113. Honour and Miscalculation
Athos and Aramis:
"I came to arrest you," Athos said, his voice devoid of emotion.
"I know," Aramis replied. "You said. Before I felled you."
The two friends were sitting in the dark at the table in the Infirmary room where Aramis had treated Athos, waiting for him to wake. Worried he would not.
"The whole Garrison is looking for you."
"I know that," Aramis said, looking away. "The arrest warrant was in your jacket."
"You brought me back," Athos stated. It was not a question, though a puzzle indeed, in the scheme of things.
Aramis sighed, slumped in the chair, looking at his feet.
"How could I not?" he said, looking up, his eyes roving over Athos's face, equally stricken.
"I didn't kill the Marquis," he added, tersely.
"I know," Athos now said, softening. "Though it had all the signs."
"Someone knows my methods."
"And is an equal shot," Athos said. "Almost.
"The hole between the man's eyes was slightly off centre," Athos qualified, rueful now that they were finally discussing it.
"Whoever killed him needs more practise," Aramis said, sullenly.
"At impersonating you, perhaps," Athos returned. "It was still a good shot."
"Up close is easier," Aramis huffed.
"He was a friend of the King," Athos murmured, his face hidden now in shadows as he sat back.
"That much is obvious," Aramis replied. "The reaction was substantial."
"The Musketeers are duty bound ..." Athos began.
Aramis leant across and grasped Athos's shoulder, stopping him;
"I know."
"What now?" Aramis asked, his voice low; both of them a little lost at the predicament they found themselves in.
"The warrant still stands," Athos said, straightening in his chair with a grimace. "Though I do not."
"Athos, you cannot forsake your duty."
"The others are looking for you," Athos conceded. "They will return soon."
"They won't look here," Aramis replied.
He had a point. Why would they look in the Infirmary?
They fell into silence for a while.
"A servant who raised the alarm says you were the last person to be seen in the house," Athos finally said. "There is no-one to say otherwise. His wife has fled. You did not cover the tracks of your latest dalliance as well as you may have thought this time," he added, testily.
Silence.
"Though no-one saw you in your hideout," Athos conceded.
"Except you," Aramis replied.
"I was unconscious."
"Because I hit you."
"You are making a good case against yourself."
"Just the truth, Athos, so help me God."
"You and your God," Athos growled.
"You and your honour," Aramis sighed.
"We reach an impasse."
They fell silent once more, sitting in the dark, the hopelessness beginning to wrap around them, offering no warmth, only bleakness.
"So, how are we going to do this?" Aramis asked.
It was Athos's turn to sigh. He ran a hand over his face, avoiding the grease of the salve beneath his eye.
"Your bed hopping brings us here," he finally said.
Aramis looked contrite in the glow of the one candle he had lit when he had manhandled Athos in here a few hours earlier. He could have made his escape after treating him but he had stayed until Athos woke. It was his doing, after all. His miscalculation, as Athos's head had bounced off the door frame and he had fallen boneless to the floor. His second miscalculation of the evening.
"My love for you does that," Aramis replied. "I could not leave you there."
"They would have found me."
"You know they would not," Aramis returned.
It was true. Aramis had covered his tracks well after finding the lifeless body of the master of the house, the Marquis. Though not by enough to throw Athos off. Porthos too, would have found him, but he was on a separate mission with Treville and d'Artagnan and was not due back for a few days. Only his two brothers could have found him. The Red Guard swarmed the streets but Aramis had been confident he could stay hidden until dawn when the city gates opened. Until then, all the rats of Paris were confined, including the killer.
"What, were you intending," Athos asked, sitting back once more, his leathers creaking. "By running?"
"I have no idea," Aramis replied, dejectedly. "But the Marquis has powerful friends and a fair trial seems remote."
"But you did not kill him," Athos stated. "Just to be clear."
"No, but you of all people know the truth doesn't always matter. We almost lost you in similar circumstances, if I recall."
"Not quite the same," Athos murmured. "But point taken."
Aramis reached out in some urgency and grasped Athos's arm.
"I'm sorry, Athos. I didn't intend to hit you. I suppose I panicked."
"At the thought I would arrest you?"
"At the thought you would not," Aramis replied, with a sad smile. "You are not the only one honour-bound, my friend."
"Ah," Athos replied, matching his smile. "You were protecting me."
"Always," Aramis replied, softly.
"So, what's the plan?" Aramis asked. "For I know you must have one."
Athos stood and walked to the window. Keeping cautiously to the left, he looked out onto the yard.
"Simple," he replied, without turning around.
Aramis raised his head and looked up at his friend, eyebrows raised.
Athos turned and leant back against the window sill, crossing his arms.
"You have not been thinking straight, brother," he said, softly, his face half in shadow. "We search for the Marquess. I hear you have been teaching her to shoot. I believe that route leads to exoneration. It seems that she too, has miscalculated.
"Love is blind" was too much of an ironic statement for him to make, but he was sure Aramis got the point.
Aramis's mouth dropped open, before a smile of understanding spread across his face.
"She has much to inherit, it's true," Aramis replied, his thoughts clearing at last. The evening had taken a toll on him.
"Then we must find her," Athos replied, pushing off the wall. "And whoever may have aided and abbetted her."
"Together?" Aramis asked, hope finally beginning to unfurl its banner.
"Together," Athos replied, firmly, reaching for his sword belt. "Before the rats escape the city. Albeit, very enticing, though deadly creatures some of them may be."
And that, is what they did.
oOo
"Alright for some," Porthos chuntered as he dropped down from his horse, three days later, seeing his two friends sitting at their usual table.
As he came closer, he made a point of slapping his leathers, the dust rising from them making Aramis leap from the bench and retreat, shaking his newly-washed hair. Athos pulled the brim of his hat down and lowered his head against the offending clouds, his hand protective over the rim of his cup.
"Anything to report?" Treville said, as he strode over, pulling off his gloves.
"Nothing of importance," Athos replied, risking raising his head to look at the Captain through the settling dust.
Treville looked from Athos over to Aramis for a long moment, a deep frown on his brow.
"All is peaceful," Aramis confirmed, shifting his stance and offering Treville a sincere face. He would find out soon enough but today was a day for reunions.
"Then why don't I believe that?" Treville said, quietly, taking in Athos's bruised eye.
"Captain," Aramis said, his hand on his heart …
"I know, Aramis," Treville interjected. "I wound you."
He looked from one to the other for another long moment, before sighing and turning toward the stairs that led to his office, with a weary shake of his head.
"So, what have we missed?" d'Artagnan said, as he dropped down onto the bench, stretching his long legs out before him, his back to the edge of the table. He crossed his ankles, elbow on the table and looked back over his shoulder at Athos with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile.
"Hold ya horses," Porthos growled, as he reached for an unopened bottle of wine and accepted the cup Athos pushed toward him.
"Lookin' at their faces, I think this is goin' to be good," he grinned as he pulled the cork with his teeth.
Above them, unseen on his balcony, Treville crossed his arms and leant against the post, also preparing to hear the tale unfurl. If there were questions to be answered in higher places, it was best to be forewarned.
One day, he may be able to leave the Garrison without fear of what he would find when he returned.
Today, it seemed, was not one of those days.
His only regret was that he too didn't have a stiff drink to accompany the tale.
oOo
Thanks for reading! More soon.