Chapter Five
The previous day...
Athos observed the chateau for a few minutes, allowing his horse to walk at its own pace along the road that led to the gates. The chateau was large, but nothing spectacular. It appeared to have been extended a couple of times over the decades. The style of architecture was different on one side. The shape and size of the windows giving away the ages of the different sections. Ivy growing up one wall had not been pulled away for some years. It was clear the true owner of the chateau cared little for its upkeep. The young man Athos had interrogated had told him the interior was still sturdy but had not been inhabited for some time. Athos was again reminded of his own ancestral home. The dust sheets and cobwebs made up more of the house than anything else.
The large stable to the side of the chateau was open. Athos could not see anyone else. There were no sentries, no watchman, not even anyone glancing out of a window. The young man had told him there were only ten of them at the chateau at that time. Nine, discounting the young man who had fled in the opposite direction as soon as Athos had released him.
Nine men.
Athos could deal with nine men. His anger could be honed to pinpoint accuracy, and he would deal with each of the men in a manner that they deserved.
The young man had told Athos that Aramis was being held in a cleared-out cellar. The only way to the cellar was through the house. The men were staying on the ground floor. He did not expect to need to search the entire house to ensure he dealt with them all.
He turned his horse onto the wide road that led up to the chateau. An avenue of unkempt trees lined the road. His approach would be hidden from the windows of the house. He guided his horse towards the stable.
As he reached the open door, he could hear movement. Someone was mucking out the horses. They were muttering and swearing at the beasts in their stalls.
'I ain't sorting yours out an all,' grumbled the sweaty man who was bent to his task of shovelling soiled straw from the closest stall.
The man was of a large build; he did not look fit enough to be taking on the physical work of dealing with a large stable.
Athos spotted a belt with a gun and a dagger hanging a few yards from where the man was working. He dismounted and after loosely tying up his horse he approached the wheezing man from behind. He pulled his dagger as he reached the man.
It was a quick death for the first of the gang. Athos never enjoyed taking a life, but when it was a necessity, he wanted to do the job quickly and cleanly. He ensured the dagger bit deeply enough into the man's throat so that he could not cry out in the few seconds before he lost consciousness. The rotund man would be dead in seconds. He let the body drop, falling out of sight into the first stall. A few of the horses snorted and shifted about.
Eight men.
Athos glanced across to find Aramis' mare, her ears back, nodding her head in apparent approval of his presence. Aramis' saddle, saddlebags and tack were hooked over the wall of the stall.
Athos turned away from the stable and walked a few yards to stand in the shadow of a large leafy tree. He could see a few steps leading up to a rear entrance. The double door was just as impressive as the large door at the front of the chateau. The doors at the rear opened onto what would have been an impressive garden if it were still being maintained. But the low hedgerows and rose bushes were overgrown and tatty looking. Evidence of a winter storm could be seen with a couple of young trees blown over and left strewn on the grass like forgotten soldiers on a battlefield.
The light caught the glass of the rear door as it was opened from the inside. Two men stepped out. One was heavily scarred from some childhood disease; he was wearing a scarf that was around his neck but could be used to cover most of his scarred face. The other had badly cut hair and a lolloping gait as he walked towards the steps that would lead the two men towards the stable.
Athos considered how he could deal with the two men without making any noise. One man was simple to dispatch silently, but two was a different proposition. His conundrum was answered when the pock-marked man paused to adjust the tatty belt that was keeping his equally tatty trousers up. The untidy-haired man walked past Athos without noticing him standing close to the trunk of the tree. As he turned into the stable, the pock-marked man hurried to catch him up. Athos stepped forward and ensured the man did not get the chance to catch up.
Seven men.
In the stable, the untidy-haired man gasped. He stared at the body of the rotund man. Athos walked up behind him and waited for a couple of seconds. As the man turned towards him, Athos punched him hard enough across the jaw to send him reeling back without a sound. He struck his head on the corner of the closest wooden post and crumpled to the ground. Athos sighed. It had not been his intention to kill the man unnecessarily.
Six men.
Athos did not spare the man any further thought. He returned his attention to the chateau. Being careful to avoid being seen through any of the windows, he edged his way towards the rear doors. He peered through the glass of the closest door. A large empty reception room that would have commanded views of the extensive gardens beyond the rear doors. Athos eased the doors open and stepped into the echoing room. He stilled, pausing long enough for the reverberating noise of his steps to cease. He listened.
Laughter coming from somewhere to his right. He walked calmly across the large room, pausing at the open door on the other side. A wide corridor led to a hallway. Athos could see the sweep of a grand staircase rising above him. He cautiously moved to the bottom of the stairs and looked across. More laughter. A door stood ajar across the hallway. Athos stole across the wooden floor and pressed himself against the wall on the other side next to the door. He could hear a conversation within the room. Three men were talking. What they were saying horrified Athos.
'We'll have to give him some more today or he'll start to get better again. It's been what six days?' asked the first man, who might have been from the south of the country.
'Seven,' replied an older man with a commanding voice.
'You're a demon, leaving him for that long.'
'What if 'e gets betta? What's it matta? We just get 'im 'ooked on it again.'
'We do not have enough to do that. Rene is correct. We will have to give him more today.'
The man referred to as Rene spoke again, 'I'll get the boy to pick another apple. He seems to like the apples. And there is still bread left from the boy's last trip to the village.'
'He was ready to talk last time,' said the commanding man. 'We may not need to give him anymore. He may continue to talk when we go to him.'
The third man laughed; his gruff laugh turned into a cough.
'Don't choke,' chuckled Rene. 'Although, it's not like we need you to hold him down anymore.'
'Just took it off ya last time,' said the gruff man. 'Didn't think it would be tha' easy.'
