'Well, that didn't go to plan,' said Porthos with an irony that Aramis did not particularly appreciate at that moment.

'Obviously not,' he hissed back, 'would you mind?'

Aramis imagined Porthos suppressing a grin and rolling his eyes. He imagined his friend glancing around to ensure they were still alone before he got to his knees.

'Have you at least got hold of it? I can pull you out but it's going to be pointless if you have to just crawl back in there.'

'Porthos, I can neither go forward nor backwards. I am at your mercy. Just get me out.'

Aramis paused before continuing.

'But yes, I have got hold of the book.'

He could feel Porthos' hand sliding up the side of his leg as he fumbled about blindly trying to find whatever it was that had trapped Aramis. Aramis suppressed a gasp of pain as his friend found the offending item. A nail that he had not seen when he squeezed his way into the well-thought-out hiding place. He wondered if the nail was meant to be there to ensnare would-be thieves. Or if he was just unlucky.

What Aramis did not want to tell Porthos at that precise moment was that the nail was hooked into the flesh of his hip. It had caught on his breeches and ripped through the leather and his skin before he had been aware of it. The haste with which he was searching for the book meant Aramis was not paying enough attention to his surroundings. The fact that the nail had ripped his leather breeches did imply to Aramis that it was a deliberate trap. And he was well and truly caught.

'It's damp in your little tunnel,' muttered Porthos as his fingers found the nail and began easing the tattered braies and breeches off it.

'That's not water,' admitted Aramis.

'Ouch,' said Porthos in sympathy, his efforts to free Aramis taking on a new urgency.

'Believe me,' replied Aramis through gritted teeth, 'I am regretting my choice to grab the book myself.'

Porthos huffed a laugh, 'I told you; this weren't designed for an adult to enter. There are plenty of street children who would have jumped at the chance of a covert well-paid job.'

'I will listen to you next time,' said Aramis, shaking his head as he tried to calculate how long he would have to put up with the teasing he was going to receive from his friend.

He hissed in pain, unable to help himself as Porthos pushed him about to unhook the nail.

'Sorry,' said Porthos. 'How deep did it go?'

'How should I know? I cannot move. I'm not even sure I would be able to get back out again even if I hadn't got caught.'

'I know,' laughed Porthos.

Aramis forgot about the throbbing pain in his hip as he seethed with anger.

'You knew I wouldn't be able to get out and you let me crawl in here anyway.'

'Yes.'

'Is this because I told d'Artagnan that you were cheating at cards last night?'

'Perhaps.'

'The lad was saving up to buy Constance a gift, he doesn't need you fleecing him of his coins.'

There was a pause before Porthos continued.

'I know, I was going to let him win the next round and gain some more money … but you ruined that.'

'I didn't know that, did I. How would I have known that?'

'You could have asked.'

Aramis was about to speak again but stopped himself, realising that Porthos was, in an unsubtle way, teaching him a lesson. His friend had a strange way of making a point, but Aramis had to concede that there was a tendency on his part to rush in and think about the consequences later.

'I apologise,' said Aramis instead of the choice words he had planned for his friend.

'Good,' replied Porthos. 'Now, I think I've got you free, but this isn't going to be dignified and will probably hurt.'

'I will consider it my penance,' said Aramis, thinking he would be glad to be out of the short tunnel-like hiding place.

He felt Porthos grabbing him firmly at the waist and heaving backwards. Aramis kept himself as relaxed as possible despite the discomfort he was in. And more importantly, he kept a tight hold of the book. Aramis was in no mood to have to retrieve it a second time.

MMMM

Porthos paused as he continued to free his friend. He glanced back. He was convinced he heard one of the floorboards creak a few minutes before and now he was sure there was someone at the door to the cellar.

He redoubled his efforts to drag Aramis out of the crudely dug tunnel. As he pulled, he was aware of the walls crumbling, dirt and brick dust was falling on Aramis covering him in a fine film of light powder. It would be difficult to explain to anyone why Aramis had such a ghostly appearance. It was obvious they had been somewhere they should not be. They were going to have to make a hasty retreat once Aramis was free.

