Chapter Six

Aramis stared at the ceiling of the room he shared with Porthos. His friend was on duty, he had lost a bet and been lumbered with a night duty at the Palace. Every time Aramis found himself alone for any length of time his thoughts turned to his incarceration. It may have been several weeks since he had been rescued and helped to recover but he still felt weak and tired easily. The fact that he was not sleeping well did not help.

The cadets were still working hard. They had been a bit dejected after Claude left. The young man had accepted the dismissal with good grace. He had agreed with Aramis that he was not cut out to be a Musketeer. Aramis had offered to write to the young man's father and explain. There were plenty of reasons for Claude to feel proud of his efforts.

Jacques and Charles had smirked when they learned that Claude had left. They had looked pointedly at Leon, who ignored them. The shy cadet was always surer of himself when he was amongst his friends. Aramis wondered what would happen if he ever found himself alone and faced with an enemy. It saddened him that Leon might have to follow Claude.

Aramis was sure Jacques and Charles had told Treville about his collapse whilst they were training. Aramis was pleased he had admitted what had happened before they got the chance. It would not have looked good if Treville had found out from the cadets.

He sighed as he decided he was not going to get back to sleep. The sun's rays were filtering through the badly fitted shutter over the window. He found himself mesmerised watching the thin sliver of light travelling across the floor. As the light slipped off one floorboard onto another, he heard footsteps outside the room. For one horrible moment, Aramis could not separate reality from the memory. He imagined the door being pushed open and the men flooding in to pin him to the ground and force the drug into him. As the footsteps passed and faded away, Aramis realised how tense he had become. His knuckles were white where he was gripping the blankets on his bed, and he was breathing fast.

Aramis looked away from the sharply defined line of light. He stared at the wall for a few seconds and steadied his breathing.

He could not let the past haunt him. He was recovered. He may have still been weak from his ordeal, but he was much improved. His stamina was almost back to normal; he only needed another couple of weeks. He was sure. Probably long enough to get his cadets up to the standard of the others. Once he was able to sleep soundly, he was sure his overall fitness would be fine.

After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, Aramis readied himself for the day. A day of target practice. He had arranged the use of the range for his men and had every intention of putting them all through their paces.

He was finishing buckling his bandolier as he reached the mess. Athos indicated an empty chair at the table he was using. After accepting some food from Serge and passing the time of day with the old soldier Aramis settled opposite his friend, who, once again, looked at him quizzically.

Aramis was getting used to the scrutiny from all his friends. He knew they were only concerned with his welfare. He wondered if Athos could tell he had not been sleeping well.

They ate their breakfasts in companionable silence. Aramis spent the time working through what he had planned for the day's training. He was particularly keen to work with Leon and improve his shooting and reloading. He could set the others up in pairs to coach each other.

He realised Athos was watching him with an amused expression on his face.

'When I helped you to recover from whatever those thugs were giving you,' said Athos, 'I had not expected you to become addicted to something else so soon.'

Aramis smirked. He knew what his friend meant. Aramis wanted his cadets to do well. Even Jacques and Charles. He did not want to lose anymore.

'I've only got another couple of weeks with them. My fitness is almost back to what it was before-'

'Apart from your issues sleeping.'

Aramis looked away and sighed.

'You share a room. Did you think Porthos would not notice?'

'I am sleeping better than I was,' retorted Aramis.

Athos raised an eyebrow, 'if you say so. No one would think any less of you if you requested some leave to recuperate more fully.'

Aramis knew it was an option but not one he was willing to take.

Any further discussion on the topic of Aramis' health was prevented by the arrival of d'Artagnan. The young Musketeer greeted them with a smile before regaling them with some tall tales he had heard from a few Parisians the previous day.

Aramis did not really pay attention. He wondered if he was using the training of his cadets to hide the fact that he was still struggling. He knew he was not sleeping well, and he had the occasional moment where a memory caught him out. But on the whole, he was better.

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He supervised the cadets in the armoury as they picked out weapons. Aramis knew Jacques and Charles always ensured they were at the front of the queue to get the newest muskets and pistols. The other cadets shook their heads wryly with knowing looks towards each other. Aramis hid a smile.

Leon was the last to pick a weapon; he lingered in the room as the other cadets filtered out. Once they were alone, he turned to Aramis.

'Are you going to tell me I should leave?' he asked.

Aramis glanced at the door to ensure the other men had left and were not loitering outside.

'The Captain does have his concerns,' he admitted.

Leon sighed dejectedly.

'But I think you have potential. You need to push yourself forward a bit. Just now, you let everyone else pick their weapons first. Paul even waited for you to go in front of him, but you are so used to being last at everything you didn't notice.'

'I don't know why I thought I could please my father with this,' said Leon.

The blond-haired cadet looked at the pistol in his hand for a few seconds before offering it to Aramis.

