A/N: Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed or sent me a message after the last chapter. The Fan Fiction site has had a glitch over the last forty-eight hours, which means I cannot PM anyone. Our accounts are not available. According to their Twitter page, they are working on it. In the meantime, many thanks and to Anke, yes, that is the story I mentioned, lol.
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Chapter Thirty One
The Garrison – Earlier That Same Day:
As Athos and Foubier were leaving 'The Fallen Oak' for their final journey, back in Paris, dawn also saw Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan enter the Garrison yard.
They were not on the duty rota but, as with every hour of their free time lately they had come into the yard and then headed out in search of anything that may lead them to Raspier and, more significantly, Simeon and Athos.
Serge and his kitchen boy emerged a little while later with a tray of bowls of porridge and ale. The old soldier had given up plying them with food, as they had little appetite. He well knew the anxiety of waiting for news or the appearance of lost comrades. The Captain was due back from the King's hunting trip later in the day and he hoped that he could pull these three out of their ever-deepening dark thoughts. There had been several arguments as tempers flared and others were avoiding sparring with them, as they fought with such ferocity, fuelled by anger and frustration.
There had been a brief moment of hope when d'Artagnan had spoken to the woman in the village, but it had come to nought without further information, which, they had realised, they were not going to get. Unless Athos returned. That had been what their latest argument had been about. If one had an opinion, the others shot them down. Truth be told, they had gone over everything countless times and were all exhausted.
"Let's face it," d'Artagnan had said. "Simeon has betrayed us."
Porthos and Aramis were still reluctant to close that door. Not until Athos told them that that was the case.
And Athos was not here.
He should have been by now. That was the problem.
They ignored Serge's tray. Aramis went to the Armoury and returned with oil and cleaning cloths and, as Porthos poured ale, they put their heads down and began to clean their weapons, waiting for Treville's return.
Instead, the man who eventually came through the archway with little fanfare, was Simeon.
He stood in the shadows looking at them.
Aramis raised his head, sensing someone watching them. But Simeon did not approach. He did not look like the confident man he had been when they had met him in the gardens and the taverns. He looked older, wearier. And, the strangest of all, he could not make eye contact.
Aramis slowly put down his pistol. Looking up, Porthos and d'Artagnan followed their friend's intent gaze.
"You have news?" Aramis said, sharply, rising from the table and hurrying over.
Simeon looked around the yard, where Musketeers were busy about their morning, but said nothing.
Aramis reached out and pulled him aside.
"What is it?" he demanded.
"Is there somewhere we can speak in private?" Simeon said, at last.
Aramis looked around, and turned back.
"The Infirmary," he said, softly, nodding at Porthos and d'Artagnan. They both jumped up to follow. Simeon stopped, but Aramis squared up to him.
"Whatever you have to say, you can say it to all of us. I don't think you have been entirely honest with us and whether you leave here depends on what you now tell us." he said. "All of us. You are lucky the Captain is not here. So take it or leave it."
Simeon nodded and continued in the direction Aramis led him, the others following in their wake.
Once inside, he turned around.
"Gaspar Raspier is dead," he said, without preamble.
Porthos frowned and looked at his friends, warily.
"What are you tellin' us?" he said.
"The Wolf is no more. He has been dead for some time, though another has taken his place and will fulfil his plan," Simeon said, sinking down onto one of the cots, the others now towering over him.
"What plan?" Aramis said.
"To kill Richelieu," Simeon replied. "Revenge. What else?"
"How? When?"
"I don't know."
"Well, that narrows it down," Porthos growled, turning away in disgust.
"Why should we believe you?" d'Artagnan said angrily, before turning to Simeon. "You've led us on one wild goose chase after another!"
"Not all of them," Simeon said, angrily.
"Who has taken Raspier's place?" Aramis said, stepping forward and leaning over him.
Simeon rubbed a hand over his face, before looking up;
"I've came to tell you Raspier is dead," he finally said, before seeming to make a decision. "And that Athos is alive."
In the silence that ensued, Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan looked at one another, breath held.
"Wait," Porthos said, turning back with a frown, "How do you know that! You've seen him?"
"I don't know for sure," Simeon replied. It was the truth. How was he to know? "But, yes, I saw him."
Aramis banged his fist on the table.
"There seems to be a lot you don't know!"
Simeon, though, did not respond. He had hoped that Athos had found his way back to tell them what he knew from his time in captivity. But it was obvious he had not and now he was unsure just how far to go.