At least Porthos hoped they would be able to make a hasty retreat. Aramis was injured and they were on the verge of being discovered. He looked up at the window near the ceiling and worked out what they would have to do to reach it, open it and get through it before whoever was at the door of the cellar discovered them. There would be no time to deal with Aramis' injury; that would have to wait until they were safely back at their camp. Poor Aramis was not going to get a chance to catch his breath.

Coughing from Aramis alerted Porthos to the state of the tunnel. Having a fully grown man crawl into the hiding place had caused it to become unstable. Porthos suspected that the owner of the house deliberately employed small stableboys so that they could be forced to hide things in the tunnel for him. The hiding place had never been designed for a man to enter.

He adjusted his grip on Aramis who was far enough out for Porthos to grab his shoulders and heave a second time. Aramis was indeed holding the heavy-looking book. Porthos hated the thought of one of the malnourished-looking lads from the stables or a small girl from the kitchens being forced into the tunnel with the hefty tome.

Porthos grabbed the book from Aramis at the same time as he hooked his hand under the injured man's arm and pulled him to his feet. Unsurprisingly, Aramis was forced to stifle a cry of pain at the sudden move.

'We don't have time. We have no time at all,' said Porthos with a nod toward the door.

Aramis looked at the door at the top of a short flight of steps.

'I'm sure someone's up there.'

Aramis nodded, 'our luck is not in today,' he remarked.

They had been lucky to find the house empty with most of the servants dealing with their master and his family as they enjoyed a day of shooting on the vast grounds of the estate. But their search for the elusive book had taken longer than it should have and then Aramis became trapped. Time was against them.

Aramis was looking at the wound on his hip and wincing.

Porthos handed him his doublet and weapons belts but stopped him from putting them back on.

'Sorry, but we're going out that window,' said Porthos, pointing at the window he had seen earlier.

Aramis looked a little perturbed by the idea but nodded. He swung his belts over his shoulder and hooked his doublet over his arm. Porthos handed the book back to him and went about moving a table as quietly as he could. With the table positioned under the window, he helped Aramis to scramble up, noting the blood staining his friends' breeches.

Porthos joined him on the table and looked at the window.

'Use this,' suggested Aramis, holding the book up again.

Porthos smirked, he took the book and smacked it against the glass causing it to crack and splinter. Two more swings with the book broke most of the glass. Aramis spread his doublet out over the exposed frame of the window, covering the few remaining shards of glass. Porthos nodded his approval as he pushed the book through the now-broken window.

Without arguing Aramis allowed Porthos to help him up and out of the window rolling out of the way with a hiss of pain. Porthos inelegantly followed his friend. He peered back through the broken window. He was sure he heard a key being pushed into the lock, he knew it would not take them long to get the door open despite them locking it from the inside and leaving the key in the lock to make it harder. A spare key and a bit of patience were all that was needed to get the door open. Grabbing Aramis' doublet and the book, he got to his feet.

Aramis was brushing his hair and sleeves, trying to dislodge some of the dust he had accumulated during his misadventure in the tunnel. Porthos noted that his friend was standing awkwardly, favouring his left leg.

'Let's get out of here before I'm in too much pain to move,' suggested Aramis when he realised, he was being watched.

For Aramis to admit that he was in pain was never a good sign, thought Porthos as they made their way towards the tree line. The chateau had intricately laid decorative gardens with ludicrously low hedges around them. Porthos knew the act of keeping crouched down as they moved towards safety would not be helping Aramis.

Gunshots to their left caused them both to pause. Aramis glanced back at Porthos and grinned.

'Just in time,' he said, 'looks like we were on the verge of being found.'

Aramis had spotted a couple of the landowner's men prowling the edge of the ornate garden. It would have been difficult for the two Musketeers to keep out of sight where they were. The distraction on the other side of the gardens was just what they needed.

'Let's just hope they don't get themselves into any difficulties. One injured Musketeer at a time is plenty,' remarked Porthos.

Keeping low, Porthos and Aramis scuttled across the gardens and to the tree line, losing themselves in the dense tangle of trees and bushes.

To be continued…

Whumpee: Aramis. Featuring: Porthos