Chapter Three

Aramis paused for a couple of seconds in the doorway. He breathed deeply, enjoying the odours of the tavern. The room was large, but it was bustling with customers. Musketeers and soldiers from other garrisons were talking loudly, laughing, playing cards, and eating. Suspicious figures were lurking in corners or milling around trying to spot an unsuspecting victim who might not notice their pocket being picked. A sprinkling of street women was mingling with the crowd, pressing their bodies against any man who showed a modicum of interest.

Porthos appeared in front of him grinning.

'You lost?' he asked.

Aramis shifted his gaze to look at his friend, 'no, it just feels like a long time since I was here.'

Porthos' grin faded, 'that's all over now,' he said in a reassuring tone. 'And I will protect you now,' he added with mock sincerity.

Aramis laughed, 'I wouldn't expect anything less,' he said.

Porthos led him through the tables to a corner of the tavern where Athos was already emptying a bottle of wine and looking for one of the serving women to get them some more.

'Where's d'Artagnan?' asked Aramis as he settled on the bench seat by the wall.

It was not lost on him that Porthos had deliberately let him sit in the seat that meant he could watch the room. Porthos swung his leg over the bench on the opposite side of the table.

'D'Artagnan is with Constance,' said Athos as he finally caught the eye of one of the women and indicated the empty bottle. 'Her husband is away for a couple of nights and they are making the most of it.'

'I don't blame him,' said Porthos as he picked up his half-empty cup of wine and took a generous swig.

Aramis looked at the cup of wine that remained. The one Athos had poured for him before he had arrived. He thought about the vials of drugged liquid he had been forced to drink. He had fractured memories of wanting, and needing, the drug after a while. He mentally shook himself, forcing the memory away. He knew he could not simply forget what had happened to him, but he would not let it dominate or define him.

He realised his friends were in the middle of a conversation about their day.

'Were you at the Palace when the King had the row with one of the ministers?' asked Porthos.

Athos shook his head, 'I was on the grounds. The Queen was walking with her ladies. I missed that particular incident. Although, I heard from Barbotin that the King came close to striking the minister. And he did banish the man from court.'

Porthos laughed, 'with no one to rein in the Royal purse I hate to think what's going to happen.'

Aramis listened to his friends talking about their day as he continued to contemplate his wine. He finally picked up the cup and took a few sips. The watered-down wine was sweet. Every time he had taken a drink since he had been held captive had caused him a moment of doubt. As he put the cup down, he realised Athos and Porthos were watching him with concern.

'I'm fine,' he said. 'Really. I know it was only a matter of weeks but occasionally it feels as though I was gone for months or years. I lost all concept of time in that cell… and afterwards.'

He glanced at Athos who nodded his understanding.

Porthos looked between them both for a few seconds, 'if you want to talk about it, either of you, you know where I am.'

'I will admit,' said Athos, 'that watching you getting worse as you worked through the withdrawal was one of the hardest things I have done. I felt quite helpless.'

'You did more than enough,' said Aramis with sincerity.

A young boy appeared at the table with a tray laden with bowls of stew. Porthos took the bowls and slipped a couple of coins into the boy's hands. The boy smiled before scampering off.

'Is that the lad you helped to get work here?' asked Aramis who remembered the scrawny scrap that Porthos had saved from a group of drunken sailors a few months before.

Porthos nodded, 'he still doesn't speak but the landlord said he's a good worker and he has no problem letting him sleep by the kitchen fire in return for serving duties.'

'If only you were able to save all the poor and destitute of the city,' remarked Athos as he picked up his spoon and scooped up some meat from the bowl.

Aramis enjoyed the warmth the stew bought. He thought about the warm bread he had been given after the men had forced the drug into him.

'Don't disappear again,' said Porthos.

Aramis looked up, making eye contact with his friend.

'Don't dwell on it. Don't get caught up in the memories. I know you can't just forget it but don't get maudlin about it.'

'Sorry. Like I said before, it feels like a long time since I was here. I miss patrolling and guard duty-'

He stopped himself as Porthos laughed out loud again.

