TRAVESTY OF JUSTICE.

Chapter Twenty One.

Musketeer Lucca glanced at the elderly man with a frown screwing up his brow.

Brujon stood eyeing the man with curiosity.

"Where did you find this Monsieur." asked Lucca.

The old man cleared his throat and wiped a hand across his white beard.

"This is the musketeer garrison is it not? he enquired.

"That it is monsieur...I have already stated that." answered Lucca sounding iritated. "Now please...where did you find this pauldron?

Porthos glanced towards the gates at the sound of Lucca's dogged persistence.

Probably another trader attempting to sell his wares. Lucca has never liked them.

The big musketeer stood and slowly approached the gates. He could see Lucca holding something.

Having noticed Porthos, Brujon swiftly met him half way across the courtyard.

"I think you need to see this Porthos Sir." murmered the young cadet making the big man furrow his brows with curiosity.

"What is goin' on 'ere? growled Porthos prompting Lucca to turn swiftly.

"This man found what...looks akin to Athos' pauldron." answered Lucca handing the big man the wrapped leather.

The old man twirled his long beard in his fingers as he approached his cart.

Porthos felt like he wanted to throw up as bile entered his throat. "Where did yer find it? he growled.

The old man pulled back the sacking covering that hung over his cart revealing what looked like someone swathed in fleece blankets. Porthos, Lucca and Brujon eyed him carefully, each sharing perplexed glances.

The elderly man pulled back one of the blankets and turned to Porthos.

"It belongs to 'im, I believe he may have been attacked and left for dead."

Porthos's eyes widened with both exhilaration and shock as he stared down at an unconscious Athos. The big man felt his own breaths coming in gasps, he felt slightly light-headed as he swallowed the bile that had come into his throat. Tears had welled in his eyes, turning rapidly he yelled into the courtyard.

"Arrrrraaaamiisssss! d'Artttttagggnann! reverberated around the courtyard. Prompting other musketeers and cadets to pause in their tracks.

Aramis jolted from his musings as his head shot upwards, he stood swiftly as he jumped down from his sitting position four steps up and began to meander towards the gates.

d'Artagnan put down his goblet as the marksman walked past him and shot him a perplexed glance, the Gascon stood and followed him in close pursuit.

Aramis stared at Porthos, his big friend looked almost jubilant and full of joy as he eyed him.

"What is going mon ami? asked the perplexed marksman.

"ATHOS...it's ATHOS...'ES ALIVE...'ES ALIVE..MIS...'ES IN THE CART...'ES ALIVE...THIS MAN FOUND 'IM!

Aramis' features had turned suddenly pallid as he glared at his big friend in inconceivable exultation, his trudge towards the gates had become a sudden rush of movement. His guts feeling like he would throw up as his stomach churned with the sudden elation, tears spilled over and streamed down the marksmans perplexed face as he absorbed Porthos' jubilant words.

The marksman grabbed the big mans arm and squeezed with delight, both men wiping tears of joy with their sleeves.

"Thank the Lord...thank the Lord." whispered Aramis kissing his crucifix.

d'Artagnan stood open mouthed as he put a hand to his face and beamed.

"Dear God...I cannot believe this is happening. How did he get out of there?

Porthos curled an arm around his younger brothers shoulder and nodded his head with glee.

"This is bloody typical of 'im...a fighter through and through." he chortled. "Nothin' stands in 'is way."

Aramis turned to the old man who had been watching the jubilation and spectical from the three musketeers, he patted the mans shoulder and shook his hand, the sheer relief and gratefulness evident on his handsome face.

"Where did you find him monsieur? he asked suddenly, his modus operandi and medic taking over. "How long has he been unconscious?

Porthos smiled at his friend.

"One question at a time Mis...you're beginning to ramble like a fishwife."

Both him and d'Artagnan chortled, the comments going unheeded.

The old man looked at the medic.

"I found 'im in the meadow, he looked 'alf dead the lad, I was fearin' he would be dead before I reached the garrison, soon as I seen his pauldron I knew he was a kings musketeer. I managed to give 'im some water before he passed out."

The medic gave the man a knowing smile and nodded slightly.