'Have you drugged a man before?' asked Rene. 'You knew how long to leave him for each time. You know the balance.'
The commander laughed, 'it is not my first time. Nor will it be my last. It works. It may take a while, but it gets better, more truthful results than torture.'
'Go and meet the boy, send him to the orchard,' said Rene.
'Who put you in charge?' asked the gruff man indignantly.
'Rene is second in command,' replied the commander, 'I do not see any of the rest of you with his skills with a gun.'
The gruff man grunted.
Athos heard a chair scrape across the floor and firm steps coming to the door. He moved away from the door into the shadow cast by the stairway over the corner of the hall. The gruff man who was completely bald stepped out of the room, pulling the door closed as he did so. He started to walk across the hall. Athos followed him.
Just as he was raising his dagger, the man looked around. Perhaps some reflection off the blade had caught his eye. The bald man grabbed Athos' wrist, twisting his arm slightly. Athos gasped as the still healing arm was squeezed. He cursed his bad luck. The man took a breath ready to shout. But Athos was quicker. He smashed his fisted left hand into the man's neck. The shout was stifled. The man's eyes went wide, he sucked in a breath which caught in his throat. He let go of Athos' wrist and stumbled back. In an almost identical manner to the previous gang member, he smashed the back of his head into the bannister, before toppling over and landing sprawled over the bottom two steps. Blood seeped from the head wound, staining white marble steps red.
Five men.
Athos stared at the man for a few seconds. Somehow, knowing a little of what the men had done to his friend made Athos care even less that he had killed them.
Although he still had five to deal with.
Athos left the bald man to stare sightlessly at the carved ceiling of the grand hall. He returned to the door of the room he had emerged from where the other two men were still talking.
'Will you kill him once he's told you everything?' Rene was asking.
There was a pause before the commander responded, 'we will probably need to keep him alive long enough for Phillip to talk to him. He and his men should be here in a couple of days.'
'What about the rest of the men you hired?'
'Once we have the money from Phillip we will leave. We have the fastest horses. They are all drunken fools. They may not notice we have gone.'
Rene laughed. Athos had heard enough. He decided to risk making a little noise as he dealt with the two men. He pulled his gun and stepped away from the wall. He pushed the door open with his boot and levelled the gun.
One man had his back to the door. The other was sitting at a table with the various parts of a gun spread in front of him. The manner the man had laid his gun parts out reminded Athos of Aramis' meticulous cleaning regime. The care he took of his weapons was a testament to his skill. Athos wondered if the man in front of him was skilled with a gun as well. As he fired his weapon, hitting the man in the forehead, Athos decided he did not need to know.
Four men.
The man that had his back to Athos whirled around, wrenching his sword from his belt as he did so. The older man was dressed smartly. He had the look of a leader of men. He charged towards Athos who took several steps back towards the hall. He wanted space to deal with the man. Their boots sounded loud in the large hallway. The first clash of sword on sword rang out, echoing around the room.
The two men traded blows for a few seconds. Athos gauged his opponent as good. The man had probably been a soldier. His movements were calculated. There were no showy frivolous twists of the sword.
Athos was not surprised when another man appeared from one of the other rooms. He watched the ongoing fight for a few seconds before pulling his sword and stepping forward to join them. The commander was momentarily distracted by the second man appearing. Athos took the opportunity to draw his main gauche.
He took a step back to ensure the two men kept together he could not afford to lose sight of one of them. The second man was not as adept with a sword as the first. Athos set his sights on dealing with him first.
The man, who had wild twisted hair that moved as though possessed, lunged forward. He overstepped, throwing himself off balance. Athos sliced his main gauche across the man's side, sweeping upwards. The man yelled; he staggered back, out of sight. Athos thought he might have fallen against an open door and landed in one of the other rooms. He made a mental note to double-check the man was neutralised.
Three men.
The commander renewed his assault on Athos, but he was tiring. The older man may have been an outstanding swordsman in his prime, but he was out of shape and probably out of practice. At least out of practice against a superior swordsman. Athos never boasted about his prowess with the blade. But he was good. And he was certainly better than the man he was dealing with at that moment.
Athos feinted to one side, drawing the man's attention whilst he thrust forward and sunk the tip of his sword into the man's chest, close enough to his heart to see him choke a couple of times before coughing up blood. He grasped at the blade, slicing his hand open in the process. Athos allowed gravity to do its work as the man slumped backwards, landing haphazardly on the wooden floor.
After the commander took a couple of spluttered breaths, he remained unmoving.
Two men.
Athos walked up to the room where he had seen the other man collapse. The body lay twisted on the floor. Athos stepped over the body and looked around the room. He spotted bandages and other medical equipment. And a small wooden box. The box was placed in such a way that it appeared to be the most important thing in the room. Athos pushed the lid of the box open. He stared at the rows of vials that were neatly arranged on a delicate holder within the box. He lifted one and looked at the contents, highlighted by the light filtering through the window. Athos thought about what the men had been saying. They had talked about giving Aramis something.
He shook his head as he worked out what the men had been doing to his friend. Rather than use conventional interrogation methods, they were drugging him. Poisoning him with something that he would crave. That he would need. And then they had denied him that thing.
The cruelty of the methods used by the men made Athos even less inclined to feel guilty about their deaths.
If Aramis had been without the drug for several days he would be desperate. It was no wonder he had started to talk. His confused mind would not have had the capacity to know he should not have been talking to his captors.
Athos reloaded his gun. He walked through to the other room, where Rene had been cleaning his gun. Athos reassembled that gun and primed it. He knew there was no need for stealth any longer. He wanted the last two men dealt with, and then he would find his friend and free him from what must have felt like a continuous nightmare.
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