'I am going to remind you of that when you are back on normal duties and complaining about patrolling the markets.'

Aramis chuckled along with his friend as they went back to enjoying their meal.

MMMM

The following morning saw the cadets standing in the armoury looking at the array of weapons neatly arranged along the walls and on tables. Aramis gave each cadet a pistol and asked them to clean it. With varying degrees of success, each of the young men did as they were asked.

Aramis inspected their work offering advice where needed. Leon managed to finish first. He watched Charles for a few seconds before glancing at Aramis. Aramis had also spotted the mistake the cadet had made. He had not said anything initially, hoping the young man would notice and fix the problem. Leon leaned closer to Charles and quietly pointed out the mistake.

'I know,' responded Charles tersely.

Leon leaned back in his chair, taken aback by the aggressive tone the cadet had used. As Charles corrected his mistake Leon stared at his lap and did not look up for some time. Aramis wondered if either of the cadets would be good enough to be commissioned. Both could fail but for the opposite reasons. Aramis decided not to draw attention to the exchange. But he would keep an eye on the pair.

'Why aren't you wearing a pauldron? You're a commissioned Musketeer.'

Aramis had been waiting for one of the cadets to say something and was not surprised it was Jacques. The cadet, who along with Charles, thought he was superior to the other young men was looking at him with one eyebrow raised waiting for him to answer.

Aramis had already decided to be honest with them. It would have been wrong to lie when a soldier's life was built on trust between comrades.

'I gave my pauldron to the Captain,' he began, 'I was captured by some enemy agents a few weeks ago and held for some time as they tried to extract some intelligence from me. I am still recovering and do not feel I can fully represent the Musketeers at the moment.'

He watched the various reactions. Jacques and Charles looked shocked and disgusted, but not in a supportive way. They glanced at each other shaking their heads. Leon finally looked up with an expression somewhere between awe and pity. But it was Paul who spoke first.

'I suppose that is something that could happen to any soldier,' he said. 'Were you tortured for intelligence?'

Aramis nodded, 'but it was not like anything I've experienced before. They…' he took a breath before continuing. 'They drugged me. They made me addicted to whatever it was they were giving me. It took some time to recover from that and I need to rebuild my strength and stamina.'

Charles smirked, 'so you're not even fit to train us? My father will complain to the King.'

The cadet pushed his chair back noisily as he got to his feet. The other cadets looked at each other, unsure how to react.

'I may not be fully fit,' said Aramis, 'but I am still your superior. Sit down and finish cleaning that gun. And clean it properly.'

Aramis spoke firmly and with as much authority as he could. Charles glared at him for several seconds. He glanced at Jacques who subtly shook his head. Without his friend backing him up the angry cadet gave up and sat back down. Aramis wondered why Jacques had not joined Charles in trying to cause a scene.

The rest of the cadets were quiet for a few minutes before they started to ask questions about Aramis' time being held captive. Aramis found talking to relative strangers about his ordeal oddly cathartic. It also gave the young men an idea of some of the darker sides of military life.

Charles and Jacques did not join in the conversation. They continued to clean their guns in silence with occasional glances at each other. The other cadets' body language told Aramis that they did not approve of the pair's attitude.

Leon gradually regained his confidence and started to join in with the conversation. Aramis could tell the other cadets were encouraging him. They might not have realised what they were doing but they were working together against an enemy. The only problem was that the enemy happened to be Charles and Jacques, their fellow cadets.

A shadow fell across the door to the armoury. All the cadets got to their feet as the Captain walked in, he nodded a greeting and indicated for them to sit.

'Carry on, I just need a word with Aramis.'

Treville turned and walked from the room. Aramis followed in his wake.

'How are they getting on?' he asked.

Aramis shrugged, 'we may have a problem with two of them-'

'Jacques Blanchet and Charles Fabien?' he asked with a knowing smile.

Aramis nodded, 'they do not approve of a man who is not fit training them.'

