Chapter 2
The moment Billy realized what his grandmother had been washing when he was a boy and curious about all things pertaining to life, he made a point of finding out exactly how and why women wore what they wore. He had sneaked into bath houses, whorehouses, and on occasion, during the summer months, when the heat was nearly too much to bear, he had crept down to the swimming holes where the girls were known to frequent. He had never been caught. He came close at times, but it made him much better at sneaking into things he shouldn't have been sneaking into.
Billy grabbed the stone, wrapped his fingers around it, and pulled himself upward. He slipped the tip of his boot into a crevasse and continued to climb. The stone window frame beckoned him, and he was just feet away when he heard the explosions of musket fire behind him. He had one thing in mind. One thing he would do, no matter the cost to himself. He was going to kill the man who had killed his captain. Slipping into the chateau without being seen was easy. He just needed to know where to hide and where to climb. Climbing the stone foundation of the chateau was no different from the places he had sneaked into as a boy… bigger perhaps, but the idea was just the same.
With a grunt, he cupped the window, felt the stone beneath his fingers, and he pulled himself upward. He shifted into a seated position within the sill and looked over the back fields, the trees, and the canal that ran along the side of the chateau. He took a deep breath, wiped his brow, and then looked at the bird shit on his fingers. He wiped his hands on his britches, and then turned on his butt and swung his legs inside of the room.
Shadows looked black in the dark corners of the long room. Despite the windows that allowed air to circulate and birds to nest and take shelter, the eerie feeling of doom lingered. A single lantern hung from the doorpost on the other side of the room. The flames flickered, but provided little light except for the immediate area next to the door. A few pantry items reflected the light of the flames.
Billy frowned when he heard a muffled cough, the ringing of chains as they shifted, and the scuffled crunch of dirt beneath boots. He froze for a moment, gauging the location of the noise, and tried to calm his racing heart. He wanted to be brave, to seek out the unknown, and take on formidable foes, but he often found himself too cowardly… too unsure of himself, and too afraid to make a stand. He recognized that about himself, even at his tender age. He knew it would be a process, a long one at that, to mold himself into the character he so admired.
He jumped off the ledge of the sill and waited to make sure he had not been heard, and then tiptoed across the room. He held the blade at his side and took a step forward, only to forget the powder tin that clanged against the scabbard. He winced, clenched his jaw, and froze.
"Who's there?"
Billy frowned, grabbed the powder tin with his hand, and then heard the tap of the sword against the buckle of the belt that was much too large for his narrow waist.
"I can hear you… Rats do not grow that large."
Billy pulled his eyebrows together when he recognized the voice. "Captain Athos?"
"Billy?" Athos tried to peer around the edge of the pillar to which he was chained.
"Captain?" Billy said and squinted into the darkness as his eyes adjusted. "Captain, I watched them hang you."
Athos huffed and then groaned. "Obviously… it wasn't me." He shifted against the pillar and the shackles clanged. "What are you doing here?"
Billy swallowed, pushed his shoulders back and said, "I've come to avenge your death." He winced, and then shrugged. "It sounded better when I said it in my head, sir."
"I applaud your efforts, Billy." Athos gripped the chains hooked to the shackles to ease his discomfort. "The men?"
"Shocked, sir." Billy stepped forward and looked for something to stand on. He walked to the food storage, moved a few items, and then suddenly settled on a small barrel of wine. He tried to lift it, but gave up and turned it onto its side and rolled it toward Athos. "I don't think I've ever seen them so," he paused, braced his hand on the barrel to keep it from moving and looked at Athos, "defeated."
Athos nodded, and then winced as he looked over his shoulder as Billy pushed the barrel forward again.
"I have a confession to make, Captain —"
"It can wait —"
"No, sir, it can't," Billy said. He stopped the barrel from moving forward and then grunted when he pushed it up-right. "It was me that gave away your position." He looked at Athos, swallowed, and then wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his doublet.
"I know," Athos said. He pressed his forehead against the pillar and looked side-eyed at Billy. "I saw you standing in the shadows."
Billy swallowed again as he tried to keep his lungs from expanding. "I'm so sorry."
"Now is not the time," Athos said and shifted his hands and the shackles clanged. "I need you to find Porthos, Aramis, or d'Artagnan… let them—" He paused and watched Billy examine the shackles. "You can't open these shackles, Billy," he said and watched him return to the pantry.
"I know," Billy said over his shoulder. He grabbed a dairy pot and returned. "I remember Aramis saying something about this."
Athos frowned. "Aramis?"
Billy nodded, tossed the lid to the ground, and then sniffed at the opening. He climbed onto the barrel and dipped his hand into the pot and removed a large amount of butter. "He was telling a story to the men after dinner one night — about getting shackled to a bedpost —"
"I don't," Athos exhaled and rested his head against his arm. "I don't want to hear it."
Billy slathered the butter around both Athos' hands, his wrists, and along the shackles. "The men seemed to enjoy the story —"
"I'm sure they did," Athos said.
Billy tossed the jar aside and then pressed his hand to the pillar for leverage. "I'm going to squeeze your little finger and thumb knuckles together, try to pull you out of the shackle."
Athos closed his eyes. He braced the heel of his right hand against the bottom of the shackle to his right and pulled the chain tight. He felt Billy apply pressure and together they worked. Bones and knuckles protested to the movement, to the squeezing at the odd angle, and then suddenly and quite unexpectedly, Athos' hand slipped through. He remained standing, took a deep breath while he leaned against the pillar. He flexed his hand, felt the blood return to his fingers, and the burning sensation of his wrists ease.
"Now your right hand, Captain," Billy said.
Athos nodded, and they repeated the process. It took more strength, and was more painful, but like the left hand, the right slipped through just as he was about to give up. For a moment his knuckles ached, his wrists were torn and scabs had fallen away, allowing fresh blood to fall along his arms and hands as he shook the pain away. He clenched his fists a few times and allowed the blood to flow. He pressed his shoulder to the column and then slowly slid to the floor in a heap. Exhausted, Athos watched Billy jump from the barrel and then look around the room.
"It's dark in that back corner, sir. Perhaps I can help you get back there and you can rest for a bit. If anyone comes to check on you or retrieve something from the pantry, they'll notice you're gone — we'll be out of sight if we move back there." Billy grabbed the ladle, dipped it into the bucket of water, and held it for Athos' to grasp.
Athos' hands shook, but he nodded in thanks, and drank the water. He took a deep breath and then tossed the ladle aside. "Help me up," he said, and pushed himself to his feet as Billy grabbed his arm and his shoulder to help him stand. Every nerve, joint, and muscle pained him as he stood. He braced his right arm along Billy's shoulders. Despite the young man's short stature, he held strong, wrapped an arm around Athos' lower back, and helped him to the corner of the room. He shivered against the chill, but quickly lowered himself to the floor and leaned against the wall. Despite the cold and the pains, he craved a moment of rest. Three, nearly four days without sleep, and being unable to sit for the last 24 hours had him succumbing to his exhaustion.
"Captain," Billy said. He removed his weapons belt and then he removed his doublet.
"Yes?" Athos said. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and felt his body slowly relax. His hand twitched atop his thigh, his head slowly fell forward, and his chin rested against his chest.
"Rest, Captain, I'll stand guard."
Athos never heard him. He never felt the doublet placed over his chest. He didn't hear the sword pulled from the leather scabbard or the short pacing steps of the young man standing guard.