Aramis shook his head, 'I'm not ready to give up on you yet. Your swordsmanship is good. And I want to use today's session on the range to sort your shooting out.'

Leon tried to school his relieved expression, 'thank you,' he said. 'I'll try my best.'

'That's all we can ask,' replied Aramis with a smile.

They followed the other cadets around to the range which was situated in a walled area of the garrison. Several targets were set up with various items stored at the side of the area which could be used to create scenarios for the men to practice their soldiering. Aramis had every intention of creating a few obstacles for the cadets to get around with their guns later in the day. He well remembered the first few times he had to attack a building and finding that using weapons inside was very different to using them in the open.

The group naturally paired up several yards away from each of the four targets. Aramis was not surprised to see Jacques and Charles together. Charles was already taking aim, despite not being given permission. Aramis glared at him for a second before the cadet rolled his eyes sullenly and waited for the order from his superior.

Paul and Pierre had paired up. The muscular frame of Paul highlighted the lither Pierre. But unlike the timid Leon, Pierre was not afraid to push himself forward.

Simon, who had fully recovered from his injury, paired up with Jean who still felt guilty for inflicting the injury. Poor Jean had been given a friendly dressing down by the Captain a few days before when he was found early one morning practising his drills after staying up all night.

As the cadets readied themselves, organising their powder and shot and priming their muskets for the first shot Aramis walked past them all appraising them. He stopped in front of Charles and looked him over. The cadet made a half-hearted effort to stand at attention. Aramis reached forward and adjusted his stance, pushing his shoulder back and lifting his chin a little. All the time, Charles glowered at him.

'Better,' said Aramis, 'you may need to maintain this for a long time. Our monarch likes his Musketeers to look the part when he is entertaining.'

Charles did not react. Aramis moved on, noticing that Jacques' poise was more befitting of a Musketeer. Not for the first time, Aramis wondered if Charles was a bad influence on Jacques, who, despite the bad start, was turning out to be a decent cadet.

'I'd like you to practice your reloading. Take your time, work on specific steps several times until they feel like second nature. Try to keep your movements smooth. The whole act of reloading and priming your weapon should be done quickly. And to get to a decent speed you first need to slow down and work on it.'

'Like with the sword fighting drills?' asked Jean.

Aramis nodded, 'yes, the same principle. I'm not going to dictate what you need to do. Work it out for yourselves. We have the range for the day. Take a break when you need to. Help each other out. Watch each other. Take advice and criticism from each other.'

The cadets nodded and got to work. Aramis moved to stand with Leon who looked a little apprehensive.

'Don't worry about them. Just concentrate on your own movements.'

Leon nodded and started to load his musket.

The group spent a couple of hours working on their loading. Aramis encouraged them to watch each other and pick up on even the tiniest mistakes. Gradually a sense of competition grew. Paul, Pierre, Simon and Jean swapped partners a few times as the day wore on. Aramis got the impression Jacques might have liked to swap as well, but Charles was in no way interested in joining in with the others. The pair had isolated themselves so well that Charles had a monopoly on his friend.

Leon worked hard and gained confidence. The young man was soon loading and priming both the musket and the pistol as quickly as the others. Only Simon was quicker.

Charles and Jacques were taking frequent breaks, which annoyed Aramis. When they were on the range they did work and were as skilled as the other men, so it was difficult for Aramis to berate them. He had encouraged the group to pace themselves for the day.

A few of the other cadets appeared at the entrance to the range.

'We've been asked to collect some of the crates,' said a dark-haired cadet in his late twenties.

Aramis nodded for the men to carry on. He watched them organise themselves to collect the crates that were piled up in the corner nearest to Jacques and Charles.

Charles was urging Jacques to work faster as he loaded his pistol. Aramis could see they were starting to cut corners. He knew he would have to speak to them again.

He was about to turn back to Leon when Simon beckoned him over. The cadet wanted advice on the best positioning of his power horns. Aramis spent a few seconds adjusting the positions of his horns and suggesting what might work better.

'Watch out!'

The intermittent shots from the cadets stopped. Aramis turned in time to see one of the cadets that were moving the crates crash to the ground crying out in pain. The other cadets rushed to his side.

With horror, Aramis realised the man had been shot by one of his cadets. He searched the faces of each man settling on a shocked expression. Jacques looked as though he was about to throw up. His gun was still levelled in the direction of the collapsed cadet.

Aramis rushed forward pushing a couple of the cadets out of the way. The man that had been shot was lying on the ground clutching his side. He had his eyes screwed shut. Aramis knelt by the man and eased the blood-stained hand away so that he could see the injury.

'Step back.'

'Give him some room.'

Aramis was aware of the Captain and Porthos moving the cadets back.

'You two, stay where you are,' Athos was saying from somewhere behind him.

'How bad is it?' asked Barbotin who appeared beside Aramis.

The field medic was looking at the injury with a well-trained eye. Aramis glanced at him.