Treville sighed, 'you are fit, Aramis. And in a skirmish, you could still see all eight of them on the ground without an issue, I am sure.'

'I wouldn't go that far, Captain,' chuckled Aramis.

He knew he would be able to beat the cadets in a swordfight, but probably not all at the same time. At least not at that moment.

'Let me know if they become an issue. I do not want two men bringing all of them down… And what about Leon Lavoie? His father wrote a second letter to me saying that the lad is timid and probably not suited to soldiering. He suspects his son is only going through with the training to look good in his eyes.'

Aramis nodded, 'quite possibly. I spoke to him yesterday and he is enthusiastic, but his shyness will slow him down.'

'His father was clear in his letter that the lad will not be vilified if he fails to get his commission.'

'We just have to hope Leon sees it that way. But it's early days, there is time for him to improve.'

'Another challenge for you?' asked Treville.

'Another challenge for me.'

MMMM

Two days later, Aramis dismounted and walked his horse forward a few feet as he took in the clearing that Simon had found for them. The cadet knew the area and had suggested the clearing would be a good place for the group to camp as there was a river nearby. Aramis nodded his approval to Simon, who looked pleased with himself.

The rest of the cadets dismounted and waited for instruction. Aramis had to remind himself that some of the young men had never slept outside before.

'See to your horses, we will be here for a couple of days so get them settled somewhere practical. Simon, perhaps you could suggest somewhere?'

Simon nodded and pointed towards the edge of the clearing, where the grass was long, and the river could be heard babbling passed.

'My brother and I always tied the horses up there. It's close to the river and the grass is lush.'

'Good,' said Aramis as he handed his reins to Leon with a smile.

He wandered away from the cadets to look at the surrounding area. He planned to give them a taste of life under the stars and have them march for a few hours the following day. He could not simulate a battle for them, but he could give them an idea of what the build-up was like.

After several hours in the saddle, some of the young men were already showing signs of fatigue. Charles had looked particularly tired. Aramis suspected the young men would sleep well.

The area was sparsely populated. Aramis doubted they would see anyone else during the couple of days he intended to keep his cadets there. Aramis smiled to himself as he realised, he had become protective of the young men, even Charles and Jacques, who had fallen out of favour with the rest of the group. He felt responsible for them all. He knew Treville did not expect all the cadets to obtain their commissions. But he would still feel as though he had let the ones that did not down.

The gentle downland would not seem welcoming once the young men had been marching across it weighed down with armour and weapons. He looked at the sky; there were no clouds to blot out the sun. The shadows of the trees behind him stretched across the grass, their edges crisply defined.

The shadow crossing the grey wall telling him when the men were going to come filled his mind. He stared at the leafy outline of the trees, a stark difference to the straight line of light and shadow he saw in his cell.

'Monsieur?'

He watched the shadow move, drifting serenely across the grass in front of him. Or across the wall opposite him.

'Monsieur…'

When would the men come? He both wanted them to come and did not want them to come.

'Aramis?'

A hand on his shoulder snapped him from his memories. He looked around to find Leon staring at him with concern.

'Sorry,' said the young man hesitantly. 'I wondered if you wanted us to make camp or if you were going to instruct us.'

Aramis stared at the cadet for a few seconds before he found his voice.

'No. You go ahead. You and Simon and Claude know what you are doing. And the others can follow your lead.'

'Are you alight?'

Aramis smiled self-consciously.

'I won't say anything,' said Leon.

'Thank you, Leon,' said Aramis. 'I keep getting flashes of memory from my time being held captive.'

'I suppose that's understandable,' replied the cadet. 'If you wanted to talk to someone about it…'

Aramis smiled at the implication, the young man may have been timid, but he was empathetic. Something lacking in a few of the other cadets. He knew it was not necessarily a bad thing for a soldier but at times being able to see things from the other man's perspective was useful. Frightened men were unpredictable, but with forethought could be dealt with without causing harm.

'I am fine at the moment, Leon,' Aramis said. 'Let's get the camp set up.'

MMMM