Chapter Four

The bigger spider was walking across the ceiling. Aramis guessed he was struggling to stay awake as each time he opened his eyes the spider had moved a couple of feet. He wondered where the spider thought it was going. He tried to calculate how far the spider would have walked if it was the size of a human. Aramis would have liked to walk further than the confines of his cell. Even if that walk was a limping pain-filled shuffle.

The sun was shining through the narrow window again. Aramis could only guess it was the second day. He might have fallen asleep and slept through a day. He knew the hunger he felt would probably not be much different after two days.

Something made the spider stop its expedition across the ceiling. Aramis could see it lifting one of its front legs probing forward. Something had affected the spider. It turned and retraced its steps back to the safety of its web in the corner.

An echoing bang brought Aramis to full alertness. It was the first sound he had heard that was not birds chirping or sounds of his own making.

Footsteps. Two or three sets of footsteps.

Aramis contemplated getting to his feet, but his captors knew he was injured, they knew he had not eaten for at least two days. What was the point of pretending?

The footsteps stopped. A jangling noise followed by some metallic creaks indicated something being unlocked with a key. Was there a padlock on the other side of the heavy door? He knew there was no keyhole in the door itself. Aramis had already had plenty of time to examine the door.

As the door was pulled open, Aramis tensed up. He wanted to remain stoic and indifferent, in that way Athos had mastered, but he could not. His breathing sped up, he felt like a frightened, trapped animal. He was a frightened, trapped animal. He could not get away and he could not fight his captors.

Three men were revealed on the other side of the door. One was in shadow behind the other two. Of the two he could see one was holding a gun, levelled at Aramis. Although Aramis could tell the aim was not intended to be a fatal one. Perhaps it was the same gunman that had expertly shot him in the thigh. Causing enough injury to arrest his attempt to prevent being caught, but not maiming him or killing him in the process.

The third man was younger. He was a slight man of perhaps eighteen, he looked nervous. Aramis could not tell who the young man was wary of. The man in the shadows stepped forward, but not enough to reveal his face. He shoved the young man forward. The young man stepped into the cell and, without taking his eyes off Aramis, crouched down. He placed a hunk of bread and an apple on the floor. Aramis noted that the food was placed within the area the chains allowed him to reach.

The young man stepped back. The man in the shadows grabbed the young man's shoulder and shoved him out of sight along the corridor. The man stepped into the light. Aramis recognised him as the one he thought was the leader. The man looked at Aramis for several seconds before stepping back. He pushed the door closed, sealing Aramis into his cell again.

The men had not said a word. The only sounds had been the keys in the padlock on the other side of the door and the footsteps. Aramis listened as those same footsteps receded. He looked at the bread and the apple. He thought about leaving the food, but he did not want to be force-fed by the gang. And he still wanted to keep his wits about him. It was not much but, it would stave off the hunger pangs for a few more hours.

With a hiss of pain, he pushed himself to his feet and shuffled across the room. He scooped up the bread, which was still warm, and the apple which also looked fresh. After hobbling back to the wall, he settled to eat his meagre ration.

The wandering spider had emerged again. Aramis chewed on the soft bread as he watched it probing the air. He looked at the second spider, which had not moved. The wandering spider had a more defined speckle on its back. Aramis decided to name his spiders. They were likely to be cellmates for a while, he thought ruefully. Speckled and Brown were duly named. Brown did not react to his naming, but Speckled, who Aramis decided was female, wandered forward a couple of inches in response. Perhaps she approved?

Aramis approved of the bread he had eaten. He guessed wherever he was being held had a kitchen, or there was a baker nearby. He wondered how far he had been taken after he had been caught. He guessed he was in the same area of the country. He could not believe they would have taken him far. The gang obviously knew where the rendezvous was and had planned well ahead of the meeting, which implied they could have secured a local house to bring their captives for interrogation.

As he bit into the sweet juicy apple, he continued to ponder his capture.

There was little else to do as he waited for whatever was to happen next.

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Speckled and Brown were both visible on their webs. Aramis idly wondered if they ever visited each other. Although, he had heard somewhere that female spiders could be a little murderous towards amorous males. Perhaps Brown was better off staying out of her way.

The sun's rays were again sliding across the grey stone walls. Was it still the second day, Aramis wondered? He knew he had fallen asleep again after he had eaten. But had no way to tell how long he had been asleep for. He could already be into his third day of captivity.

The third grey stone by the door was lit at that moment. Aramis had tried to count the seconds it took the sun to move off a stone but kept losing count.

He looked back at the door as he heard the same echoing bang that had heralded the first visit from his captors. Aramis pushed himself up to sit straighter. He listened as several sets of footsteps approached. There was a pause of a few seconds before the jangle of keys and the metallic click of the padlock being undone.