'He's lucky. The shots only grazed across his ribs. It's going to be uncomfortable, but he'll be fine.'

'I can take over,' said Barbotin.

Aramis nodded his thanks and got back to his feet. He turned to find the Captain glaring at him.

Porthos and d'Artagnan were ushering the other cadets out of the way. Only Aramis' cadets were left. Athos had taken the pistol from Jacques, who had not moved from the spot. Aramis was sure he saw a slightly smug look on Charles' face.

The Captain turned to Aramis.

'Are you going to explain to me how one of your cadets is responsible for shooting that man?'

Aramis looked toward Jacques who was visibly shaking. He had paled considerably.

'It's my fault, Captain,' said Aramis. 'I should have been watching them.'

'Was the fatigue getting to you again, Aramis?' asked Treville.

Aramis hesitated; he glanced at Athos, who looked apologetic. He should have known the concern his friends had for him would mean they felt obliged to inform their senior officer. Aramis did not begrudge his friend.

Behind him Barbotin was giving a few orders to have a stretcher brought out and for the infirmary to be made ready. The man that had been shot was still moaning from the discomfort.

'Are you telling me, Aramis, that your cadets should not be trusted to shoot straight?'

'Please Captain,' said Leon who had taken a few steps forward.

Treville ignored him.

'Are you telling me, Aramis, that you cannot be trusted to admit that you are still struggling after you were drugged? That you have decided to jeopardise not only your own career but the careers of these young men before they have even started.'

'Captain. That's not what happened.'

Treville turned to look at Leon, who took a small step back.

'Well, what did happen?'

'It was Charles,' said Leon with a glance at the cadet. 'He was telling Jacques to work quicker. He wanted them to be the quickest. Jacques had just loaded the pistol and primed it. He levelled it at the target and Charles pushed him off his target.'

Charles turned to glare at Leon. Aramis could see the guilt on Jacques' face.

'Is that what happened?' Treville asked.

Jacques nodded.

Charles turned his attention to Jacques.

'No it's not,' he said with derision. 'I tried to startle you. 'Cos that's what the battlefield will be like,' the cadet turned to Treville. 'He should have been able to cope with it.'

'That's not what we were doing today,' said Aramis.

'I will deal with you two in a minute,' said Treville with a glare at Charles and Jacques.

Jacques looked down; the worry clear in his eyes. Charles, on the other hand, turned his attention back to Leon, who took another step back.

'That little runt doesn't deserve to be here. He's the one that's letting us down. Once he's gone the rest of us will get our commission easily.'

Without warning, Charles pushed Jacques out of the way and lunged at Leon. The shorter man was able to step out of the way without getting grabbed. But Charles was not finished. He pulled out his pistol. Before any of the commissioned Musketeers could get to him the other cadets, working together, dealt with the issue.

Paul and Jean grabbed Charles' arms whilst Simon wrenched the unfired gun from his hands and kept it out of reach as they subdued the cadet.

'Take him to his sleeping quarters and lock him in. Make sure he's not armed. D'Artagnan, go with them,' ordered Treville.

D'Artagnan nodded and followed the cadets as they forced Charles away.

'You will wait in the mess,' said Treville to Jacques who nodded and walked away, followed by Porthos.

The Captain turned to Aramis, 'and you are going to take two days leave to actually get some sleep. Talk to Lemay if you have to. You will not fully recover if you cannot sleep undisturbed.'

Aramis knew it would be pointless to argue. If he argued, the Captain might increase the amount of time he was forced to take off.

'Your cadets can practice their drills whilst you are gone,' said the Captain. 'Go. Now.'

Aramis glanced at Athos.

'I am sorry, Aramis. But we have all noticed how tired you are. The rest will do you good. And the cadets will still be here in two days' time,' said Athos.

'They might not all be here,' muttered Treville as he walked towards the main area of the garrison.

Aramis watched his Captain walk away with Athos in his wake. He sighed. He felt pathetic again. It was almost as though he was back in the shepherd's hut, trying not to let the effects of the withdrawal show. Had he failed to even recuperate from his ordeal? An ordeal that was not his fault.

He became aware of movement behind him. Leon was busy collecting up the discarded guns. Aramis went to help him, but the cadet shook his head.

'I'll see to them, monsieur,' he said. 'You don't want to get into any more trouble. I know being told to take a couple of days off is not a punishment. But it must feel a bit like that.'

Aramis huffed out a chuckle and nodded, 'thank you for speaking up. You stopped Jacques getting into a lot of trouble.'

'I know he's not the friendliest of men, but I wouldn't have wanted to see him punished when it wasn't his fault.'

'We will make a Musketeer of you yet,' said Aramis.

He turned away from the young man and walked towards his room. He glanced into the infirmary as he went past, pleased to see the injured man getting plenty of attention.

Perhaps it would do him good to have another couple of days rest. But he wished they had not been forced upon him under such awful circumstances.

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