Chapter Four

'Come on Simon, you know the area. You should know what the terrain is like,' called Aramis over his shoulder.

The cadet was lagging behind a little but picked up the pace after the good-natured dressing-down.

'I've never had to march through it though. I thought we'd be on horseback.'

Aramis was about to respond when Paul beat him to it.

'What if your horse is killed or you get separated from the rest of your troop?'

Simon grumbled something but made an effort to keep up after that. A few grumpy cadets aside, Aramis was impressed with the young men. Even Jacques and Charles were making the effort and applying themselves to the task at hand. They were always at the head of the group as they marched over the rolling hills. Aramis hoped they were not showing off.

Leon, who was slighter than the rest of the cadets did appear to be struggling but he was keeping up. Aramis could see he was having to put in a bit more effort than the other men. He wished he could make it easier for the young man but life as a soldier was hard and all the men had to be capable of covering long distances in any circumstance.

As their camp came back into view Aramis smiled as he heard a few relieved sighs, he turned and shook his head.

'We're not done yet,' he said. 'If you had just marched to a battlefield. There would be a bit of fighting to take care of before you could tuck yourselves in for the night.'

Claude, who had been looking ill for some time, finally stopped and turned away from the group. He bent over and threw up. Leon took a couple of steps towards him.

'Leave him,' said Aramis. 'Claude, catch your breath and catch us up.'

Leon looked a little shocked at Aramis' attitude.

'Would we wait for him on the way to a battle? He's fine. He's not collapsed.'

After a few seconds, Leon re-joined the rest of the cadets leaving Claude where he was, hands on knees, trying to settle his breathing. Aramis let the rest of the cadets' march passed. He kept an eye on the ill man until he had managed to straighten up and turn back.

'Sorry,' said Claude.

'You're not used to it,' said Aramis. 'I did the same thing the first time I had to march for hours. It gets easier.'

Claude nodded as he fell into step with Aramis. They caught up with the other men as they reached the camp.

Aramis was pleased to see that other than discard their packs they had not done anything else.

'We'll use the bank of the river. The slope will be enough to throw you off balance and make it more realistic.'

He paired the cadets up and set them to sparring. It was obvious the fatigue was getting to them. Their movements were slow and predictable. But he was pleased to see the showy moves were no longer present. Each cadet was fighting like a soldier, just a tired soldier.

Paul and Jacques were fighting fiercely. Jacques manoeuvred Paul into the shallows of the river. But Paul was not put off by the cold water splashing up his breeches.

Leon and Claude were not putting as much effort in. Claude still looked nauseous, and Leon was barely able to stand. Aramis was starting to doubt if either man would last. Over the few days, he had known them Aramis had become fond of the cadets. Leon wanted to be good but was frequently the one who was last in anything the group did.

A loud splash drew Aramis' attention back to Paul and Jacques. Jacques was standing over Paul who was propping himself up. The brief soaking had left him disorientated and scrabbling around to find his sword. Jacques looked far too satisfied with his victory.

Aramis strode forward, drawing his sword as he went. He ensured the cadet saw his approach and had time to react. Aramis did not want to belittle Jacques too much, but he did want to put the young man in his place. It only took a few swipes to disarm him and one feinting thrust to see him similarly briefly submerged in the cold water. As Jacques gasped with shock Aramis was pleased to hear Paul chuckling. The beaten man got to his feet after retrieving his sword and splashed across to Jacques.

Jacques was glaring at Aramis.

'Oh, come on,' said Paul. 'It's not like you'd be given a chance to take a break in a battle. 'Aramis was only reminding us that we need to constantly be alert.'

Jacques looked away.

'It was a little underhand,' admitted Aramis. 'But in a real battle situation, I probably would not have let you see me approaching you-'

A cry of pain from behind him caused him to whirl around. Simon was clutching his arm. Jean, a tall, wiry man, was staring at him wide-eyed. The pair were evenly matched, Aramis had expected them to be the last two fighting in his simulated battle. But Jean had managed to get a lucky strike in or Simon had let his guard down. Blood was seeping around Simon's fingers.

'Let me see,' said Aramis.

Simon moved his hand revealing a typical straight cut across his right forearm where the leather of his sleeve had not met the leather of his gloves.

'This doublet used to be my brothers,' explained the injured man, 'he's not as tall as me.'

Aramis chuckled, 'it's not too bad. It will need a couple of stitches.'

He glanced up in time to see the shocked expression on Simon's face.

'Have you had stitches before?'

Simon nodded before responding quietly, 'I passed out.'

Aramis leaned into him, 'it's not unusual. You'll be fine.'

He turned back to the other cadets who had all stopped sparring and were watching what was going on.

'Injuries are an everyday occurrence,' he said. 'So let's get it dealt with. Luc, Paul, get yourselves changed into dry clothes. Claude and Leon, get a fire going. Pierre, Charles, you two can patrol for a couple of hours. Just walk loose circuits a couple of hundred yards from the camp. If we were on our way to battle, we would be constantly alert for surprise attacks. You two are going to watch for any attacks.'

Aramis could tell Charles thought the idea of patrolling and watching out for fictitious attacks was pointless, but he turned away with Pierre nonetheless. The simulation of a battle had been made a little more real by the injury.

'Jean,' said Aramis who had noticed the tall cadet looking guiltily at Simon. 'You beat him in a sword fight and more than that, you stopped as soon as you knew he was injured. You didn't let the excitement lead you. If you were not paying proper attention, you could have been mid-swing before you noticed Simon was hurt.'