"So Athos?" Aramis ventured, a haunted look in his eyes, knowing that wherever Athos had been, he would give nothing up. "Where is he? Is he …?
"I don't know where he is. I came to tell you he was alive when I last saw him," Simeon replied.
"What does that mean?" Porthos said, grabbing Simeon by his shirt and dragging him to his feet.
Simeon pulled himself free and stared at Porthos, angrily.
"I found him," he said. "In an abandoned grain store on the dockside. He said some things."
"What did he say?" Porthos said, raising his voice, impatient at Simeon's meagre offerings.
"I didn't understand what he said!" he said. "And then I was disturbed."
"Disturbed from doin' what?" Porthos said, grabbing his arm and giving the man a shake.
Simeon groaned.
"I don't ..."
Porthos threw him down on the bed in disgust.
"So what happened then?" d'Artagnan asked, cautiously.
"Someone was coming," Simeon said. "Athos is a King's Musketeer. I ran."
"Who was coming?" Aramis said.
"I'd gone by then," Simeon said, looking up at them. "It could have been anyone."
"You left him?" Aramis hissed, making a grab for Simeon.
Porthos though, held him back.
"What exactly did Athos say," Porthos said, slowly, his hand curling into a fist.
"He talked about someone he remembered from La Rochelle," Simeon said, carefully.
"Does this man have red hair?" d'Artagnan said, suddenly, looking at the others.
Simeon's head shot up but he did not reply.
"Go on," Aramis said. "What else?"
"That's all," Simeon replied, firmly, closing down now.
Aramis stepped back, aware they had to tread carefully. He ran a hand through his hair to calm himself;
"So Athos was hurt and you don't know what happened to him?" he said.
"I went back," Simeon said, his voice low, so careful about what he said, "He was gone. The ropes had been cut and left behind."
"He was bound?" Aramis said, the tension rising once more.
"He was a prisoner!" Simeon cried. "By his own choice, apparently. Of course he was bound. I had nothing to do with it."
"Why didn't you come and tell us!" Aramis asked, incredulous. "You know we've been lookin' for him."
But Simeon did not reply.
"So why come clean now?" d'Artagnan said, staring at him intently, his arms folded.
Simeon seemed to change then. He slowly stood and looked defiant.
"Because no matter how often taxes rise and the people sink further into poverty, I am a Royalist. I gave years service to the Crown. The alternative will not serve France well. The threat is Spain and she must be kept at bay. The King can do that. His queen is Spanish. I am tired of fighting."
The words tumbled out of him, but were generalisations.
"The threat is not Spain, Simeon," Aramis said, "Not in this instance. Spain would not threaten our shared religion. This is a Huguenot threat."
"I have said all I can," Simeon replied, sullenly.
"But not all you know," d'Artagnan replied.
"Your punishment is for the King to decide," Aramis said, then, losing patient. ""We have waiting long enough. You have obstructed justice. These men continue with Raspier's plan and our brother is out there somewhere, injured, because of you."
"Not me!" Simeon shouted. "It is ..." but he stopped himself before he could say more, his father's entreaty engraved on his heart.
"Who, Simeon?" Aramis asked, reaching out to put his hand on the man's shoulder, but Simeon stepped back as if scolded, and pulled back his fist, his eyes wide.
Porthos grabbed him and shoved him toward d'Artagnan, but as his did, Simeon came to life, punching d'Artagnan in the face, leaping over him and running through the door.
"Damn it!" Porthos roared, as Aramis gave chase.
Porthos stayed and helped d'Artagnan to his feet.
"What the hell was that all about?" d'Artagnan murmured, as he rubbed his jaw.
"You tell me," Porthos replied, pulling a chair up for d'Artagnan to sit.
Aramis came back a few moments later, shaking his head. Simeon had lost himself in the crowds outside the Garrison.
"That was odd. He obviously knows a lot more than he is saying," d'Artagnan grimaced as he worked his jaw from side to side. "I'm really beginning to dislike him."
"d'Artagnan was right all along. We shouldn't 'ave trusted 'im," Porthos said growled.
"Not an inch," Aramis replied, taking a look at d'Artagnan's jaw, before patting him on the shoulder. "You'll live," he smiled.
"We are due on duty at the Palace," Porthos sighed. "I'll be glad when the Captain gets back."
"Do you think Athos is alive?" d'Artagnan said, his eyes bright as he looked up at them. "It's been so long."
"I pray he is," Aramis said, quietly, reaching up to touch his crucifix, an action they had seen him perform many times lately. "But I really don't know."
To be continued ...