"You did good Monsieur...thank you."

d'Artagnan grabbed the man and embraced him, the elderly man let out a slight chortle.

"You are akin to an angel Monsieur, we will not forget it."

The elderly man snorted with a grin and shook his head.

"I only did what I hope anyone would have done." he murmered.

Aramis had jumped onto the cart and was checking his wounded brother. Blood had absorbed over what was once a white shirt. His wrists and ankles were congealed in dried blood and sores from the manacles. More blood had matted into his hair from another wound. The medic was feeling around his brothers head finding a large lump and a gash over his eye.

Aramis shook his head in disbelief and anger.

"He's lost so much blood...we have to get him into the infirmary forthwith...dear God...he has suffered badly. He's been skewered with a blade, the bastards have worked on him alright. I fear this head wound too, we may need Lemay for this."

Porthos and d'Artagnan's demeanour had rapidly changed as they watched Aramis examine their wounded brother.

"Dear God...look at his wrists and ankles, the manacles have cut through his skin." gasped d'Artagnan becoming angry.

Porthos' features had turned enraged as he clenched his fists with vexation..

"Someone will die for this." he growled.

Aramis turned to his big friend and patted his shoulder.

"If you would be so kind mon ami, I need to get that wound stitched hastily."

The big musketeer didn't need asking twice as he swifly scooped Athos up in his arms and began his fast trudge across the courtyard.

Aramis turned to one of the cadets.

"Fetch doctor Lemay forthwith Ned...he has a bad head wound."

The cadet nodded and was gone in an instant.

Groups of musketeers and cadets stood around gossiping as the good tidings spread.

"Brujon...find the captain and ask him to come to the infirmary." ordered d'Artagnan patting the boy on the back.

Brujon nodded and ran off.

"You did an admirable deed Monsieur...you will be rewarded...our captain will want to speak with you." said Aramis turning to the elderly man.

The man shook his head slightly.

"I did not do this for rewards gentlemen...I am just pleased I found him when I did...I just hope the young man will recover well." he murmered.

Aramis eyed him.

"Athos is strong...he will be well cared for now."

d'Artganan smiled.

"You must be hungry after your journey Monsieur...come you must eat something."

"I really should get back home before dark." replied the man.

"You can stay until the morn rises Monsieur." said the Gascon.

The man smiled.

"Very well young man...I accept your generous hospitality."

oooo

Garrison Infirmary.

Aramis and Porthos had gently washed the dried blood from Athos body as they prepared him for the stitches. d'Artagnan had brought fresh linen and had made up a bed for his brother. The three friends each with his own deed and task to aid their wounded brother, each one still going over what had just transpired in his own head. Aramis suddenly paused and glanced at his friends in turn. Porthos becoming aware, stared at his friend.

"Mis...what is it? he asked curiously.

d'Artagnan glanced up.

Aramis turned back to Athos and stroked his hair away from his face, he bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead. The tears had returned as he looked from Porthos to d'Artagnan.

"We have our dear brother back, he is alive, God spared him, it was not his time...this is truly splended gentlemen."

The three men approached each other and embraced into a huddle. Before turning back to their duties, each one wiping their dampened eyes.

That moment the door swung open prompying the musketeers to glance up.

Captain Tréville stood on the threshold.

"What is so paramount you summoned me so swiftly to the infirm...

...Tréville suddenly halted his words as he stared into the chamber before casting his eyes towards the table, he slowly entered as he noticed what was his lieutenant laying unconscious. His face had become an ashen and incredible unbelieving bearing as he shot a glance to each of his men. He felt like he was in a fog, he had to sit.

"Dear God...how...who...where did you find him...how did he escape?

The words came all at once as the older man wiped a hand over his eyes and sat on the edge of one of the beds, he felt like he would stagger if he stood again.

"It would seem he has a guardian angel captain." answered Porthos.

ooooOOoooo

TBC...

Hi Guys,

Thanking you all so very much for your kind comments, I really was so happy to read such lovely words. I appreciate the time you have taken to write them.

Well at last they have Athos back, and how serious are his injuries?

Will Tréville and the boys bring down the cardinal and his reprobates.

What will happen to the two Englishmen now.

And what will the king make of everything now.

Speak soon

Pippa xxxx

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