it would be easy to give in. To hide within himself.
'Maybe tomorrow...'
The General called from behind him.
Athos wondered how many tomorrows he was going to get.
MMMM
Trigger warning: Attempt hanging/execution
Whumpee: Athos
Authors note: If you read chapters Five and Ten, you know Athos does escape. But his escape is not easy. This will be concluded in Chapter 16.