The door was pulled open. Aramis saw several men in the doorway for a second before they moved into the room. The men moved quickly and with coordination. Aramis had no time to react as he was grabbed by several of the men. He tried to pull away from them, but they knew how to hold him to keep him where they wanted him. One of the men got behind him and grabbed him around the chest, pinning his arms to his sides. Two more men grabbed his legs, keeping him still. It was not lost on Aramis that the man holding his right leg avoided grabbing him where he had been shot. The method of restraint was not designed to hurt him, at least not at that moment.

The leader, an older man with piercing eyes, sank to his knees beside him. The leader grabbed Aramis' face with his hand under his chin, forcing his head back a little. Aramis struggled again and tried to speak. Another man Aramis could not keep track of them all had also grabbed his head, keeping him in the position that the leader had manipulated him to. The leader grabbed at Aramis' jaw and forced him to open his mouth. Aramis jerked to the side as much as he could. In the instant before the men holding him got him back into the position they wanted him, he saw a narrow glass tube being lifted towards him by the leader. He saw a liquid in the tube.

Aramis did not want whatever was in the glass tube near him. He struggled again, but the men had a better grip on him.

The leader nodded to the man holding Aramis' right leg. A second later Aramis knew why. The sharp jolt of pain from the wound on his leg caused him to gasp. The leader used Aramis' unconscious reaction to pour the liquid into his mouth and pin his jaw closed in one swift motion.

Aramis spluttered a couple of times but could not spit the liquid out. He held it in his mouth, although he knew he had already swallowed some. The leader pushed at his jaw forcing his head back further. Despite Aramis' best efforts, he swallowed the liquid. The leader allowed a smirk to cross his otherwise steely expression. He released his hold on Aramis after another few seconds. The other man holding his head did the same. Aramis could not help coughing a few times.

When he was able to focus again, he realised he was still being held by the man with his arms around his chest and the two men keeping his legs still. The leader was knelt back on his heels studying Aramis.

'What was that?'

Aramis' voice sounded cracked. He had not spoken for at least two days, and apart from whatever he had just been forced to drink, and the juice of the apple had not had any water.

The leader did not respond to the question. He remained where he was, watching Aramis.

Aramis looked at the other men in the room. The two holding his legs were strong-looking men in their thirties. One had short dark hair, with odd tufts of longer hair where whoever had cut the hair had not done a good job. The other, the one that had caused him pain by touching his wound, was bald. There was not even a slight hint of hair on the man's head.

The young man that had brought the bread and fruit earlier; was hovering closer to the door. He was skittishly looking around; whenever he looked at Aramis, he looked away quickly. Guilt crossing his face each time. Aramis filed the observation away. The young man was a weak member of the gang. Could he be manipulated in some way?

One of the men he could not see behind him had eaten something very garlicky. His breath was not entirely foul, but it was not pleasant. The other man behind him was wheezing slightly with each breath. Aramis tried to recall the men when they had first entered the room. One of them had looked stout in comparison to the rest. If the man was compromised by a lack of fitness, Aramis could use that to his advantage as well.

'I'll not talk,' said Aramis.

The leader continued to stare. Aramis pulled at the men holding him a little, but their grip was too good. Aramis resorted to glaring at the leader instead of wearing himself out struggling. The strange staring contest between them lasted for several minutes.

Aramis tried to work out what he had been forced to drink. Did they want to ensure he had water? He had eaten the bread and apple without complaint. Why not give him a cup of water? Or was there something in the liquid that would harm him? That would explain why they were remaining in the cell. If they left him, he could force himself to throw up the unknown substance. They needed to be sure he had digested the liquid before they left him.

They had drugged him with something.

But what?

The leader nodded to the two men holding Aramis' legs. They rose from the places on either side of him and walked away. The young man followed them. Aramis got the impression he could not wait to get out of the room.

For the first time, Aramis noticed the gunman. He was standing by the door, his gun aimed roughly in Aramis' direction. As the leader got to his feet, the gunman raised the gun and aimed it. Again, he was aiming off centre with the intent to only wound Aramis, not kill. Aramis held a grudging respect for the gunman whose marksmanship might rival his own.

The two men behind him let go at the same time, causing him to lose his balance. As he pushed himself straight, he was in time to see the gunman backing out of the room and the leader closing the door.

None of his captors had said a word. All had known what was expected of them. A well-organised group of men.

As their footsteps faded away Aramis felt his jaw which was sore where he had been manipulated. He swallowed a couple of times and tried to work out if the liquid had any discernible taste. There was nothing that he recognised, perhaps a slightly bitter tang.

Had it just been water?

Was the whole incident the start of his torture?

They had already left him confined and restrained alone for two or three days. They had only fed him minimally, and now they had forced him to drink… something.

Aramis looked towards his arachnid companions. Both spiders had disappeared far into their corners. The recent activities would have disturbed their usual peaceful existence.

The sun had moved to the fifth stone on the wall by the door. Aramis wondered how long the assault had lasted. His unconventional sundial told him it was at least two grey stones worth of time. But he did not know how long that was.

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. Did he feel ill after being forced to drink whatever it was?

Aramis would have to wait to get his answer.

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