Simon nodded, 'I let my guard down. I let the fatigue get the better of me.'

'Your strength will come. Your stamina will improve. It already has,' reassured Aramis.

As he walked back to the camp with Simon, he was pleased to see the other men doing as they had been instructed. Paul was already changed; his damp clothes were hanging over a few branches in the nearest tree. He had started to gather together what they would need for a meal. He glanced up at Aramis who indicated for him to carry on. Paul looked pleased.

'Jean,' said Aramis, 'I want you to clean the wound on Simon's arm. You were the least squeamish when you watched me doing stitches earlier in the week.'

Jean, who had recovered from the shock of what he had done, nodded.

Aramis watched the young man guide Simon to sit by the fire. Simon was looking a little pale, but that was probably because he knew what was to come.

Overall, the cadets were working well. Aramis wondered if it would continue.

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The following day Aramis did not let up on his cadets. They were back out marching across the ankle-deep grass early in the morning. They trudged over the undulating landscape at various paces. Aramis gave each man a turn at setting the appropriate pace. Some were more attuned to their surroundings than others.

As they reached the crest of the final rise before the camp, Aramis could feel the fatigue catching up with him. After two long days of urging the young men to keep moving, Aramis realised he had worn himself out. He allowed the cadets to get ahead of him.

Jacques and Charles had volunteered to do the patrolling. Aramis knew it was because they saw it as an easy task. They swung off from the rest of the group as they neared the camp to start their first circuit. Aramis suspected they were going to take themselves out of sight and settle down for a couple of hours under a shady tree. He vowed to catch them avoiding their duties. He had no intention of punishing them but wanted to remind them that they could not become complacent.

The rest of the cadets turned towards the camp. Aramis was pleased to hear them dividing up the tasks that needed to be completed before they could settle in for the night.

Aramis blinked a few times as the fatigue washed over him again. He started to wonder if he had taken on too much with the training exercise. Treville had offered to send another commissioned man with them when the idea had first been suggested. But Aramis had said it would be fine. Now he was not so sure.

He stumbled to the side and crashed to the ground with a huff as the breath was knocked out of him.

'Monsieur?'

Aramis was aware of several people around him helping him to sit up.

'Are you hurt?'

It took him a few seconds to focus.

'Can you walk?'

He finally looked up at the concerned faces of Paul and Leon. The other cadets were hovering nearby. For a moment, Aramis realised he was relieved that Jacques and Charles had already disappeared to make their patrol.

'Sorry,' Aramis said as he allowed Paul to help him to his feet.

'You've told us what you went through,' said Paul. 'You've pushed yourself too hard.'

Aramis chuckled, 'it's a bit ironic that I'm pushing you all to the limit and I'm the one that's collapsed.'

Paul glanced around, 'but at least the two Barons aren't here.'

Aramis laughed again. He had heard the cadets referring to Charles and Jacques as the two Barons a few times. The somewhat alienated pair had not endeared themselves to any of the other cadets.

Despite feeling embarrassed for his collapse, Aramis was impressed with the six cadets as they returned to the camp. They had already decided who was doing what and insisted that Aramis get some rest for a couple of hours as they sorted out a meal and fed the horses.

Aramis went gratefully to his bed, allowing the sounds of the cadets busying themselves around the camp to lull him to sleep.

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'Monsieur.'

Aramis opened his eyes to see that the camp was swathed in low light. The sun was almost set. He could feel the heat of the campfire.

'I thought it would be better if you were awake before Charles and Jacques came back for their dinner,' said Paul with a smile.

'You would make a good close confidant to the King,' said Aramis with a smile. 'You are diplomatic and can think ahead, anticipating the best course of action.'

Paul grinned, 'it's a shame I don't understand politics then.'

They settled beside the fire a few minutes before the patrolling cadets returned. Both the young men looked somewhat refreshed, only adding to Aramis' theory that they were not doing as they had been instructed.

The nine of them enjoyed a meal of fish, freshly caught from the river, and bread that was starting to go stale. Aramis had to stop his thoughts from drifting back to the grey cell as he chewed on the stale bread.

He observed the interactions between the eight cadets. Charles and Jacques were sitting a little apart from the rest of the men talking animatedly between themselves. Claude still looked ill but had managed to eat some of the bread. Paul was holding the rest of the cadets in thrall to a tall tale about working with some of the farm tenants on his father's land.

Aramis' thoughts inevitably turned to the men's ability. He knew ultimately the choice to give each of the cadets a commission or not was down to the Captain, but Aramis' view would be taken into consideration.

Claude, he was sure, would not make the cut. He wondered if it might be kinder to suggest he return home when they got back to Paris. The young man meant well, but he was not soldier material, let alone a man who would make a competent Musketeer.

Paul, Simon and Jean were already good with the blade and the musket. Aramis felt confident they would gain their commissions.

Charles and Jacques were difficult to assess. Aramis had to put aside his dislike of the pair. But he also had to consider the other Musketeers. If Charles and Jacques were to receive their commissions and continue to act as though they were superior to everyone else, they would not be popular. Aramis decided to discuss his issues with the Captain the following day when they returned to the garrison.

Leon had potential, but as the smallest of the cadets, he lagged behind physically. And his shyness did not help. He had grown in confidence within their little group. But as soon as he was back in Paris amongst the wider group of cadets and commissioned men, Aramis was sure Leon would retreat back to the timid young man he had been at the start.

Aramis knew he had some difficult discussion to have when they returned to the garrison the following day.

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